The pad now contained more than enough evidence to convict twenty women, and Peabody, with the remark, “You don’t want to leave this kind of thing lying around, Mabel,” pretended to tear the page up, but substituted a blank sheet in its place and smuggled the precious bit of paper into his pocket.

“Yes, I’ll go into business with you,—­sure I will!” said Peabody.

“And we’ll get enough money to set Jim free!” exclaimed the girl.

They were now fast friends, and it was agreed that “Hickey” should go and make himself presentable, after which they would dine at some restaurant and then sample a convenient mail box.  Meantime Peabody telephoned to Headquarters, and when the two set out for dinner at six o’clock the supposed “Hickey” was stopped on Broadway by Detective Sergeant Clark.

“What are you doing here in New York?” demanded Clark.  “Didn’t I give you six hours to fly the coop?  And who’s this woman?”

[Illustration:  Fig. 4—­The upper signature is an example of Mabel Parker’s regular penmanship; the next two are forgeries from memory; and the last is a dashing imitation of her companion’s handwriting.]

“I was going, Clark, honest I was,” whined “Hickey,” “and this lady’s all right—­she hasn’t done a thing.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to lock you up at Headquarters for the night,” said Clark roughly.  “The girl can go.”

“Oh, Mr. Clark, do come and have dinner with us first!” exclaimed Mrs. Parker.  “Mr. Hickey has been very good to me, and he hasn’t had anything to eat for ever so long.”

“Don’t care if I do,” said Clark.  “I guess I can put up with the company if the board is good.”

The three entered the Raleigh Hotel and ordered a substantial meal.  With the arrival of dessert, however, the girl became uneasy, and apparently fearing arrest herself, slipped a roll of bills under the table to “Hickey” and whispered to him to keep it for her.  The detective, thinking that the farce had gone far enough, threw the money on the table and asked Clark to count it, at the same tune telling Mrs. Parker that she was in custody.  The girl turned white, uttered a little scream, and then, regaining her self-possession, remarked as nonchalently as you please: 

“Well, clever as you think you are, you have destroyed the only evidence against me—­my handwriting.”

“Not much,” remarked Peabody, producing the sheet of paper.

The girl saw that the game was up and made a mock bow to the two detectives.

“I take off my hat to the New York police,” said she.

At this time, apparently, no thought of denying her guilt had entered her mind, and at the station house she talked freely to the sergeant, the matron and the various newspaper men who were present, even drawing pictures of herself upon loose sheets of paper and signing her name, apparently rather enjoying the notoriety which her arrest had occasioned.  A thorough search of her apartment was now made with the result that several sheets of paper were found there bearing what were evidently practice signatures of the name of Alice Kauser. (Fig. 5.) Evidence was also obtained showing that, on the day following her husband’s arrest, she had destroyed large quantities of blank check books and blank checks.