Produced by Al Haines

A HUSBAND BY PROXY

JACK STEELE

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Desmond FitzGerald, Inc.

CHAPTER

I. THE PROPOSITION II. A SECOND EMPLOYMENT III. TWO ENCOUNTERS IV. UNSPOKEN ANTAGONISM V. THE "SHADOW" VI. THE CORONER VII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY VIII. WHERE CLEWS MAY POINT IX. A SUMMONS X. A COMPLICATION XI. THE SHOCK OF TRUTH XII. A DISTURBING LOSS XIII. A TRYST IN THE PARK XIV. A PACKAGE OF DEATH XV. SIGNIFICANT DISCOVERIES XVI. IN QUEST OF DOROTHY XVII. A RESCUE BY FORCE XVIII. THE RACE XIX. FRIGHT AND A DISAPPEARANCE XX. NEW HAPPENINGS XXI. REVELATIONS XXII. A MAN IN THE CASE XXIII. THE ENEMY'S TRACKS XXIV. A NEW ALARM XXV. A DEARTH OF CLEWS XXVI. STARTLING DISCLOSURES XXVII. LIKE A BOLT FROM THE BLUE XXVIII. A HELPLESS SITUATION XXIX. NIGHT-WALKERS XXX. OVERTURES FROM THE ENEMY XXXI. THE FRET OF WAITING XXXII. A TRAGIC CULMINATION XXXIII. FOSTER DURGIN XXXIV. THE RICHES OF THE WORLD XXXV. JOHN HARDY'S WILL XXXVI. GARRISON'S VALUED FRIEND XXXVII. A HONEYMOON

A Husband by Proxy

CHAPTER I

THE PROPOSITION

With the hum of New York above, below, and all about him, stirring hispulses and prodding his mental activities, Jerold Garrison, expertcriminologist, stood at the window of his recently opened office,looking out upon the roofs and streets of the city with a new sense ofpride and power in his being.

New York at last!

He was here—unknown and alone, it was true—but charged with an energythat he promised Manhattan should feel.

He was almost penniless, with his office rent, his licenses, and otherexpenses paid, but he shook his fist at the city, in sheer good natureand confidence in his strength, despite the fact he had waited a weekfor expected employment, and nothing at present loomed upon the horizon.

His past, in a small Ohio town, was behind him. He blotted it outwithout regret—or so at least he said to himself—even as to all thegilded hopes which had once seemed his all upon earth. If his heartwas not whole, no New York eye should see its wounds—and the healingprocess had begun.

He was part of the vast machine about him, the mighty brain, as itwere, of the great American nation.

He paced the length of his room, and glanced at the door. Thehalf-painted sign on the frosted glass was legible, reversed, as theartist had left it:

JEROLD ———— CRIMINOLOGIST.

He had halted the painter himself on the name, as the letteringappeared too fanciful—not sufficiently plain or bold.

While he stood there a shadow fell upon the glass. Someone wasstanding outside, in the hall. As if undecided, the owner of theshadow oscillated for a moment—and disappeared. Garrison, tempted toopen the door and gratify a natural curiosity, remained beside hisdesk. Mechanically his hand, which lay upon a book entitled "ATreatise on Poisons," closed the volume.

He was still watching the door. The shadow returned, the knob wasrevolve

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