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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:52 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:52 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11043-0.txt b/11043-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..334224c --- /dev/null +++ b/11043-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7009 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11043 *** + +MIDNIGHT + +BY OCTAVUS ROY COHEN + +Author of "THE CRIMSON ALIBI," "GRAY DUSK," ETC. + +1921 + + + + + + +TO DR. MILES A. WATKINS + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I OUT OF THE STORM + + II THE SUIT-CASE IS OPENED + + III "FIND THE WOMAN" + + IV CARROLL HAS A VISITOR + + V MISS EVELYN ROGERS + + VI REGARDING ROLAND WARREN + + VII THE VALET TALKS + + VIII CARROLL MAKES A MOVE + + XI ICE CREAM SODA + + X A DISCOVERY + + XI LOOSE ENDS + + XII A CHALLENGE + + XIII NO ALIBI + + XIV THE SUIT-CASE AGAIN + + XV A TALK WITH HAZEL GRESHAM + + XVI THE WOMAN IN THE TAXI + + XVII BARKER ACCUSES + +XVIII "AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH--" + + XIX LABYRINTH + + XX A CONFESSION + + XXI CARROLL DECIDES + + XXII THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +OUT OF THE STORM + + +Taxicab No. 92,381 skidded crazily on the icy pavement of Atlantic +Avenue. Spike Walters, its driver, cursed roundly as he applied the +brakes and with difficulty obtained control of the little closed car. +Depressing the clutch pedal, he negotiated the frozen thoroughfare and +parked his car in the lee of the enormous Union Station, which bulked +forbiddingly in the December midnight. + +Atlantic Avenue was deserted. The lights at the main entrance of the +Union Station glowed frigidly. Opposite, a single arc-lamp on the corner +of Cypress Street cast a white, cheerless light on the gelid pavement. +The few stores along the avenue were dark, with the exception of the +warmly lighted White Star restaurant directly opposite the Stygian spot +where Spike's car was parked. + +The city was in the grip of the first cold wave of the year. For two days +the rain had fallen--a nasty, drizzling rain which made the going soggy +and caused people to greet one another with frowns. Late that afternoon +the mercury had started a rapid downward journey. Fires were piled high +in the furnaces, automobile-owners poured alcohol into their radiators. +The streets were deserted early, and the citizens, for the most part, had +retired shiveringly under mountains of blankets and down quilts still +redolent of moth-balls. + +Winter had come with freezing blasts which swept around corners and +chilled to the bone. The rain of two days became a driving sleet, which +formed a mirror of ice over the city. + +On the seat of his yellow taxicab, Spike Walters drew a heavy lap-robe +more closely about his husky figure and shivered miserably. Fortunately, +the huge bulk of the station to his right protected him in a large +measure from the shrieking wintry winds. Mechanically Spike kept his eyes +focused upon the station entrance, half a block ahead. + +But no one was there. Nowhere was there a sign of life, nowhere an +indication of warmth or cheer or comfort. With fingers so numb that they +were almost powerless to do the bidding of his mind, Spike drew forth his +watch and glanced at it. Midnight! + +Spike replaced the watch, blew on his numb fingers in a futile effort to +restore warmth, slipped his hands back into a pair of heavy--but, on +this night, entirely inadequate--driving-gloves, and gave himself over to +a mental rebellion against the career of a professional taxi-driver. + +"Worst night I've ever known," he growled to himself; and he was not +far wrong. + +Midnight! No train due until 12.25, and that an accommodation from some +small town up-State. No taxi fares on such a train as that. The +north-bound fast train--headed for New York--that was late, too. Due at +11.55, Spike had seen a half-frozen station-master mark it up as being +fifty minutes late. Perhaps a passenger to be picked up there--some +sleepy, disgruntled, entirely unhappy person eager to attain the warmth +and coziness of a big hotel. + +Yet Spike knew that he must wait. The company for which he worked +specialized on service. It boasted that every train was met by a +yellow taxicab--and this was Spike's turn for all-night duty at the +Union Station. + +All the independent taxi-drivers had long since deserted their posts. The +parking space on Cypress Street, opposite the main entrance of the +station--a space usually crowded with commercial cars--was deserted. No +private cars were there, either. Spike seemed alone in the drear December +night, his car an exotic of the early winter. + +Ten minutes passed--fifteen. The cold bit through Spike's overcoat, +battled to the skin, and chewed to the bone. It was well nigh unbearable. +The young taxi-driver's lips became blue. He tried to light a cigarette, +but his fingers were unable to hold the match. + +He looked around. A street-car, bound for a suburb, passed noisily. It +paused briefly before the railroad-station, neither discharging nor +taking on a passenger, then clanged protestingly on its way. Impressed in +Spike's mind was a mental picture of the chilled motorman, and of the +conductor huddled over the electric heater within the car. Spike felt a +personal resentment against that conductor. Comfort seemed unfair on a +night like this; heat a luxury more to be desired than much fine gold. + +From across the street the light of the White Star Café beckoned. +Ordinarily Spike was not a patron of the White Star, nor other eating +establishments of its class. The White Star was notoriously unsanitary, +its food poisonously indigestible; but as Spike's eyes were held +hypnotically by the light he thought of two things--within the circle of +that light he could find heat and a scalding liquid which was flavored +with coffee. + +The vision was too much for Spike. The fast train, due now at 12.45, +might bring a fare. It was well beyond the bounds of reason that he would +get a passenger from the accommodation due in a few minutes. There were +no casuals abroad. + +The young driver clambered with difficulty from his seat. He staggered as +he tried to stand erect, his numb limbs protesting against the burden of +his healthy young body. A gale howled around the dark Jackson Street +corner of the long, rambling station, and Spike defensively covered both +ears with his gloved hands. + +He made his way eagerly across the street; slipping and sliding on the +glassy surface, head bent against the driving sleet, clothes crackling +where particles of ice had formed. Spike reached the door of the +eating-house, opened it, and almost staggered as the warmth of the place +smote him like a hot blast. + +For a few seconds he stood motionless, reveling in the sheer animal +comfort of the change. Then he made his way to the counter, seated +himself on a revolving stool, and looked up at the waiter who came +stolidly forward from the big, round-bellied stove at the rear. + +"Hello, George!" + +The restauranteur nodded. + +"Hello!" + +"My gosh! What a night!" + +"Pretty cold, ain't it?" + +"Cold?" Spike Walters looked up antagonistically. "Say, you don't know +what cold means. I'd rather have your job to-night than a million +dollars. Only if I had a million dollars I'd buy twenty stoves, set 'em +in a circle, build a big fire in each one, sit in the middle, and tell +winter to go to thunder--that's what I'd do. Now, George, hustle and lay +me out a cup of coffee, hot--get that?--and a couple of them greasy +doughnuts of yourn." + +The coffee and doughnuts were duly produced, and the stolid Athenian +retired to the torrid zone of his stove. Spike bravely tried one of the +doughnuts and gave it up as a bad job, but he quaffed the coffee with an +eagerness which burned his throat and imparted a pleasing sensation of +inward warmth. Then he stretched luxuriously and lighted a cigarette. + +He glanced through the long-unwashed window of the White Star +Cafe--"Ladies and gents welcome," it announced--and shuddered at the +prospect of again braving the elements. Across the street his +unprotesting taxicab stood parked parallel to the curb; beyond it +glowered the end of the station. To the right of the long, rambling +structure he could see the occasional glare of switch engines and +track-walkers' lanterns in the railroad yards. + +As he looked, he saw the headlight of the locomotive at the head of the +accommodation split the gloom. Instinctively Spike rose, paid his +check, and stood uncomfortably at the door, buttoning the coat tightly +around his neck. + +Of course it was impossible that the accommodation carried a fare for +him; but then duty was duty, and Spike took exceeding pride in the +company for which he worked. The company's slogan of service was part of +Spike's creed. He opened the door, recoiled for a second as the gale +swept angrily against him, then plunged blindly across the street. He +clambered into the seat of his cab, depressed the starter, and +eventually was answered by the reluctant cough of the motor. He raced it +for a while, getting the machinery heated up preparatory to the +possibility of a run. + +Then he saw the big doors at the main entrance of the station open and a +few melancholy passengers, brought to town by the accommodation train, +step to the curb, glance about in search of a street-car, and then duck +back into the station. Spike shoved his clutch in and crawled forward +along the curb, leaving the inky shadows of the far end of the station, +and emerging finally into the effulgence of the arc at the corner of +Cypress Street. + +Once again the door of the Union Station opened. This time Spike took a +professional interest in the person who stepped uncertainly out into the +night. Long experience informed him that this was a fare. + +She was of medium height, and comfortably guarded against the frigidity +of the night by a long fur coat buttoned snugly around her neck. She wore +a small squirrel tam, and was heavily veiled. In her right hand she +carried a large suit-case and in her left a purse. + +She stepped to the curb and looked around inquiringly. She signalled the +cab. Even as he speeded his car forward, Spike wondered at her +indifference to the almost unbearable cold. + +"Cab, miss?" + +He pulled up short before her. + +"Yes." Her tone was almost curt. She had her hand on the door handle +before Spike could make a move to alight. "Drive to 981 East End Avenue." + +Without leaving the driver's seat, Spike reached for her suit-case and +put it beside him. The woman--a young woman, Spike reflected--stepped +inside and slammed the door. Spike fed the gas and started, whirling +south on Atlantic Avenue for two blocks, and then turning to his left +across the long viaduct which marks the beginning of East End Avenue. + +He settled himself for a long and unpleasant drive. To reach 981 East End +Avenue he had to drive nearly five miles straight in the face of the +December gale. + +And then he found himself wondering about the woman. Her coat--a rich fur +thing of black and gray--her handbag, her whole demeanor--all bespoke +affluence. She had probably been visiting at some little town, and had +come down on the accommodation; but no one had been there to meet her. +Anyway, Spike found himself too miserable and too cold to reflect much +about his passenger. + +He drove into a head wind. The sleet slapped viciously against his +windshield and stuck there. The patent device he carried for the purpose +of clearing rain away refused to work. Spike shoved his windshield up in +order to afford a vision of the icy asphalt ahead. + +And then he grew cold in earnest. He seemed to freeze all the way +through. He drove mechanically, becoming almost numb as the wind, +unimpeded now, struck him squarely. He lost all interest in what he was +doing or where he was going. He called himself a fool for having left the +cozy warmth of the White Star Café. He told himself-- + +Suddenly he clamped on the brakes. It was a narrow squeak! The end of the +long freight train rumbled on into the night. Spike hadn't seen it; only +the racket of the big cars as they crossed East End Avenue, and then the +lights on the rear of the caboose, had warned him. + +He stopped his car for perhaps fifteen seconds to make sure that the +crossing was clear, then started on again, a bit shaken by the narrow +escape. He bumped cautiously across the railroad tracks. + +The rest of the journey was a nightmare. The suburb through which he was +passing seemed to have congealed. Save for the corner lights, there was +no sign of life. The roofs and sidewalks glistened with ice. Occasionally +the car struck a bump and skidded dangerously. Spike had forgotten his +passenger, forgotten the restaurant, the coffee, the weather itself. He +only remembered that he was cold--almost unbearably cold. + +Then he began taking note of the houses. There was No. 916. He looked +ahead. These were houses of the poorer type, the homes of laborers +situated on the outer edge of the suburb of East End. Funny--the +handsomely dressed woman--such a poor neighborhood-- + +He came to a halt before a dilapidated bungalow which squatted darkly in +the night. Stiff with cold, he reached his hand back to the door on the +right of the car, and with difficulty opened it. Then he spoke: + +"Here y'are, miss--No. 981!" + +There was no answer. Spike repeated: + +"Here y'are, miss." + +Still no answer. Spike clambered stiffly from the car, circled to the +curb, and stuck his head in the door. + +"Here, miss--" + +Spike stepped back. Then he again put his head inside the cab. + +"Well, I'll be--" + +The thing was impossible, and yet it was true. Spike gazed at the seat. +The woman had disappeared! + +The thing was absurd; impossible. He had seen her get into the cab at the +Union Station. There, in the front of the car, was her suit-case; but she +had gone--disappeared completely, vanished without leaving a sign. + +Momentarily forgetful of the cold, Spike found a match and lighted it. +Holding it cupped in his hands, he peered within the cab. Then he +recoiled with a cry of horror. + +For, huddled on the floor, he discerned the body of a man! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SUIT-CASE IS OPENED + + +The barren trees which lined the broad deserted thoroughfare jutted +starkly into the night, waving their menacing, ice-crusted arms. The +December gale, sweeping westward, shrieked through the glistening +branches. It shrieked warning and horror, howled and sighed, sighed +and howled. + +Spike Walters felt suddenly ill. He forgot the cold, and was conscious of +a fear which acted like a temporary anesthesia. For a few seconds he +stood staring, until the match which he held burned out and scorched the +flesh of his fingers. His jaw dropped, his eyes widened. He opened his +lips and tried to speak, but closed them again without having uttered a +sound save a choking gasp. He tried again, feeling an urge for +speech--something, anything, to make him believe that he was here, +alive--that the horror within the cab was real. This time he uttered an +"Oh, my God!" + +The words seemed to vitalize him. He fumbled for another match, found it, +and lighted it within the cab. It seemed to have the radiance of an +incandescent. + +Spike had hoped that his first impression would prove to be a mere +figment of his imagination; but now there was no doubting. There, +sprawled in an ugly, inhuman heap on the floor, head resting against the +cushioned seat of the cab, was the figure of a man. There was no doubt +that he was dead. Even Spike, young, optimistic, and unversed in the ways +of death as he was, knew that he was alone with a corpse. + +And as he gazed, a strange courage came to him. He found himself +emboldened to investigate. He was shivering while he did so, shivering +with fear and with the terrific cold of the night. He could not quite +bring himself to touch the body, but he did not need to move it to see +that murder had been done. + +The clothes told him instantly that the man was of high social station. +They were obviously expensive clothes, probably tailor-made. The big +coat, open at the top, was flung back. Beneath, Spike discerned a gray +tweed--and on the breast of the gray tweed was a splotch, a dark, ugly +thing which appeared black and was not black. Spike shuddered. He had +never liked the sight of blood. + +The match spluttered and went out. Spike looked around. He felt +hopelessly alone. Not a pedestrian; not a light. The houses, set well +back from the street, were dark, forbiddingly dark. + +He saw a street-car rattle past, bound on the final run of the night for +the car-sheds at East End. Then he was alone again--alone and frightened. + +He felt the necessity for action. He must do something--something, but +what? What was there to do? + +A great fear gripped him. He was with the body. The body was in his cab. +He would be arrested for the murder of the man! + +Of course he knew he didn't do it. The woman had committed the murder. + +Spike swore. He had almost forgotten the woman. Where was she? How had +she managed to leave the taxicab? When had the man, who now lay sprawled +in the cab, entered it? + +He had driven straight from the Union Station to the address given by +the woman--straight down East End Avenue, turning neither to right nor +left. The utter impossibilty of the situation robbed it of some of its +stark horror. And yet-- + +Spike knew that he must do something. He tried to think connectedly, and +found it a difficult task. Near him loomed the shadow which was No. 981 +East End Avenue--the address given by the woman when she entered the cab. +He might go in there and report the circumstances. Some one there would +know who she was, and--but he hesitated. + +Perhaps this thing had been prearranged. Perhaps they would get him--for +what he didn't know. When a man--a young man--comes face to face with +murder for the first time, making its acquaintance on a freezing December +midnight and in a lonely spot, he is not to be blamed if his mental +equilibrium is destroyed. + +Wild plans chased each other through his brain. He might dump the body by +the roadside and run back to town. That was absurd on the face of it, for +he would be convicting himself when the body was found. It would be +traced to him in some way--he knew that. He was already determined to +keep away from No. 981 East End Avenue. There was something sinister in +the unfriendly shadow of the rambling house. He might call the police. + +That was it--he would call the police. But how? Go into a house near by, +wake the residents, telephone headquarters that a murder had been done? +Alarm the neighborhood, and identify himself with the crime? Spike was +afraid, frankly and boyishly afraid--afraid of the present, and more +afraid of the future. + +And yet he knew that he must get in touch with the police, else the +police would eventually get in touch with him. He thought then of taking +the body in to headquarters; but he feared that his cab might be stopped +_en route_ to the city and the body discovered. They would never believe, +then, that he had been bound for headquarters. + +Almost before he knew that he had arrived at a decision, Spike had groped +his way across the icy street and pressed the bell-button on the front +door of the least unprepossessing house on the block. + +For a long time there was no answer. Finally a light shone in the hall, +and the skinny figure of a man, shivering violently despite the +blanket-robe which enfolded him, appeared in the hallway. He flashed on +the porch light from inside and peered through the glass door. Apparently +reassured, he cracked the door slightly. + +"Yes. What do you want?" + +At sound of a human voice, Spike instantly felt easier. The fact that he +could converse, that he had shed his terrible loneliness, steadied him as +nothing else could have done. He was surprised at his own calmness, at +the fact that there was scarcely a quaver in the voice with which he +answered the man. + +"I'm Spike Walters," he said with surprising quietness. "I'm a driver for +the Yellow and White Taxicab Company. My cab is No. 92,381. I have a man +in my cab who has been badly injured. I want to telephone to the city." + +The little householder opened the door wider, and Spike entered. Cold as +the house was, from the standpoint of the man within, its hold-over +warmth was a godsend to Spike's thoroughly chilled body. + +The little man designated a telephone on the wall, then started nervously +as central answered and Spike barked a single command into the +transmitter: + +"Police-station, please!" + +"Police?" + +"Never you mind, sir," Spike told the householder. "Hello! Police!" he +called to the operator. + +There was a pause, then Spike went on: + +"This is Spike Walters--Yellow and White Taxi Company. I'm out at No. 981 +East End Avenue. There's a dead man in my cab!" + +The weary voice at the other end became suddenly alive. + +"A dead man!" + +"Yes." + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know. That's why I called you." + +"When did he die? How?" + +Spike controlled himself with an effort. + +"Don't you understand? He has been killed--" + +"The devil you say!" replied the voice at headquarters, and the little +householder chimed in with a frightened squeak. + +"Yes," repeated Spike painstakingly. "The man is dead--killed. It is very +peculiar. I can't explain over the phone. I called up to ask you what I +shall do." + +"Hold connection a minute!" Spike heard a hurried whispered conversation +at the other end, then the voice barked back at him: "Stay where you +are--couple of officers coming, and coming fast!" + +It was Dan O'Leary, night desk sergeant, who was on duty at headquarters +that night, and Sergeant Dan O'Leary was a good deal of an institution on +the city's force. He hopped excitedly from his desk into the office of +Eric Leverage, the chief of police. + +Chief Leverage, a broad-shouldered, heavy-set, bushy-eyebrowed +individual, looked up from the chess-board, annoyed at this interruption +of a game which had been in progress since ten o'clock that night. +O'Leary grabbed a salute from thin air. + +"'Scuse my botherin' ye, chief, but there's hell to pay out at East End." + +O'Leary was never long at coming to the point. Leverage looked up. +So, too, did the boyish, clean-shaven young man with whom he was +playing chess. + +"An' knowin' that Mr. Carroll was playin' chess with ye, chief--an' him +naturally interested in such things--I hopped right in." + +"I'll say you did," commented the chief phlegmatically. "I have you +there, Carroll--dead to rights!" + +O'Leary was a trifle irritated at the cold reception accorded his news. + +"Ye ain't after understanding" he said slowly. "It's murder that has been +done this night." + +"H-m!" Carroll's slow, pleasant drawl seemed to soothe O'Leary. "Murder?" + +"You said it, Mr. Carroll." + +Leverage had risen. It was plain to be seen from his manner that the +chess-game was forgotten. Leverage was a policeman first and a +chess-player second--a very poor second. His voice, surcharged with +interest, cracked out into the room. + +"Spill the dope, O'Leary!" + +The night desk sergeant needed no further bidding. In a few graphic words +he outlined his telephone conversation with Spike Walters. + +Before he finished speaking, Leverage was slipping into his enormous +overcoat. He nodded to Carroll. + +"How about trotting out there with me, David?" + +Carroll smiled agreeably. + +"Thank goodness my new coupé has a heating device, chief!" + +That was all. It wasn't David Carroll's way to talk much, or to show any +untoward emotion. It was Carroll's very boyishness which was his greatest +asset. He had a way of stepping into a case before the principals knew he +was there, and of solving it in a manner which savored not at all of +flamboyance. A quiet man was Carroll, and one whose deductive powers Eric +Leverage fairly worshiped. + +On the slippery, skiddy journey to East End the two men--professional +policeman and amateur criminologist--did not talk much. A few comments +regarding the sudden advent of fiercest winter; a remark, forcedly +jocular, from the chief, that murderers might be considerate enough to +pick better weather for the practice of their profession--and that was +all. Thus far they knew nothing about the case, and they were both too +well versed in criminology to attempt a discussion of something with +which they were unfamiliar. + +Spike Walters saw them coming--saw their headlights splitting the +frigid night. He was at the curb to meet them as they pulled up. He +told his story briefly and concisely. Leverage inspected the young man +closely, made note of his license number and the number of his +taxi-cab. Then he turned to his companion, who had stood by, a silent +and interested observer. + +"S'pose you talk to him a bit, Carroll." + +"I'm David Carroll," introduced the other man. "I'm connected with the +police department. There's a few things you tell which are rather +peculiar. Any objections to discussing them?" + +In spite of himself, Spike felt a genial warming toward this boyish-faced +man. He had heard of Carroll, and rather feared his prowess; but now that +he was face to face with him, he found himself liking the chap. Not only +that, but he was conscious of a sense of protection, as if Carroll were +there for no other purpose than to take care of him, to see that he +received a square deal. + +"Yes, sir, Mr. Carroll, I'll be glad to tell you anything I know." + +"You have said, Walters, that the passenger you picked up at the Union +Station was a woman." + +"Yes, sir, it was a woman." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Why, yes, sir. I couldn't very well be mistaken. You see--o-o-oh! +You're thinking maybe it was a man in woman's clothes? Is that it, sir?" + +Carroll smiled. + +"What do _you_ think?" + +"That's impossible, sir. It was a woman--I'd swear to that." + +"Pretty positive, eh?" + +"Absolutely, sir. Besides, take the matter of the overcoat the--the--body +has on. Even if what you think was so, sir--that it was a woman dressed +up like a man--and if he had gotten rid of the women's clothes, where +would he have gotten the clothes to put on?" + +"H-m! Sounds logical. How about the suit-case you said this woman had?" + +"Yonder it is--right on the front beside me, where it has been all +the time." + +"And you tell us that between the time you left the Union Station and the +time you got here a man got into the taxicab, was killed by the woman, +the woman got out, and you heard nothing?" + +"Yes, sir," said Spike simply. "Just that, sir." + +"Rather hard to believe, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir. That's why I called the police." Chief Leverage was shivering +under the impact of the winter blasts. + +"S'pose we take a look at the bird, David," he suggested, nodding toward +the taxi. "That might tell us something." + +Carroll nodded. The men entered the taxi, and Leverage flashed a +pocket-torch in the face of the dead man. Then he uttered an exclamation +of surprise not unmixed with horror. + +"Good Lord!" + +"You know him?" questioned Carroll easily. + +"Know him? I'll say I do. Why, man, that's Roland Warren!" + +"Warren! Roland Warren! Not the clubman?" + +"The very same one, Carroll, an' none other. Well, I'm a sonovagun! +Sa-a-ay, something surely _has_ been started here." He swung around on +the taxi-driver. "You, Walters!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"You are sure the suit-case is still in front?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well"--to Carroll--"that makes it easier. It's the woman's suit-case, +and if we can't find out who she is from that, we're pretty bum, eh?" + +"Looks so, Erie. You're satisfied"--this to Walters--"that that is her +suit-case?" + +"Absolutely. It hasn't been off the front since she handed it to me at +the station." + +Carroll swung the suit-case to the inside of the cab. It opened readily. +Leverage kept his light trained on it as Carroll dug swiftly through the +contents. Finally the eyes of the two men met. Carroll's expression was +one of frank amazement; Leverage's reflected sheer unbelief. + +"It can't be, Carroll!" + +"Yet--it is!" + +"Sufferin' wildcats!" breathed Leverage. "The suit-case ain't the woman's +at all! It's Warren's!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"FIND THE WOMAN" + + +The thing was incomprehensible, yet true. Not a single article of +feminine apparel was contained in the suit-case. Not only that, but +every garment therein which bore an identification mark was the +property of Roland Warren, the man whose body leered at them from the +floor of the taxicab. + +The two detectives again inspected the suit-case. An extra suit had been +neatly folded. The pockets bore the label of a leading tailor, and the +name "Roland R. Warren." The tailor-made shirts and underwear bore the +maker's name and Warren's initials. The handkerchiefs were Warren's. Even +those articles which were without name or initials contained the same +laundry-mark as those which they knew belonged to the dead man. + +Carroll's face showed keen interest. This newest development had rather +startled him, and made an almost irresistible appeal to his love for the +bizarre in crime. The very fact that the circumstances smacked of the +impossible intrigued him. He narrowed his eyes and gazed again upon the +form of the dead man. Finally he nudged Leverage and designated three +initials on the end of the suit-case. + +"R.R.W.--Roland R. Warren!" Leverage grunted. "It's his, all right, +Carroll. But just the same there ain't no such animal." + +Carroll turned to the dazed Walters. + +"Understand what we've just discovered, son?" he inquired mildly. + +Spike's teeth were chattering with cold. + +"I don't hardly understand none of it, sir. 'Cording to what I make out, +that suit-case belongs to the body and not to the woman." + +"Right! Now what I want to know is how that could be." + +Spike shook his head dazedly. + +"Lordy, Mr. Carroll, I couldn't be knowing that." + +"You're sure the woman got into your cab alone?" + +"Absolutely, sir. She came through the waiting-room alone, carrying that +very same suit-case--" + +"You're positive it was _that_ suit-case?" + +"Yes, sir--that is, as positive as I can be. You see I was on the lookout +for a fare, but wasn't expecting one, on account of the fact that this +here train was an accommodation, and folks that usually come in on it +take street-cars and not a taxi. Well, the minute I seen a good-lookin', +well-dressed woman comin' out the door, I sort of noticed. It surprised +me first off, because I asked myself what she was doing on that train." + +"You thought it was peculiar?" + +"Not peculiar, exactly; but sort of--of--interesting." + +"I see. Go ahead!" + +"Well, she was carrying that suit-case, and she seemed in a sort of a +hurry. She walked straight out of the door and toward the curb, and--" + +"Did she appear to be expecting some one?" + +"No, sir. I noticed that particularly. Sort of thought a fine lady like +her would have some one to meet her, which is how I happened to notice +that she didn't seem to expect nobody. She come right to the curb and +called me. I was parked along the curb on the right side of Atlantic +Avenue--headin' north, that is--and I rolled up. She handed me the +suit-case and told me to drive her to No. 981 East End Avenue. I stuck +the suit-case right where you got it from just now; and while I ain't +sayin' nothin' about what happened back yonder in the cab, Mr. Carroll, +I'll bet anything in the world that that there suit-case is the same one +she carried through the waitin'-room and handed to me." + +"H-m! Peculiar. You drove straight out here, Walters?" + +"Straight as a bee-line, sir. Frozen stiff, I was, drivin' right into the +wind eastward along East End Avenue, and I had to raise the windshield a +bit because there was ice on it and I couldn't see nothin'--an' my +headlights ain't any too strong." + +"You didn't stop anywhere?" + +"No, sir. Wait a minute--I did!" + +"Where?" + +"At the R.L. and T. railroad crossing, sir. I didn't see nor hear no +train there, and almost run into it. It was a freight, and travelin' +kinder slow. I seen the lights of the caboose and stopped the car right +close to the track. I wasn't stopped more'n fifteen or twenty seconds, +and just as soon as the train got by, I went on." + +"But you did stand still for a few seconds?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"If any one had got into or out of the cab right there, would you have +heard them?" + +"I don't know that I would. I was frozen stiff, like I told you, sir; and +I wasn't thinking of nothin' like that. Besides, the train was makin' a +noise; an' me not havin' my thoughts on nothin' but how cold I was, an' +how far I had to drive, I mos' prob'ly wouldn't have noticed--although I +might have." + +"Looks to me," chimed in Leverage, "as if that's where the shift must +have taken place; though it beats me--" + +Carroll lighted a cigarette. Of the three men, he was the only one who +seemed impervious to the cold. Leverage and the taxi-driver were both +shivering as if with the ague. Carroll, an enormous overcoat snuggled +about his neck, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his boyish face +set with interest, seemed perfectly comfortable. As a matter of fact, the +unique circumstances surrounding the murder had so interested him that he +had quite forgotten the weather. + +"Obviously," he said to Leverage, "it's up to us to find out whether the +people at this house here expected a visitor." + +"You said it, David; but I haven't any doubt it was a plant, a +fake address." + +"I think so, too." + +"Wait here." The chief started for the dark little house. "I'll ask 'em." + +Three minutes later Leverage was back. + +"Said nothing doing," he imparted laconically. "No one expected--no one +away who would be coming back--and then wanted to know who in thunder I +was. They almost dropped dead when I told 'em. No question about it, that +address was a stall. This dame had something up her sleeve, and took care +to see that your taxi man was given a long drive so she'd have plenty of +time to croak Warren." + +"Then you think she met him by arrangement, chief?" + +"Looks so to me. Only thing is, where did he get in?" + +"That's what is going to interest us for some time to come, I'm afraid. +And now suppose we go back to town? I'll drive my car; I'll keep behind +you and Walters, here. You ride together in his cab." + +Walters clambered to his seat, and succeeded, after much effort, in +starting his frozen motor. Leverage bulked beside him on the suit-case of +the dead man. The taxi swung cityward, and immediately behind trailed +Carroll in his cozy coupe. + +As Carroll drove mechanically through the night, he gave himself over to +a siege of intensive thought. The case seemed fraught with unusual +interest. Already it had developed an overplus of extraordinary +circumstances, and Carroll had a decided premonition that the road of +investigation ahead promised many surprises. + +There was every reason why it should. The social prominence of the dead +man, the mysterious disappearance of the handsomely dressed woman--all +the facts of the case pointed to an involved trail. + +If it were true that the woman had entered the taxicab alone, that the +man had come in later, and that the murder had been committed by the +woman in the cab before reaching the railroad crossing, the thing must +undoubtedly have been prearranged to the smallest fractional detail. That +being the premise, it was only a logical conclusion that persons other +than the woman and the dead man were involved. + +Interesting--decidedly so! But there was nothing to work on. Even the +suit-case clue had vanished into thin air, so far as its value to the +police was concerned. + +That suit-case bothered Carroll. He believed Spike's story, and was +convinced that the suit-case which they had examined out on East End +Avenue was the one which the woman had carried from the train to the +taxicab. There again the trail of the dead man and the vanished woman +crossed; else why was she carrying his suit-case? + +The journey was over before he knew it. The yellow taxi turned down the +alley upon which headquarters backed, and jerked to a halt before the +ominous brown-stone building. Carroll parked his car at the rear, +assigned some one to stand guard over the body, and the three men, +Leverage carrying the suit-case, ascended the steps to the main room and +thence to the chief's private office. + +The warmth of the place was welcome to all of them, and in the +comforting glow of a small grate fire, which nobly assisted the +struggling furnace in its task of heating the spacious structure, Spike +Walters seemed to lose much of the nervousness which he had exhibited +since the discovery of the body. Carroll warmed his hands at the blaze, +and then addressed Leverage. + +"How about this case, chief?" + +"How about it?" + +"You want me to butt in on it?" + +"_Want_ you? Holy sufferin' oysters! Carroll, if you didn't work on it, +I'd brain you! You're the only man in the State who could--" + +"Soft-pedal the blarney," grinned Carroll. "And now--the suit-case +again." + +He dropped to his knees and opened the suit-case. Garment by garment he +emptied it, searching for some clue, some damning bit of evidence, which +might explain the woman's possession of the dead man's belongings. He +found nothing. It was evident that the grip had been carefully packed for +a journey of several days at least; but it was a man's suit-case, and its +contents were exclusively masculine. + +Carroll shrugged as he rose to his feet. He turned toward Spike Walters +and laid a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"Walters," he said, "I want to let you know that I believe your story +all the way through. I think that Chief Leverage does, too--how about +it, chief?" + +"Sounds all right to me." + +"But we've got to hold you for a while, my lad. It's tough, but you were +the person found with the body, and we've naturally got to keep you in +custody. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir. It's none too pleasant, but I guess it's all right." + +"We'll see that you're made comfortable, and I hope we'll be able to let +you go within a day or so." + +He pressed a button, and turned Walters over to one of the officers on +inside duty, with instructions to see that the young taxi-driver was +afforded every courtesy and comfort, and was not treated as a criminal. +Spike turned at the door. + +"I want to thank you--" + +"That's all right, Spike!" + +"You're both mighty nice fellers--especially you, Mr. Carroll. I'm for +you every time!" + +Carroll blushed like a schoolgirl. The door closed behind Walters, and +Carroll faced Leverage. + +"Next thing is the body, chief." + +"Want it up here?" + +"If you please." + +An orderly was summoned, commands given, and within five minutes the body +of the dead man was borne into the room and laid carefully on the couch. +Leverage glanced inquisitively at Carroll. + +"Want the coroner?" + +"Surely; and you might also call in the newspapermen." + +"Eh? Reporters?" + +"Yes. I have a hunch, Leverage, that a great gob of sensational +publicity, right now, will be of inestimable help. Meanwhile let's get +busy before either the coroner or the reporters arrive." + +The two detectives went over the body meticulously. Warren had been shot +through the heart. Carroll bent to inspect the wound, and when he +straightened his manner showed that he had become convinced of one +important fact. In response to Leverage's query, he explained: + +"Shot fired from mighty close," he said. + +"Sure?" + +"The flame from the gun has scorched his clothes. That's proof enough." + +"In the taxi, eh?" + +"Possibly." + +"But the driver would have heard." + +"He probably would; but he didn't." + +"Ye-e-es." + +Carroll resumed his inspection of the body, examining every detail of +figure and raiment; and while he worked he talked. + +"You know something about this chap?" + +"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and +all that sort of thing. Has money--real money. Bachelor--lives +alone. Has a valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car. +Golfer--tennis-player--huntsman. Popular with women--and men, too, +I believe. About thirty-three years old." + +"Business?" + +"None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something. +That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's different +from other fellows is usually worth knowing something about." + +"Right you are! But that sort of a man--you'd hardly think he'd be the +victim of--hello, what's this?" + +Carroll had been going through the dead man's wallet. He rose to his +feet, and as he did so Leverage saw that the purse was stuffed with bills +of large denomination--a very considerable sum of money. But apparently +Carroll was not interested in the money; in his hand he held a +railroad-ticket and a small purple Pullman check. + +"What's the idea?" questioned Leverage. + +"Brings us back to the woman again," replied Carroll, with peculiar +intensity. + +"How so?" + +"He was planning to take a trip with her." + +Leverage glanced at the other man with an admixture of skepticism +and wonder. + +"How did you guess that?" + +"I didn't guess it. It's almost a sure thing. At least, it is pretty +positive that he was not planning to go alone." + +"Yes? Tell me how you know." + +Carroll extended his hand. + +"See here--a ticket for a drawing-room to New York, and _one_ +railroad-ticket!" + +"Yes, but--" + +"Two railroad-tickets are required for possession of the drawing-room," +he said quietly. "Warren had only one. It is clear, then, that the +holder of the missing ticket was going to accompany him; so what we have +to do now--" + +"Is to find the other railroad-ticket," finished Leverage dryly. "Which +isn't any lead-pipe cinch, I'd say!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CARROLL HAS A VISITOR + + +Carroll gazed intently upon the face of the dead man. There was a +half quizzical light in the detective's eyes as he spoke, apparently +to no one. + +"I've often thought," he said, "in a case like this, how much simpler +things would be if the murdered man could talk." + +"H-m!" rejoined the practical Leverage. "If he could, he wouldn't be +dead." + +"Perhaps you're right. And following that to a logical conclusion, if +he were not dead _we_ wouldn't be particularly interested in what he +had to say." + +"All of which ain't got a heap to do with the fact that your work is cut +out for you, Carroll. You're dead sure about that ticket dope, ain't you? +I ain't used to traveling in drawing-rooms myself." + +"It's straight enough, Leverage. The railroad company won't allow a +single passenger to occupy a drawing-room--that is, they demand two +tickets. If you, for instance, were traveling alone, and desired a +drawing-room, you'd be compelled to have two tickets for yourself. That +being so, it is plain that Warren there didn't intend making this trip to +New York alone. If he had, he would have had the two tickets along with +the drawing-room check. I am certain that two tickets were bought, +because the railroad men won't sell a drawing-room with a single ticket. +It is obvious, then, that he bought two tickets and gave the other one to +the person who was to make the trip with him." + +"The woman, of course!" + +"What woman?" + +"The woman in the fur coat--the one who got into the taxicab." + +"Perhaps; but she came in on the accommodation train after the New York +train was due to leave. The fast train was late." + +"So was the accommodation. They are due to make connection." + +"That's true. If we can find that ticket--" + +"We'll have found the woman, and when we find her the case will end." + +"Probably--" + +The door opened, and Sergeant O'Leary entered. + +"The coroner, sorr--him an' a reporter from each av the mornin' papers." + +"Show the coroner in first," ordered Carroll. "Let the newspapermen +wait." + +"Yis, sorr. They seem a bit impatient, sorr. They say they're holdin' up +the city edition for the news, sorr." + +"Very good. Tell them Chief Leverage says the story is worth +waiting for." + +The coroner--a short, thick-set man--entered and heard the story from +Leverage's lips. He made a cursory examination and nodded to Carroll. + +"Inquest in the morning, Mr. Carroll. Meanwhile, I reckon you want to let +them newspapermen in." + +The two reporters entered and listened popeyed to the story. They +telephoned a bulletin to their offices, and were assured of an hour's +leeway in phoning in the balance of the story. They were quivering with +excitement over what promised to be, from a newspaper standpoint, the +juiciest morsel of sensational copy with which the city had been blessed +for some time. + +To them Carroll recounted the story as he knew it, concealing nothing. + +"This is a great space-eating story," he told them in their own +language--the jargon of the fourth estate--"and the more it eats the +better it'll be for me. We want publicity on this case--all you can hand +out big chunks of it. We want to know who that woman was. The way I +figure it, this city is going to get a jolt at breakfast. Every one is +going to be comparing notes. Out of that mass of gossip we may get some +valuable information. Get that?" + +"We do. Space in the morning edition will be limited, but by evening, and +the next morning--oh, baby!" + +They took voluminous notes and telephoned in enough additional +information to keep the city rooms busy. When they would have gone, +Carroll stopped them. + +"Either of you chaps know anything of Warren's personal history?" + +The elder of the two nodded. + +"I do. Know him personally, in fact. I've played golf with him. Pretty +nice sort." + +"Rich, isn't he?" + +"Reputed to be. Never works; spends freely--not ostentatiously, but +liberally. Pretty fine sort of a chap. It's a damned shame!" + +"How about his relations with women?" + +The reporter hesitated and glanced guiltily at the dead body. + +"That's rather strong--" + +"It's not going beyond here, unless I find it necessary. I've played +clean with you boys. Suppose you do the same with me." + +"We-e-ell"--reluctantly--"he was rather much of a rounder. Nothing +coarse about him, but he never was one to resist a woman. Rather the +reverse, in fact." + +"Ever been mixed up in a scandal?" + +"Not publicly. He's friendly with a good many men--and with their wives. +A dozen, I guess; but the husbands invite him to their homes, so I don't +suppose there could be anything in the gossip. You see, folks are always +too eager to talk about a man in his position and whatever woman he +happens to be friendly with. And anyway, there hasn't been nearly so much +talk about him since his engagement was announced." + +"He is engaged?" + +"Why, yes." + +"To a girl in this city!" + +"Sure! I thought you knew that. Dandy girl--Hazel Gresham. You've heard +of Garry Gresham? It's his kid sister." + +"So-o! How long has this engagement been known?" + +"Couple of months. Pretty soft on both sides; he's got money and so has +she. She's a good scout, too, even if she is a kid." + +"How old?" + +"Hardly more than twenty; but her family seemed to welcome the match. +Warren and Garry Gresham were pretty good friends. Warren was about +thirty-three or thirty-four, you know. Gossip had it that the family was +going to object because of the difference in ages, but they didn't." + +Carroll was silent for a moment. + +"Nothing else about him you think might prove interesting?" + +"No-o." + +"And your idea of the murderer, after what you've heard?" + +"The woman in the taxicab killed him." + +"When did he get in?" + +The reporter threw back his head and laughed. + +"What is this--a game? If I knew that I'd have your job, Mr. Carroll. +The dame killed him, all right; and when we find out how she did it, and +when, and how he got in and she got out, we'll have a whale of a story!" + +"No theories as to the identity of this woman, have you?" + +"Nary one. A chap like Warren--bachelor, unencumbered--is liable to know +a heap of 'em. From what you tell me of the tickets--from the fact that +she was going away with him, I sort of figure you might do a little +social investigating and discover what woman might have been going off +with him." + +Eric Leverage had been listening intently. His mind, never swift to work, +yet worked surely. His big voice boomed into the conversation: + +"Carroll?" + +"Yes?" + +"This young fellow says Miss Gresham's family didn't have no objections +to the marriage. It just occurred to me to ask him is he _sure_?" + +The reporter flushed. + +"Why, no, chief; not sure. You never can be sure about things like that; +but so far as the public knew--" + +"That's it, exactly. How do we know, though, but what they were sore as a +pup over it, and just kept their traps closed because they didn't want +any gossip? S'posin' they were trying to break things off, an' makin' it +pretty uncomfortable for the girl? S'pose that, eh?" + +"Yes," argued the reporter. "Suppose all of that. Where does it get you?" + +"It gets you just here"--Leverage talked slowly, heavily, tapping his +spatulate fingers on the table to emphasize his points--"we know this +bird was going to elope with some skirt. All right! Now I ask this--why +go all around the block, looking for some one he might have been mixed up +with, when the woman a man is most likely to elope with is the girl he's +engaged to marry?" + +Silence--several seconds of it. Carroll spoke: + +"Miss Gresham, you mean?" + +"Sure, David--sure! I'm not sayin' she was the woman, mind you. I'm not +sayin' anything except that if I'm right in thinkin' that maybe her +folks weren't as crazy about this guy Warren as they seemed--if I'm +right in that, maybe they was plannin' to take matters in their own +hands and elope." + +"It's possible." + +"Sure, it's possible, and--" + +"But, chief," interrupted the reporter who had done most of the talking, +"why should Miss Gresham kill Warren?" + +"I didn't say she did, did I?" + +"If she was the woman in the taxi--" + +"If! Sure--_if!_ All I mentioned that for was to show you we might as +well start thinking close to home before we go to beatin' through the +bushes to follow a cold trail." + +The reporters left, and Carroll smiled at Leverage. + +"Good idea, Eric--about Miss Gresham." + +"'Tain't a hunch," said Leverage. "It just made good talkin'." + +"I'm glad you did it, anyway." + +"What is thare about it that you like?" + +"Those newspaper chaps will play it up. Maybe they won't intend to, +but they'll play it up, just the same; and it won't take us long +either to connect Miss Gresham with the crime or to link up an +iron-clad alibi for her." + +"H-m! Not bad! You know, Carroll"--and Leverage smiled frankly--"I'm +always makin' these fine suggestions an' pullin' good stunts, an' never +knowin' whether they're good or not until somebody tells me." + +"A good many folks are like that, Eric, but they don't admit it +afterward." + +"Neither do I--publicly." + +Leverage rose and yawned. + +"It's me for the hay, Carroll. I'm played out; and I have a hunch that +to-morrow I'm going to be busy as seven little queen bees--and you, too." + +Carroll reached for his overcoat. + +"A little bit of thinking things over isn't going to hurt me, either. +Good night!" + +Thirty minutes later Carroll reached his apartment, and a half-hour after +that he was sleeping soundly. The following morning he waked "all over," +as was his habit, and turned his eyes to gaze through the window. + +During the night the sleety drizzle had ceased, and the sun streamed +with brilliant coldness upon a city which shone in a glare of ice. +Leafless trees stretched their ice-covered tentacles into the cold, +penetrating air; pedestrians and horses slipped on the glassy pavements; +automobiles either skidded dangerously or set up an incessant rattle +with their chains. + +Carroll glanced at his watch. It showed nine o'clock. He started with +surprise. Then he reached for the newspapers on the table at the side of +his bed, and spread open the front pages. + +They had evidently been made up anew with the breaking of the Warren +murder story. Eight-column streamers shrieked at him from both front +pages. He read the stories through, and smiled with satisfaction. Just as +he had anticipated, both reporters, hungry for some definite clue upon +which to work, had seized upon the possibility of Hazel Gresham being the +mysterious woman in the taxicab. Not that they said so openly, but they +said enough to make the public know that the detectives in charge of the +case were likely to investigate her movements on the previous night. + +Carroll stepped into a shower, then dressed quickly and ate a light +breakfast served him by his maid, Freda. Before he finished, the doorbell +rang, and Freda announced that there was a lady to see him. + +"A lady?" + +Freda shrugged. + +"She ain't bane nothin' but a girl, sir, Mr. Carroll--just a +little girl." + +"Show her in." + +In two minutes Freda returned, and behind her came the visitor. Carroll +concealed a smile at sight of her. She was a little thing--sixteen or +seventeen years old, he judged--a fluffy, blond girl quivering with +vivacity; the type of girl who is desperately reaching for maturity, +entirely forgetful of the charms of her adolescence. He rose and bowed in +a serious, courtly manner. + +"You wish to see me?" + +"Yes, sir, I _do_. Is _this_ Mr. Carroll--the famous detective?" + +"I am David Carroll--yes." + +She inspected him with frank approval. + +"Why, you don't look any more than a boy! I thought you were old and had +whiskers--and--and--everything horrid." + +"I'm glad you're pleasantly surprised. What can I do for you?" + +"Oh, it isn't what you can do for me--it's what I can do for you!" + +"And that is?" + +"I came to tell you all about this terrible Warren murder case." + +"_You_ came to tell _me_ about it?" + +"Why, yes," she retorted smilingly. "You see, I know just _heaps_ about +the whole thing!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MISS EVELYN ROGERS + + +Carroll was more than amused; he was keenly interested. He motioned +his visitor to a chair and seated himself opposite, regarding her +quizzically. + +She was not exactly the type of person he had anticipated encountering in +a murder investigation. From the tip of her pert little hat to the toes +of her ultra-fashionable shoes she was expressive of the independent +rising generation--a generation wiser in the ways of the world than that +from which it was sprung--a generation strangely bereft of genuine youth, +yet charming in an entirely modern and unique manner. + +She was obviously a young person of italics, a human exclamation-point, +enthusiastic, irrepressible. She sat fidgeting in her chair, trying her +best to convince the detective that she was a woman grown. + +"I'm Evelyn Rogers," she gushed. "I'm the sister of Naomi Lawrence--you +know her, of _course_. She's one of the city's social leaders. Of course, +she's kind of frumpy and _terribly_ old. She must be--why, I suppose +she's every bit of thirty! And that's simply _awful!"_ + +"I'm thirty-eight," smiled Carroll. + +"No?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"Well, you don't look it. You don't look a day over twenty-two, and I +think men who are really grown up and yet look like boys are simply +_adorable!_ I do, really. And I simply _despise_ boys of twenty-two who +try to look like thirty-eight. Don't you?" + +"M-m! Not always." + +"Well, _I_ do! They're always putting on airs and trying to make us girls +think they're full-grown. I just simply haven't time to waste with them. +I feel so _old!"_ + +"I haven't a doubt of it, Miss Rogers. And now--I believe you came to +tell me something about the Warren case?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed--just _lots!_ But do you know"--she stared at him with +frank approval--"I'm terribly tickled with the way you look. You may not +believe it, but I've always been _atrociously_ in love with you." + +"No?" + +"Yes, indeed! You're such a _wonderful_ man--having your name in the +papers all the time. Oh, I've read about everything you've done! +That's how I learned so much about detectiving--or isn't that what you +call it?" + +"Detecting?" + +"That's it. You know I always was simply _incorrigible_ in making up +words when I couldn't think of the right one. Don't you think it's a +lot of trouble sometimes--thinking of just the right word in the +right place?" + +"Sometimes. But about the Warren case?" + +"Oh, yes, certainly! I'm always getting off my subject, ain't I? I +mean--am I not? Bother grammar, anyway. It's a terrible bore, don't +you think?" + +"Yes, Miss Rogers. And now--" + +"Back to that awful crime again, aren't you? It's simply sugary the way +you great detectives stick to one subject. I can do it, too, when I have +to. I took some lessons once in power of will--concentration and all that +sort of thing. It made me feel wickedly old; but I learned a great deal +about keeping my mind on one subject all the time. You know, it doesn't +matter what you concentrate on--even if it's only making biscuits, or +something messy and domestic like that--it does you good. It trains you +not to waste words, and to store up your mental energy, and all that sort +of thing. And all the time I was studying that course, I was thinking how +perfectly glorious modern science is. Just suppose Shakespeare had been +able to concentrate like us moderns can! His plays would have been +utterly _marvelous_, wouldn't they?" + +"I suppose they would. And now let's try concentrating on the +Warren case." + +"That's what I've been leading up to. You see, I knew Mr. Warren very +well. In fact, he was awfully friendly with me. To tell you the +strict truth, and absolutely in confidence, I really believe he was +in love with me!" + +"No?" + +"Yes, truly! We women have a way of knowing when a man is in love with +us. He used to be around at the house all the time. Of course, he +pretended that he came around because he liked Sis and Gerald--" + +"Gerald?" + +"That's Mr. Lawrence. He's my brother-in-law--Sis's husband. +Insufferably old-timy. Don't think of anything but business. Used to look +at me through his horn-rimmed glasses and say I was entirely too young to +be receiving attentions from a man as old as Mr. Warren; but he didn't +know. I'm not young, really, you know. Of course, I'm not twenty yet, but +a girl can be under twenty and yet be a woman, can't she?" + +"Yes"--dryly--"especially after she learns to concentrate." + +"And as intimately as I knew Roland--that's Mr. Warren, you know--of +course I didn't call him Roland to his face. Not that he didn't want me +to, but then Sis and Gerald would have disapproved--old frumps! Knowing +him so intimately, and really believing that he was in love with +me--although, of course, the minute he became engaged to Hazel Gresham I +didn't even flirt with him any more--not the least little tiny harmless +bit well, I find it excruciatingly hard to believe that he is dead!" + +"He is--quite. We're trying to discover who killed him." + +"I know it. That's what I came to see you about." + +"So you did. I'd quite forgotten--" + +"You ought to learn to concentrate, Mr. Carroll. It's really +ridiculously easy after you've studied it a little bit. Now if I had been +you, and you had been I--me--I never would have forgotten what you came +to see me about. Of course, I know you didn't forget, really; but the +chances are that you were interested talking, and absolutely failed to +remember that poor boy." + +"What poor boy?" + +"Roland Warren." + +Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. + +"I see! And now that I've remembered him again, suppose you tell me what +you know about him and the case?" + +"It's principally about what I read in the papers this morning. Really, +Mr. Carroll, there ought to be a law against newspapers printing such +ridiculous things!" + +"As what, for instance?" + +"That thing they had in there this morning. Why, the way they mentioned +Hazel Gresham, you'd have thought that they thought _she_ was the woman +who killed Roland--the woman in the taxicab." + +Carroll's eyes narrowed slightly. The faint smile still played about +his lips. + +"You don't think she was?" + +"Oh, Mr. Carroll! Please, _please_, don't be so irresistibly _absurd_! +Why in the world should Hazel kill the man she was engaged to?" + +"I don't know." + +"And besides, what does _she_ know about killing some one? That is the +most bizarre idea I have ever heard in all my life. Besides, she couldn't +have killed him, anyway." + +"Why not?" + +"Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't; and I'm sure she didn't want to. +Not that I think Roland Warren was the finest man in the world, or +anything like that. Of course, I do believe he was interested in me, and +that made me know him pretty well; but still he was an awfully nice boy, +and I'm sure Hazel was very much in love with him. So even if she could +have killed him, she wouldn't, would she?" + +"I hope not; but you said she _couldn't_. What did you mean by that?" + +"I mean that nobody can be in two places at one time. Although I did +read a funny article in the Sunday magazine section of one of the big +newspapers, last year, which said that--" + +"If Miss Gresham had been with Mr. Warren last night at midnight--she +would have been in two places at one time!" + +"Why, yes--and that's not possible; so, of course, she--" + +"What makes you think that, Miss Rogers!" + +"Think what?" + +"That Miss Gresham was not with Mr. Warren at midnight last night?" + +"Why," answered Evelyn Rogers simply, "I _know_ she wasn't--that's all." + +"You _know_?" + +"Yes, indeed--beyond the what-you-call-'em of a doubt." + +"How do you know that?" + +"It's very simple," she explained casually. "She was with me all night." + +Carroll gazed at the girl before him with new interest. Out of her +chatter he had at last garnered one important fact. His mind, trained to +seize upon the vital and instantly discard the inconsequential, clutched +the bit of information, and turned it over. From the first Carroll had +scouted the idea that the dead man's fiancee might have been responsible +for his death; but still it was a line of investigation which demanded +examination, and his pretty young visitor was making that road +exceedingly simple. He injected all the warmth of his friendly, sunny +nature in the smile which he bestowed upon her. + +"You have helped me tremendously with that piece of information, +Miss Rogers." + +"I don't see how, particularly. No one with any sense--provided they knew +Hazel, of course--could even imagine her killing any one, and least of +all an adorable boy like Roland. She was so much in love with him!" + +"Of course, I haven't the pleasure of Miss Gresham's acquaintance." + +"Of course not. You'll have to meet her, though. She's a darling! +Naturally, she's all broken up this morning because her wedding date +was all set. Now all her plans have gone smash, and she really was +_terribly_ fond--" + +"You say you spent the night with Miss Gresham?" + +"Certainly, and--" + +"Where?" + +"At her house." + +"And you are sure she was there all night?" + +"Of course! We slept in the same bed--and that's certainly proof enough, +isn't it?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You _suppose_? My goodness gracious! Don't you _know_?" + +"Well--yes. If you're sure--" + +"Why, my dear Mr. Carroll, we didn't even actually go to bed until a +quarter before twelve. At ten o'clock we made some waffles +downstairs--Hazel has just bought a perfectly _darling_ aluminum electric +waffle-iron. It makes the most toothsome waffles--all crisp and +everything. And you know when you use aluminum you don't need any grease, +so that makes the waffles much nicer. I'm getting horribly domestic since +Hazel became engaged, because she is learning--" + +"And after you made the waffles?" + +"Oh! After that we went up-stairs to her room, and put on our kimonos, +and had a heart-to-heart talk. I can't tell you what we talked about, +because sometimes--well, it was atrociously risqué--as women will, you +know, and--" + +"At a quarter before twelve you were still sitting up talking, and you +had your kimonos on?" + +"Yes, and--oh, you just ought to see Hazel's new kimono--pink _crêpe de +chine_, trimmed with satin. She looks simply ravishing in it. I told Sis +I wanted one like it, but--" + +"And then you went to bed?" + +"Yes, just about then." + +"You are sure Miss Gresham didn't get up!" + +"Oh, I'm positive she didn't! I didn't get to sleep until after one +o'clock, anyway, and I would have known." + +"You've given me some valuable information, Miss Rogers; and I'll see to +it that the newspapers correct any impression they may have left that +Miss Gresham might have been connected with the crime. Meanwhile"--he +rose--"I'm a bit overdue down at headquarters; so if you'll excuse me--" + +Evelyn Rogers rose and stood before him. Her pretty little face +was eager. + +"I've really helped you, Mr. Carroll?" + +"Enormously." + +"Well, I wonder--you know I'm just _fiendishly_ anxious to be helpful in +the world--I wonder if you'd let me help you some more?" + +"I'd be delighted." + +"Would you _really_?" + +"Really!" + +"And I can come to you any time to talk things over?" + +"Whenever you get ready." + +She clapped her hands. + +"That's simply _exquisite_! You know, Mr. Carroll, I'm just simply crazy +about you! I always have been, but I'm more so now than ever--just +_hopelessly_!" + +"Thank you." + +She made her way to the door. There she turned, and there was a peculiar +light in her eyes. + +"Mr. Carroll!" + +"Yes?" + +"I wish you had been nineteen years old just now." + +"Why?" + +"Because," she flashed, "if you had been nineteen years old when I told +you what I did, you would have kissed me!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +REGARDING ROLAND WARREN + + +For a long time after Evelyn departed, Carroll remained seated, puffing +amusedly on the cigar which followed his matutinal cigarette. Time had +been long since the detective had come in contact with so much youthful +spontaneity, and he found the experience refreshing. Then he rose and +would have left the apartment for headquarters, but again Freda +announced a caller. + +"Another young lady?" questioned Carroll. + +"No, sir. It bane young feller." + +"Show him in." + +The visitor entered, and Carroll found himself gazing into the level eyes +of a slightly disheveled and obviously excited young man of about +twenty-eight years of age. The man was slight of stature, but every +nervous gesture bespoke wiriness. + +"Are you Mr. Carroll?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm Gresham--Garrison Gresham." + +"A-a-ah! Won't you be seated!" + +"Yes. I came to have a talk with you." + +Carroll seated himself opposite his caller. Then he nodded. + +"You came to see me?" + +"About the Warren case." + +"You know something about it?" + +"Yes!" The young man seemed to bite the word. "I do." + +"What?" + +"You're in charge of the case, aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"You've seen this morning's papers?" + +"I have." + +"Well, they're rotten--absolutely rotten. They don't say it in so many +words, but the impression they create is that my sister, Hazel, was the +woman in the taxi who killed Roland Warren. It's a damned lie!" + +The young man was growing more excited. Carroll put out a +restraining hand. + +"I quite agree with you, my friend--it _was_ a pretty rotten impression +to create; but I shall see that all doubt is removed from the mind of the +public when this afternoon's papers appear. I have just learned that +your sister has an ironclad alibi." + +"You have already learned that?" + +"Yes." + +Gresham leaned forward eagerly. + +"What makes you sure--that she did not--was not--" + +"Suppose I question you--if you have no objections." + +"Fire away." + +"Where was your sister at midnight last night?" + +"At home." + +"Alone? I mean was any one besides your family there?" + +"Yes," replied Gresham, showing surprise at Carroll's evident +knowledge of facts. + +"Who?" + +"Evelyn Rogers spent the night with her. Evelyn's a seventeen-year-old +kid who has had what I believe you call a crush on my sister. They were +together in that house from ten o'clock last night, or earlier, until +this morning. And if you don't believe that--" + +"But I do. I have just had a visit from Miss Rogers, and she told me +exactly what you have just repeated; so I'm pretty well satisfied that +your sister had nothing whatever to do with the affair. I will take +pains to see that this evening's papers make that quite clear." + +Gresham rose. A load seemed to have dropped from his shoulders. + +"That's white of you, Carroll! I appreciate it." + +"Not at all. I have no desire to cause annoyance or inconvenience where +it is unnecessary. And Miss Rogers told me, with great attention to +detail, just why and how it was impossible for your sister to have been +anywhere except at home last night." + +"Evelyn's considerable of a brick, in spite of the fact that she's more +or less minus in the upper story. And now, if you're really satisfied, +I'll be going." + +The two men walked to the door together. They were about of a height; +Carroll slightly the heavier of the two. + +"You've no idea as to the identity of the woman in the taxicab, have +you, Gresham?" + +"No. Have you?" + +"None whatever; though I fancy something ought to develop in the near +future. The city is discussing it pretty freely?" + +"The town's wild about it. They don't understand anything. It's tough on +my sister. Hazel is only a kid, and I think she was in love with Warren. +Well, good day, Carroll." He extended a firm hand. "Any time I can be of +any help--" + +"Thanks, Gresham." + +Five minutes after Gresham's departure, Carroll was in his car, headed +for the police-station. He turned the case over and over in a keen, +analytic mind which had been refreshed by a night of untroubled sleep. + +There were a good many features about it which puzzled him considerably. +While he had not expected that the trail of the mysterious midnight woman +would lead to the fiancée of the dead man, the sudden dissipation of that +as a clue rather threw him off his balance. He had reached the end of a +trail almost before setting foot upon it. + +Thus far he had refused to allow himself to be worried by the strangest +feature of the case--the appearance of the dead body in a taxicab which, +according to its driver's story, could not have been other than empty. It +was always easy to explain the disappearance of a person from an +automobile; but, he figured, it was patently impossible to enter one +without the driver's knowledge. + +He reached headquarters and closeted himself with Leverage. They plunged +at once into a discussion of that phase of the case. + +"There are only two things which could have happened," said the chief of +police slowly. "One is that some one croaked that bird Warren and shoved +him into the cab while the woman was ridin' in it. The other is that he +slipped into the cab and she killed him. While I ain't jumpin' on no set +ideas, I have a hunch that the last one is right." + +"Why?" + +"Because the other--that idea of puttin' a dead body into a cab without +the driver knowing it--it just naturally ain't possible." + +"Then you are quite convinced, Leverage, that Walters did _not_ know +anything about it?" + +"Now, say, Carroll, that's putting it up to me rather strong; but since +you're asking, I'm here to say that I believe the kid. Of course it's +possible that he was in on the deal--but I'm betting Liberty bonds +against Russian rubles that he'd have slipped somewhere if that had been +the case. Nobody that's in on a murder deal is going to frame a lie that +sticks his bean as close to a noose as Walter's would be if he's not +tellin' the truth!" + +"Sounds reasonable; and yet--" + +"I'm surprised at you suspectin' the kid." + +"I don't suspect him." + +"But you said--" + +"We can't overlook anything--that's what I said. It's what I was +driving at, anyway. So far, Walters is the only tangible clue we've had +to work with. As I told you, the Hazel Gresham trail died a-borning. +The kid who came to see me this morning cleared her; and then her +brother came along right afterward, red-hot over the insinuations +against his sister in the papers. As matters stand now, there's nothing +to tie to but Spike Walters." + +"I'm glad you're handling it," said Leverage fervently. "And as you are, +I'm making so bold as to ask what you're going to do next?" + +"A little general inquiring. You can help me on that. For one thing, I +want to get hold of every bit of dope I can regarding Warren--who he was, +where he came from, what he did, the size of his bank deposits, his +business connections, his social life, and especially every morsel of +gossip that's ever been circulated about him in connection with women." + +"H-m! You think this dame was a society sort?" + +"Probably. He was undoubtedly going away with her; and a man of his stamp +doesn't often elope with a woman of the other type." + +"True enough! Well, I'll get you what dope I can." + +"I want it all. I'm afraid this is going to resolve itself into a +contest of elimination. The city is buzzing about the case to-day, and +it ought to be pretty easy to get hold of a world of gossip concerning +Warren's love-affairs--provided he had any. Everybody's concerned over +the identity of that woman, and every woman Warren has ever been mixed +up with, even in the most innocuous way, is going to be dragged into +the case." + +Carroll made his way from headquarters direct to the consolidated +railroad ticket office. He introduced himself to the chief clerk and +stated his business. The other showed keen interest. + +"The tickets were sold to him in this office, Mr. Carroll. This young man +here sold them." + +Carroll smiled genially at the skinny young chap who bustled forward +importantly, proud of his temporary spotlight position. + +"You sold some tickets to Roland Warren?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When?" + +"Day before yesterday." + +"You are sure it was Mr. Warren?" + +"Yes, sir. I have known him by sight for a longtime." + +"About the tickets--what did he buy?" + +"Two tickets and a drawing-room on No. 29 for New York--due to leave at +11.55 last night." + +"You're sure he bought _two_ tickets and a drawing-room? Or was it +one ticket?" + +"It had to be two. We can't sell a drawing-room unless the purchaser has +double transportation." + +"You delivered both tickets to him personally?" + +"Yes, sir--gave them both to him." + +From the ticket office Carroll went back to headquarters, and from there +to the coroner's office, and, accompanied by that dignitary, to the +undertaking establishment where the body was being kept under police +guard. Nothing had yet been touched. The inquest had resulted in a +verdict of "death by violence, inflicted by a revolver in the hands of a +person unknown." + +Carroll again ran through the man's pockets. In a vest pocket he +discovered what he sought. He took the trunk check to the Union Station, +and through his police badge secured access to the baggage-room. The +trunk was not there. He compared checks with the baggage-master, and +learned that the trunk had duly gone to New York. He left orders for it +to be returned to the city. + +From there he went to the office of the division superintendent, and left +a half-hour later, after an exchange of telegrams between the +superintendent and the conductor of the train for New York, which +informed him that the drawing-room engaged by Warren had been unoccupied, +nor had there been an attempt on the part of any one to secure possession +of it. Also that the only berth purchased on the train had been at a +small-town stop about four o'clock in the morning. + +Obviously, then, the person who was to share the drawing-room with +Warren, and for whom the second ticket had been bought, had never boarded +the train. The trail had doubled back again to the woman in the taxicab. + +It was not until two o'clock in the afternoon that Carroll returned to +headquarters. He found Leverage ready with his report. + +"For one thing," said the chief, "there isn't a doubt that Warren was +getting ready to leave town--and for good." + +"How so?" + +Leverage checked over his list. + +"First, he had sublet his apartment. Second, he had with him eleven +hundred dollars in cash. Third, he left his automobile with a dealer +here to be sold, and did not place an order for any other car. And +fourth--" Leverage paused impressively. + +"Yes--and fourth?" + +"He fired his valet yesterday!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VALET TALKS + + +There was a triumphant ring to Leverage's statement that the dead man's +valet had been discharged at some time during the twenty-four hours which +immediately preceded the killing. It was as if his instinct recognized a +combination of circumstances which could not be ignored. Carroll looked +up interestedly. + +"Have you talked to this fellow?" + +"No. I figured I'd better leave that phase of it to you; but I'm having +him watched. Cartwright is on the job. Right now the man is at his +boarding-place on Larson Street." + +Carroll started for the door. + +"Let's go," he suggested laconically. + +It was but a few minutes' drive from headquarters to the boarding-house +of Roland Warren's former valet. Carroll parked his car at the curb and +inspected the place closely from the outside. + +There was little architectural beauty to recommend the house. It was a +rambling, dilapidated, two-story structure, sadly in need of paint and +repairs, and bespeaking occupancy by a family none too well blessed +with the better things of existence. They proceeded to the door and +rang the bell. A slatternly woman answered their summons, and Leverage +addressed her: + +"We wish to see William Barker, please." + +"William Barker?" + +"Yes. I believe he moved here yesterday." + +"Oh, that feller!" The woman started inside. "Wait a minute," she said +crossly, and shut the door in their faces. + +While they stood waiting, Leverage glanced keenly up and down the street, +and his eye lighted on the muscular figure of Cartwright, the +plainclothes man, shivering in the partial shelter of an alley across the +way. The policeman signaled them that all was well, and resumed his +vigil. At that minute the door opened and the woman reappeared. + +"He ain't home!" she said, and promptly closed the door again. + +Carroll looked at Leverage and Leverage looked at Carroll. Leverage +crossed the street and interrogated Cartwright. + +"The landlady says he's out, Cartwright. How about it?" + +"Bum steer, chief! The bird's there--I'll bet my silk shirt on it!" + +Leverage recrossed the street and reported to Carroll. + +"You're pretty sure Cartwright has the straight dope!" + +"Sure thing," said the chief. "He's one of the most reliable men on the +force, and when he says a thing, he knows it." + +Carroll stroked his beardless chin. There was a hard, calculating light +in his eyes--eyes which alternated between a soft, friendly blue and a +steely gray. Finally he looked up at Leverage. + +"What's your idea, Eric?" + +"About him sendin' word he was out when we know he ain't?" + +"Exactly." + +"It looks darn funny to me, Carroll! 'Pears like he didn't want to +discuss the affair with us." + +"He don't know who we are." + +"He can guess pretty well. Any guy with a head on his shoulders knows +the valet of a murdered man is going to be quizzed by the police." + +"Good! Come on." + +Carroll put a firm hand on the knob and turned it. Then he stepped into +the dingy reception hall, followed by the city's chief of police. + +At the sound of visitors, the angular frame of the boarding-house-keeper +appeared in the doorway, her eyes flashing antagonistically. Leverage +turned back the lapel of his coat and disclosed the police badge. + +"Listen here, lady," he said in a voice whose very softness brooked no +opposition; "that bird Barker is here, and we're going to see him. Police +business! Where's his room?" + +The woman's face grew ashen. + +"What's he been doin'?" she quavered. "What's he been up to now?" + +"What's he been up to before this?" countered Leverage. + +"I don't know anything about him. Swear to Gawd I don't! He just come +here yesterday an' took a room. Paid cash in advance." + +"He's in his room, ain't he?" + +"What if he is? He told me to tell anybody who come along that he was +out. I didn't know you was cops. Oh, I hope there ain't nothin' goin' to +ruin the reputation of this place! There ain't a woman in town who runs a +decenter place than this." + +"Nobody's going to know anything," reassured Carroll, "provided you keep +your own tongue between your teeth. Now take us to Barker's room." + +The boarding-house-keeper led the way up a flight of dark and twisting +stairs, along a musty hall. She paused before a door at the far end. + +"There it is, sirs--and--" + +"You go downstairs," whispered Carroll. "If we should find you trying to +listen at the keyhole--" + +His manner made it unnecessary to finish the threat. The woman departed, +fluttering with excitement. Leverage's hand found the knob, and Carroll +nodded briefly. The door was flung open, and the two men entered. + +"What the--" + +The occupant of the room leaped to his feet and stood staring, his face +gone pasty white, his demeanor one of terror, which Carroll could see he +was fighting to control. Leverage closed the door gently and gazed at +the man upon whom they had called. + +William Barker was not a large man; neither was he small. He was one of +those men of medium height, whose physique deceives every one save the +anatomical expert. To the casual observer his weight would have been +catalogued at about a hundred and forty. At a glance Carroll knew that it +was nearer a hundred and eighty. Normal breadth of shoulder was more than +made up for by unusual depth of chest. Ready-made trousers bulged with +the enormous muscular development of calf and thigh. The face, +clean-shaven, was sullen with the fear inspired by the sudden entrance of +Carroll and Leverage; and there was more than a hint of evil in it. As +they watched, the sullenness of expression was supplanted by a leer, and +then by a mask of professional placidity--the bovine expression which one +expects to find in the average specimen of masculine hired help. + +The man's demeanor was a combination of abjectness and hostility. He was +plainly frightened, yet striving to appear at ease. + +Carroll and Leverage maintained silence. Barker fidgeted nervously, and +finally, when the strain became too great, burst out with: + +"Who are you fellers? Whatcha want?" + +Carroll spoke softly. + +"William Barker?" + +"What if that is my name?" + +Carroll's hands spread wide. + +"Just wanted to be sure, that's all. You _are_ William Barker?" + +"An' what if I am? What you got to do with that?" + +Carroll showed his badge. + +"And this gentleman," he finished, designating Leverage, "is chief +of police." + +Barker's voice came back to him in a half whine, half snarl. + +"I ain't done nothin'--" + +"Nobody has accused you yet." + +"Well, when you bust in on a feller like this--" + +Carroll seated himself, and Leverage followed suit. He motioned Barker +to a chair. + +"Let's talk things over," he suggested mildly. + +"Ain't nothin' to talk over." + +"You're William Barker, aren't you?" + +"I ain't said I ain't, have I?" + +Carroll's eyes grew a bit harder. His voice cracked out: + +"What's your name?" + +Barker met his gaze; then the eyes of the ex-valet shifted. + +"William Barker," he answered almost unintelligibly. + +"Very good! Now, sit down, William." + +William seated himself with ill grace. Carroll spoke again, but this time +the softness had returned to his tones. His manner approached downright +friendliness. + +"We came here to talk with you, Barker," he said frankly. "We don't +know a thing about your connection with this case; but we do know that +you were valet to Roland Warren, and therefore must possess a great +deal of information about him which no one else could possibly have. +All we want is to learn what you know about this tragedy--what you know +and what you think." + +Barker raised his head. For a long time he stared silently at Carroll. + +"I don't know who you are," he remarked at length; "but you seem to be on +the level." + +"I am on the level," returned Carroll quietly. "My name is David +Carroll--" + +"O-o-oh! So _you're_ David Carroll?" The query was a sincere tribute. + +"Yes, I'm Carroll, and I'm working on the Warren case. I don't want to +cause trouble for any one, but there are certain facts which I must +learn. You can tell me some of them. No person who is innocent has the +slightest thing to fear from me. And so--Barker--if you have nothing to +conceal, I'd advise that you talk frankly." + +"I ain't got nothin' to conceal. What made you think I had?" + +"I don't think so. I don't think anything definite at this stage of the +game. I want to find out what you know." + +"I don't know nothin', either." + +"H-m! Suppose I learn that for myself! I'll start at the beginning. Your +name is William Barker?" + +"Yes. I told you that once." + +"Where is your home? What city have you lived in mostly?" + +The man hesitated. + +"I was born in Gadsden, Alabama, if that's what you mean. Mostly I've +lived in New York and around there." + +"What cities around there?" + +"Newark." + +"Newark, New Jersey?" + +"Yes. An' in Jersey City some, and Paterson, and a little while in +Brooklyn." + +"You met Mr. Warren where?" + +"In New York. I was valet for a feller named Duckworth, and he went and +died on me--typhoid; you c'n find out all about him if you want. Mr. +Warren was a friend of Mr. Duckworth's, an' he offered me a job. We lived +in New York for a while and then we come down here." + +"How long ago?" + +"'Bout four years--maybe five." + +"What kind of a man was he--personally?" + +Carroll watched his man closely without appearing to do so. He saw +Barker flush slightly, and did not miss the jerky nervousness of his +answer--that or the forced enthusiasm. + +"Oh, I reckon he is all right. That is, he _was_ all right. Real +nice feller." + +"You were fond of him?" + +"I didn't say I was in love with him. I said he was a nice feller." + +"Treated you well?" + +"Oh, sure--he treated me fine." + +"And yet he discharged you yesterday." Then Carroll bluffed. +"Without notice!" + +Barker looked up sharply. His face betrayed his surprise; showed clearly +that Carroll's guess had scored. + +"How'd you know that?" + +"I knew it," returned Carroll. "That's sufficient." + +Barker assumed a defensive attitude. + +"Anyway," said he, "that didn't make me sore at him, because he give me a +month's pay; and that's just as good as a notice, ain't it?" + +"Ye-e-es, I guess it is." Carroll hesitated. "Did he pay you in cash?" + +"Yeh--cash." + +Again Carroll hesitated for a moment, while he lighted a cigarette. When +he spoke again, his tone was merely conversational, almost casual. + +"You've read the papers--all about Mr. Warren's murder, haven't you?" + +"I'll say I have." + +"What do you think about it?" + +Again that startled look in Barker's eyes. Again the nervous twitching +of hands. + +"Whatcha mean, what do I think about it?" + +"The woman in the taxicab--do you think she killed him?" + +Barker drew a deep breath. One might have fancied that it was a sigh +of relief. + +"Oh, _her_? Sure! She's the person that killed him!" + +"He knew a good many women?" suggested Carroll interrogatively. "He got +along pretty well with them?" + +"H-m!" William Barker nodded. "You said it then, Mr. Carroll. Mr. +Warren--he was a bird with the women!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CARROLL MAKES A MOVE + + +No slightest move of Warren's erstwhile valet--no twitching of facial +muscles, no involuntary gesture of nervousness, however slight--escaped +Carroll's attention; but with all his watchfulness, the boyish-looking +investigator was unostentatious, almost retiring in his manner. + +And this modest demeanor was having its effect on William Barker, just as +Carroll had known it would have, and as Leverage had hoped. Eric Leverage +had worked with Carroll before, and he had seen the man's personal charm, +his sunny smile, his attitude of camaraderie, perform miracles. People +had a way of talking freely to Carroll after he had chatted with them +awhile, no matter how bitter the hostility surrounding their first +meeting. Carroll was that way--he was a student of practical every-day +psychology. He worked to one end--he endeavored to learn the mental +reactions of every one of his _dramatis persoae_ toward the fact of the +crime he happened to be investigating; that and, as nearly as possible, +their feelings at the moment of the commission of the crime, no matter +where they might have been. + +"It doesn't matter what a suspect says," he had told Leverage once. "Some +of them tell the truth and some of them lie. Often the truth sounds +untrue, while the lies carry all the earmarks of honesty. It's a sheer +guess on the part of any detective. What I want to know is how my man +felt at the time the crime was committed--not where he was; and how he +feels now about the whole thing." + +"But the facts themselves are important," argued the practical chief +of police. + +"Granted! But when you have facts, you don't need a detective. I'd rather +have a suspect talk freely and never tell the truth than have him be +reticent and stick to a true story." + +Leverage's reply had been expressive of his opinion of Carroll's almost +uncanny ability. + +"Sounds like damned nonsense," said he; "but it's never failed you yet. +And even you couldn't get away with it if you lost that smile of yours!" + +Right now he was witnessing the magic of Carroll's smile. He had seen the +antagonism slowly melt from Barker's manner. The nervousness was still +there, true; but it seemed tinged with an attitude which was part +friendliness toward Carroll and part contempt for his powers. That, too, +was an old story to Leverage. More than one criminal had tripped over the +snag of underrating Carroll's ability. + +Barker's last statement--"Warren, he was a bird with the women!"--was +true. Leverage knew it was true. Carroll knew it was true. There was the +ring of truth about it. It mattered not whether Barker had an iron of his +own in the fire--it mattered not what else he said which was not +true--the two detectives knew that they had extracted from him a fact, +the relative importance of which would be established later. + +Just at present, knowledge that the dead man had been somewhat of a +philanderer seemed of considerable importance. For one thing, it +established the theory that he had been planning an elopement with the +woman in the taxicab. That being the case, a definite task was +faced--first, find the woman; then find some man vitally affected by her +elopement with Warren. + +Carroll betrayed no particular interest in Barker's statement. Instead, +he smiled genially, a sort of between-us-men smile, which did much to +disarm Barker. + +"A regular devil with 'em, eh, Barker?" + +"You spoke a mouthful that time, Mr. Carroll! What he didn't know about +women their own husbands couldn't tell him." + +"Married ones?" + +"Oh, sure! He was a specialist with them." + +"Then most of this gossip we've been hearing has a basis of fact?" + +A momentary return of caution showed in Barker's retort. + +"I don't know just what you've been hearin'." + +"A good many stories about his love affairs--with women who were +prominent socially." + +Barker shrugged. + +"Most likely they're true; although it's a safe bet that a heap of 'em +was lies. Men folks have a way of lyin' about women that way, even where +they'll tell the truth about everything else. They've got women beaten +ninety-seven ways gossiping about that sort of thing." + +"You know a thing or two yourself, Barker?" + +The man flushed with pleasure. + +"Oh, I ain't nobody's pet jackass, when it comes to that!" + +"Now you"--Carroll's tone was gentle, almost hypnotic--"of course you +know who the woman is that Mr. Warren was planning to elope with?" + +"I know--" + +Suddenly Barker paused, and his face went white. He compressed his lips +with an effort and choked back the words. Leverage, leaning forward in +tense eagerness--knowing the verbal trap that Carroll had been +planting--sighed with disappointment, and relaxed. + +"Say, what the hell are you driving at!" + +"Nothing." One would have sworn that Carroll was surprised at Barker's +flare of anger--or else that it had passed unnoticed. "I just figured +that you, having been his valet, and knowing a good deal about him, would +have knowledge of this." + +"He wasn't in the habit of discussin' his lady friends with me," growled +the ex-valet surlily. + +"Of course he wasn't; but you know, of course? You guessed?" + +"No, I didn't do nothin' of the kind. Say, what are you tryin' to +do--trip me up or somethin'?" + +"Of course not. Why should I be interested in tripping you up?" + +"You was sayin'--" + +"Don't be foolish, Barker! It wouldn't do me a bit of good to--er--trip +you up. All I want is whatever knowledge you have which may prove of +interest in solving this case." + +The man's eyes narrowed craftily. + +"You ain't got no suspicions yourself, have you?" + +"Suspicions of what?" + +"Who that dame in the taxicab was." + +Carroll laughed infectiously. + +"Goodness, no! If I had, I wouldn't be seated here chatting with you." + +Again the expression of relief flashed across Barker's face--a bit +of play lost by neither detective. Carroll was toying idly with a +gold pencil on the end of his waldemar. His outward calmness +exasperated Leverage. From this point of the interview, the chief of +police would have dropped the attitude of trustful friendliness and +resorted to a little practical third-degree stuff. He was fairly +quivering with eagerness to bluster about the room and extract +information by main force. + +And a hint of Leverage's mental seethe must have been communicated to +Carroll, for the younger man turned the battery of his sunny gaze upon +the chief of police and nodded reassuringly. The effect was +instantaneous. Leverage's temporary resentment departed much as the gas +escapes from a pin-punctured balloon. He gave ear to Barker's speech. + +"N'r you ain't the only one who don't know who that woman was. _I_ +don't!" + +"You knew he was planning to elope, though?" + +The man shook his head doggedly. + +"I knew he was leavin' the city for good, if that's what you mean." + +"No-o, not exactly. I knew that much myself. What interests me is +this--was he planning to leave with some woman?" + +Barker hesitated before replying, and when he did answer it was patent +that his words were chosen carefully. + +"I don't hardly reckon he was, Mr. Carroll. Mind you, I'm not sayin' he +wasn't; but then again I ain't sayin' he was. I can't do nothin' only +guess--same as you can." + +"I see!" Carroll was apparently unconscious of Barker's flagrant +evasion. "What I don't understand is this--when Mr. Warren was publicly +engaged to Miss Gresham, why did he try to elope with her?" + +"Elope with Miss Gresham?" Barker paused; then a slow, calculating smile +creased his lips. "Miss Gresham--her he was engaged to! Dog-gone if I +don't believe you've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Carroll!" + +"What nail?" + +"About her bein' the woman in the taxi. You know some fellers is like +that--they'd a heap rather elope with a woman they're crazy about than +stand up in a church and get married. They're sort of romantic." Barker +was waxing loquacious. "You know, you must be right. Fact, if you put it +right up to me, I'd say there wasn't no doubt that Miss Gresham was the +woman in the taxicab." + +"I had that idea," responded Carroll slowly. "But what I can't +understand, Barker, and what you might help me figure out, is this--why +should Miss Gresham kill Mr. Warren?" + +"Huh! Ask me somethin' easy, will you? I never was good at riddles." + +Leverage marveled at the change in the two men. Apparently Carroll had +swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Of course, Leverage was pretty sure +that he had not; but he was also sure that Barker thought he had. And +Barker was volunteering information--plenty of it--that was absolutely +valueless. For the first time he was forcing the conversational pace, and +Carroll seemed serenely content to drag limply along. + +"Reckon she might have been jealous of him?" drawled Carroll. + +"Jealous? Maybe. I ain't sayin' she wasn't. Of course, she must have +heard a good many things about him and other women; and when a woman gets +downright jealous there ain't much sayin' what she wouldn't do. Not that +I'm sayin' Miss Gresham croaked him. I ain't sayin' nothin' positive; but +if you're askin' me who he'd most naturally elope with, why I'd say it +was the girl he was engaged to marry. If he wasn't going to marry her, +what did he ever get engaged to her for?" + +Carroll nodded. + +"Certainly sounds reasonable." He paused, and then: "Where were you about +midnight last night?" + +"I was"--Barker's figure stiffened defensively, and his eyebrows drew +down over the deep-set eyes--"I was just shootin' some pool." + +"Shooting pool?" + +"Un-huh!" + +"Where?" + +"At Kelly's place." + +"Where is that?" + +The man hesitated, flushed, and then, somewhat sullenly: + +"On Cypress Street." + +"That's pretty close to the Union Station, isn't it?" + +"Not so close." + +"About how far away?" + +Again the momentary hesitation. + +"'Bout a half-block." + +"And you were shooting pool there?" + +"Sure I was! I c'n prove it." + +Carroll grinned disengagingly. + +"You don't need to prove anything to me, Barker. And for goodness' sake +get the idea out of your head that I'm suspecting you of anything. I had +to talk matters over with you. You knew more about the dead man than any +one else; but I couldn't think you had anything to do with it, could I? +You're not a woman!" + +Barker grinned sheepishly. + +"That's all right, Mr. Carroll. And as for me bein' a woman--well, you're +sure a woman killed him, ain't you?" + +"As sure as any one can be. And now"--Carroll rose--"I'm tremendously +obliged for all the information you've given me. Any time you run +across anything more that you think might prove of interest, look me +up, will you?" + +"Sure! Sure!" Barker's tone was almost hearty. "You're a regular feller, +Mr. Carroll--a regular feller!" + +The two detectives departed. Carroll spoke to Cartwright as he passed: + +"Keep both eyes on that fellow Barker," he ordered curtly. "I'll +send Reed up to team with you. Don't let him get away. Nab him if he +tries it." + +Cartwright nodded briefly, and Carroll and Leverage climbed into the +former's car. As they rounded the corner, Leverage turned wide eyes upon +his professional associate. + +"Carroll?" + +"Yes?" + +"You beat the Dutch!" + +"How so?" + +"You didn't swallow that bird's yarn, did you?" + +"Of course not," answered Carroll calmly. + +"I didn't think so; but you had me worried, with that innocent look of +yours. Me, if I was wantin' to play safe on this case, I'd arrest William +Barker _pronto_." + +"Why?" + +"Because," snapped Leverage positively, "I think he was mixed up in +Warren's murder!" + +"Aa-ah!" Carroll refused to become excited. "You do?" + +"Yes, I do. What do you think?" + +"I think this," answered Carroll. "I think that Mr. William Barker knows +a great deal more about the case than he has told!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ICE CREAM SODA + + +They drove in silence to headquarters, each man busy with his thoughts. +It was not until they were alone in Leverage's sanctum that the subject +of the recent interview was again broached. It was Leverage who brought +it up, in his characteristically gruff way. + +"I reckon you're wonderin', Carroll, about what I said back yonder +in the car?" + +"About arresting Barker?" + +"Yes. I guess you're figuring what I'd arrest him for, eh?" + +"I'm interested--yes." + +"I'd arrest him for this." Leverage leaned forward earnestly, his +attitude that of a man eager to convince. "Let's admit right off the reel +that the skirt in the taxicab croaked Warren. Looks like she did, anyway; +but whether she did or not, it's an even bet that there was a man mixed +up in it somewhere. And if that man isn't Mr. William Barker, then I'll +eat a month's pay." + +"You're sure there was a man mixed up somewhere?" + +"Certainly. This murder deal was planned in advance. It must have been. +Things couldn't just work out that way. And no woman, no matter how much +she wanted to bump Warren off, could think of a thing that complicated. +Even if she did think of it, she wouldn't have the nerve to carry it out +that way. Ain't I right?" + +"You may not be right, Leverage; but you're certainly logical." + +"Good! Now, so far, we ain't got any man in this case except Barker." + +Carroll shook his head. + +"You're wrong there." + +"How?" + +"Somewhere in this town is some man who is interested in the woman with +whom Warren was planning to elope. Don't forget this, Leverage--I let +Barker ramble on. I like to hear 'em talk. The minute he jumped at the +idea that the woman in the taxi was Miss Gresham, I knew perfectly well +that he knew she was not. I also believe that he knows who the woman +was. Further, I believe that she is socially prominent. That being the +case, it is a safe guess that there is some man who might commit a +murder, provided he knew in advance of the elopement. Our task now is to +discover that woman and, through her, the man interested." + +Leverage frowned thoughtfully. + +"Listens good," he volunteered at length. "Another thing--Barker admits +he was shooting pool in Kelly's place last night around midnight; and +Kelly's place is only half a block from the Union Station. That sounds +significant!" + +"It does; and then again it may mean nothing. What I am striving for is +to make William Barker feel that he is safe. The safer he feels, the more +readily he will talk. No matter how many lies he tells, everything that +he says is of value. He didn't know, of course, that we already had a +perfect alibi for Miss Gresham; but even if we hadn't, his assumed belief +that she committed the crime would have assured me that she did not. +No-o, I think we'd better not arrest the man unless he forces our +hand--tries to jump town, or something like that. Better let him remain +at large and talk frequently. If he has anything to betray, there's more +chance that he'll do it that way. Don't you think I'm right?" + +"I wouldn't admit it if I didn't, Carroll. I've seen you in action too +often to believe you're ever wrong." + +Carroll flushed boyishly. + +"Don't be absurd, Leverage! I'm often wrong--very wrong. And don't think +that I'm a transcendent detective; they don't really exist, you know. I'm +merely trying to be human, to learn the nature of the people with whom +I'm dealing. I try to learn 'em as well as they know themselves--maybe a +little better; and then I try to separate the wheat of vital facts from +the chaff of the inconsequential." + +"Just the same," insisted Leverage loyally, "you always get 'em!" + +"And when I do, it is because I have used nothing more than plain common +sense. Don't think that I attach no importance to physical clues. They're +immensely valuable; but the one weakness in a criminal is his lack of +common sense. His perspective is awry, his sense of values distorted. +Usually he bothers his head about a myriad minor details, and pays but +scant attention to the genuinely important things. It is upon that +weakness that I am banking--particularly so in the case of Barker." + +"I insist that you're a wonder, Carroll!" + +"And I insist that you're foolishly complimentary. Did you ever stop to +realize, Eric, that when a crime is committed the advantage lies entirely +with the detective? The detective can make a thousand mistakes during the +course of his investigations and still trap his man; but the criminal +cannot make one single error--not _one_!" + +"Maybe so, David; but it takes a good man to recognize that one, and to +know what to do with it." + +Carroll grinned and left, and then for two days devoted himself to a +study of the conditions surrounding the murder--that and routine matters. +The trunk, for instance, was duly returned by the railroad from New York, +and Carroll and his friend made a minute investigation of every article +contained therein. Their search was well-nigh fruitless. The trunk +contained little save the wardrobe of a well-dressed man--suits, shirts, +underwear, shoes, caps. There were also golf and tennis togs; a few +books; a handsome leather secretary, containing a good many personal +letters and one or two business missives which were of little interest. +Altogether the examination of the trunk--a process which occupied three +hours--established nothing definite, save that there was nothing to be +discovered. Its results were hopelessly negative. + +Meanwhile the city sizzled with gossip of the Warren murder. The +seemingly impenetrable mystery surrounding the case, its many sensational +features, the admission of the police department that the woman in the +case was not Hazel Gresham, fiancée of the dead man, yet the certainty +that there was a woman, and that she was of the better class--all this +served to keep the tongues of men and women alike wagging at both ends. + +Carroll was besieged with anonymous letters. Dozens of prominent +married women were mentioned as having been, at one time or another, +the object of Warren's amorous attentions. Carroll read each one +carefully and filed it away. He had hoped for this, but the results had +far exceeded his expectations, and he found himself bewildered rather +than assisted by the response from nameless individuals who were +morbidly eager to be of help. + +The detective knew that the running down of each individual trail--the +investigation of each of Warren's supposed affairs of the heart--would be +an interminable procedure. And so far not a single one of the letters had +varied from another. They connected Warren's name with that of some +married woman, and let it go at that. It was quite evident that the dead +man had been very much of a Lothario; too much so for the mental ease of +the investigator who was struggling to link the cause of his death with +one particular affair. + +The reporters allowed their imaginations to run wild. The story was what +is known, in the parlance of the newspaper world, as a "space-eater." +City editors turned their best men loose on it and devoted columns to +conjecture. There was little definite information upon which to base the +daily stories that were luridly hurled into type. Thus far Spike Walters, +driver of taxicab No. 92,381, was the only person under arrest, and only +those persons too lazy to exercise their minds were willing to believe +that Spike was guilty or that he knew more of the crime than he had told. + +Carroll read each news story attentively. No wild theory of a pop-eyed +reporter, hungry for fact, was too absurd to receive his careful +attention. But they proved of little assistance. With the spot-light of +publicity blazing on the crime, the investigation seemed to have become +static. There was no forward movement; nothing save that in the brain of +David Carroll salient facts were being seized upon and meticulously +catalogued for future reference. + +Cartwright and Reed, the plain-clothes men detailed to shadow William +Barker, reported nothing suspicious in that gentleman's movements. He +seemed to be making no effort to secure employment, but, on the other +hand, there was little of interest in what he did do. Again the stone +wall of negative action. + +Barker spent his mornings in his boarding-house, apparently luxuriating +in long slumbers; he ate always at the same cheap restaurant; and his +afternoons and evenings were devoted largely to the science of eight-ball +pool at Kelly's place. There may have been significance in his loyalty to +Kelly's place; but if there was, it was too vague for Carroll to +consider. He merely remembered the fact that Barker was a steady patron +of the pool-room near the Union Station, and filed it away with his +other threads of information concerning the murder. + +Carroll was frankly puzzled. The case differed widely from any other +with which he had ever come in contact. Usually there was an array of +persons upon whom suspicion could be justly thrown; a collection of +suspects from whom the investigator could take his choice, or from whom +he could extract facts which eventually might be used to corner the +guilty person. In the present case there was no one to whom he could +turn an accusing finger. + +Of course, he was convinced that William Barker knew a great deal about +the crime and the events which preceded it; but Barker wouldn't talk--and +he, Carroll, had no evidence that enabled him to bluff, to draw Barker +out against his will. + +The crime seemed to have lost itself in the sleety cold of the December +midnight upon which it was committed. The trails were not blind--there +were simply no trails. The circumstances baffled explanation--a lone +woman entering an empty taxicab; a run to a distant point in the city; +the discovery of the woman's disappearance, and in her stead the sight of +the dead body of a prominent society man--that, and the further blind +information that the suit-case which the woman had carried was the +property of the man whose body was huddled horribly in the taxicab. + +The woman, whoever she was, had either been unusually clever or +unusually lucky. Minute examination of the interior of the cab had +revealed nothing--not a fingerprint, nor a scrap of handkerchief. +There was absolutely nothing which could serve as a clue in establishing +her identity. + +And yet, somewhere in the city--a city of two hundred thousand souls--was +the woman who could clear up the mystery. + +Convinced that she was prominent socially, Carroll kept a close eye upon +the departures of society women for other cities. His vigil had been +unrewarded thus far. And the public as a whole waited eagerly for her +apprehension, for the public was unanimous in the belief that the woman +in the taxicab was the person who had ended Warren's life. + +The very fact of having nothing definite upon which to work was getting +on Carroll's usually equable nerves. He had little to say to Leverage +regarding the case, for the simple reason that there was very little +which could be said. Leverage, on his part, watched the detective with +keen interest, sympathizing with him, and exhibiting implicit confidence, +but the men didn't agree upon the correct procedure. Leverage was all for +arresting Barker and charging him with the murder. + +"You'll learn some facts then, Carroll," he insisted. + +But Carroll shook his head. + +"It wouldn't get us anywhere, Eric. We couldn't prove him guilty." + +"No-o, but that don't make no difference. Of course the law says a man is +innocent until you prove he ain't, but that ain't what the law does. If +we arrest this here Mr. William Barker, everybody's going to believe he's +guilty until he proves himself innocent." + +"And you think he can't do that?" + +"No! At least I'm gambling on this--Barker can't prove himself innocent +without telling who is guilty!" + +But Carroll refused to arrest the man. He knew that Leverage disapproved, +but he also knew that Leverage was sportsman enough to let him handle the +case in his own way. + +On one of his long strolls through the downtown section of the +city--daily walks which helped him to think connectedly--David Carroll +felt a hand on his arm and heard an eager feminine voice in his ear: + +"Gracious goodness! If it isn't the perfectly marvelous Mr. David +Carroll!" + +Carroll bowed instinctively. Then his lips expanded into the first +wholesome smile he had experienced in forty-eight hours. + +"Miss Evelyn Rogers!" + +"You did recognize me, didn't you? How simply splendiferous! I'm awfully +glad we met!" + +"So am I, Miss Rogers." + +She dropped her voice confidentially. + +"Will you do me a _great_ favor--an _enormous_ favor?" + +"Certainly. What is it?" + +"It's this." She looked around carefully. "I told some of my friends that +you are a friend of mine, and they don't believe it. They're over yonder +in that ice-cream place. Now, what I want you to do for me is to show +'em. I want you to take me over there and buy me an ice-cream soda!" + +Carroll laughed aloud as he took her by the arm and piloted her through +the traffic. He asked only one question: + +"What flavor?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DISCOVERY + + +If Evelyn Rogers, amply clad as to fur around the neck but somewhat +under-dressed as to lace stockings about the legs, had desired to +create a sensation among her friends, she more than succeeded. She +preceded Carroll into the place, her eyes glowing pridefully, skirted +the table at which her friends sat, then stopped abruptly, forcing +Carroll to do likewise. + +"Mr. Carroll," she said sweetly, "I want to introduce you to my friends." +She called them by name. "Girls, this is Mr. Carroll, the famous +detective!" + +Carroll bowed in his most courtly manner, and assured them that he was +delighted to make their acquaintance. He insisted that it was always a +pleasure to meet any friends of his very dear friend, Miss Rogers. The +girls at the table giggled with embarrassment, and one or two of them +made rather pallid attempts at repartee. Then Carroll and the +seventeen-year-old found a table in the very center of the floor, even as +a boy, recognizing Carroll, appeared at their elbow. + +The detective studied the list intently. Apparently there was no subject +in the world more vital at that moment than the selection of just the +proper concoction. Finally he looked up and shook his head. + +"I can't decide," he announced gravely. "They all sound so good! Walnut +banana sundae; strawberry glory; peach Melba; chocolate parfait, with +whipped cream and cracked walnuts; elegantine fizz--Help me out, please." + +She, too, plunged into the labyrinth of toothsome titles. Finally she +emerged smiling. + +"Have you ever tasted a chocolate fudge-sundae?" + +"No-o, I'm afraid not." + +"Well, it's just the _elegantest_ thing--vanilla ice-cream with hot fudge +poured over it, and as soon as they pour the fudge--it's steaming hot, +you know--simply scalding--it forms into a sort of candy, and then when +they serve it--" + +"I fancy you want one, too, don't you?" + +"Oh, goodness me, yes! I _always_ eat chocolate fudge sundaes. They're +simply scrumptious--but they do take the edge off one's dinner appetite. +Personally, I don't care so very much. I believe we eat too much anyway, +don't you, Mr. Carroll? I read in a book once that after you reach a +certain point in eating--that is, after you've swallowed just the right +number of calories--the rest don't do you a single particle of good. And +besides, ice-cream is healthy, and certainly there's nothing with more +nourishment in it than chocolate--unless it is raisins. I like raisins +well enough--" + +Carroll turned to the boy. + +"Two chocolate fudge sundaes," he ordered; "and put a few raisins on +one of them." + +He found the large eyes of the girl turned upon him adoringly. + +"Do you know," she said, "that when I said the other day that you were +the most wonderful, the most marvelous man in the world, I didn't even +know half how wonderful or marvelous you really were?" + +"Thanks! And what caused the discovery?" + +"The way you acted just now. Why, I'm sure those girls think that you've +known me all your life--or that we're engaged, or something!" + +Carroll was a trifle startled. + +"Engaged?" + +"Why not? You don't _look_ like an old man." + +The detective chuckled. + +"Nor do I feel like one when I'm with you. You're deliciously +refreshing." + +"And you are--are--exquisite! Do you know, when I'm with you, I feel +inspired to great deeds--to noble--er--attainments." + +"Really?" + +"Uh-huh! Honest to goodness. And did I really help you by what I told you +the other day?" + +"You certainly did, Miss Rogers. There isn't a doubt of it." + +She lowered her voice and leaned confidentially across the table. + +"Will you tell me something?" + +"Surely?" + +"Who really killed Mr. Warren?" + +"Eh?" + +"Who really did kill him?" + +"Why, I'm sure I don't know. I'm trying to find out." + +"Oh, pshaw! You can't pull the wool over _my_ eyes! You couldn't have +been working on the case this long and not have discovered +the--the--malefactor." + +"But that's exactly what I have done. Also it's why I rather hoped that +you might have a little more information for me." + +"Me? Information for you? How wonderful! As if you'd be interested in +anything I might know! Although I'm not an absolute fool. Gerald says I +am, of course--he's my brother-in-law--but then Gerald isn't anything but +an old crab, anyway. Hateful thing! But _you_ don't think I am, do you?" + +"No, indeed. Ah, here we are!" + +The chocolate fudge sundaes were served, and for a few moments they +gave themselves over to the task of enjoying them. It was Evelyn who +spoke first. + +"What do you want me to tell you?" + +"Almost anything. For instance--you knew Roland Warren pretty well, +didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed! I've known him forever and ever. He was an awfully nice +boy, and crazy about me--simply wild! That is, he was before he died." + +"H-m! And you saw a good deal of him?" + +"Oceans! He used to call at the house all the time. It _was_ funny, too. +Gerald used to think he was the one Roland was coming to see, and +Naomi--she's my sister--used to think that he was coming to see her; and +all the time I knew that I was the person he was calling on. It's funny, +isn't it, how old folks will get those queer ideas?" + +"Your sister is so very old?" + +"Terribly. She was thirty on her last birthday." + +"Horrors! She _is_ ancient, isn't she?" + +"Awfully! Although Naomi isn't so bad looking--" + +"_Your_ sister couldn't be." + +"Aw, quit kidding! But she isn't bad-looking, really. Lord knows she +deserves a better husband than she drew. Honestly, when the divine +providence was handing out shrubbery, they planted a lemon-tree in his +yard just before he was born." + +"Probably your sister doesn't agree with your opinion." + +"Oh, yes, she does! Of course, she doesn't talk to me about it, but I +know she ain't wild about Gerald. How could she be? He's old enough to be +her father--forty-two, if he's a minute. Don't think of anything but +business and making money. And he's _terribly_ jealous!" + +"A very complimentary picture you draw of him." + +"If I wrote what I thought about him, I could be arrested for sending it +through the mails. Goodness knows, no husband at all is a hundred per +cent better than a man like that. Not that he beats Naomi. Fact is, I'd +think he was more human if he did. Only time I ever like him is when he +flies up in a rage. He swears simply _elegantly_!" + +"Indeed?" + +"I love it. And I don't think it's wicked to love swearing, do you? I was +reading in a book once something about swearing being a perfectly natural +mental reaction, or something--like a safety-valve on a steam-engine. If +the engine didn't have the safety-valve, it would blow up. So if it's +true that swearing is like that, then there can't be any harm in it; +because anything that keeps a person from blowing up must be pretty good, +don't you think?" + +"It does sound reasonable." + +"Not that I swear myself--not out loud, anyway, but sometimes, when I'm +right peeved at Gerald or Naomi or somebody, I get in my room and say +swear-words right out loud. And I feel ever so much better for it!" + +The conversation languished while she again attacked the sundae. +Carroll spoke: + +"Have you seen your friend, Miss Gresham, lately?" + +"Hazel? I'll say I have--although she's horribly weepy since poor Roland +was killed. Of course, I'm not heartless or anything like that; but +what's the use of crying all the time when there are just as good fish in +the sea as ever were caught? I told her that, but it don't seem to do a +single bit of good. She just keeps saying, 'Poor Roland is dead,' just as +if I didn't know it as well as she does--him having been crazy about me +even before he was about her. I'm sort of afraid it's gone to the poor +girl's head. She's simply _horribly_ upset!" + +"That's not unnatural, is it?" + +"No-o, I suppose not; but it's terribly old-fashioned." + +"Does she--discuss the affair much?" + +"All the time." + +"What does she think about the woman in the taxicab?" + +"You mean the woman who killed him?" + +"Yes." + +"Well!" positively. "If I was that woman, I'd hate to meet Hazel +Gresham--if Hazel knew it!" + +"But she has no suspicion of any certain person?" + +"Goodness, no! How could she have? Of course, we agreed that it was some +vampire; but we can't decide which one. Most of the women we know don't +go in for killing men; and a heap of them are married, anyway." + +"Anyway?" + +"Yes. You wouldn't expect a nice chap like Roland to be eloping with a +_married_ woman, would you? Not in real life?" + +Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. The girl was a refreshing +mixture of world-old wisdom and almost childish innocence. She was a type +new to him, and, as such, absorbingly interesting. + +"How about Miss Gresham's brother?" he inquired idly. "How does he take +it?" + +"Oh, Garry seems all upset, too; but then the more I talk to people, the +more I think I'm the only level-headed one in the world. I haven't got a +bit excited over it, have I?" + +"Not a bit. And now"--Carroll rose and reached for the check--"suppose +we go?" + +"Where?" she asked naively. + +The opening was too obvious. + +"Where do you usually go with young gentlemen who meet you down-town in +the afternoons?" + +"Picture show," she answered frankly. "Wouldn't you just _adore_ to see +that picture at the Trianon to-day? They say it's _stupendous_!" + +"Perhaps." + +They walked up the street together. On the way they passed Eric Leverage. +That gentleman bowed heavily and stood aside in surprise, while an +exclamation, rather profane, issued from his lips. David Carroll and a +seventeen-year-old girl headed for a picture show! The thing was +unbelievable. Leverage shook his head sadly and passed on as Carroll and +Evelyn disappeared behind the din of an orchestrion. + +The picture proved not at all bad, although Evelyn excited adverse +comment from spectators unfortunate enough to be sitting within range of +her constant chatter. Apparently there was no stopping her. She talked +and talked and talked. + +The picture ended eventually, and they left the theater. Night had +descended upon the city, and the busy thoroughfare was studded with +thousands of lights, which glared coldly through the December chill. +Principally because he did not know what else to do, Carroll requested +permission to take her home in his car. She accepted with rather +disarming alacrity. + +Carroll had about run out of conversation, and his ears were tired by the +incessant din of the girl's talk. He followed her directions +mechanically, and eventually they rounded a corner in the heart of the +city's best residential district. Evelyn designated a white house which +stood back in a large yard. + +"That's it," said she. "You'd better turn first, so you can park against +the curb." + +Carroll slowed down and swung around. He was tired of the loquacious +girl, and anxious to be rid of her; but as he swung his car across the +street on the turn, something happened which riveted his attention. + +The door of Evelyn's home opened. A man and woman stood framed in the +doorway. Then the door closed, and the man descended the steps, moved +down the walk to the street, and strode swiftly away. For perhaps three +seconds he had been held clearly in the glare of Carroll's headlights. + +When the detective spoke, it was with an effort to control his tone, to +make his question casual. + +"Did you see that man, Miss Rogers?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know him?" + +"Goodness me, no! He's been here before, though." + +Carroll stopped his car at the curb. He assisted Evelyn to the ground. +Then he made a strange request. + +"I wonder, Miss Rogers, whether you'd allow me to call on you some +evening?" + +Evelyn's eyes popped open with the marvel of it. + +"You mean you want to come and call on _me_? Some _evening_?" + +"If you will allow me." + +"Allow you? Why, David Carroll--I think you're +simply--simply--_grandiloquent_! When will you come?" + +"If your sister will permit--" + +"Bother Sis! To-morrow night?" + +"Yes, to-morrow night." + +She executed a few exuberant dance steps. + +"Oh, what'll the girls say when I tell 'em?" + +Carroll climbed thoughtfully back into his car. He saw Evelyn enter the +house, but his thoughts were not with her. He was thinking of the man who +had just left. + +Carroll never forgot faces, and he had recognized the visitor. + +The man was William Barker, former valet to Roland Warren! + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LOOSE ENDS + + +Carroll's forehead was seamed with thought as he turned his car townward +and sent it hurtling through the frosty air. He drove mechanically, +scarcely knowing what he was doing. + +He was frankly puzzled, enormously surprised and not a little startled. +The afternoon had been at first amusing, then interesting--then utterly +boring. Evelyn's chatter had put him in a state of mental coma--a +lethargy from which he had been rudely aroused at sight of William Barker +leaving the residence of Evelyn Rogers' sister. + +There was something sinisterly significant in what he had seen. Not for +a moment did he entertain the idea that Barker had been seeking +employment. Negativing that possibility was the cold statement of the +disinterested young girl that Barker had been there before, and, too, +the fact that Barker was leaving from the front door instead of through +the servant's door. + +Obviously, then, Barker's mission had little to do with the matter of +domestic employment. And now that he had stumbled upon something +tangible--something definite--certain salient facts which had come to him +through the haze of girlish chatter began to stand out and assume proper +significance. + +For instance there was her constant repetition of the fact that Roland +Warren had been a frequent visitor at the Lawrence home. That might mean +nothing: it might mean a great deal. Certainly it was indicative of a +close friendship between the dead man and the members of that household. +He paid little heed to the girl's protestations that Warren had been in +love with her. No expert in the ways of the rising generation, Carroll +yet knew that no man of Warren's maturity had unleashed his affections on +a girl who yet lacked several years of womanhood. The dead man had been +too much of an epicure in femininity for such as that. + +But Carroll knew that in that house there was another woman: Naomi +Lawrence--Evelyn's sister. And while Evelyn had dismissed the sister +with a few words, Carroll remembered that the girl had described her as +being "not so bad looking" and had also said that Mrs. Lawrence fancied +that when Warren called at the house, he was calling on her. + +There, too, was the matter of Gerald Lawrence to be considered. Evelyn +insisted that Gerald was "an old crab" and also that he was of an +exceedingly jealous disposition. If that were true, then his jealousy, +coupled with a possible intimacy between Mrs. Lawrence and Warren might +have been ample motive for the taxicab tragedy. + +It was all rather puzzling. Carroll's mind leaped nimbly from one +mental trail to another. He held himself in check, afraid that his +deductions were proceeding too swiftly. He was acutely conscious of the +danger of jumping too avidly on this single tangible clue which had +come to him after four days of fruitless search. There was danger, and +he knew it, of attaching untoward importance to a combination of +circumstances which under other conditions might not have excited him +in the slightest degree. + +It was there that the case bewildered him--and he was not slow in +confessing his bewilderment. Up to this moment there had been an +appalling dearth of physical clues--of things upon which a line of +investigation could be intelligently based. And he knew that now +something had turned up, he must watch himself lest the circumstance +assume unreasonable and unwarranted proportions. + +The somber outline of police headquarters bulked in the night. Carroll +swung down the alley, shut off his motor and entered. He found Leverage +in his office and settled at once to a discussion of developments. But +when he would have spoken Leverage cut him off. Leverage had news--and +Leverage was frankly proud of the fact that he had news. + +"Just got an interesting report from Cartwright," he announced. + +"Regarding Barker?" Carroll hitched his chair forward eagerly. + +"Yes." + +"What is it?" + +"Yesterday afternoon at five o'clock William Barker went to the residence +of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Lawrence. He was in the house eighteen minutes." + +"Why wasn't this told me last night?" + +"Cartwright didn't think anything of it. He included it in his report +which was turned in to me this morning." + +"Why did he think it was unimportant?" + +"Said he thought Barker was probably looking for a job." + +"And he doesn't think so now?" + +"No-o. That is: he thinks circumstances make an investigation worth +while. You see, just a few minutes ago Barker went to the Lawrence home +again. This time he was there four minutes." + +"Does Cartwright know who was at home at that time?" + +"He thinks so. He says a maid let Barker in and that apparently Mrs. +Lawrence let him out. A young girl--whom Cartwright believes to be Mrs. +Lawrence's sister--drove up just as Barker was leaving. She was in the +car with some man--but he didn't get out. Then, just a minute ago, Gerald +Lawrence reached home. So the idea is that Mrs. Lawrence was alone with +the servants when Barker called." + +"And yet he only remained four minutes?" + +"That's what Cartwright 'phoned." Leverage paused. "What do you make of +it, Carroll?" + +"Off-hand," answered the youthful-appearing detective, "I'd say that +Barker had called to see _Mr_. Lawrence." + +"Why?" + +"We'll suppose Lawrence was home on the occasion of Barker's first +visit--do you know whether he was?" + +"No. I asked. Cartwright doesn't know. Couldn't stay, you know--because +he was under orders to follow Barker. Tonight he sent Reed after Barker +and he watched the Lawrence house." + +"Good. If it is so that Lawrence was at home when Barker called yesterday +evening and Barker then remained eighteen minutes; whereas this +afternoon, when we know that no one but Mrs. Lawrence was there--and he +remained but four minutes--it is fairly reasonable to suppose that he was +calling to see Mr. Lawrence." + +"I think you're right, Carroll." + +"I'm not at all convinced about that. But if we're proceeding along lines +of pure logic, that is the answer." + +"How about the man who drove up with the kid sister?" + +Carroll smiled. "I'm sure he had nothing whatever to do with the murder." + +"Good Lord! I didn't think he had. But still he may have been a +friend, and--" + +"That man was all right. I know that." + +"You _know_?" Leverage was incredulous. + +"Yes." Carroll grinned. "I was the man!" + +"You--? Holy sufferin' mackerel! Sa-a-ay! Was that chicken I seen you +with downtown, Lawrence's sister-in-law?" + +"Yes. Miss Evelyn Rogers. And Good Lord! Leverage, how that girl can +talk! She holds all records for conversational distance and speed. She +talked me dumb." + +Leverage was staring respectfully at Carroll. "If you were the man who +was with her, David--you must have seen Barker when he left the house." + +"I did." + +The face of the chief showed his disappointment: "That's what I get for +thinking I had a real surprise up my sleeve. You sit back with that +innocent kid face of yours and let me spill all the dope--and then tell +me perfectly matter-of-factly that you knew it all the time. How'd you +ever get wise to the thing, anyway?" + +Carroll was honest. "No thanks to my sagacity, Leverage. One of those +pieces of bull luck which I have always contended play an enormous part +in solving crime. In the first place Evelyn Rogers came to me the day +after Warren was killed to assure me that Miss Gresham had a perfect +alibi. This afternoon she lassoed me and dragged me into an ice cream +place because she wanted to prove to some of her school companions that +we were really friends." Carroll chuckled. "I quaffed freely from the +fountain of youth--and enjoyed it awhile. Then I got bored stiff. Took +her to the movies--she invited me--and did it only because I've passed +beyond the years of adolescence and didn't know how to crawfish out of +it. After which--because it seemed the proper thing to do--I volunteered +to ride her home in my car. And it was then that I saw Barker leaving the +Lawrence home. So you see, Leverage, my knowledge is the result of pure +accident--and not at all the fruit of keen perception." + +"Well, anyway--Carroll: you knew! And that takes the edge off what I +told you." + +"Not at all," returned Carroll seriously. "For while what I discovered is +perhaps valuable--that combined with the fact that Barker has been there +once before: and that on his first visit when Lawrence was probably at +home he stayed nearly five times as long as he did when we know that +Lawrence was not there--that is of help--or ought to be." + +"What do you think of it?" + +Carroll hesitated. "I don't know what to think, Eric. I'm afraid I'm +thinking about it more than I have any right. We've been so long without +anything to work on, that we're liable to let this bit of information +throw us off our balance. But of course we'll look more deeply into it." + +"How?" + +Again Carroll chuckled. "Our little friend, Miss Rogers, is suffering +from a large case of hero-worship. I'm it! And so--when I saw Barker +leaving her home--I immediately made an engagement to call upon her +to-morrow night!" + +"_You_ call on that kid--" Suddenly Leverage lay back in his swivel chair +and gave vent to a peal of raucous laughter. He banged his fist on the +arm of the chair: "Oh! _Boy_! That's the snappiest yet. David Carroll +paying a social call on a seventeen-year-old kid! Mama! Ain't that the +richest--" + +Carroll made a wry face. "Needn't rub it in. It's bad enough anyway. +And"--growing serious--"I'm hoping to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. They +ought to prove interesting." + +But Leverage could not tear himself away from the sheer humor of the +situation: "What the devil you and her going to talk about? Foxtrot +steps? Is the camel walk vulgar? Frat dance? Next week's basketball +game? Sa-a-ay! David--I'd give my chances of Heaven to be hidden behind +the door." + +"So would I," said Carroll wryly. + +"Above all things," counseled Leverage with mock severity: "Don't you go +making love to her." + +Carroll reached a muscular hand across the table. His sinewy fingers +closed around a glass paperweight. He held this poised steadily. "One +more crack out of you, Eric, and I'll slam this against your head. You're +a pretty good chief of police--but you're a rotten humorist." + +"Just the same," grinned the chief, "I can see that this joke is on you! +And now--what?" + +"For one thing," and Carroll's manner was all business again, "I want +every bit of dope I can get on Gerald Lawrence and his wife. I know that +Warren was very intimate at the house: friendly with both wife and +husband, according to what Miss Rogers says. That connects them up. What +I want to find out now is where both of 'em were the night Warren was +killed. Put a couple of your best men out to gather this dope--there +isn't any of it too minor to interest me. Meanwhile, I'll pump the kid. I +have a hunch that this isn't going to be a cold trail." + +"It better not be--or Mr. David Carroll is going to find himself with one +unsolved case on his hands. Yes, sir--if this is a blind lead, we're up +against it for fair." + +"It isn't going to be entirely blind," postulated Carroll. "Barker +assures us of that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A CHALLENGE + + +At four o'clock the following afternoon Carroll received from Chief +Leverage a detailed report on Gerald Lawrence: + +"He's a manufacturer," said Leverage. "President of the Capitol City +Woolen Mills. Rated about a hundred thousand--maybe a little more. He's +on the Board of Directors of the Second National. Has the reputation of +being hard, fearless--and considerable of a grouch. Age forty-two. + +"Married Naomi Rogers about five years ago. She was twenty-five +then--thirty now. Supposed to be beautiful--and would be a society light +except that Lawrence doesn't care for the soup-and-fish stuff. Report has +it that they're not very happy together. His parents and hers all dead. +Evelyn, her kid sister, lives with them. + +"They employ a cook and two maids. No man-servant at all. Roland Warren +was pretty intimate at the house, but so far as I can discover there was +no scandal linking the names of Warren and Mrs. Lawrence. Of course, him +knowing her pretty intimately and being friendly at the house, you could +probably find a good many folks who would say nasty things. But there +hasn't been the real gossip about her and him that there was about a heap +of other women in this town. + +"Warren and Lawrence were pretty good friends. Warren was a stockholder +in the woolen mills. On the other hand it seems as though Warren was at +the house a good deal more than just ordinary friendship would have +indicated. But that's just an idea. And there's your dope--" + +"And on the night of the murder?" questioned Carroll. "Where were they?" + +"Mrs. Lawrence was at home. Lawrence--if you're thinking of him in +connection with it--seems to have an iron-clad alibi. He went to +Nashville on a business trip and didn't get back until the +following morning." + +"Alibi, eh?" Carroll's eyes narrowed speculatively, "are you _sure_ he +was in Nashville all that time?" + +"Hm-m!" Leverage shook his head. "I don't know--but I can find out." + +Carroll rose. "Do it please. And get the dope straight." + +Carroll went to his apartment where he reluctantly commenced dressing for +the ordeal of the night. He felt himself rather ridiculous--a man of his +age calling on a girl not yet out of high school. The thing was funny--of +course--but just at the moment the joke was too entirely on him for the +full measure of amusement. + +At that, he dressed carefully, selecting a new gray suit, a white +jersey-silk shirt and a blue necktie for the occasion. At six-thirty +Freda served his dinner and at fifteen minutes after eight o'clock he +rang the bell of the Lawrence home. + +The door was opened by Evelyn: palpitant with excitement, and garbed +attractively in the demi-toilette of very-young-ladyhood. + +"Mr. Carroll--so good of you to come. I'm simply tickled to death. Let me +have your hat and coat. Come right into the living room--I want you to +meet my brother-in-law and my sister--" + +Sheepishly, Carroll followed the girl into the room. Mr. and Mrs. +Lawrence rose politely to greet him. + +At the sight of the man he had really come to see, Carroll was conscious +of an instinctive dislike. Lawrence was of medium height, slightly +stooped and not unpleasing to the eye. But his brows were inclined to +lower and the eyes themselves were set too closely together. He was +dressed plainly--almost harshly, and he stared at Carroll in a manner +bordering on the hostile. + +The detective acknowledged the introduction and then turned his gaze upon +the woman of the family. There he met with a surprise as pleasant as his +first glance at Lawrence had been unpleasant. + +There was no gainsaying the fact that Naomi Lawrence was a beautiful +woman. Dressed simply for an evening at home in a strikingly plain gown +of a rich black material, and with her magnificent neck and shoulders +rising above the midnight hue--she caused a spontaneous thrill of +masculine admiration to surge through the ordinarily immune visitor in +the gray suit. + +Her face was almost classic in its contour: her coloring a rich brunette, +her hair blue-black. No jewelry, save an engagement ring, adorned her +perfect beauty, and Carroll felt a loathing at the idea that this +magnificent creature was the wife of the stoop-shouldered, sour-faced man +who stood scowling by the living room table. + +He gravely acknowledged the introduction of the young lady upon whom he +had called: feeling a faint sense of amusement at Lawrence's overt +disdain--and a considerable embarrassment under Naomi's questioning, +level gaze. For a few moments they talked casually--but that did not +satisfy Evelyn, and she dragged him into the parlor-- + +"--just the eleganest jazz piece--" Carroll heard as through a +haze "--just got it--feet can't keep still--play it for you--" + +He found himself standing by the piano, the door between the music room +and the living room unaccountably closed. Evelyn banging out the opening +measures of the "elegant jazz piece." + +He was still staring moodily at the closed door when the din ceased and +he again heard Evelyn's voice. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Carroll. A +real honest-to-goodness-spendable penny!" + +"I was thinking," he remarked quietly, "that your sister is a very +beautiful woman." + +"Naomi? Shucks! She isn't bad looking--but she's _old_. Abominably +old! Thirty!" + +He glanced down on the girl and smiled. "That does seem old to you, +doesn't it?" + +"Treacherously! I don't know what I'd ever do if I was to get that old. +Take up crocheting, probably." + +The conversation died of dry-rot. Carroll was not at all pleased. His +excuse--the plea that he had come to call upon Evelyn--had been taken too +literally. He had fancied--in his blithe ignorance of the +seventeen-year-old ladies of the present day--that he could engineer +himself into a worthwhile conversation with the Lawrences. Since meeting +them, he was doubly anxious. There was a thinly veiled hostility about +the man which demanded investigation. And about the woman there was a +subtle atmosphere of tragedy which appealed to the masculine +protectiveness which surged strong in his bachelor breast. + +But Carroll was a sportsman. The girl had carried things her own way--and +he was too game to spoil her evening. Therefore, he temporarily gave over +all thought of a chat with the Lawrences and devoted himself to her +amusement. He informed her that the jazz music she had strummed was +simply "glorious" and that he regretted he knew very little popular +stuff. She leaped upon his remark-- + +"Oh! do _you_ play: _really_?" + +He was in again. "I have--a little." + +"I wonder if you would? Here's the _grandest_ little old song I bought +downtown--" and she placed on the piano a gaudy thing with the modest +title--"All Babies Need Daddies to Kiss 'Em." Its cover exposed a tender +love scene wherein a gentleman in evening clothes was engaged in an act +of violent osculation with a young lady whose dress was as short as her +modesty. Carroll shrugged, placed his long, slender fingers on the +keys--shook his head--and went to it. + +He played! A genuine artist--he tried to enter into the spirit of the +thing and succeeded admirably. The itchy syncopation rocked the room. His +hostess snapped her fingers deliciously and executed a few movements of a +dance which Carroll had heard referred to vaguely as the shimmy. In the +midst of the revelry he gave thought to Eric Leverage and chuckled. + +He played the chorus a second time--then stopped on a crashing chord. +Evelyn's face was beaming-- + +"Gracious! You can play, can't you?" + +"I used to--Suppose we talk awhile." + +She agreed--reluctantly. They seated themselves in easy chairs before the +gas logs. Evelyn glanced hopefully at the chandelier. "I wish the belt +would slip at the power house, don't you?" + +"Why?" innocently. + +"Oh! just because Bright lights are such a nuisance when a girl has a +feller calling on her. And these logs give a perfectly respectable light, +don't they?" + +"Indeed they do--but perhaps we'd better leave the others on." + +She sighed resignedly. "I guess we'd better. Sis is so darned proper and +Gerald is an old crab--they might say something." + +"I suppose they might. By they way, didn't they think it +was--er--strange: my coming to see you tonight?" + +She turned red. "Suppose they did--what difference does that make? I'm +not a child and if a gentleman wants to call on me I guess they haven't +got any kick." + +"What did they say when you told them I was coming?" + +"They didn't believe me at first. Then Sis said you were too old--and +you're not old at all--and Gerald said--he said--" she giggled. + +"What did Gerald say?" + +"He said, 'Damned impertinence!'" + +"H'm-m! I wonder just what he meant?" + +"Oh! goodness! It doesn't matter what Gerald means. He makes me weary. +He's simply _impossible_--and I can't see what Sis ever married him for." + +"I suppose she saw more in him than you do. They must be very happy +together." + +"Happy? Poof! Happy as two dead sardines in a can. They can't get out--so +they might as well be happy. Besides, he's away a good deal." + +"He is, eh? When was his last out-of-town trip?" + +Carroll was interested now--he had steered the conversation back to +matters of importance: "Oh! 'bout four days ago--you know--the day dear +Roland was killed by that vampire in the taxicab." + +"He was away that night: all night?" + +"Uh-huh! All night long. And would you believe that Sis--who is scared of +her shadow at night--was the one who suggested that I go spend the night +with Hazel? And it's certainly fortunate she did, because if she hadn't +I wouldn't have been with Hazel all night and you awful detectives would +probably not have believed her story that she was at home in bed, and +then you would have arrested her for murdering Roland--and she'd have +gone to jail and been hanged--or something. Wouldn't she?" + +"Hardly that bad. But it was fortunate that you were there. It made the +establishing of the alibi a very simple matter. And you say your +sister--Mrs. Lawrence--is nervous at night?" + +"Oh! fearfully. She's just like all women--scared of rats, scared of the +dark, scared of being alone--perfectly disgusting, I call it." + +"Quite a few women are that way, though--" + +"I'm not. I'm scared of snakes and flying bugs and things like that. But +I don't get scared of the dark--pff! Who's going to hurt you? That's what +I always say. I believe in figuring things out, don't you I read in a +book once where--" + +"But maybe you do Mrs. Lawrence an injustice. Maybe she isn't as afraid +at night as you imagine." + +"She is, too." + +"Yet you say she let you spend the night at Miss Gresham's house when +Mr. Lawrence was out of the city and there wasn't anybody on the place +but the servants--" + +"Worse than that: the servants don't even live on the place. She spent +the night here all alone--!" + +"Then all I'll say is that she is a brave woman. When did Mr. Lawrence +get back from Nashville?" + +"Oh! not until ten o'clock the following morning. And believe me, he was +all excited when he read about Roland in the papers. Poor Roland! If you +were only a girl, Mr. Carroll--you'd know how terrible it is to have a +man who's crazy about you and engaged to your best friend and +everything--go and get himself murdered. Why, when I read the papers that +morning, I couldn't hardly believe my own eyes. I just said to myself 'it +can't be!' I said it over and over again just like that. Having faith, I +think they call it. I was reading in a book once about having faith--" + +She talked interminably. Carroll ceased to hear the plangent voice. He +was thinking of what she had just told him--thinking earnestly. He knew +he was desperately anxious to have a talk with the Lawrences, to talk +things over in a casual manner. And tonight was his opportunity. He knew +he'd never have another like it. He didn't want to be forced to seek them +out in his capacity of detective. + +From somewhere in the rear of the house he heard the clamor of a +doorbell, then the sound of footsteps in the hall, the opening and +closing of the front door--and then Naomi Lawrence appeared in the music +room. Carroll could have sworn that her eyes were twinkling with +amusement as she addressed Evelyn--pointedly ignoring him. + +"Evelyn--that Somerville boy is here." + +"Oh! bother! What's he doin' here?" + +"He says he came to call. He's got a box of candy." + +"Piffle! What do I care about candy? He's just a kid!" + +Naomi went to the hall door. "Right this way, Charley." And as the +slender, overdressed young gentleman of nineteen entered the room, +Carroll again glimpsed the light of amusement in Naomi's eyes. + +Mr. Charley Somerville expressed himself as being "Pleaset'meetcha" and +tried to conceal his vast admiration when Evelyn informed him that this +was _the_ David Carroll. Charley was impressed but he was not particular +about showing it--Charley fancying himself considerable of a cosmopolite, +thanks to a year at Yale. His dignity was excruciatingly funny to Carroll +as the very young man seated himself, crossed one elongated and +unbelievably skinny leg over the other and arranged the creases so that +they were in the very middle. + +"A-a-ah! Taking a vacation from your work on the Warren murder case, +I presume?" + +Carroll nodded. "Yes--for awhile." + +"Detective work must be a terrible bore--mustn't it?" + +"Sometimes," answered Carroll significantly. + +"Charley Somerville!" Evelyn flamed to the defense of her friend's +profession. "At least Mr. Carroll ain't--isn't--a college freshman." + +"I'm a sophomore," asserted Charley languidly. "Passed all of my exams." + +"Anyway," snapped Evelyn, "he ain't any kid!" + +For a time the atmosphere was strained. Then Carroll recalled a +particularly good college joke he knew and he told it well. After which +Evelyn explained to Charley that Mr. Carroll was the wonderfulest piano +player in the world and David Carroll, detective, strummed out several +popular airs while the youngsters danced. + +Horrible as the situation was, it appealed irresistibly to his sense of +humor. He found himself almost enjoying it. And he worked carefully. +Eventually his patience was rewarded. He succeeded in getting them +together on a lounge with a photograph album between them. And then, very +quietly and positively, and with a brief--"Excuse me for a moment," he +walked through the hall and into the living room. + +Lawrence and his wife were at opposite sides of the library table. At +sight of Carroll, Lawrence laid down his paper and rose to his feet. + +"Well?" he inquired inhospitably. + +Carroll laughed lightly. "It got too much for me. Too much youth. I +dropped in here for a chat with you folks." + +"I didn't understand that you had come to call on us," said +Lawrence coldly. + +"Why, I didn't--" + +"You did!" snapped Lawrence. "I'm no fool, Carroll. From the minute I +heard you were coming, I knew what you had up your sleeve. You wanted +to talk about the Warren case! Now suppose you go ahead and +talk--then get out!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +NO ALIBI + + +Carroll was rarely thrown from a mental balance, but this was one of the +exceptions to a rule of conduct where poise was essential. His eyes +half-closed in their clash with the coldly antagonistic orbs of his host. +His instinctive dislike of the man flamed into open anger and he +controlled himself with an effort. + +One thing Lawrence had done: he had stripped from Carroll his disguise as +a casual caller and settled down ominously to brass tacks. Carroll +shrugged, forced a smile--then glanced at Naomi Lawrence. + +She had risen and was staring at her husband with wide-eyed indignation. +Undoubtedly she was horrified at his brusqueness. For the first time, +she, too, had made it plain that Carroll was not welcome--that his ruse +of calling upon Evelyn had been seen through plainly--but he could see +that even under those circumstances she was not forgetful that he was a +guest in her home and, as such, he was entitled to ordinary courtesy. + +Carroll was more than a little sorry for her, and also a bit rueful at +his own plight. Things had gone wrong for him from the commencement of +the evening. And this--well, the gage of battle had been flung in his +face and he was no man to refuse the challenge. But his muscles were taut +until the soft voice of Naomi broke in on the pregnant stillness-- + +"Won't you be seated, Mr. Carroll?" + +Carroll smiled gratefully at her. With her words the unpleasant tension +had lightened. He dropped into an arm chair. Lawrence followed suit, his +close-set eyes focused belligerently on Carroll's face, the hostility of +his manner being akin to a personal menace. Naomi stood by the table, +eyes shifting from one to the other. + +"I'd rather," she suggested softly, "that we did not discuss the +Warren case." + +"It doesn't matter what you prefer," snapped her husband coldly. "Carroll +forced himself upon us for that purpose--with a lack of decency which +one might have expected. Let him have his say." + +Carroll gazed squarely at Lawrence. "I'm sorry," he said, "that you see +fit to act as you are doing." + +"I asked for no criticism of my conduct." + +"Just the same, dear--" started Naomi, when her husband interrupted +angrily-- + +"Nor any apologies to him from you, Naomi. Carroll has placed himself +beyond the pale by what he has done in having the impertinence to foist +himself upon us as a social equal. Now, Carroll--are you ready with your +little catechism?" + +"Yes." The detective's voice was quite calm. "I'm quite ready." + +"Well--ask." Lawrence paused. "You _did_ come here to inquire about +Warren, didn't you?" + +Carroll could not forbear a dig: "I trust that you are not putting it +upon me to deny your statement to that effect." + +"I don't give a damn what you deny or affirm." + +"Good! Then we know all about each other, don't we. You know that I am a +detective in search of information and I know absolutely what you are!" +That dart went home--Lawrence squirmed. "So I'll come right to the point. +Is it not a fact that you were in this city at the hour Roland Warren is +supposed to have been killed?" + +He heard a surprised gasp from Naomi and saw that her face had blanched +and that she was leaning forward with eyes wide and hands clutching the +arms of the chair in which she had seated herself. + +Lawrence leered. "As the kids would say, Carroll--that's for me to know +and for you--super-detective that you are--to find out." + +Carroll was more at ease now. Lawrence's sneering aggressiveness brought +him into his own element and he was hitting straight from the shoulder: +refusing pointblank to mince matters. + +"I fancy I can," he returned calmly. "And now: is it not a fact that you +despised Warren even though you pretended to be his friend?" + +"That, too, is my business, Carroll. Do you think I'm going to feed +pap to you?" + +Carroll reflected carefully for a moment. Then suddenly his voice +crackled across the room--"You know, of course, that you are suspected of +Warren's murder?" + +Silence! Then a forced, sickly grin creased Lawrence's lips--but his +figure slumped, almost cringed. From Naomi came a choked gasp-- + +"Mr. Carroll! Not Gerald--" + +Carroll paid no heed to the woman. He sat back in his chair, eyes never +for one moment leaving Lawrence's pallid face. Nor did Carroll speak +again--he waited. It was Lawrence who broke the silence-- + +"Is--this--what you--detectives--call the third degree?" + +"It is not. Now get this straight, Lawrence--I came here to find out +what you know about Warren and the circumstances surrounding his death. I +wanted to be decent about the thing--to cause you no embarrassment if I +was convinced that you were unconnected with the crime. You have forced +my hand. You have driven me to methods which I abhor--" + +"You haven't a thing on me," said Lawrence and his tone had degenerated +into a half whine. "You can't scare me a little bit. I've got an alibi--" + +"Certainly you have. So, too, have a good many men who have eventually +been proven guilty." + +Lawrence rose nervously and paced the room. "You asked me a little while +ago if I was in this city at the hour when the crime was committed. I +answered that it was for me to know and you to find out. I'll answer +direct now--just to stop this absurd suspicion which has been directed +against me: I was _not_ in the city at that hour--or within six hours of +midnight. I was in Nashville." + +"At what hotel?" + +"At the--" Lawrence paused. "Matter of fact, I wasn't at any hotel." + +"You had registered at the Hermitage, hadn't you?" + +"Yes, but--" + +"When did you check out?" Carroll's voice was snapping out with staccato +insistence. + +"About four o'clock in the afternoon." + +"Where did you go? Where did you spend the night?" + +Lawrence shook his head helplessly. "I'll be honest, Carroll--I took +several drinks--" + +"Alone?" + +"Yes. And at two o'clock in the morning when my train left I was at the +station. I don't know what I did in the meantime--I don't remember +anything much about anything." + +"In other words," said Carroll coldly, "You have no alibi except your +own word. On the other hand we know that you checked out of the Hermitage +Hotel in Nashville at four o'clock. You could have caught the 4:25 train +and reached this city at ten minutes after eleven o'clock. You have not +the slightest proof that you didn't." + +"I--I came down on the train which left there a little after two in +the morning." + +"Prove it." + +There was a hunted look about Lawrence. "I can't prove it--a man can't +prove that he came on a certain train--" + +"Was there nobody on board who knew you?" + +"I--don't know. I was feeling badly when I got in--the berths were all +made up--I went right to sleep and when the porter woke me we were in the +yards. I dressed and came right home." + +"And yet--" Carroll was merciless "--you have no substantiation for your +statements." He switched his line of attack suddenly: "What made you +think I was coming here to discuss Roland Warren's death?" + +It was plain that Lawrence did not want to answer--yet there was +something in Carroll's mesmeric eyes which wrung words unwillingly from +his lips-- + +"Just logic," he answered weakly. "I knew that you weren't calling to see +Evelyn because you were interested in her. You knew Warren had been +pretty friendly in this house--so you came to talk to us about it. Isn't +that reasonable?" + +"I don't believe I am here to answer questions, Mr. Lawrence. You invited +me to ask them." + +Naomi broke in, her voice choked with hysteria--"What are you leading to, +Mr. Carroll? It is absurd to think that Gerald had anything to do with +Mr. Warren's death." + +Carroll swung on her, biting off his words shortly: "Do you _know_ that +he didn't?" + +"Yes--I--" + +"I didn't ask what you _thought_, Mrs. Lawrence. I am asking what +you _know_!" + +"But if he was in Nashville--" + +"If he was, then he's safe. But he himself cannot prove that he was. And +I tell you frankly that the police will investigate his movements very +carefully. It strikes me as exceedingly peculiar that he checked out from +the Hermitage Hotel at four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended +taking a two a.m. train. Remember, I am accusing your husband of nothing. +Our conversation could have been pleasant--he refused to allow it to be +so. He classified me as a professional detective and put me on that basis +in his home. I have merely accepted his invitation to act as one. If I +appear discourteous, kindly recall that it was none of my doing." + +"I'm sorry, Carroll," said Lawrence pleadingly. "I didn't know--" + +"Of course you didn't know how much I knew--or might guess. You saw fit +to insult me--" + +"I've apologized." + +"Your apologies come a trifle late, Lawrence. Entirely too late. Our +relations from now on are those of detective and suspect--" + +Again the flare of hate in Lawrence's manner: "I don't have to prove an +alibi, Carroll. You have to prove my connection with the thing. And you +can't do it!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I was in Nashville at that time. And while perhaps I can't prove +I was there--you certainly cannot prove I was not." + +"That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I'd advise you to establish that +fact if you can possibly do so. And by the way: are you in the habit of +indulging in these solitary debauches in neighboring cities?" + +Lawrence flushed. "Sometimes. I used to be a heavy drinker, and--" + +"Is that a fact, Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"Yes," she answered eagerly: almost too eagerly Carroll thought--"he has +had escapades like this--several times." + +"And you are sure that his story is true?" + +"Yes. Of course I'm sure. Why should he kill Mr. Warren? There isn't any +reason in the world--" + +"For your sake and his, I hope not. But meanwhile--" + +"Surely, Mr. Carroll--you don't intend publishing what he has told +you--about his drinking--alone--in Nashville?" + +Carroll smiled. "No indeed. In the first place, I am not at all sure that +he has told me the truth. In the second place, if I were sure of it--his +alibi would be established and I have no desire whatever to injure a man +because of a personal weakness." + +Lawrence stared at Carroll peculiarly. "You mean that if I can prove the +truth of my story, nothing will be made public about my--the affair--in +Nashville?" + +"Absolutely. Because you have treated me discourteously, Lawrence--I +don't consider myself justified in injuring your reputation. I am after +the person or persons responsible for the death of Roland Warren. Your +intimate weaknesses have no interest to either me or the public." + +Lawrence was silent for awhile, and then--"You're damned white, +Carroll. The apologies I extended a moment ago--I repeat. And this time +I'm sincere." + +"And this time they are accepted." + +"Meanwhile--you are welcome here whenever you wish to call. Perhaps--by +talking to me--you yourself may establish the alibi which I know I have, +but cannot prove." + +Carroll rose and bowed. "Thank you. And now--I'll go. If you will express +my regrets to Miss Rogers--" + +Naomi accompanied him to the door. She extended her hand--"You're wrong, +Mr. Carroll", she murmured. "Quite wrong!" + +"You are sure?" + +"I _know_! I really believe his story." + +"I hope to--soon. But just now, Mrs. Lawrence--" He saw tears in her +fine eyes. "You have nothing to fear from me if he is innocent." + +She pressed his hand gratefully, and then closed the door. Carroll, +inhaling the bracing air of the winter night, proceeded briskly to the +curb. Then, standing with one foot on the running board of his car, he +stared peculiarly at the big white house standing starkly in the +moonlight-- + +"I wonder," he mused softly--"I wonder--" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SUIT-CASE AGAIN + + +Carroll drove direct to his apartments, despite his original intention of +dropping by headquarters for a chat with Leverage. He wanted to be +alone--to think-- + +The evening had borne fruit beyond his wildest imaginings. Fact had piled +upon fact with bewildering rapidity. As yet he had been unable to sort +them in his mind, to catalogue each properly, to test for proper value. + +He reached his apartment and found it warm and comfortable. He donned +lounging robe and slippers which the thoughtful Freda had left out for +him, settled himself in an easy chair, lighted a fire which he kept +always ready in the grate and turned out the lights. Then, with his cigar +glowing and great clouds of rich smoke filling the air--he sank into a +revelry of thinking. + +Certain disclosures of the evening stood out with startling clarity. +Chief among them was the inevitable belief that Gerald Lawrence had +either killed Roland Warren or else knew who had done so--and how it was +done. Yet Carroll tried not to allow his thoughts and personal prejudices +to run away with him. He knew that now, of all times, he must keep a +tight grip on himself. + +Great as was the dislike which he had conceived for Lawrence--an +instinctive repugnance which still obtained--he was grimly determined +that he would not be swayed by his emotions. Therefore he deliberately +reviewed Lawrence's story in the light of its possible truth. + +Lawrence claimed that he belonged to that none too rare class of +prominent citizens who once every so often respond to the call of the +wild within them by going to a nearby city where they are not known and +giving themselves over to the dubious delights of a spree. Publication of +this fact alone would prove sufficient to injure Lawrence socially and in +the commercial world. The old case of the Spartan lad--Carroll reflected. +The disgrace lay in being discovered. + +Also, it was perfectly plain to Carroll that at the outset of his +conversation Lawrence had been smugly satisfied that he was possessed of +a perfect alibi. It was only under Carroll's merciless grilling that he +had been brought abruptly to realization that he had no alibi whatever. +The same logic applied there, as in Leverage's theory that Barker's +arrest would be an excellent strategic move. All Carroll had to do now +was to arrest Lawrence for Warren's murder--and the burden of proof +would have been shifted from the shoulders of the detective to that of +the suspect. It would then devolve upon Lawrence to prove an alibi that +Carroll knew perfectly well he could not prove--save by merest accident. + +But that was a procedure which Carroll abhorred. Those were police +department methods: wholesale arrests in the hope of somewhere in the +net trapping the prey. Such a course was at the bottom--and Carroll knew +it--of an enormous number of convictions of innocent men. And Carroll +had no desire to injure Lawrence provided Lawrence was free of guilt in +this particular instance. He didn't like the man--in fact his feelings +toward him amounted to a positive aversion. But through it all he tried +to be fair-minded--and he could not quite rid himself of the picture of +Naomi Lawrence--Carroll was far from impervious to the appeal of a +beautiful woman. + +So much for the probable truth of Lawrence's story. The reverse side +of the picture presented an entirely different set of facts. There was +not alone the strange procedure of checking out of the big hotel at +four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended catching an early +morning train: but there was the information so innocently dropped by +the loquacious Evelyn Rogers regarding Naomi's actions on the night of +the murder. + +According to Evelyn, her sister was an intensely nervous woman: one who +stood in fear of being alone at night. And yet this sister had +volunteered the suggestion that Evelyn spend the night with Hazel Gresham +when her husband was supposed to be out of the city. + +Carroll, well versed in applied psychology, knew that in such a +combination of facts there lay an important clue. He was well satisfied +that Naomi Lawrence had been satisfied that she was not to be alone +that night! + +Arguing with himself from that premise, the conclusion was inevitable: +she knew that her husband would return from Nashville at midnight. She +did not wish anyone--even Evelyn, to learn that he had done so. Therefore +she got Evelyn out of the house! + +The conclusion developed a further train of reasoning--one which Carroll +did not at all relish, but which he faced with frank honesty. If he was +right in his argument--then Naomi Lawrence had known of the murder before +it was committed! + +He shrank from the idea, but it would not down. He was not ready to admit +its truth--but there was no denying its logic. There was something +inexpressibly repugnant in the thought. He infinitely preferred to +believe that Naomi hated her husband--was miserable with him--he +preferred that to the idea that they were accomplices in the murder of a +prominent young man. + +Then, too, there were the strange visits of William Barker, former valet +to Warren, to the home of the Lawrences. There was no doubt remaining in +Carroll's mind that Barker knew a very great deal about Warren's murder. +That being the case it was fairly well established that he was cognizant +of the Lawrences' connection with the crime. + +Carroll had started off with the idea that someone, in addition to the +woman in the taxi-cab, had been instrumental in ending Warren's life. +Here, following a casual line of investigation, he had uncovered the +tracks of two men, both of whom he was convinced knew more about it than +they had cared to tell. + +Both men--Barker and Lawrence--had acted peculiarly under the grilling of +the detective. The former had been surly and non-informative, only to +leap eagerly upon the first verbal trend which tended to throw suspicion +upon a person whom Carroll knew--and whom Carroll knew Barker knew--was +innocent. Gerald Lawrence, on the other hand, had been downright +antagonistic until he made the startling discovery that his supposed +alibi was no alibi at all--at which his attitude changed from open +hostility to something closely akin to suppliance. + +Then, too, there was the danger of injuring an innocent man because of +his inability to prove an alibi. If Lawrence's story was true, it was +perfectly natural that even in a condition of intoxication he would +maintain his instinct for concealment of a personal weakness. The chances +were then that no one had seen him either in Nashville--after the four +o'clock train had left, or on the two a.m. train homeward bound. + +Matters could not right themselves in Carroll's mind. He knew one thing, +however--Evelyn Rogers was a wellspring of vital information. The very +fact that she talked inconsequentialities incessantly--and occasionally +let drop remarks of vital import--made her the more valuable. He knew +that he had not seen the last of the seventeen-year-old girl. And he felt +a consuming eagerness to be with her again, for now he had a definite +line of investigation to pursue. + +He slept soundly that night, and the following morning dropped in on +Leverage. The Chief of Police had a little information--with all of which +Carroll was already familiar. He told Carroll that Lawrence had been in +Nashville and that he had checked out of the Hermitage hotel in time to +catch the four o'clock train on the afternoon preceding the murder. +Carroll satisfied Leverage by accepting it as information, made sure that +nothing else of importance had developed, requested Leverage to ask the +Nashville police to determine whether Lawrence had been seen in Nashville +after 4:30 p.m.--if necessary to send one of his own men there--and left +headquarters. + +He made his way directly to a public telephone booth. He telephoned the +Lawrence home and asked for Evelyn Rogers. A maid answered and informed +him that Evelyn had left home fifteen minutes previously. + +"Any idea where she was going?" questioned Carroll. + +The answer came promptly: it mentioned the city's leading department +store--"she's gone there to get a beauty treatment," vouchsafed the maid. + +Carroll was not a little chagrined. Evelyn Rogers had put him in more +hopeless positions in their brief acquaintanceship than he had +experienced in years. There was his call upon her the previous night with +its role of dual entertainer to the young lady with a nineteen-year-old +college freshman. And now a vigil outside a beauty parlor. + +But he went grimly to work. He located the beauty parlor on the third +floor of the giant store, and paced determinedly back and forth before +its doors. + +A half hour passed; an hour--two hours. He concluded that Evelyn must be +purchasing her beauty in job lots. When two hours and thirty-five +minutes had elapsed Evelyn emerged--and Carroll groaned. With her were +three other girls, as chattery, as immature, as Evelyn herself. + +She swept down upon him in force--tongue wagging at both ends-- + +"You naughty, _naughty_ man!" she chided. "You abso_lute_ly deserted me +last night. Why, I didn't even know that you had gone--until Sis came in +and said you had asked her to extend your respects. Good gracious! I +almost _died_!" + +"I'm sorry--really," returned Carroll humbly--"But you seemed so +interested in that young man--and I had gotten into an absorbing +conversation with your sister and brother-in-law. I'm not used to girls, +you know." + +"Kidder! I think you're simply elegant!" She turned to her giggling +friends and introduced them gushingly. Carroll was in misery--a martyr to +the cause. But Evelyn would not let him get away. Through her sudden +friendship with the great detective, Evelyn was building up a reputation +that was destined to survive for years, and she was not one to fail to +make the most of her opportunities. + +It was not until almost an hour later, when the other three girls had +left for their homes--left only after they had hung around until the +ultimate moment before lunch--that Carroll found himself alone with his +little gold mine of data. He bent his head hopefully-- + +"Were you planning to eat lunch downtown?" + +She nodded. "Uh-huh!" + +"Suppose we eat together?" + +"Scrumptious!" There was no hint of hesitation in her manner. "I've been +hoping ever since we met that you'd ask me." + +They found a table mercifully secluded in the corner of the main dining +room of the city's leading hotel. For once Carroll felt gratitude for the +notoriously slow service. He begged her to order--and she did: ordered a +meal which contained T.N.T. possibilities for acute indigestion. Carroll +smiled and let her have her way--he was amused at her valiant efforts to +appear the blasé society woman. + +"I really did enjoy our conversation last night, Miss Rogers." + +"Oh! piffle! I don't fall for that." + +"I did." + +"Then why did you beat it so quick?" + +"Well, you see--I suppose I was jealous of your elegantly dressed +young friend." + +"Him? He's just a kid. A mere _child_!" + +"He seemed very much at home." + +"Kids like him always do. They make me sick--always putting on as though +they were grown up." + +She secured an olive and bit into it with a relish. "Awful good--these +olives. I love queen olives, don't you. I used to be crazy about ripe +olives, but I read in a book once that sometimes they poison you, and +when they do--there just simply isn't any anecdote in the world that can +save you. So I figured there wasn't any use taking chances--" + +Carroll let her run on until the meal was served. And it was then when +she was satisfying a normal youthful appetite that he drove straight to +the subject which had led to this masculine martyrdom. + +"The day before Mr. Warren died," he said mildly--"are you sure that your +sister made the suggestion that you spend the night with Miss Gresham?" + +"Her? Sure she did." + +"Didn't it strike you as peculiar--knowing that she'd be in the house +alone all that night?" + +"I'll say it did. I asked her was she nutty and she scolded me for being +slangy. So I told her I should worry--if she wanted to suffer alone, and +I went with Hazel. And it's an awful good thing I did, because if I +hadn't she would have been arrested and tried and convicted and +hanged--or something, and--" + +"Oh! hardly that bad. You're sure your sister was alone in the house +that night?" + +"Sure. Who could have been there with her?" + +"I'm not answering riddles. I'm asking them." + +"I've got my fingers crossed. The answer is that there wasn't any one +there. At first I thought she was going out--but she wasn't, and when I +asked her was she, she got real peeved at me." + +"Aa-a-h! You thought she was going out that night?" + +"Uh-huh," came the answer between bites at a huge lobster salad. + +"What made you think that?" + +"Oh! just something. You know, I don't get credit for having eyes, but I +sure have. And I never did understand that business anyway. But then Sis +always has been the queerest thing--ever since she married Gerald. +Say--" she looked up eagerly--"ain't he the darndest old crab you ever +saw in your life?" + +"Why, I--" + +"Ain't he? Honest?" + +"He's not exactly jovial." + +"He's a lemon! Just a plain juicy lemon. And I think she was a nut for +marrying him." + +"But--" Carroll proceeded cautiously--"you made the remark just now that +something was the queerest thing. What did you mean by that?" + +"Oh! I guess I was crazy--or something. But she got sore at me when I +asked her--" + +"Who?" + +"Sis." + +"What did you ask her?" + +"Why--" she looked up innocently--"about that suit-case!" + +"What suit-case? When was it?" + +"It was the day before Mr. Warren died--I always remember everything +now by that date. Anyway--I went in her room that morning to ask +something about what I should take to Hazel's--and what do you think +she was doing?" + +"I'll bite," he answered with assumed jocularity--"what was she doing?" + +"Packing a suit-case!" + +"No?" Carroll was keenly interested--struggling not to show it. + +"Yes, sir. I asked her what was she doing it for--and that's when she got +peeved. I told you she was a queer one." + +"Indeed she must be. Packing a suit-case--" + +"And that ain't all that was funny about that, either, Mr. Carroll." + +"No? What else about it was peculiar?" + +"That suit-case--" and Evelyn lowered her voice to an impressive +whisper--"was gone from the house the next day--and the day after it +showed up again and when I asked Sis wasn't that funny she told me to +mind my own business!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A TALK WITH HAZEL GRESHAM + + +Carroll tried to appear disinterested--strove to make his manner casual; +jocular even. Evelyn was piecing the threads of circumstances together +and the events surrounding the Warren murder were slowly clarifying in +Carroll's brain. + +But he knew that now, of all times, he must keep her from thinking that +he had any particular interest in her chatter. She was completely off +guard--and he knew that for his own interests, she must remain so. + +So he assumed a bantering attitude--he resorted to what she would have +termed "kidding." + +"Aren't you the observant young woman, though? Not a single thing escapes +your eagle eye, does it?" + +She pouted. "Oh! rag me if you want to. But I am _terribly_ noticing. +There ain't many things that happen which I don't get wise to." + +"Not even vanishing suit-cases, eh?" + +"No: not even that. It was funny about that, though. At first I thought +maybe Sis was packing up to go meet Gerald in Nashville--but I figured +out that it was bad enough to have to live with him here without chasing +all over the country after him." + +"You say that suit-case left the house after she packed it?" + +"Sure pop." + +"Who took it?" + +"I don't know. Sis was out a couple of times that day--so I guess she +did." + +Carroll shrugged. "She was probably sending some of Mr. Lawrence's +belongings to him in Nashville." + +"Huh! There're some things even a great detective like you don't know. +Don't you suppose I noticed that the clothes she was packing in that +suit-case were _hers_?" + +"Really?" + +"You bet your life, I noticed. You see," she grew suddenly confidential. +"There's a certain kind of perfume Sis uses--awful expensive. Roland +Warren used to bring it to her. Well, I've been using it too--and Sis +never did get wise. I only used it when she did--and when she smelled +it, she didn't know that she was smelling what I had on. Well, it isn't +likely she was sending that to Gerald, is it?" + +"Hardly. But are you sure she packed it?" + +"I'll say I am. I saw her do it. And then two days later I saw the bottle +on her dressing table again--and so I just naturally looked to see if the +suit-case was back and it surely was." + +"But perhaps it never left the house?" + +"Guess again, Mr. Carroll. I know--because just before I went to Hazel's +I hunted all over for it, to get some of that extract myself. And the +suit-case wasn't there. Believe me--it's _some_ perfume, too!" + +"You say Mr. Warren gave it to her?" + +"He sure did. That man wasn't any piker, believe me. It costs twelve +dollars an _ounce_!" + +"No?" + +"Yeh--goodness knows how much a pound would cost. I used it all the +time--I knew when he gave it to Sis he meant it for me--because, like I +told you, he was simply crazy about me. Told me so dozens of times. Said +he came to see me. It used to bore him terribly when he'd have to sit in +the room and talk to Sis and Gerald." + +"I fancy it did--" Carroll summoned a waiter--"A little baked Alaska +for dessert?" + +"Baked Alaska! Oh! boy! you sure spoke a mouthful that time. I'm simply +_insane_ over it!" + +She evidently had not exaggerated. She absorbed enough of the dessert +to have satisfied two growing men. It did Carroll good to witness her +frank enjoyment of his luncheon. She glanced at her wrist watch and +rose hastily-- + +"Goodness me, I've simply _got_ to be going." + +"Where?" + +She made a wry face: "Hazel Gresham's. Honestly, women get queer when +they grow up--get older than twenty. Hazel has been acting so +_peculiarly_ lately--" + +"That's natural, isn't it, Miss Rogers? Her fiancé killed--" + +"Oh! shucks! I don't mean that. That wouldn't be queer. But there's +something else bothering her. And when I try to get her to tell me what +it is, she gets right snippy and tells me to mind my own business. And +I'll tell you right now, Mr. Carroll--if there's one person in the whole +world who always minds their own business--and who doesn't pay the +slightest attention to other peoples' affairs--that person is me. I +started that a long time ago when I read something some one wrote in a +book about how much happier folks could be if they never bothered with +other folk's business--and it struck me as awfully logical. And so that's +what I've always done. Don't you think I'm sensible?" + +"I certainly do. Very sensible. And I'm sorry Miss Gresham isn't +feeling well." + +"Oh! she feels well enough. She's just acting nutty. And as for when your +name is mentioned--O-o-oh!" + +"_My_ name?" Carroll was genuinely surprised. + +"Yes siree-bob! I started telling her all about what good friends you +and I have gotten to be--and would you believe it! she jumped all +over me--just like Sis did when I told her--and said I shouldn't +associate with professional detectives--and it was immoral--and all +that sort of thing." + +"Indeed?" + +"You bet she did. It was scandalous! Of course I told her what a ducky +you are--but she begged me not to go with you any more. I told her she +was crazy--because I really don't think there's anything so very +terrible about you--do you?" + +"At least," smiled Carroll, "I won't eat you. But what you tell me about +Miss Gresham is interesting. Why in the world should she be prejudiced +against the man who is trying to locate the slayer of her fiancé?" + +"Ask me something easy. I reckon it's just like I said before: when a +woman grows up--gets to be twenty--she gets mentally unbalanced--or +something. Honestly, I haven't met a woman over nineteen years of age +in the _longest_ time who didn't have a crazy streak in her somewhere. +Have you?" + +"I'd hardly say that much--" They had crossed the hotel lobby, swung +through the doors and were standing on the sidewalk unconsciously braced +against the biting wind which shrieked around the corner and cut to the +bone, giving the lie to the bright sunshine and its promise of warmth. + +"Brrrr!" shivered Evelyn--and Carroll rose eagerly to the hint. + +"I'd be delighted to ride you to Miss Gresham's in my car--" + +"Would you? That'd be simply splendiferous! And I'd like Hazel to meet +you--then she'd know that you're just a regular human being in spite of +what everyone says." + +During the drive to the Gresham home, which stood on the side of the +mountain at the extreme southern end of the city--Evelyn did about a +hundred and one per cent of the talking. She blithely discussed +everything from the economic effect of the recent election to the +campaign against one-piece bathing suits for women: indicating +well-defined, if immature opinions on every subject. She informed him +that she was delighted with suffrage and opposed to prohibition, that the +League of Nations would be all right if only it was not so far away, that +she was sincerely of the belief that straight lines would pass out within +the year and the girl with the curvy figure have a chance again in the +world, that fur coats were all the rage--and he ought to see her +sister's--it was the _grandest_ in the city, that--she orated at length +on any subject which occurred to her tireless mind; securing his dumb +Okeh to her views--and liking him more and more with each passing minute +because he treated her seriously: like a full grown woman of twenty--or +something. + +They pulled up at the curb of the Gresham home. As they did so Garry +Gresham swung out of the gate, paused--and his eyes widened in +astonishment at sight of Carroll. Then he stepped quickly to the curb as +Carroll and the girl alighted. + +"Hello, Garry," greeted Evelyn boldly. It was the first time she had +ever called him by his first name. But Gresham did not notice. He nodded +a curt "Hello, Evelyn" and addressed himself to Carroll--eyes level, +manner direct. + +"What do you want here, Carroll?" + +There was an undertone of earnestness in the young man's words which the +detective did not miss. He simulated innocence: "I? Nothing--" + +Garry Gresham frowned. "You had no particular reason for coming here?" + +"None whatever. Why?" + +"I fancied it was peculiar--after your original suspicion of my sister--" + +Carroll laughed good-naturedly. "Rid your mind of that, my friend. I +merely happened to be downtown with Miss Rogers--and drove her up here in +my car. As a matter of fact, if you have no objection, I'd like very much +to meet your sister." + +"Why?" + +"Because she was Roland Warren's fiancée. Because she can tell me some +things about Warren which no one else can tell me. Because the Warren +case is almost as far from solution as it was one minute after the +killing occurred." + +Gresham thought intensively for a moment. "You can give me your word of +honor, Carroll, that you are convinced that my sister is not connected in +any way with the crime?" + +"I can, Gresham. So far as I now know, your sister has no connection +whatever with the case. But she must necessarily be in possession of +certain personal details regarding Warren which I'd like to find out." + +Gresham started back toward the house. "You may talk to her," he decided +briefly--"if she is willing. But I prefer to be present during the +interview." + +Carroll bowed. "As you will, Gresham." + +They walked to the house and Garry led the way to the front hall. Evelyn, +considerably piqued at being ignored, took advantage of his disappearance +in search of his sister, to open up a broadside of inconsequential +chatter before which her previous efforts paled into insignificance. And +it was in the midst of her verbal barrage that Gresham appeared at the +far end of the hall with his sister. + +Carroll was pleasantly surprised. Evelyn's protestations of intimacy with +Hazel Gresham had implanted in his mind the impression that she was +decidedly of the flapper type. He was glad to find that she was not. + +She was not a beautiful girl: rather she belonged in that very desirable +category which is labeled "Sweet." There was an attractive wistfulness +about her--an undeniable charm, a wholesomeness--the sort of a woman, +reflected Carroll instantly, whom a sensible man marries. + +There was no hint of affectation about her. Her eyes were a trifle red +and swollen and she seemed in the grip of something more than mere +excitement. But in her dress there was no ostentation--it was somber, but +not black. And she came straight to Carroll--her eyes meeting his +squarely--and they mutually acknowledged Evelyn's gushing, but unheard, +introduction-- + +"Miss Gresham--" + +"Mr. Carroll--" + +They seated themselves about a small table which stood in the center of +the reception hall, and even Evelyn sensed the undercurrent of tenseness +in the air. Her tongue became reluctantly still although she did break in +once with a triumphant--"Ain't he like I told you he was?" to Hazel. + +It was Garry who introduced the subject. "Mr. Carroll wants to ask you +something about Roland," he said softly--and Carroll, intercepting the +look which passed between brother and sister, felt a sense of warmth--a +pleasant glow; albeit it was tinged with guilt--as though he had +blundered in on something sacred. + +The girl's voice came softly in reply: her gaze unwavering. + +"What is it you wish to know, Mr. Carroll?" + +The detective was momentarily at a loss. He conscripted his entire store +of tact--"I don't want to cause you any embarrassment, Miss Gresham--" + +"This is no time for equivocation, Mr. Carroll. You may ask me whatever +you wish." + +"Thank you," he answered gratefully. "You have, of course, heard +that there is a woman connected with Mr. Warren's death--the woman +in the taxicab." + +Her face grew pallid, but she nodded. "Yes. Of course." + +He watched her closely--"Have you the slightest idea--the vaguest +suspicion--of that woman's identity?" + +"No!" she answered--and he knew that she had spoken the truth. + +"You have thought of it--of her--a good deal?" + +"Naturally." + +"Mind you--I'm not asking if you _know_--I'm merely asking if you have a +suspicion." + +"I have not--not the faintest." + +"You were quite satisfied--pardon the intense personal trend of my +questions, Miss Gresham--that during his engagement to you, Mr. Warren +was--well, that he was carrying on no affair with another woman?" + +"I say, Carroll--" It was Garry Gresham who interrupted and his voice +was harsh. But his sister halted him with a little affectionate gesture-- + +"Mr. Carroll is right, Garry: he must know these things." She turned +again to Carroll. "No, Mr. Carroll--I knew of no such affair--nor did I +suspect one. When I became engaged to Mr. Warren I placed my trust in him +as a gentleman. I still believe in him." + +"Yet we _know_ that there _was_ a woman in that cab!" + +"No-o. We know that the taxi-driver _says_ there was." + +"That's true--" + +Hazel Gresham leaned forward: her manner that of a suppliant. "Mr. +Carroll--why don't you abandon this horrible investigation? Why aren't +you content to let matters rest where they are?" + +"I couldn't do that, Miss Gresham." + +"Why not?" + +"Mr. Warren's murderer is still at large--and as a matter of duty--" + +"Duty to whom? I am content to let the matter rest where it is. All of +your investigation isn't going to restore Roland to life. You can only +cause more misery, more suffering, more heartbreak--" + +"It is a duty to the State, Miss Gresham. And, frankly, I cannot +understand your attitude--" + +"She has had enough--" broke in Garry Gresham. "She's been through hell +since--that night." + +"I'm afraid, though--" + +"Mr. Carroll--you _can_ call it off, if you will." Hazel Gresham rose +and paced the room. "The case is in your hands. You can gain nothing by +finding the person who committed the--the--deed. Let's drop it. Do me +that favor, won't you? Let's consider the whole thing at an end!" + +David Carroll was puzzled. But he was honest--"I'm afraid I cannot, Miss +Gresham. I must, at least, try to solve it." + +She paused before him: figure tensed-- + +"Then let me say, Mr. Carroll--that I hope you fail!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE WOMAN IN THE TAXI + + +From the Gresham home, David Carroll went straight to headquarters. +Developments had been tumbling over each other so fast that he found +himself unable to sort them properly. He wanted to talk the thing over +with someone, to place each new lead in the investigation under the +microscope in an attempt to discern its true value in relation to the +killing of Roland Warren. + +Eric Leverage was the one man to whom he could talk. And, locked in the +Chief's office, he told all that he knew about the case, detailing +conversations, explaining the situation as he understood it, reserving +his suspicions and watching keenly for the reaction on the stolid mind of +the plodding, practical Chief. + +Carroll placed an exceedingly high valuation on Leverage's opinion--even +though the minds of the two men were as far apart as the poles. But +Leverage was a magnificent man for the office he held: competent, +methodical, intensely orthodox--but typical of the modern police in +contradistinction to the modern detective. + +Carroll knew that modern police methods have received a great deal more +than their share of unjust criticism. He knew that the entire theory of +national policing is based on an exhaustive system of records and +statistics. It operates by brute force and all-pervading power rather +than by any attempt at sublety or keen deduction. The former is so much +safer as a method. And the combination of the two--keen analysis, logical +deduction and plodding investigation--can perform wonders, which explains +why Carroll and Leverage worked hand-in-hand with implicit confidence in +one another. + +Leverage listened with rapt attention to the report of his friend. +Occasionally the corners of his large humorous mouth twitched as Carroll +touched on one or two of the lighter phases of his investigation--and +once Leverage even twitted him about becoming "one of these here +butterfly investigators"--but Carroll knew that no word of his escaped +the retentive brain of the chief of the city's police force, and that +each was being carefully catalogued with truer knowledge of its proper +importance than Carroll had yet been able to determine. + +"And so," finished Carroll, "there you are. The thing is in as pretty a +mess as I care to encounter. Frankly, I don't know which way to turn +next--which is why I wanted to talk things over. Perhaps, between us, +we can arrive at some solution of the affair--determine upon some +course of action." + +"Yes," responded Leverage slowly, "perhaps we can. Only trouble is--there +are so many different ways of spillin' the beans that we're takin' a +chance no matter what we do. Answer me this, David: if you had to point +out one person right now as the guilty one--which'd you choose?" + +Carroll shook his head. "You know I don't like to answer questions of +that sort." + +"But you can tell me--" + +"No-o. It might start your mind working along lines parallel to mine--and +I prefer to have you buck me. But, in perfect honesty, I'll tell you that +I'm all at sea. I couldn't conscientiously make an arrest now." + +"Well--I'm willing to air my opinions," volunteered the Chief. "And I'm +telling you that if it was up to me to make an arrest to-day I'd nab Mr. +Gerald Lawrence--and haul in William Barker for good measure." + +"M-m-m!" Carroll nodded approvingly. "Sounds reasonable. How about +the woman?" + +"That's what's got me puzzled. I've worked on that end of it, and I've +had several of my best men circulating around trying to gather dope from +the gossip shops--but there doesn't seem to be a clue from this end. +Anyway--I don't believe Warren was killed by the woman in the taxi!" + +Carroll was genuinely impressed. "You don't?" + +"No. Don't believe any woman--I don't care who--would have killed him +under those circumstances." + +"You mean you believe the woman in the taxi had nothing to do with it?" + +"I don't mean anything of the kind. I know darn well she had something to +do with it--but I don't believe she did the actual killing. That's why +I'd arrest this bird Lawrence and also William Barker. They either killed +the man or they know all about it." + +"But," suggested Carroll slowly, "suppose we admit that your theory is +correct--and I've thought of it myself: how and where was that body put +into the taxicab?" + +Leverage shrugged: "That's where you come in, Carroll. I ain't the sort +of thinker who can puzzle out something like that. Of course I'd say the +only place the shift could have been made was when the taxi stopped at +the R. L. & T. railroad crossing--and every time I think that it strikes +me I must be wrong. Because any birds working a case like that couldn't +have counted on such a break in luck." + +"It might have been," suggested Carroll, "that two men entered the cab +at that crossing: Warren and another--both alive, and the killing might +have occurred between then and the time the cab reached number 981 East +End Avenue." + +"Might have--yes. But something tells me it didn't. It's asking +too much--" + +"Then what _do_ you think happened?" + +"I don't think. There just simply isn't anything you can think about an +affair like that. You either know everything or you don't know a thing!" + +"I think you're about right, Leverage. And now--let's run over the list +we have in front of us. Spike Walters--the taxi driver--comes first. +What about him?" + +Leverage rubbed his chin. "Funny about Spike, Carroll--I think the kid's +story is true." + +"So do I." + +"But unless there's some other answer to this affair--it's damned hard to +believe that the body could have been dumped into that cab, or that the +killing could have occurred there, without Spike knowing about it. Ain't +that a fact?" + +"It is." + +"And if he knows anything he hasn't told, the odds are on him to know a +whale of a sight more. And if he knows a whole heap--then the chances are +he knows enough to justify us in keeping him in jail." + +"You're right, Leverage. If Spike is innocent he's not undergoing any +enormous hardship. But if his story is untrue in any particular--then it +is probably entirely false. And since we cannot understand how that body +got into the cab or where the murderer went--we've got to hold on to +Spike. Meanwhile, we both believe him." + +"You said it, David. Now, next on the list we have Barker. What +about him?" + +"I don't like Barker particularly," said Carroll frankly. "He hasn't +what you would call an engaging personality. Not only that, but we are +agreed that he knows a great deal about the case which he hasn't +told--and doesn't intend to tell unless we force him to it. But we'll go +back to him later: he's too important a link in the chain to pass over +casually when we're trying to hit on a definite course of action. +Remembering, of course, that his visits to the Lawrence home have a +certain degree of significance." + +Leverage chuckled grimly. "You're coming around to my way of thinking, +David Carroll. Remember, I wanted to stick that bird behind the bars the +first day we talked to him--when we first knew he was lying to us." + +"Yes--but we wouldn't have gained anything--then. Perhaps now the time +is ripe to try some of that third degree stuff. But let's take up the +others. My little friend, Miss Evelyn Rogers, for instance." + +Leverage chuckled. "Go to it, David. You know more about that kid than I +ever will--or want to. Ain't suspecting her of being the woman in the +taxi, are you?" + +"Good Lord! no! She hasn't that much on her mind. And if we manage to +solve this case, we can thank her. That little tongue of hers wags at +both ends--and out of the welter of words that drip from her lips--I've +managed to extract more information than from every other source we've +tapped. I've been awfully lucky there--" + +"Don't talk like a simp, David--'tain't luck. That's your way of +working. And because there isn't anything flashy about it--you call it +luck. Why, you poor fish--there isn't any other man in the country who'd +have had the common sense to do what you did--to know that it would be a +sensible move." + +"Some day, Eric," grinned Carroll, "I'm going to throw you down--I'm +going to flunk on a case. And then you'll say to my face what you must +often have thought--that I'm a lucky, old-maidish detective." + +"G'wan wid ye! Fishing for compliments--that's what you are." + +Carroll grew serious again. "I think we're safe in eliminating Evelyn +Rogers from our calculations except as a gold mine of information. Which +takes us to her friend--Hazel Gresham." + +"And Garry Gresham. You say he didn't want you to discuss the case with +his sister." + +"They both acted mighty peculiarly," agreed Carroll. "One of them, I'm +sure, knows something about that case--has some inside dope on it. And +the one who knew has told the other one--the affection between them is +something pretty to look at, Leverage." + +"You think one of them is in on the know?" + +"Yes, I think so. And I think that their information touches someone +pretty close to them. That's obviously why they pleaded so hard with me +to call off the investigation." + +"M-m-m--They're pretty good friends to the Lawrences, aren't they!" + +"Yes--with Naomi Lawrence, anyway. I don't believe Gerald Lawrence is +especially friendly with anyone. But the Greshams and Mrs. Lawrence are +pretty intimate." + +"And you believe that the alibi Miss Rogers established for Hazel +Gresham is good?" + +Carroll hesitated a moment before replying. When he did speak it was with +obvious reluctance: "I hate to say so, Leverage--because I like Evelyn +Rogers and I took an instant liking to both Hazel Gresham and her +brother. But there seems to be something wrong about it. I do think that +Evelyn Rogers believed she was telling the truth--but I'm not so sure +that her dope was accurate. Just where the inaccuracy comes--I haven't +the least idea--but I'm not letting my likes and dislikes stand in the +way of a sane outlook on the case. I am convinced that both the young +Greshams know something more than they have told. As a matter of fact, +there isn't a doubt of it--they showed it clearly when they begged me to +call off the investigation. We know further that they are intimate with +Naomi Lawrence--and we know that either Naomi or her husband--or +both--are mixed up in this case. Events dovetail too perfectly for us to +ignore the fact that however right Evelyn Rogers may believe she is--she +may be wrong!" + +"And I'm not forgetting, either--" said Leverage grimly, "that Hazel +Gresham was engaged to marry Warren!" + +"No. Nor am I. It's a puzzling combination of circumstances, Leverage: a +perfectly knit thing--if we don't--and so now we come to Gerald Lawrence +and his wife." + +Leverage did not take his cue immediately. He sat drumming a heavy tattoo +on the tabletop, forehead corrugated in a frown of intensive thought. +When he did speak it was in a manner well-nigh abstract-- + +"Gerald Lawrence probably lied when he said he didn't leave Nashville +until the two a.m. train." + +"He may have. One thing which impressed me about Lawrence was this, +Leverage--when the man started bucking me he thought he had a perfect +alibi. He was supremely confident that I was going to be completely +nonplussed. It was only after I had questioned him closely that he +realized his alibi was no alibi at all. He realized he couldn't prove +where he was at the time the murder was committed--that for all the +evidence he could adduce he might have been right here in this city." + +"Yes--?" + +"The significant fact is this," explained Carroll--"when he made the +discovery that his alibi was no good--_he_ was the most surprised person +in the room!" + +"And you're thinking," suggested the Chief, "that if he had actually had +a hand in the murder of Warren he would have had an alibi that would have +been an alibi?" + +"Just about that. Get me straight, Chief--I would rather believe Lawrence +guilty than any other person--except perhaps Barker--with whom I have +come in contact since this investigation began. He has one of the most +unpleasant personalities I have ever known. He is a congenital grouch. +But he told his Nashville story so frankly--and then became so panicky +with surprise when my questioning showed him that his alibi was +rotten--that we must not fasten definitely upon him--" + +"--Except to be pretty darn sure that he knows more about it than he +has told." + +"Yes. Perhaps." + +"Perhaps. Ain't you sure he does?" + +"I'm not sure of anything. I haven't one single item of information save +that regarding the one person whom I would prefer to see left clear." + +"And that is?" + +"Mrs. Naomi Lawrence." + +Leverage nodded agreement. "Things do look pretty tough for her." + +"More so than you think, Eric." Carroll designated on his fingers, "Count +the facts against her as we know them: irrespective of their weight or +significance. + +"First, she is a beautiful woman, twelve years younger than her husband +and very unhappy in her domestic life. Second, she was very friendly with +Roland Warren. Of course, Miss Rogers' fatuous belief that Warren was +crazy about her is pure rot: he called at that house to see either +Gerald or Naomi Lawrence. We must admit that the chances are the woman +was the person in whom he was interested. Third, in substantiation of +that belief we know that he frequently gave her presents. It doesn't +matter how valuable the presents were--he gave them. That proves a +certain amount of interest." + +Carroll paused for a brief explanation. "Mind you, Leverage--I'm not +trying to make out a case against Naomi Lawrence--I'm only being honest. +To continue--fourth, we know that in spite of the fact that she is +afraid to remain in a house alone at night, she suggested that her +sister visit at the home of Hazel Gresham on the night Warren was +killed. Her husband was supposed--according to his story--to be in +Nashville. It is absurd to presume that when she let Evelyn go out for +the night she expected to remain alone until morning. Therefore, for the +sake of argument, we will assume that she knew her husband would be back +that night. If that is the case--we are also forced to believe that +there was something sinister about it. + +"Fifth--we are fairly positive that she packed a suit-case the morning +before the murder, that the suit-case left the house that morning and +that two days later it mysteriously reappeared--" + +"Yes," interrupted Leverage, "and we know that Warren was planning to +make a trip with someone else!" + +"Exactly!" + +"Which makes it pretty clear," finished Leverage positively, "that Mrs. +Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BARKER ACCUSES + + +The men looked at each other in silence for a minute. Leverage was +sorry for Carroll--sorry because he knew that Carroll was disappointed, +that the boyish detective had hoped against hope that the trail would +lead to some person other than the flaming creature who was Gerald +Lawrence's wife. + +It was not that Carroll had become infatuated with her. It was merely +that he liked her--liked her sincerely--and was sorry for her. + +The conclusions to be inevitably reached from the premise that Naomi was +the woman in the taxicab were none too pleasant. In the first place there +was the matter of morals involved. It had been pretty well established +that the dead man had planned a trip to New York with someone: there was +the fact that he had purchased a drawing room and two railroad +tickets--only one of which later had been found in his pockets at +midnight that night. + +Then there was the circumstance of Mrs. Lawrence packing her suit-case +and taking it, or sending it, from the house during the day--and its +reappearance a couple of days later. It also explained her willingness +that Evelyn spend the night with Hazel Gresham. Knowing that she, Naomi, +was going to leave her home before midnight, she had not wanted her +youthful sister to spend the balance of the night alone--and so had sent +her to the house of a friend. That much was clear-- + +"It's hell!" burst out Carroll. + +"You said it." + +"Suppose she _was_ the woman in the taxicab--?" + +"Yes--suppose she was: it doesn't prove that she killed Warren?" + +"No--but it proves something a good deal worse, Leverage. It proves that +she was going to elope with him." + +"It may--we don't _know_!" + +"We don't _know_ anything. But there is a certain logic which is +irrefutable--and, confound it! man--what are we going to do now?" + +Leverage refused to meet his friend's eyes. "We-e-ll, David--suppose you +tell me what _you_ think we should do?" + +"We ought to--but it's rotten! Absolutely rotten!" + +"Trouble with you, David," said Leverage kindly--"is that you're too +damned human!" + +"I can't help it. It isn't my fault. And if I was sure that Naomi +Lawrence was the woman in that taxi, I'd arrest her immediately. But I'm +not sure, Leverage--and neither are you. Let's admit that it's a ten to +one bet--we're still not positive. And I wonder if you realize what her +arrest would mean?" + +"What?" + +"We can't arrest a woman of her prominence socially without a reason--and +a darned good reason. Therefore, when we arrest her we have to tell the +public why we're doing it. And what do we tell 'em? That she was--or +might have become--Warren's light-o'-love! That she was going to elope +with him!" + +"And yet, David--all of that is probably true." + +"Probably--yes. But not positively. We haven't proved anything. And once +we explode that social bomb--we've started something that she'll never +live down. We've done more than that--we've played the devil with +Evelyn's chance of happiness. That kid will be in a swell position when +the scandal-mongers get hold of the gossip about her sister. Can't you +hear 'em--babbling about it being in the blood?" + +"But she might prove that none of it is true." + +"That doesn't make a bit of difference. Gossip pays no attention to a +refutation. Leave consideration for Mrs. Lawrence out of it +altogether--and figure where Evelyn comes in on the backwash." + +"It _is_ tough. But this is a murder case--and, anyway, I don't think she +killed Warren." + +"Even if she didn't--I fancy she'd rather be convicted of murder--than of +what this will lead to. I'm afraid, Leverage. We're trifling with +something a good deal more sacred than human life. If Naomi Lawrence is +guilty--there's no objection to her suffering. But her kid sister will +suffer too--" + +"You don't think, Carroll--that she looked like that kind?" + +"Good God! _no!_ And even if we prove that she was the woman in the +taxicab--that she was going to elope with Warren--it still won't prove +that she was that kind. There's something about that husband of +hers--meet him, Leverage--meet him! That's the only way you'll have any +understanding of my sympathy for the wife." + +Leverage rose and walked to the window. He spoke without turning, +"Tough--David; mighty tough. And we've got to do something." + +No answer. Carroll had lighted a cigarette and was puffing fiercely upon +it. Leverage spoke again softly-- + +"Haven't we?" + +"I suppose we have--" + +"Well?" + +Another long silence. "Isn't there anything we can do, Eric--before we +start something that no human power can stop? Something to make us +sure--to give us a clincher? That's all I ask. You say I'm cursed with +too much of the milk of human kindness. Perhaps I am--perhaps that's what +makes me no better detective than I am--but it's a trait--good or +bad--that I'll never get over. And until every possible doubt as to that +woman's complicity has been removed, I am opposed to any such course as +arrest and public announcement of the reasons therefor." + +Leverage shook his head. He was disappointed in his friend. Not that +Carroll would flinch from duty--but Leverage considered it a weakness +that Carroll insisted on postponing the inevitable. He was sorry--he knew +that it had to come: Naomi's arrest and the consequent nasty publicity. +His manner, as he addressed Carroll, was that of a man who washes his +hands of something-- + +"It's your case, David. Handle it your own way. That's been our agreement +always when we worked together--and I'm game to stick to it now." + +Carroll flushed. "Yet you're disappointed in me?" + +"A little--yes," said Leverage honestly. "But I've been disappointed in +you before, David--and you've always made me sorry for it. I know you +won't throw me down this time. You've never done it yet." + +"You're safe!" said Carroll grimly. "No--" as Leverage started for the +door; "Don't go! I want to think for a minute--" + +Leverage sank obediently into a chair. Carroll paced the room slowly. He +was thinking--struggling to decide upon a plan of action which would +delay the arrest of Naomi Lawrence until the ultimate moment. And finally +he flung back his head triumphantly. Leverage looked up with pleasure at +the sound of relief in his friend's voice-- + +"Leverage?" + +"Yes?" + +"You say this case is mine--absolutely? To handle as I see fit?" + +"Yes." + +"You agree that we have enough against William Barker to arrest him?" + +"Gosh--I said that the first day we met him." + +"You also agree that he knows whatever connection the Lawrences have with +the Warren murder?" + +"I do." + +"Then get Barker. Bring him here!" + +Leverage departed with a light step. There was a smile on his lips. Here +was the style of procedure with which he was familiar and in full +sympathy. Here was action supplanting stagnation--something definite +succeeding the long nerve-wracking period of conjecture which appeared to +lead nowhere save into a labyrinth of endless discussion. + +He started the machinery of the department to moving. When he returned to +his office an hour later, Carroll was still seated motionlessly before +the grate fire--an extinguished cigar between his teeth--eyes focused +intently on the dancing flames. Leverage spoke-- + +"I've got Barker." + +"Where is he?" + +"Downstairs." + +"Bring him in. You stay here when he comes--send everybody else out." + +Cartwright brought Barker into the room and Leverage dismissed the +plainclothesman. Barker, eyes wide with fear, face pallid--yet with a +certain belligerence in his attitude--confronted the two detectives. + +"I say--" he started, "what does this mean?" + +"It means," said Carroll coldly, "that you are under arrest for the +murder of Roland Warren!" + +"That I'm--" Barker fell back a step. It was plain that he was surprised. +"You're arresting _me_ for Warren's murder?" + +"Yes." + +"But I didn't do it. I'll swear I didn't." + +"Of course you'll swear it--" Carroll's steely voice excited a vast +admiration in Leverage's breast. Many times before he had seen the +transformation in his friend from all too human softness to almost +inhuman coldness--yet he never failed of surprise at the phenomenon. +"But we know you did do it." + +"You don't know nothin' of the kind," Barker's voice came in a +half-snarl. "I don't give a damn how smart you fly-cops are--you can't +prove nothin' on me." + +"That so?" + +"Yes--that's so. Just because I worked for Warren ain't no reason why you +should arrest me for his murder. Suppose I had wanted to kill him--and I +didn't--didn't have no reason at all. But suppose I had wanted too--you +know bloody well that I didn't do it." + +"Why do we know that?" + +"Because you know he was killed by a woman!" + +"Aa-a-ah! That's what you think, eh?" + +"I know a woman killed him." + +"You were present?" + +"Bah! Trying to trap me--are you? Well, I ain't going to be trapped. I +don't know nothin' about it. Like I said from the first." + +"But you do know something about it," insisted Carroll icily. "And I'd +advise you to come clean with us." + +"There ain't nothin' to come clean about." + +"You say we know that a woman killed Warren. You seem pretty confident +of that yourself. Well, we happen to know that you know who this woman +was. Who was she?" + +For the first time Barker's eyes shifted. "You know as well as me +who she was?" + +"Who was she?" Carroll's voice fairly snapped. + +"It was--Miss Hazel Gresham!" + +Carroll stared at the man. "Listen to me, Barker--you're lying and we +know you're lying. You know as well as we do that Miss Gresham was at her +own home when Warren was killed. I don't want any more lies! Not one! Now +tell us the truth!" + +Barker stared first at Carroll--then at Leverage. An expression of doubt +crossed his face. It was patent that these men knew more than he had +credited them. Finally he shrugged his shoulders-- + +"Well--Mr. Carroll, that bein' the case--I ain't goin' to stick my head +in a noose for nobody!" + +"You've decided to tell us the truth!" + +"I have." + +"You know who killed Roland Warren?" + +"Yes--I know who killed Roland Warren!" + +"Who was it?" + +Barker's face went white. Leverage and Carroll leaned forward +eagerly--nervously. It seemed an eternity before Barker's answer +came--but when it did, his words rang with conviction--he uttered a +name-- + +"_Mrs. Naomi Lawrence_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH--" + + +Barker's words reverberated through the room--to be succeeded by an +almost unnatural stillness; a silence punctured by the ticking of the +cheap clock on the mantel, by the crackling of the flames in the grate, +by the whistling of the wind around the corners of the gaunt gray stone +building which housed the police department. + +The accused man looked eagerly upon the faces of the two detectives; +then, slowly, his chest expanded with relief: he saw that they +believed him. + +And Carroll did believe. It was not that he wanted to--he had fought +himself mentally away from that conviction time after time; had +threshed over every scintilla of evidence, searching futilely for +something which would clear this radiant woman whom he had met but +once. Carroll's interest--however platonic--was intensely personal. +The woman had impressed herself indelibly upon him. It was perhaps her +air of game helplessness; perhaps the stark tragedy which he had seen +reflected in her eyes when he had first entered her home and saw that +she knew why he had come. + +And now, driven into the corner which he had hoped to avoid, his +retentive memory brought back a circumstance well-nigh forgotten. He +addressed Barker, his voice soft-hopeless. + +"You mean that Mrs. Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab?" + +"Yes, sir." The "sir," which Barker used for the first time was +respectful. + +"Where had she been during the evening--after dark of the night of +the--killing?" + +"At home--I believe." + +"You believe?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Carroll's eyes lighted. His voice cracked out accusingly: "Don't you +_know_ that that is incorrect?" + +Barker shook his head. "Why, no, sir. Of course, I ain't sayin' positive +that she _was_ at home all evenin', but--" + +"As I understand it," said Carroll slowly--"an accommodation train came +in just about that time: isn't that a fact?" + +"Some train came in then--I don't know which one it was." + +"Isn't it a fact that the woman who got into the taxicab had been a +passenger on that train: that she got off with the other passengers, +carrying a suit-case?" + +"There ain't nobody can see the passengers get off the trains at the +Union Station, Mr. Carroll. You go down them steps and approach the +waitin' room underground--crossin' under the tracks." + +"But you do know that this woman--whoever she was--passed through the +waiting room with the passengers who came on that train, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir--she done that, but it don't mean nothin'." + +"Why don't it?" + +"Well, sir, for one thing--ain't it true that the papers said the +suit-case she was carryin' wasn't hers at all. Ain't it a fact that she +had Mr. Warren's suit-case?" + +"Well?" Carroll saw his last hope glimmering. + +"You see, sir--Mr. Warren was meetin' Mrs. Lawrence at the station. He +got there with his suit-case at about ten minutes to twelve. She got +there about ten or fifteen minutes later--" + +"How did she come?" + +"On the street car. And when she come out--she was alone and it was his +suit-case she was carryin'--the same suit-case he had taken into the +station. The one you found in the taxicab." + +"I see--" Carroll did not want to believe Barker's story, but he knew +that the man was telling the truth--or at least that most of what he was +saying was true. The detective seemed crushed with disappointment. +Leverage, seated in the corner of the room, chewing savagely on a big +black cigar--was sorry for his friend: sorry--yet proud of the way he was +standing the gaff of his chagrin. Carroll again spoke to Barker--manner +almost apathetic-- + +"You know a good deal more about this thing than you've told us, don't +you Barker?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Very well: let's have your story from the beginning to the end. I'll be +honest with you: I believe a good deal of what you've told me. Some of +your story I don't believe. Other portions of it need substantiation. But +you are mighty close to being charged with murder--and now is your +chance to clear yourself. Go to it!" + +Barker plunged a hand into his pocket. "Can I smoke, Mr. Carroll?" + +"Certainly. And sit down." + +They drew up their chairs before the fire. Carroll did not look at +Barker, but Leverage's steady gaze was fixed on the man's crafty face. + +"I'm going to come clean with you, Mr. Carroll. I'm going to tell you +everythin' I know--and everythin' I think. I didn't want to do it--and I +don't want to now. But I'd a heap rather have the job of convincin' you +that I ain't mixed up in this murder than I would of makin' a jury +believe the same thing. I reckon you'll give me a square deal." + +"I will," snapped Carroll. "Go ahead." + +"In the first place," started Barker slowly, "it's my personal opinion +that Mr. Warren never had no idea of marryin' Miss Gresham. Maybe I'm all +wrong there--but it's what I think. I can't prove that, of course--an' no +one else can't either. + +"Also I happen to know that he's been crazy about Mrs. Lawrence for a +long time. He's been hangin' around the house a good deal--an' doin' +little things like a man will when he's nuts about a woman. For +instance, Mr. Warren wasn't no investing man: s'far's I know he had all +his money in gover'ment bonds and such like investments. But he sank some +money into them woolen mills that Mr. Lawrence owns. And also he +pretended that he liked that kid sister of Mrs. Lawrence's--Evelyn +Rogers. But there ain't hardly a doubt in my mind, Mr. Carroll--an' I'm +handin' it to you straight--that he was crazy about Mrs. Lawrence. And, +not meanin' no impertinence, sir--I ain't blamin' him a bit. + +"Also, I reckon she wasn't exactly indifferent to him. She's been up in +his apartment twice--which is a terrible risky thing, an' somethin' no +woman will do unless she's wild about a feller. Oh! everything was proper +while she was there. I was at home all the time and I know. But she +was--what you call, indiscreet--that is, in comin' up there at all--no +matter how decent she acted when she was there. An' also, sir, she used +to write him notes--most every day." + +"You have some of those notes?" + +"No, sir. I had one--if you want the truth--but when I saw you was +watchin' me--sure, I know you've had a couple of dicks shadowing me--I +destroyed it." + +"Where are the rest of her letters?" + +"Mr. Warren used to burn 'em up careful. He wasn't takin' no chances of +someone findin' 'em and he bein' caught in a scandal--which is why I +think he really cared about her serious. His other lady friends he used +to joke about--but never Mrs. Lawrence. An' the one letter of her's that +I had--I'm betting that he looked for three days without stopping before +he gave it up as a bad job. + +"That's the way things was when I seen him begin to make arrangements to +get away from town. It wasn't supposed to be none of my business and Mr. +Warren never was a feller I could ask questions of. When he had something +to tell me, he told it--an' I never got nothin' out of him by askin'. +But, bein' his valet, there was certain things I couldn't very well miss +knowin'. I know his apartment is sublet for the new tenants to come in on +the first of the month, he placed his car with a dealer to be sold and +he didn't order a new one an' he drew a whole heap of cash out of the +bank the day before he was killed. + +"Also that day he sent me downtown to do some shoppin'. While I was +downtown I seen him go into the railroad ticket office. I didn't pay much +attention to that then and later on he drove by the house for a minute. +I had taken his laprobe out of the car the night before and forgot to put +it back--so I thought I'd better do it. I went downstairs without his +knowing it--and when I put the laprobe in the car I seen he had a +suit-case in there. An' the suit-case wasn't his, sir--the initials on it +was N.L.--which, if you know, sir--Mrs. Lawrence's name is Naomi. + +"That made things pretty clear to me then. He drove off and come back +about a half hour later. I looked when he come back and the suit-case +wasn't in the car no more. And it was then that he handed me a big wad of +wages in advance and told me he wasn't going to need me no more and I +could quit any time after five o'clock in the afternoon." + +Barker paused, lighted another cigarette from the stump of the one he +had been smoking--inhaled a great puff, and continued. His manner was +that of a man under great mental stress--as though he was struggling to +recall every infinitesimal detail which might possibly have a bearing +on the case. + +"That sort of carries me along to the night, sir--as I left there at +five o'clock and he was still there--tellin' me goodbye and givin' me +an excellent reference and sayin' I was a good valet an' all like +that, sir. + +"After leavin' there I went out and got some supper, and then I went up +to Kelly's place and horned into an open game of pool. You know Kelly's +place is pretty close to the Union Station and when it come about ten +o'clock I got tired and went an' sat down in the corner, eatin' a hot +dog from the stand in Kelly's--an' then I sort of got to thinkin' +things over. + +"An' thinkin' things over that way, Mr. Carroll--I began to think that +Mrs. Lawrence was doin' a terrible foolish thing, and I was kinder sorry +about it. Now don't get no idea that I'm wantin' you to believe I got a +soft heart or anythin' like that--but then I sort of liked Mr. Warren and +I knew Mrs. Lawrence was a decent woman--and I knew once she got on the +train with Mr. Warren she was done for. And when I got to thinkin' about +that, sir--it struck me that maybe somethin' could be done to keep 'em +from eloping with each other that way. Not that I was plannin' to do +anything--but curiosity sort of got me, and along about eleven o'clock or +a little while after I went out of Kelly's and up to the Union Station. I +sat down over in the corner and waited for somethin' to happen--sort of +hopin' maybe I had been wrong all the time and there wasn't going to be +no elopement. + +"I waited there a long time, and then suddenly a taxicab came up to the +curb and Mr. Warren got out. Then the taxicab beat it down-town again and +Mr. Warren went in the station. And as he come in one door, I beat it out +of the other." + +"Why?" snapped Leverage. + +"Because him seein' me there was certain to start somethin'. And I wasn't +hankerin' for nothin' like that to happen. So I went across the street +and tried to get shelter against the wall of that dump of a hotel over +there. An' it was cold: I ain't seen such a cold night in my life. I +almos' froze to death." + +"And yet you continued to stand there?" + +"Sure--I was curious. Kinder foolish, maybe, but I wanted to see had I +figured right about him eloping with Mrs. Lawrence. So I stood there, +darn near dead with the cold, when the midnight Union Station street car +stopped an' Mrs. Lawrence got out. An' the first thing I noticed was that +she wasn't carryin' no suit-case. I noticed that on account of havin' +seen her suit-case in Mr. Warren's car that day. She didn't carry +nothin' but one of these handbag things that women lug around with 'em." + +"How was she dressed?" + +"Fur coat and hat and a heavy veil." + +"You could see the veil from across the street at midnight?" + +"No sir. Not from there. But when she went in the depot, I followed +across the street and looked inside to see what was goin' to happen." He +paused a moment and then Carroll prodded him on-- + +"Well--what _did_ happen?" + +"The minute Mr. Warren seen her come in he beat it through the opposite +door from where I was standin' out to the platform that runs parallel to +the tracks. An' he nodded to her to follow him. She sort of nodded like +she was wise, an' took a seat so's nobody would think anything in case +there was anyone there lookin' for something. Mr. Warren walked off down +the outside platform towards the baggage room an' after about three +minutes she gets up, kinder casual-like and follers. Soon as she went +through the door to the platform I went in the waitin' room." + +"What did you do then?" + +"Nothin'. Just made a bee line for the steam radiator an' tried to +get warm. I was so cold it hurt. An' I stood there for about ten +minutes. Then I heard that train comin' in an' I went outside into the +street again." + +Carroll's voice was tense. "In all that time did you hear +anything--anything at all?" + +Barker shook his head. "No sir--not a thing--except that train comin' in. +And then the passengers from it began to come through, and I was +surprised to see Mrs. Lawrence comin' with them, an' she was carryin' his +suit-case." + +"Whose suit-case?" + +"Mr. Warren's. She come on out to the curb an' called a taxicab." + +"Where was the taxicab standing?" + +"Parked against the curb on Atlantic Avenue about a hundred yards from +the entrance in the direction of Jackson street." + +"How did she act?" + +"Kinder nervous like. Noticin' her come out I seen the taxi driver when +he climbed back into his cab an' when he started her up. He picked up +Mrs. Lawrence an' she put the suit-case in front beside him. Then they +drove off. And that's all I know sir." + +Carroll rose and walked slowly the length of the room. + +"What did you think when you saw Mrs. Lawrence come out of the station +alone carrying Mr. Warren's suit-case? When she did that and called a +taxicab and went off in it alone?" + +"Not knowin' about no killin', Mr. Carroll--I thought they'd got together +and talked things over an' decided to call off the elopement!" + +"You did--" Carroll paused. "And the first time you knew of Warren's +death?" + +"Was when I read the newspapers the next morning." + +"Then why," barked the detective, "did you make the blunt statement that +Mrs. Lawrence killed Warren?" + +"Because," said Barker simply, "I believe she did." + +"How could she have killed him? When and how?" + +"That's easy," explained Barker quietly. "If I'm right in thinkin' that +they was goin' to call off the elopement--they could have seen that taxi +standin' against the curb and he could have got in without bein' seen. It +was awful dark where the taxi was standin' an' the driver says himself +that he was over in the restaurant gettin' warm. So what I thought right +away was that Warren got in the taxi, an' she called it. That was so they +wouldn't be seen gettin' in together at that time of night. Then I +thought they drove off. And then--" + +"Yes--and then?" + +"It was while they were alone together in that taxi, that she +killed him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +LABYRINTH + + +Long after William Barker left the room--held in custody under special +guard--David Carroll and Chief of Police Eric Leverage maintained a +thoughtful silence. Leverage wanted to talk--but refused to be the first +to broach the subject which each knew was uppermost in the mind of the +other. And it was Carroll who spoke first-- + +"Well, Eric," he said dully, "you called the turn that time." + +"Reckon I did, David." + +"It looks mighty bad for Mrs. Lawrence--mighty bad." He hesitated. "I +wonder whether Barker told the truth when he said he had been calling on +Mrs. Lawrence to apply for a job?" + +"Why not?" + +"Because when valets or butlers apply for domestic positions they don't +go to the front door, and Barker did on both occasions he visited that +house. No, Leverage--I don't think he told the truth there." + +"Then what _was_ he doing at the house?" + +"Mmm! Just struck me, Eric--that he may have been trying a little private +blackmail." + +Leverage arched his eyebrows: "On Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"Yes--on Mrs. Lawrence. You see, it's this way: according to Barker's own +story he knew everything which transpired at the station. If we believe +what he told us, and if he is correct in his belief that Mrs. Lawrence +did the killing, then we know he is the only person who--until now--had +any knowledge of the identity of the woman in the taxicab. That being the +case, and Barker being obviously not a high type of man, it is certainly +not unreasonable to presume that he was capitalizing his information." + +"Seems plausible," grunted Leverage. "But where does it get us?" + +"Just this far," explained Carroll. "Unless Barker was applying for a +position at the Lawrences--where they not only do not employ a male +servant, but have never employed one--he was not seeking employment +anywhere. He has been taking life pretty easy, all of which is +indicative of a supply of money from outside. And I fancy that Mrs. +Lawrence would pay a pretty fancy price to have her name left out of this +rotten scandal." + +Leverage held Carroll with his eyes: "Do you believe Barker's +story, David?" + +"Believe it? Why, yes. Most of it anyway." + +"You believe Mrs. Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab?" + +"I've got to believe it." + +"Do you believe she killed him?" + +"Evidence points to that answer, Leverage. You see, Barker's story +impressed me this way: it is the only sane, logical solution of the +killing which has yet been advanced. Neither of us has ever yet hit upon +an answer to the puzzle of the body in the taxicab. What Barker tells us +is perfectly plausible--" Carroll paused-- + +"You see," he continued, "from the first I have maintained that Mrs. +Lawrence is a decent woman--innately decent. I will even admit that her +domestic life was so miserably unbearable that she would entertain the +idea of eloping with Warren: that she went so far as to attempt to carry +that idea into execution. But I am also ready--and eager, too, if you +will, to believe that when she reached the stepping off place she must +have reneged. That woman couldn't have done anything else. + +"We are fairly well satisfied--from Barker's own story--that there had +been nothing wrong in the relations between Warren and Mrs. Lawrence up +to that night. But we are pretty sure that they met at the station to go +away together. What is more reasonable than to presume that she lost her +nerve at the eleventh hour: that, unhappy as she was at home, she was +unable to take the step which would forever make her a social outcast? + +"Very well. If that is true, we have them at the station at midnight. The +weather is the worst of the year. They are standing in the dark +passageway between the main waiting room and the baggage room. No light +is on the corner of Jackson street. They see only one taxicab on duty. +For all they know--the last street car has passed. They conceive the idea +of making a single taxicab do double duty--and, knowing that the driver +is across the street drinking coffee and getting warm--Warren gets into +the cab from the blind side, Mrs. Lawrence returns to the waiting room as +the accommodation rolls in, she picks up Warren's suit-case which had +been left there, steps to the curb and summons the cab, in which Warren +is hiding all the time. Sounds all right so far?" + +"Perfectly," said Leverage. "Go ahead." + +"Walters gets the signal and drives up. Mrs. Lawrence gets in. He drives +away. And then--" + +Leverage leaped forward eagerly: "Yes--?? and then?" + +"Well," said Carroll slowly, "we don't know what happened in that +taxicab. We believe that Mrs. Lawrence is a decent woman. We know that +Warren would have gone through with the elopement. That being the case, +we can fancy his keen disappointment. Under those circumstances, Eric--a +good many things could have occurred in that taxicab which might have +justified Warren's death at her hands." + +Leverage crossed to his desk, from the top drawer of which he took a box +of cigars. He was frowning as he recrossed to Carroll and offered him +one. Then, with almost exasperating deliberation, the head of the police +force clipped the end of his own cigar, held a match to it, replaced the +box in his desk and took up his post before the fire--with his back to +it so that he could watch Carroll's face. + +"You really want to believe that story, don't you, David?" he asked +gently. + +"Yes." + +"And yet you know it is shot all full of holes." + +"How?" + +"For one thing," said Leverage slowly--"how do you explain the fact that +it was a.32 that killed him. Not that a .32 is any big gun--it isn't--but +it does make a considerable racket." + +"The shooting probably took place at the R.L.&T. crossing while the train +was passing. The sound of the shot may have been drowned in the roar of +the train--not entirely smothered of course, but sufficiently blended +with the other noise not to attract the attention of the half-frozen +driver. And, the cab being stopped there, it must have been at that point +that Mrs. Lawrence--panicky over what had occurred--left the taxi." + +"You're a dandy little ol' explainer, Carroll. But you've forgotten one +other important item." + +"What is it?" + +"The address Mrs. Lawrence gave--981 East End avenue. That address was a +stall--we know it was a stall. We were hot on that end of it the night +the body was found. And if those two people were trying to get home, +Carroll--if Warren was already in the cab and Mrs. Lawrence gave the +address--and if she wanted to get away from Warren and safe at home as +soon as she could--she'd never have ordered Walters to drive to 981 East +End avenue!" + +Carroll did not answer. There was no answer possible. Leverage's logic +was irrefutable. And finally Carroll rose to his feet and slipped into +his heavy overcoat. Leverage's eyes were turned kindly upon him. + +"Where are you going, David!" + +"I'm going to play my last trump. If it doesn't uncover something--I +throw up my hands. Laugh at me if you will, Eric--rail at me for being +chicken-hearted, for playing hunches too strongly--but I have an idea +that Mrs. Lawrence did not kill Warren. Don't ask me how or why? I don't +know--I admit that frankly. But I've always banked on my knowledge of +human nature, Leverage--and my instinct has never yet betrayed me. Just +now it is forcing me to give this woman every chance in the world to +clear herself. I am hoping that circumstances will allow me to bring this +case to a conclusion without making public her connection with it--the +elopement she was planning." + +"You do believe that part of the story, then: that she was going to elope +with Warren?" + +"I do. I don't want to--but I'm honest with myself." + +"Then," exclaimed Leverage with a slight touch of exasperation in +his manner--"who in thunder could have killed Warren if she didn't? +And when?" + +"That," said Carroll simply, "is what I hope to find out." + +"From where?" + +"From the lips of Mrs. Lawrence. I'm going to have a talk with her." + +Carroll was far from happy during his drive to the Lawrence home. The +Warren mystery seemed to be verging on a solution, but in Carroll's +breast there was none of the pardonable surge of elation which normally +was his under these circumstances. It had been a peculiar case from the +first. The _dramatis personae_ had all been of the better type, with the +single exception of William Barker--they had been persons against whom +the detective was loath to believe ill. And, most eagerly, he had shied +from the belief that Mrs. Lawrence was connected in a sinister way with +the death of Roland Warren. + +Yet he found himself en-route to her home, facing the ordeal of an +interview with her--an ordeal for her as well as for him--and one through +which he feared she could not safely come. For, frankly as Carroll had +admitted to his friend that he hoped to find Naomi innocent--he was yet +honest and fearless, and failure of the woman to clear herself meant her +arrest. Carroll was determined upon that--yet he dreaded it as a child +dreads the dentist--as something painful beyond belief. + +He rang the bell--then groaned as Evelyn Rogers greeted him effusively. +She ushered him ostentatiously into the parlor and drew up a chair +close to his-- + +"Mr. Carroll--it's just simply _scrumptuous_ of you to call on me +informally like this. I can't tell you how tickled I am. I was sitting +upstairs, simply bored to extinction. Sis has been a terrible drag on me +recently--really you'd have thought there had been a death in the +family. Or something! It's been simply graveyardy! And now you come +in--like a darling angel--and save me from the willywoggles. You're a +_dear_, and--" + +"But--but--I really came to see your sister." + +"Oh! _pff_! That's what poor dear Roland used to say all the time. But I +always knew I was the one he wanted to see. Goodness, he was simply +_crazy_ about me--but of course Sis never understood that. She hasn't yet +realized that I'm grown up." + +"Peculiar how blind some folks are. But this time, Miss Rogers--I really +do want to chat with your sister. Not that I wouldn't prefer a talk with +you. So if you'll tell her I'm here--and would like to see her +_privately_--" + +Evelyn rose and started reluctantly toward the door. "I suppose it's up +to me to make myself very scarce. But it is simply _precious_ of you to +admit you'd rather talk to me. Poor Roland used to say that--but he +always said it as though he was kidding. I believe _you_!" + +"I assure you I'm serious." + +"I know it. And anyway, I was thinking of running out for a +minute--and I suppose this is a good chance. Of course, I'd stay and +see you if you wanted--but I suppose you've got something terribly +dry to discuss and so--" + +She left the room and Carroll heaved a sigh of infinite relief. A few +minutes later the hall door swung back and Naomi and Evelyn entered. He +was immensely relieved to see that the youngster was cloaked for the +street and murmured a few idle words to her before she went. And until +the front door banged behind her he remained standing before the +fireplace, his eyes focused on the tragic figure of Naomi. + +She faced him bravely enough, but in her eyes he read the message of +knowledge. There was no need for words between them. She knew why he had +come--and he knew that she knew. + +"Sit down, please, Mr. Carroll." + +He waited until she had seated herself and then followed suit. He +controlled his voice with an effort--his words came softly, reassuringly. + +"I'm sorry I've come this way, Mrs. Lawrence. I've come--" + +"I know why you have come, Mr. Carroll. You need not mince matters." + +He drew a long breath. "Isn't it true, Mrs. Lawrence, that _you_ were the +woman in the taxi-cab the night Mr. Warren was killed?" + +She inclined her head. "Yes." + +Carroll fidgeted nervously. "I must warn you to be careful in what you +say to me, my friend. I am the detective in charge of this case, and--" + +"There is no use in concealment, Mr. Carroll. I have been driven almost +crazy since that night. I have almost reached the end of my rope. It was +the scandal I have been fighting to avoid--not so much for my own sake as +for Evelyn and my husband. Publicity--of this kind--would be +very--very--awkward--for both of them." + +"I'm sorry--" Carroll hesitated. "If you don't care to talk to me--" + +She shrugged slightly. "It makes no difference--now. I'd rather talk to +you than someone who might understand less readily--or more harshly." + +"I may question you?" + +"Yes." + +"I regret it--and rest assured that I am trying to find--a way +out--for you." + +"There is no way out--from the scandal. But that is my own fault--" + +Somewhere down the block an auto horn shrieked: in another room of the +house an old grandfather's clock chimed sonorously. + +"You admit that you were the woman in the taxicab?" + +"Yes. Certainly." + +"Do you admit that you killed Roland Warren?" + +Her startled eyes flashed to his. The color drained from her cheeks. Her +answer was almost inaudible-- + +"No!" + +"You did not kill him?" Carroll was impressed with the nuance of truth in +her answer. + +"No--I did not kill him." + +"But when you got into the taxicab--isn't it a fact that he was +already there?" + +"Yes--he was there, Mr. Carroll. _But he was already dead_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A CONFESSION + + +"--Already dead!" Carroll did not know if his lips framed the words or if +the walls of the room had echoed. He was startled at a time when he +fancied that there could be no further surprise in store for him. He +found himself eyeing the woman and he wondered that he gave credence to +her statement. + +Naomi was sitting straight, large black eyes dilated, hands gripping the +arms of the chair tightly, lips slightly parted. Even under the stress of +the moment Carroll was actually conscious of her feminine allure; unable +to free himself of her hypnotic personality. She spoke--but he scarcely +heard her words through his chaos of thought. + +"He was dead--before I got into the taxi-cab." + +He saw that she was fighting to impress upon him the truth of her +well-nigh unbelievable statement, that every atom of her brain strove +desperately to convince him. And then she relaxed suddenly, as though +from too great strain, and a shudder passed over her. + +"I knew--I knew--" + +"You knew _what_, Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"I knew that you would not believe me. Oh! it's true--this story I am +telling you. But I knew no one could believe it--it stretches one's +credulity too far. That is why I have kept silent through all these days +which have passed--that and a desire to save Evelyn and my husband." + +"You love your husband?" Carroll bit his lips. The question had slipped +out before he realized that he had formed the words. But she did not +evade the issue-- + +"I despise him, Mr. Carroll. But he has played square with me--more so +than I have with him. And publication of this would hurt him--" + +"Because he cares for you?" + +"No. But because he is proud: because he is jealous of his personal +possessions--of which I am one." + +"I see--And Mr. Warren--?" + +She spread her hands in a helpless, hopeless gesture. "What's the use, +Mr. Carroll? Why, should I wrack myself with the story when you do not +even believe the reason upon which it is based? If you only believed me +when I tell you that when I got into the taxicab Roland had already +been killed--" + +"I do believe that," returned Carroll gently. + +She inbreathed sharply, then her eyes narrowed a trifle. "Do you mean +that--or is it bait to make me talk?" + +"I can not do more than repeat my statement. I believe what you +have told me." + +She held his eyes for a moment, then slowly hers shrank from the contact. +"You are telling me the truth," she ventured. + +"And if you will tell me the whole story, Mrs. Lawrence--I shall see what +I can do for you." + +"What is there to do for me? There is no way to keep my name from it--my +name and the story of the mistake which I made--was willing to make." + +"Good God! No." + +"If we--" he used the pronoun unconsciously--"can establish that, there +may be some way of keeping the details from the public. Suppose you +start at the beginning--and tell me what there is to tell?" + +She hesitated. "Everything?" + +"Everything--or nothing. A portion of the story will not help either of +us. Of course you don't have to--" + +Impulsively she leaned forward. "There is something about you, Mr. +Carroll, which makes me trust you. I feel that you are a friend rather +than an enemy." + +He bowed gratefully. "Thank you." + +"It really began shortly after my marriage to Mr. Lawrence--" she had +started her story before she knew it. "I knew that I had made a mistake. +He is nearly thirteen years older than I--a man of icy disposition, a +nature which is cruel in its frigidity. I am not that--that kind of a +woman, Mr. Carroll. I should not have married that type of man. + +"He was good enough to me in his own peculiar way. I have a little money +of my own: he is wealthy. He liked to dress me up and show me off. He was +liberal with money--if not with kindness--when there was trouble in my +family. After my parents died he allowed Evelyn to live with us. They +have never liked one another--the more reason why I am grateful to him +for allowing her to remain in the house. + +"That is the life we have led together. We have long since ceased to have +anything in common. He has kept to himself and I have remained alone. So +far as the world knew--our home life was tranquil. Unbearably so--to a +nature like mine which loves love--and life. + +"I grew to hate my husband as a man much as I admired him in certain ways +for his brain and his achievement. Our individualities are millions of +miles apart. There was no oneness in our married life. And gradually he +learned that I hated him--and he became contemptuous. That stung my +pride. He didn't care. I felt--felt unsexed! + +"No need to go into further detail. Sufficient to say that I became +desperate for a little affection, a little kindness, a little recognition +of the fact that I am a woman--and a not entirely unattractive one. It +was about then that I met Roland Warren. + +"I wonder if you understand women, Mr. Carroll? I wonder if it is +possible for you to comprehend their psychological reactions? Because if +you cannot--you will never understand what Roland Warren meant to me. You +will never understand the condition which has led to--this tragedy." + +She paused and Carroll nodded. "You can trust me to understand." + +"I believe you do. I believe you understand something of what was going +on within me when Roland came into my life. In the light of what has +transpired, the fact that I was neglected by my husband seems +absurd--trivial. But it is not absurd--it is _not_ trivial! + +"Mr. Warren was kind to me. He was attentive--courteous--I believe that +he really loved me. I may have been fooled, of course. Starved as I was +for the affection of a man, I may have been blind to the sincerity of his +protestations. But I believed him. + +"As to how I felt toward him: I don't know. I liked him--admired him. I +believe that I loved him. But again we are faced with the abnormal +condition in which I found myself. I believe I loved him as I believe he +loved me. He represented a chance for life when for three years I had +been dead--living and breathing--yet dead as a woman. And that is the +most terrible of all deaths. + +"We planned to elope. Don't ask me how I could consider such a thing. +There is no answer possible. It wasn't a sane decision--but I decided +that I would. There was the craving to get away from things--to try to +start over. To revel in the richest things of life for awhile. I was +selfish--unutterably so. I didn't think then of the effect on my +husband--or of the effect on Evelyn. I was selfish--yes. But immoral--no! +What I planned to do--under the circumstances--was not immoral. Even yet +I cannot convince myself that it was. + +"Roland laid all his plans to leave the city. In all my delirium of +preparation--the hiding and the secrecy--I felt sincerely sorry for only +one person, and that person was Hazel Gresham to whom Mr. Warren was +engaged. I believe she was in love with him. But so was I--and if he +loved me--as I said before, Mr. Carroll--I was selfish! + +"On the morning of the day we were to go--my husband was in Nashville, +you know--Mr. Warren came to the house in his car. He showed me that he +had reserved a drawing-room for us to New York. In order that we would +not be seen together, he gave me one of the railroad tickets. I was to +reach the Union Station ten minutes before train time. If you +recall--the train on which we were to go was quite late that night. + +"We planned not to talk to one another at the station until after +boarding the train. Morning would have published news of the scandal +broadcast, but until the irrevocable step had been taken--we determined +to avoid gossip. And, Mr. Carroll--I was then--what is called a 'good +woman'. My faithlessness up to that time, and to this moment, had been +mental--and mental only. + +"When he left me that morning he took with him my suit-case. We had +agreed that I was not to take a trunk: that I was to buy--a +trousseau--in New York. I looked upon it almost as a honeymoon. He took +my suit-case to the Union Station and checked it there. I did not see +him again that day." + +"Toward evening--knowing that my husband was not due back until the +following morning, and realizing that I could not leave Evelyn alone in +the house--I suggested that she spend the night with Hazel Gresham. She +was surprised--knowing that I dread to be alone at night--but was ready +enough to go. I was not overcome with either emotion or shame when I told +her good-bye that afternoon. I was so hungry for happiness that I was +dead to the other emotions. + +"I went to the station that night in a street car. I had telephoned in +advance and learned that the train was late. The night was the worst of +the winter--bitterly cold. When I reached the station, I saw that Roland +was already there, and as he saw me enter, he left through the opposite +door--walking out to the platform which parallels the railroad tracks. + +"Then from the outside, he motioned me to follow. He wanted to talk to +me, but would not risk doing so where we might be seen. I sat down for +awhile, then, as casually as I could, followed him onto the station +platform. I saw him down at the far end near the baggage room. Again he +motioned to me to follow him. And he started out past the baggage room +into the railroad yards. + +"I was very grateful to him. He was taking no risk of our being seen +together. I followed slowly--not seeing him, but knowing that he would be +waiting for me out there. You understand where I mean? It is in that +section of the railroad yards where through trains leave their early +morning Pullmans--the tracks are parallel to Atlantic Avenue--and also +the main line tracks running into the Union Station shed. + +"I was conscious of the intense cold, but excitement buoyed me up. I +passed through the gate which ordinarily bars passengers from the tracks, +but which that night had either been left open or opened by Roland. The +wind, as I stepped from under the shelter of the station shed, was +terrific: howling across the yards, stinging with sleet. It was very +slippery under foot--I had to watch closely. And I was just a trifle +nervous because here and there through the yards I could see +lanterns--yard workers and track walkers, I presume. And occasionally the +headlight of a switch engine zigzagged across the tracks--I was afraid +I'd be caught in the glare-- + +"Finally, I saw Warren. He had walked about a hundred and fifty yards +down the track and was standing in the shelter of the Pullman office +building. It was very dark there--just enough light for me to make out +his silhouette. I started forward--then stopped: frightened. + +"For I distinctly saw the figure of a man coming into the yards from +Atlantic Avenue. From the moment I noticed him I had the peculiar +impression that the man had not only seen Mr. Warren and intended +speaking to him--but also that the meeting was not unexpected. I stopped +where I was and strained my eyes through the darkness-- + +"I could not see much--save that they were talking. Of course I could +hear nothing. I was shivering--but more with premonition of tragedy than +with the terrific cold. Then suddenly I saw the two shadows merge--the +combined shadow whirled strangely. I knew that Mr. Warren was fighting +with this other man. + +"I started forward again. Then I saw one of the shadows step back from +the other. There was the flash of a revolver--no noise, because a train +was rolling under the shed at the moment. But I saw the flash of the gun. +I stood motionless, horrified. I didn't advance, didn't run-- + +"I knew that the man who had been shot was Mr. Warren. I didn't know +what to do. I felt suddenly lost; hopeless--And watching, I saw one +figure stoop and lift the prostrate man. He dragged him across the +tracks to the inky darkness between the Pullman offices and the rear of +the baggage room. I don't know what he did there--but I remember +looking toward Atlantic Avenue and seeing a yellow taxicab parked +against the curb. I could see that there was no one in the driver's +seat--and while I watched I saw the man who had done the shooting drag +Mr. Warren's body to the taxicab. It was dark in the street--the arc +light on the corner was out-- + +"I saw him throw Mr. Warren's body into the taxicab. It was then that I +turned and fled toward the station. + +"I can't tell you how I felt. At a time like that one doesn't pause to +analyze one's emotional reactions. I was conscious of horror--of that and +the idea that I must save myself. And then the thought struck me that +perhaps Mr. Warren was _not_ dead. Perhaps he was only badly wounded. If +that were the case I knew that he would freeze to death in the cab. It +was necessary to get to him-- + +"By that time I had reached the waiting room. I saw his suit-case--and +then, Mr. Carroll--I thought of something else: something which made it +imperative that I get to Mr. Warren--" She stopped suddenly. +Carroll--eyes wide with interest--motioned her on. + +"You thought of something--something which made it necessary for you to +get to him?" + +"Yes. I remembered that he had in his pocket the check for my suit-case! +He had checked it himself that day. I realized in a flash that there +would be a police investigation--and the minute that checkroom stub was +found, the detectives would have followed it up. They would have +discovered my suit-case. My name would then have been indelibly linked +with his--in--in that way-- + +"So there were two reasons why I knew I must get into that taxicab: to +recover the suit-case check--and to either assure myself that he was +dead, or else take him where he could get expert medical attention. +Almost before I knew what I was doing I seized his suit-case, which he +had left on the floor of the waiting room. I left the station along with +several passengers who had come in on the local train. I called the +taxicab--I told him to drive me to some place on East End Avenue--gave +him some address which I knew was a long distance away--so that I would +have time to learn if he was dead--and if he wasn't, to get him to a +doctor's; and if he was, to find the check--the finding of which in his +pocket would have connected me with the affair. + +"He was dead!" She paused--choked--and went on gamely. "I got out of the +taxicab when it slowed down at a railroad crossing. I walked half the +distance back to town, then caught the last street car home--" + +Her voice died away. Carroll relaxed slowly. Then a puzzled frown creased +his forehead-- + +"The man who did the actual shooting," he said quietly--"have you the +slightest idea as to his identity?" + +"No." Her manner was almost indifferent: the strain was over--she was +hardly conscious of what she was saying. "He was smaller than Mr. +Warren--a man of about my husband's size--" + +She stopped abruptly! Carroll's gaze grew steely--he made a note of the +expression of horror in her eyes. + +"About your husband's size!" he repeated softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +CARROLL DECIDES + + +For a moment she was silent. It was patent that she was groping +desperately for the correct thing to say. And finally she extended a +pleading hand-- + +"Please--don't think that!" + +"What?" + +"That is was--was my husband. He wouldn't--" + +"Why not?" + +"Anyway--it is impossible. He was in Nashville. He didn't get home +until morning." + +Carroll shook his head. "I hope he can prove he was in Nashville. We have +tried to prove it, and we cannot. And you must admit, Mrs. Lawrence, that +had he known what you planned he would have had the justification of the +unwritten law--" + +Her eyes brightened. "You think, then--that if he did--he would be +acquitted?" + +"Yes. More so in view of your story that there was a fight between the +two men. That would probably add self-defense to his plea. However, I may +be wrong in that--" + +"You are indeed, Mr. Carroll. My husband--isn't that kind of a man. And +even if he had done the shooting--he could not have concealed it from me +for this length of time. He would have given a hint--" + +"No-o. He wouldn't have done that. If he shot Warren he would have been +afraid of telling even you." + +She walked to the window where she stood for a moment looking out on the +drear December day. Then she turned tragically back to Carroll. + +"You are going to arrest me?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I believe your story, Mrs. Lawrence. And so long as there is any +way to keep your name clear of the whole miserable mess, I shall do so." + +"But if you arrest my husband--" + +"I have no intention of doing that, either--unless I am convinced that he +was in the city when the shooting occurred. I am not in favor of +indiscriminate arrests. In this case, they can do nothing but harm." + +"You are very good," she said softly. "I didn't imagine that a +detective--" + +"Some of us are human beings, Mrs. Lawrence. Is that so strange?" + +She did not answer, and for several minutes they sat in silence--each +intent in thought. It was Carroll who broke the stillness: + +"Do you know William Barker?" + +"Barker? Why, yes--certainly. He was Mr. Warren's valet." + +"I know it. Have you seen Barker since the night Mr. Warren was killed?" + +"Yes." He could scarcely distinguish her answer. "Twice." + +"He called here?" + +"Yes." + +"Was your husband at home on either occasion?" + +"No." + +"Why did he come here?" + +She hesitated, but only for the fraction of a second. "It was Barker who +was driving me to distraction. He knew that I was the woman in the +taxicab. He really believes that I killed Mr. Warren. He has been +blackmailing me." + +"A-ah! So _that_ explains his visits, and his plentiful supply of +money?" + +"Yes. Oh! it was shameful--that I should be so helpless before his +demands. It didn't matter that I had nothing to do with the killing--it +was enough that I had to pay any price to keep my name clear of scandal. +Looking back on the affair now, Mr. Carroll--I cannot understand my own +weakness. But I felt that I owed it to my husband and my sister to +protect them from scandal at any cost--and I have paid Barker a good deal +of money--" + +"I see." Carroll rose. "I want you to understand, Mrs. Lawrence, that you +have helped me tremendously. And to know, also, that I shall probably +succeed in keeping your name out of any disclosures which might have to +be made to the public." + +"But if my husband did it--" + +"In that event, it will be impossible not to tell." + +"And if he didn't do it?" + +"Then you will be safe. But," finished the detective seriously, "if your +husband didn't do it--I don't know who did. I have followed every +possible trail and unless guilt can be fastened on either your husband or +Barker, there isn't the faintest shadow of suspicion attached to anyone +else. It will make things very difficult--for me." + +During his ride to headquarters Carroll was busy with his thoughts. He +was worried about the possible complicity of Gerald Lawrence in the +shooting of Warren. He was more than halfway convinced that Lawrence +knew a good deal about it--and the obvious method was to order +Lawrence's arrest and make him prove an alibi. But such a procedure was +impossible in view of his determination to protect Naomi's name to the +ultimate moment. + +He was greeted at headquarters by a reporter for one of the two evening +papers. The reporter was eager for an interview. There had been an +appalling dearth of local news, and the Warren story had been long since +played beyond the point of public interest. The readers, explained the +reporter, were growing tired of theories and column after column of +conjecture. They wanted a few facts. + +Carroll shook his head. "Nothing definite to give out yet." + +The reporter was persistent. "You have made no new discoveries at all?" + +"Well--I'd hardly say that." + +"Then you _have_?" + +"Yes," answered Carroll frankly, "I have." + +"You think you know who killed Warren?" + +Carroll, his mind still busy with Naomi's story, answered casually. "I +believe I do. That is just a belief, mind you. But there is an outside +chance that there will be important developments within the next +twenty-four hours." + +"Something definite, eh?" + +"If anything at all happens, it will be definite." + +Then Carroll excused himself and sought Eric Leverage. Under pledge of +secrecy he told Leverage the entire story as he had heard it from Naomi +Lawrence's lips. When he finished Leverage slammed his hand on the arm of +his chair-- + +"Gerald Lawrence, or I'm a bum guesser," he stated positively. + +"Looks that way," admitted Carroll. "What I hate about the idea is that +if Lawrence is the man there will be no way on earth to keep Mrs. +Lawrence's name out of it." + +"You're right--How about Barker?" + +"I believe Barker's story. So does Mrs. Lawrence. She believes that +Barker thinks she killed Warren in the taxi." + +Leverage glanced keenly at his friend. "You are going to arrest +Lawrence?" + +"No-o. Not yet. He may not have done it--" + +"Well," sizzled the chief of police, "if he didn't and Barker didn't--who +the devil did?" + +Carroll shook his head hopelessly. "I don't know, Eric. If neither of +those two men did, we'll be left hopelessly in the air." + +"Exactly. We know that one of 'em did the shooting. We've covered this +case from every angle, and if we believe that the shooting was not done +by Mrs. Lawrence, we must suspect one of the two men involved. And if you +are sure it wasn't Barker--" + +"Let's wait a little while longer," counseled Carroll. "I want to be +absolutely sure of my ground." + +The two men sat in Leverage's office and talked. They discussed the case +again from the beginning to its present status--threshing out each detail +in the hope that they might have overlooked some vital fact which would +give them a basis upon which to proceed. Their efforts were fruitless. +The investigation had developed results--true enough--but those results +were not at all satisfactory. + +And it was about an hour later that a knock came on the door. In response +to Leverage's summons, an orderly entered. In his hand he carried an +evening paper-- + +"Just brought this in, sir. Thought you and Mr. Carroll might like +to read it." + +The orderly retired. Carroll spread the paper--then did something very +rare. He swore profoundly. His eyes focused angrily on the enormous +first page headlines: + +"CARROLL HAS SOLVED WARREN MYSTERY + +"Identity of Clubman's Slayer Known to Famous Detective + +"WILL MAKE ARREST WITHIN 24 HOURS + +"Sensational Developments Promised by David Carroll in Exclusive +Interview with Reporter for The Star." + +It all came back to Carroll now. The eager reporter, the news-hunger, +his non-committal statements. He read furiously through the story. It +proved to be one of those newspaper masterpieces which uses an enormous +number of words and says nothing. Carroll was quoted as saying only what +he had actually said. It was the personal conjecture of the reporter +writing the story which had given spur to the vivid imagination of the +headline writer. + +"So now," questioned Leverage--"what are you going to do: deny it?" + +"No!" snapped Carroll--"I can't. He hasn't misquoted a single line of +what I said. It just makes things--makes 'em mighty embarrassing." + +He sat hunched in his chair staring at the screaming headlines and +re-reading the lurid story. Again an orderly entered. + +"Young lady out there," he announced, "who wants to know if Mr. +Carroll is here." + +Instantly the mind of the detective leaped to the tragic figure of Naomi +Lawrence. "She wants to see me?" he questioned. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Show her in." He motioned to Leverage to remain. The orderly +disappeared--and in a minute, the door opened and a woman entered. +Carroll sprang to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. + +"Miss Gresham!" + +Hazel Gresham nodded. She advanced toward Carroll. Every drop of color +had been drained from her cheeks. Her manner indicated intense nervous +strain. Her eyes were wide and fixed-- + +"I would like to speak to you alone, Mr. Carroll." + +"Yes--This is Chief Leverage, Miss Gresham." + +Leverage acknowledged the introduction and would have left but the girl +stopped him. "On second thought, Mr. Leverage--you might remain." + +Eric paused. His eyes sought Carroll's face. Both men knew that something +vitally unexpected was about to be disclosed. They waited for the girl to +speak--and when she did her voice was so low as to be almost +unintelligible. + +"About a half hour ago, gentlemen--I read the story in The Star. +I--I--" she faltered for a moment, then went bravely on--"I came right +down--to save you the trouble of sending for me!" + +Silence: tense--expectant. "You did _what?"_ queried Carroll. + +"I came down--to save you the trouble--the embarrassment--of sending for +me." She looked at them eagerly. "I have come to give myself up!" + +Carroll frowned. "For what?" + +"For--for the murder of--Roland Warren!" + +The detective shook his head. "I don't understand, Miss Gresham. Really I +don't. Do you mean to tell me that _you_ were the woman in the taxicab?" + +She was biting her lips nervously. "Yes." + +"And that you shot Roland Warren?" + +"Y-yes--And when I read in the paper that you knew who did it--I came +right down here. I didn't want to--to--to be brought down--in a +patrol wagon." + +"I see--" Wild thoughts were chasing one another through Carroll's +brain. He was beginning to see light. "You are quite _sure_ that you +killed Mr. Warren?" + +"Yes, I'm sure. Why do you doubt me? Don't you suppose that I know +whether I killed him? Don't you suppose I can prove that I did it--" + +"Yes--I suppose you can. I wonder, Miss Gresham," and Carroll's voice +was very, very gentle, "if you would wait in that room yonder for a +few minutes?" + +"Certainly--" She raised her head pleadingly: "You _do_ believe me, +don't you?" + +Carroll dodged the issue. "I want to think." + +Alone with Leverage, Carroll clenched his fist--"If that isn't the most +peculiar--" + +"She's not telling the truth, is she, David?" + +"Certainly not. She couldn't smash her own alibi if she tried a +million years." + +He paced the room, walking in quick, jerky steps. Finally his face +cleared and he stopped before Leverage's chair. + +"I've got it!" he announced triumphantly. + +"Got what?" + +"Never mind," Carroll was surcharged with suppressed excitement. "I want +you to do something for me, Leverage--and do it promptly." + +"Sure--" + +"Send Cartwright and bring Garry Gresham here." + +"Garry Gresham?" + +"Yes--the young lady's brother." + +Leverage was bewildered. "What in the world do you want with him?" + +"I want him," explained Carroll confidently--"because _Garry Gresham is +the man who shot Warren!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED + + +Within an hour Garry Gresham appeared at headquarters in the company of +Cartwright. The officer left the room and the three men were alone. + +Gresham's manner was nervous, but he showed no fright. Leverage, +regarding him keenly, found reason to doubt Carroll's positive statement +that Gresham was the person they sought. The young man stood facing them +bravely, waiting-- + +"Gresham," said Carroll softly, "Your sister is in that room yonder. She +read the afternoon paper--the report that I knew who killed Roland +Warren. She immediately came here to give herself up." + +An expression of utter bewilderment crossed young Gresham's face. Then he +started forward angrily: "Why are you lying to me--" + +"Easy, Gresham--easy there. I am not lying to you." + +He saw Garry's eyes dart to the door behind which the sister was seated. +"What did she give herself up for, Carroll?" + +"For killing Roland Warren." + +Gresham took a firm grip on himself. "She didn't do it," he stated +positively. + +"Of course not," returned Carroll with equal assurance. "_You_ did! And +so that you will be quite convinced that I am not trying to trick you +into the confession which I am sure you will make--" He crossed the room +and flung open the door. "Come in, please, Miss Gresham." + +The girl entered quietly--then saw her brother. Instantly her manner +softened. She stepped swiftly to his side and took his hand in hers. +"Please, Garry--" + +Gresham smiled; a tender, affectionate smile. + +"Good scout, aren't you, Sis? But tell me," his tone was conversational, +"how did you know that I shot Roland Warren?" + +"You didn't!" She flung around on Carroll--"Don't believe him. I shot +Mr. Warren--" + +"I knew from the first that you didn't do it, Miss Gresham. I know that +Miss Rogers spent the night with you. More than that, I know the identity +of the woman in the taxicab." + +"Who was she?" It was Gresham who questioned. + +Carroll shook his head. "It doesn't matter who she was, Gresham. We're +going to keep her name out of this case. She was a woman who loved Roland +Warren--and his death saved her from a great mistake. There's no +necessity to ruin her life, is there?" + +"How did you know--it was Garry--who did the shooting?" asked the girl. + +"The minute you confessed," answered the detective quietly, "I knew that +you were doing it to shield someone. You could have had no possible +motive for shielding either of the other two men under suspicion. I knew +that it must be your brother. He had motive enough--he knew that you +were in love with Mr. Warren--engaged to him. He knew that Warren was +about to elope with another woman, that it would cause you intense +misery. So he went to the station that night to prevent the elopement. +Isn't that so, Gresham?" + +The young man nodded. "Yes. When I went to your apartment the morning +after the killing, it was for the purpose of confessing. But then when +you assured me that my sister was not under suspicion--I decided to wait +awhile before saying anything." He paused--"And as to that night--I +parked my car a couple of blocks away and walked to the station through +Jackson Street, intending to cut through the yards and approach the +waiting room from the passenger platform. I had no idea that--that there +would be--a tragedy. I wanted to reason with Warren; to beg him to save +my sister from suffering which I knew would be attendant on--his +elopement. + +"He was walking in the yards as I entered from between the Pullman +building and the baggage room. I don't know what he was doing there--but +I spoke to him. He seemed startled at seeing me. I told him that I knew +he was planning to elope--and begged him to call it off. + +"Much to my surprise, he immediately got nasty. He seemed to want to get +rid of me. He told me it was none of my damned business what he was +doing. He even admitted the truth of what I said. + +"That was the first hint of unpleasantness. But it grew--rapidly. He +cursed me--anyway we had a brief, violent quarrel. He said something +about my sister and I struck him. He clinched with me. We were fighting +then--and I am a fairly good athlete. I broke out of a clinch and hit him +pretty hard. He reached into his pocket and pulled a revolver. I managed +to grab his hand before he could fire. I got it from him, and as I jerked +it away--it went off. He fell-- + +"I was afraid then--panicky. I felt his body and realized that he was +dead. A train had just come into the yards and there were switch +engines puffing here and there--I was apprehensive that one of their +headlights would pick me up. And there were some railroad men walking +around the yards with lanterns in their hands. There was danger that I +was going to be seen--and, had I been, I felt that I wouldn't have a +leg to stand on; alone in such a place with the body of a man whom I +admitted having shot-- + +"You see, I couldn't even prove the contemplated elopement. Late that +evening I had received an anonymous telephone call from a man telling me +that if I wanted to save my sister a good deal of unpleasant gossip, I'd +better meet that midnight train as Warren was eloping on it with some +other woman. But the man who gave me this information cut off before +telling me the name of the woman. I didn't know it then--and I don't +know it now. + +"I knew I had to hide Warren's body; not that my killing was not +justified on the grounds of self-defense, but because I would not bring +my sister's name into it--and also because even if I did, there'd be no +proof of the truth of what I said. + +"I dragged his body into the shadows between the two buildings. Atlantic +Avenue was deserted. At the curb I saw a yellow taxicab and noticed that +the driver was in the restaurant across the street. I conceived the idea +of putting the body in the taxicab--I knew I wouldn't be seen doing it, +and it would serve the purpose of causing the body to be discovered at +some point other than that at which the shooting occurred. + +"I did it. Then I left. The next morning I read of the case in the papers +and I have followed it closely since. I knew you were ostensibly on the +wrong track and as a matter of self-preservation I determined to keep my +mouth shut unless it happened that the wrong person was accused. Had you +charged someone else with the killing I assure you I would have come +forward. But meanwhile--not even knowing the identity of the woman in the +taxi--there seemed no necessity for running the risk. There was nothing +save my own word to prove self-defense, you see." + +"There is now," said Carroll. Hazel started eagerly and he smiled upon +her. "The story of the woman who actually was in the taxicab +substantiates yours, Gresham. She had followed Warren into the yards to +talk to him. She saw the whole affair from a distance--and then went back +through the waiting room of the station and called the taxi in which you +had placed Warren's body." + +"Then Garry will be freed?" cried the girl hopefully: "His plea of +self-defense will acquit him?" + +"Undoubtedly," retorted Carroll. "Don't you think so, Leverage?" + +"Surest thing you know," returned the chief heartily. "And I'm darned +glad of it!" + +Garry faced his sister. "How did you know that I had killed him, Sis?" + +"I didn't," she answered quietly. "Not at first, anyway. But, if you +remember, you came in the house a little after eleven o'clock that night +and seemed excited. You came to my room--" + +"I was thinking then," explained Garry, "that maybe _you_ were eloping +with Warren." + +"Then you came home again a little after one o'clock. You waked me +then--and acted peculiarly." + +"I was reassuring myself," he said, "that you really hadn't left +the house." + +"The next morning while you were taking your shower I was putting up +your laundry," Hazel went on. "I found a revolver in your drawer. I +didn't think anything of it then--I hadn't even read the papers about +the--the--killing. But later, I remembered it. I went back to look for +the revolver--just why, I don't know--and it was gone. I questioned +you about it a couple of days later, and you denied that you had ever +had a revolver in the house. And I knew then, Garry--I knew that you +had done it." + +He squeezed her hand. "We always did know more about each other than we +were told, didn't we, Little Sis? Because at that moment, too, I knew +that you knew!" + +The young man turned back to the detectives--"And what now?" he +questioned. + +"We'll have to hold you, Gresham. You'll have to go through the form of +a trial--but you'll get off, don't worry!" + +Sister and brother left the room hand-in-hand. Alone again, the two +detectives faced each other. "You win, David," said Leverage admiringly. +"Though darned if I know how you do it?" + +"A combination of luck and common sense," returned Carroll simply. "This +time it was principally luck. It usually is in such cases--but most +detectives don't admit it. It is the wild-eyed reporter with the vivid +imagination whom we can thank for this solution. It was his fiction that +brought about Miss Gresham's ridiculous confession and that which caused +me to know that she must be shielding her brother. As to how matters +stand--I say Thank God!" + +"Why?" + +"Garry Gresham will undoubtedly be freed; it was a clear case of +self-defense. Unfortunately, the fact that there was an elopement will +have to be known--but that is a comparatively trivial thing, unpleasant +as it may be for Miss Gresham. And, most of all--I'm glad because Naomi +Lawrence's name will not be dragged into it." + +"How will you work that, David?" + +"It can be done, Eric. The district attorney is a pretty good friend of +mine--and he's a good square fellow. Of course he will have to know the +entire story; and it is a certainty that he will believe it. And when he +does--you know that he will handle the case so that Mrs. Lawrence will +not be connected. Irregular--yes. But you believe he can--and will--do +it, don't you?" + +"You bet your bottom dollar he will. He's another nut like you--so +bloomin' human it hurts." + +"And now--" said Carroll, "I want to chat with William Barker. There are +one or two loose ends I want to clear up." + +Barker was very humble as he entered the room. + +"You're free of the murder charge," stated Carroll promptly, "but we may +hold you for blackmail." + +Barker heaved a sigh of relief. "I ain't objectin' to that, Mr. Carroll. +It's a small thing when a man has thought he might be strung up." + +"Who killed Warren?" questioned the detective. + +"Don't you know?" came the surprised answer. + +"Yes--but I'm asking you." + +"I suppose you're driving at something new," retorted Barker, "but _I_ +really think Mrs. Lawrence shot him." + +"She didn't," answered Carroll. "And there's one thing I want to warn you +about right now, Barker. You're the only person except the Chief here, +and myself, who knows that Mrs. Lawrence is connected with the case. I +want her name kept out of it. Of course that makes it impossible to +arrest you for blackmail--and so, if you tell me the entire truth, I'm +going to _let_ you go free. But if I ever hear of her name in connection +with this case I'll know that you have leaked--and I'll get you if it +takes me ten years. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir, I do--thankin' you, sir. I know which side my bread is +buttered on." + +"Good. Now I'm telling you that Mrs. Lawrence did _not_ shoot Warren. +Who did?" + +"I don't know--" Suddenly his expression changed. "If it wasn't her, Mr. +Carroll--it must have been Mr. Gresham." + +"Aa-a-ah! What makes you think that?" + +Barker's eyes narrowed. "You give me your word of honor, Mr. Carroll, I +ain't goin' to be pinched for blackmail?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, it was this way, sir. Bein' Mr. Warren's valet I knew he was +plannin' to run off with Mrs. Lawrence. I knew that was going to raise an +awful row in town--and I knew that Mr. Gresham would do a heap to keep +his sister from bein' unhappy as she was going to be if Mr. Warren done +as he was plannin'. So I called up Mr. Gresham that night and told him +everything but the woman's name. My idea was that he'd bust up the +elopement. I went to the station to make sure that Mrs. Lawrence got +there--knowin' that once she' was there, if young Mr. Gresham busted +things up, I'd be able to blackmail Mrs. Lawrence--her bein' a rich +woman. I'm comin' clean with you, Mr. Carroll--" + +"Go ahead!" + +"I never seen Mr. Gresham at all at the station. And when I seen Mrs. +Lawrence get into the taxi and found out the next morning that Mr. +Warren's body was found there--of course I couldn't help thinkin' like I +did, could I?" + +"I suppose not. You're a skunk, Barker--and I hate to let you go. But if +the Chief is willing I'm going to do it--because your hide isn't worth +Mrs. Lawrence's good name. Now get out!" + +"I'm free?" questioned the man eagerly. + +"How about it, Leverage?" + +"Sure," growled Leverage. "You're the boss, David." + +Immediately as Barker left the room Carroll turned to the telephone and +called a number. + +"Who's that?" questioned Leverage. + +"Mrs. Lawrence," answered Carroll. "I want to tell her that she is safe." + +Leverage smiled broadly. And as he watched Carroll's eager face he saw an +expression of consternation cross it. Carroll covered the transmitter +with his hand-- + +"Good Lord!" he groaned, "it's Evelyn Rogers!" + +Leverage chuckled--then listened shamelessly to Carroll's end of the +conversation-- + +"Yes--yes, this is David Carroll--I'm glad you think it was sweet of me +to telephone--I want to speak to your sister--She isn't there?--Well, ask +her to telephone me at headquarters as soon as she comes in, will +you?--Uh-huh!--the Warren case has ended--and that's what I wanted to +tell her--I only did my best--Yes--Oh! say--" + +The receiver clicked on the hook. Carroll was grinning as he turned back +to his friend-- + +"Guess what that young thing said when I told her I had solved the +Warren case?" + +"Tell me, David--I'm a poor guesser." + +"She said," returned Carroll gravely--"that I am just the cutest man she +has ever known!" + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11043 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e65397c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11043 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11043) diff --git a/old/11043-8.txt b/old/11043-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..179a5ef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11043-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7434 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Midnight, by Octavus Roy Cohen + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Midnight + +Author: Octavus Roy Cohen + +Release Date: February 11, 2004 [eBook #11043] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDNIGHT*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +MIDNIGHT + +BY OCTAVUS ROY COHEN + +Author of "THE CRIMSON ALIBI," "GRAY DUSK," ETC. + +1921 + + + + + + +TO DR. MILES A. WATKINS + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I OUT OF THE STORM + + II THE SUIT-CASE IS OPENED + + III "FIND THE WOMAN" + + IV CARROLL HAS A VISITOR + + V MISS EVELYN ROGERS + + VI REGARDING ROLAND WARREN + + VII THE VALET TALKS + + VIII CARROLL MAKES A MOVE + + XI ICE CREAM SODA + + X A DISCOVERY + + XI LOOSE ENDS + + XII A CHALLENGE + + XIII NO ALIBI + + XIV THE SUIT-CASE AGAIN + + XV A TALK WITH HAZEL GRESHAM + + XVI THE WOMAN IN THE TAXI + + XVII BARKER ACCUSES + +XVIII "AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH--" + + XIX LABYRINTH + + XX A CONFESSION + + XXI CARROLL DECIDES + + XXII THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +OUT OF THE STORM + + +Taxicab No. 92,381 skidded crazily on the icy pavement of Atlantic +Avenue. Spike Walters, its driver, cursed roundly as he applied the +brakes and with difficulty obtained control of the little closed car. +Depressing the clutch pedal, he negotiated the frozen thoroughfare and +parked his car in the lee of the enormous Union Station, which bulked +forbiddingly in the December midnight. + +Atlantic Avenue was deserted. The lights at the main entrance of the +Union Station glowed frigidly. Opposite, a single arc-lamp on the corner +of Cypress Street cast a white, cheerless light on the gelid pavement. +The few stores along the avenue were dark, with the exception of the +warmly lighted White Star restaurant directly opposite the Stygian spot +where Spike's car was parked. + +The city was in the grip of the first cold wave of the year. For two days +the rain had fallen--a nasty, drizzling rain which made the going soggy +and caused people to greet one another with frowns. Late that afternoon +the mercury had started a rapid downward journey. Fires were piled high +in the furnaces, automobile-owners poured alcohol into their radiators. +The streets were deserted early, and the citizens, for the most part, had +retired shiveringly under mountains of blankets and down quilts still +redolent of moth-balls. + +Winter had come with freezing blasts which swept around corners and +chilled to the bone. The rain of two days became a driving sleet, which +formed a mirror of ice over the city. + +On the seat of his yellow taxicab, Spike Walters drew a heavy lap-robe +more closely about his husky figure and shivered miserably. Fortunately, +the huge bulk of the station to his right protected him in a large +measure from the shrieking wintry winds. Mechanically Spike kept his eyes +focused upon the station entrance, half a block ahead. + +But no one was there. Nowhere was there a sign of life, nowhere an +indication of warmth or cheer or comfort. With fingers so numb that they +were almost powerless to do the bidding of his mind, Spike drew forth his +watch and glanced at it. Midnight! + +Spike replaced the watch, blew on his numb fingers in a futile effort to +restore warmth, slipped his hands back into a pair of heavy--but, on +this night, entirely inadequate--driving-gloves, and gave himself over to +a mental rebellion against the career of a professional taxi-driver. + +"Worst night I've ever known," he growled to himself; and he was not +far wrong. + +Midnight! No train due until 12.25, and that an accommodation from some +small town up-State. No taxi fares on such a train as that. The +north-bound fast train--headed for New York--that was late, too. Due at +11.55, Spike had seen a half-frozen station-master mark it up as being +fifty minutes late. Perhaps a passenger to be picked up there--some +sleepy, disgruntled, entirely unhappy person eager to attain the warmth +and coziness of a big hotel. + +Yet Spike knew that he must wait. The company for which he worked +specialized on service. It boasted that every train was met by a +yellow taxicab--and this was Spike's turn for all-night duty at the +Union Station. + +All the independent taxi-drivers had long since deserted their posts. The +parking space on Cypress Street, opposite the main entrance of the +station--a space usually crowded with commercial cars--was deserted. No +private cars were there, either. Spike seemed alone in the drear December +night, his car an exotic of the early winter. + +Ten minutes passed--fifteen. The cold bit through Spike's overcoat, +battled to the skin, and chewed to the bone. It was well nigh unbearable. +The young taxi-driver's lips became blue. He tried to light a cigarette, +but his fingers were unable to hold the match. + +He looked around. A street-car, bound for a suburb, passed noisily. It +paused briefly before the railroad-station, neither discharging nor +taking on a passenger, then clanged protestingly on its way. Impressed in +Spike's mind was a mental picture of the chilled motorman, and of the +conductor huddled over the electric heater within the car. Spike felt a +personal resentment against that conductor. Comfort seemed unfair on a +night like this; heat a luxury more to be desired than much fine gold. + +From across the street the light of the White Star Café beckoned. +Ordinarily Spike was not a patron of the White Star, nor other eating +establishments of its class. The White Star was notoriously unsanitary, +its food poisonously indigestible; but as Spike's eyes were held +hypnotically by the light he thought of two things--within the circle of +that light he could find heat and a scalding liquid which was flavored +with coffee. + +The vision was too much for Spike. The fast train, due now at 12.45, +might bring a fare. It was well beyond the bounds of reason that he would +get a passenger from the accommodation due in a few minutes. There were +no casuals abroad. + +The young driver clambered with difficulty from his seat. He staggered as +he tried to stand erect, his numb limbs protesting against the burden of +his healthy young body. A gale howled around the dark Jackson Street +corner of the long, rambling station, and Spike defensively covered both +ears with his gloved hands. + +He made his way eagerly across the street; slipping and sliding on the +glassy surface, head bent against the driving sleet, clothes crackling +where particles of ice had formed. Spike reached the door of the +eating-house, opened it, and almost staggered as the warmth of the place +smote him like a hot blast. + +For a few seconds he stood motionless, reveling in the sheer animal +comfort of the change. Then he made his way to the counter, seated +himself on a revolving stool, and looked up at the waiter who came +stolidly forward from the big, round-bellied stove at the rear. + +"Hello, George!" + +The restauranteur nodded. + +"Hello!" + +"My gosh! What a night!" + +"Pretty cold, ain't it?" + +"Cold?" Spike Walters looked up antagonistically. "Say, you don't know +what cold means. I'd rather have your job to-night than a million +dollars. Only if I had a million dollars I'd buy twenty stoves, set 'em +in a circle, build a big fire in each one, sit in the middle, and tell +winter to go to thunder--that's what I'd do. Now, George, hustle and lay +me out a cup of coffee, hot--get that?--and a couple of them greasy +doughnuts of yourn." + +The coffee and doughnuts were duly produced, and the stolid Athenian +retired to the torrid zone of his stove. Spike bravely tried one of the +doughnuts and gave it up as a bad job, but he quaffed the coffee with an +eagerness which burned his throat and imparted a pleasing sensation of +inward warmth. Then he stretched luxuriously and lighted a cigarette. + +He glanced through the long-unwashed window of the White Star +Cafe--"Ladies and gents welcome," it announced--and shuddered at the +prospect of again braving the elements. Across the street his +unprotesting taxicab stood parked parallel to the curb; beyond it +glowered the end of the station. To the right of the long, rambling +structure he could see the occasional glare of switch engines and +track-walkers' lanterns in the railroad yards. + +As he looked, he saw the headlight of the locomotive at the head of the +accommodation split the gloom. Instinctively Spike rose, paid his +check, and stood uncomfortably at the door, buttoning the coat tightly +around his neck. + +Of course it was impossible that the accommodation carried a fare for +him; but then duty was duty, and Spike took exceeding pride in the +company for which he worked. The company's slogan of service was part of +Spike's creed. He opened the door, recoiled for a second as the gale +swept angrily against him, then plunged blindly across the street. He +clambered into the seat of his cab, depressed the starter, and +eventually was answered by the reluctant cough of the motor. He raced it +for a while, getting the machinery heated up preparatory to the +possibility of a run. + +Then he saw the big doors at the main entrance of the station open and a +few melancholy passengers, brought to town by the accommodation train, +step to the curb, glance about in search of a street-car, and then duck +back into the station. Spike shoved his clutch in and crawled forward +along the curb, leaving the inky shadows of the far end of the station, +and emerging finally into the effulgence of the arc at the corner of +Cypress Street. + +Once again the door of the Union Station opened. This time Spike took a +professional interest in the person who stepped uncertainly out into the +night. Long experience informed him that this was a fare. + +She was of medium height, and comfortably guarded against the frigidity +of the night by a long fur coat buttoned snugly around her neck. She wore +a small squirrel tam, and was heavily veiled. In her right hand she +carried a large suit-case and in her left a purse. + +She stepped to the curb and looked around inquiringly. She signalled the +cab. Even as he speeded his car forward, Spike wondered at her +indifference to the almost unbearable cold. + +"Cab, miss?" + +He pulled up short before her. + +"Yes." Her tone was almost curt. She had her hand on the door handle +before Spike could make a move to alight. "Drive to 981 East End Avenue." + +Without leaving the driver's seat, Spike reached for her suit-case and +put it beside him. The woman--a young woman, Spike reflected--stepped +inside and slammed the door. Spike fed the gas and started, whirling +south on Atlantic Avenue for two blocks, and then turning to his left +across the long viaduct which marks the beginning of East End Avenue. + +He settled himself for a long and unpleasant drive. To reach 981 East End +Avenue he had to drive nearly five miles straight in the face of the +December gale. + +And then he found himself wondering about the woman. Her coat--a rich fur +thing of black and gray--her handbag, her whole demeanor--all bespoke +affluence. She had probably been visiting at some little town, and had +come down on the accommodation; but no one had been there to meet her. +Anyway, Spike found himself too miserable and too cold to reflect much +about his passenger. + +He drove into a head wind. The sleet slapped viciously against his +windshield and stuck there. The patent device he carried for the purpose +of clearing rain away refused to work. Spike shoved his windshield up in +order to afford a vision of the icy asphalt ahead. + +And then he grew cold in earnest. He seemed to freeze all the way +through. He drove mechanically, becoming almost numb as the wind, +unimpeded now, struck him squarely. He lost all interest in what he was +doing or where he was going. He called himself a fool for having left the +cozy warmth of the White Star Café. He told himself-- + +Suddenly he clamped on the brakes. It was a narrow squeak! The end of the +long freight train rumbled on into the night. Spike hadn't seen it; only +the racket of the big cars as they crossed East End Avenue, and then the +lights on the rear of the caboose, had warned him. + +He stopped his car for perhaps fifteen seconds to make sure that the +crossing was clear, then started on again, a bit shaken by the narrow +escape. He bumped cautiously across the railroad tracks. + +The rest of the journey was a nightmare. The suburb through which he was +passing seemed to have congealed. Save for the corner lights, there was +no sign of life. The roofs and sidewalks glistened with ice. Occasionally +the car struck a bump and skidded dangerously. Spike had forgotten his +passenger, forgotten the restaurant, the coffee, the weather itself. He +only remembered that he was cold--almost unbearably cold. + +Then he began taking note of the houses. There was No. 916. He looked +ahead. These were houses of the poorer type, the homes of laborers +situated on the outer edge of the suburb of East End. Funny--the +handsomely dressed woman--such a poor neighborhood-- + +He came to a halt before a dilapidated bungalow which squatted darkly in +the night. Stiff with cold, he reached his hand back to the door on the +right of the car, and with difficulty opened it. Then he spoke: + +"Here y'are, miss--No. 981!" + +There was no answer. Spike repeated: + +"Here y'are, miss." + +Still no answer. Spike clambered stiffly from the car, circled to the +curb, and stuck his head in the door. + +"Here, miss--" + +Spike stepped back. Then he again put his head inside the cab. + +"Well, I'll be--" + +The thing was impossible, and yet it was true. Spike gazed at the seat. +The woman had disappeared! + +The thing was absurd; impossible. He had seen her get into the cab at the +Union Station. There, in the front of the car, was her suit-case; but she +had gone--disappeared completely, vanished without leaving a sign. + +Momentarily forgetful of the cold, Spike found a match and lighted it. +Holding it cupped in his hands, he peered within the cab. Then he +recoiled with a cry of horror. + +For, huddled on the floor, he discerned the body of a man! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SUIT-CASE IS OPENED + + +The barren trees which lined the broad deserted thoroughfare jutted +starkly into the night, waving their menacing, ice-crusted arms. The +December gale, sweeping westward, shrieked through the glistening +branches. It shrieked warning and horror, howled and sighed, sighed +and howled. + +Spike Walters felt suddenly ill. He forgot the cold, and was conscious of +a fear which acted like a temporary anesthesia. For a few seconds he +stood staring, until the match which he held burned out and scorched the +flesh of his fingers. His jaw dropped, his eyes widened. He opened his +lips and tried to speak, but closed them again without having uttered a +sound save a choking gasp. He tried again, feeling an urge for +speech--something, anything, to make him believe that he was here, +alive--that the horror within the cab was real. This time he uttered an +"Oh, my God!" + +The words seemed to vitalize him. He fumbled for another match, found it, +and lighted it within the cab. It seemed to have the radiance of an +incandescent. + +Spike had hoped that his first impression would prove to be a mere +figment of his imagination; but now there was no doubting. There, +sprawled in an ugly, inhuman heap on the floor, head resting against the +cushioned seat of the cab, was the figure of a man. There was no doubt +that he was dead. Even Spike, young, optimistic, and unversed in the ways +of death as he was, knew that he was alone with a corpse. + +And as he gazed, a strange courage came to him. He found himself +emboldened to investigate. He was shivering while he did so, shivering +with fear and with the terrific cold of the night. He could not quite +bring himself to touch the body, but he did not need to move it to see +that murder had been done. + +The clothes told him instantly that the man was of high social station. +They were obviously expensive clothes, probably tailor-made. The big +coat, open at the top, was flung back. Beneath, Spike discerned a gray +tweed--and on the breast of the gray tweed was a splotch, a dark, ugly +thing which appeared black and was not black. Spike shuddered. He had +never liked the sight of blood. + +The match spluttered and went out. Spike looked around. He felt +hopelessly alone. Not a pedestrian; not a light. The houses, set well +back from the street, were dark, forbiddingly dark. + +He saw a street-car rattle past, bound on the final run of the night for +the car-sheds at East End. Then he was alone again--alone and frightened. + +He felt the necessity for action. He must do something--something, but +what? What was there to do? + +A great fear gripped him. He was with the body. The body was in his cab. +He would be arrested for the murder of the man! + +Of course he knew he didn't do it. The woman had committed the murder. + +Spike swore. He had almost forgotten the woman. Where was she? How had +she managed to leave the taxicab? When had the man, who now lay sprawled +in the cab, entered it? + +He had driven straight from the Union Station to the address given by +the woman--straight down East End Avenue, turning neither to right nor +left. The utter impossibilty of the situation robbed it of some of its +stark horror. And yet-- + +Spike knew that he must do something. He tried to think connectedly, and +found it a difficult task. Near him loomed the shadow which was No. 981 +East End Avenue--the address given by the woman when she entered the cab. +He might go in there and report the circumstances. Some one there would +know who she was, and--but he hesitated. + +Perhaps this thing had been prearranged. Perhaps they would get him--for +what he didn't know. When a man--a young man--comes face to face with +murder for the first time, making its acquaintance on a freezing December +midnight and in a lonely spot, he is not to be blamed if his mental +equilibrium is destroyed. + +Wild plans chased each other through his brain. He might dump the body by +the roadside and run back to town. That was absurd on the face of it, for +he would be convicting himself when the body was found. It would be +traced to him in some way--he knew that. He was already determined to +keep away from No. 981 East End Avenue. There was something sinister in +the unfriendly shadow of the rambling house. He might call the police. + +That was it--he would call the police. But how? Go into a house near by, +wake the residents, telephone headquarters that a murder had been done? +Alarm the neighborhood, and identify himself with the crime? Spike was +afraid, frankly and boyishly afraid--afraid of the present, and more +afraid of the future. + +And yet he knew that he must get in touch with the police, else the +police would eventually get in touch with him. He thought then of taking +the body in to headquarters; but he feared that his cab might be stopped +_en route_ to the city and the body discovered. They would never believe, +then, that he had been bound for headquarters. + +Almost before he knew that he had arrived at a decision, Spike had groped +his way across the icy street and pressed the bell-button on the front +door of the least unprepossessing house on the block. + +For a long time there was no answer. Finally a light shone in the hall, +and the skinny figure of a man, shivering violently despite the +blanket-robe which enfolded him, appeared in the hallway. He flashed on +the porch light from inside and peered through the glass door. Apparently +reassured, he cracked the door slightly. + +"Yes. What do you want?" + +At sound of a human voice, Spike instantly felt easier. The fact that he +could converse, that he had shed his terrible loneliness, steadied him as +nothing else could have done. He was surprised at his own calmness, at +the fact that there was scarcely a quaver in the voice with which he +answered the man. + +"I'm Spike Walters," he said with surprising quietness. "I'm a driver for +the Yellow and White Taxicab Company. My cab is No. 92,381. I have a man +in my cab who has been badly injured. I want to telephone to the city." + +The little householder opened the door wider, and Spike entered. Cold as +the house was, from the standpoint of the man within, its hold-over +warmth was a godsend to Spike's thoroughly chilled body. + +The little man designated a telephone on the wall, then started nervously +as central answered and Spike barked a single command into the +transmitter: + +"Police-station, please!" + +"Police?" + +"Never you mind, sir," Spike told the householder. "Hello! Police!" he +called to the operator. + +There was a pause, then Spike went on: + +"This is Spike Walters--Yellow and White Taxi Company. I'm out at No. 981 +East End Avenue. There's a dead man in my cab!" + +The weary voice at the other end became suddenly alive. + +"A dead man!" + +"Yes." + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know. That's why I called you." + +"When did he die? How?" + +Spike controlled himself with an effort. + +"Don't you understand? He has been killed--" + +"The devil you say!" replied the voice at headquarters, and the little +householder chimed in with a frightened squeak. + +"Yes," repeated Spike painstakingly. "The man is dead--killed. It is very +peculiar. I can't explain over the phone. I called up to ask you what I +shall do." + +"Hold connection a minute!" Spike heard a hurried whispered conversation +at the other end, then the voice barked back at him: "Stay where you +are--couple of officers coming, and coming fast!" + +It was Dan O'Leary, night desk sergeant, who was on duty at headquarters +that night, and Sergeant Dan O'Leary was a good deal of an institution on +the city's force. He hopped excitedly from his desk into the office of +Eric Leverage, the chief of police. + +Chief Leverage, a broad-shouldered, heavy-set, bushy-eyebrowed +individual, looked up from the chess-board, annoyed at this interruption +of a game which had been in progress since ten o'clock that night. +O'Leary grabbed a salute from thin air. + +"'Scuse my botherin' ye, chief, but there's hell to pay out at East End." + +O'Leary was never long at coming to the point. Leverage looked up. +So, too, did the boyish, clean-shaven young man with whom he was +playing chess. + +"An' knowin' that Mr. Carroll was playin' chess with ye, chief--an' him +naturally interested in such things--I hopped right in." + +"I'll say you did," commented the chief phlegmatically. "I have you +there, Carroll--dead to rights!" + +O'Leary was a trifle irritated at the cold reception accorded his news. + +"Ye ain't after understanding" he said slowly. "It's murder that has been +done this night." + +"H-m!" Carroll's slow, pleasant drawl seemed to soothe O'Leary. "Murder?" + +"You said it, Mr. Carroll." + +Leverage had risen. It was plain to be seen from his manner that the +chess-game was forgotten. Leverage was a policeman first and a +chess-player second--a very poor second. His voice, surcharged with +interest, cracked out into the room. + +"Spill the dope, O'Leary!" + +The night desk sergeant needed no further bidding. In a few graphic words +he outlined his telephone conversation with Spike Walters. + +Before he finished speaking, Leverage was slipping into his enormous +overcoat. He nodded to Carroll. + +"How about trotting out there with me, David?" + +Carroll smiled agreeably. + +"Thank goodness my new coupé has a heating device, chief!" + +That was all. It wasn't David Carroll's way to talk much, or to show any +untoward emotion. It was Carroll's very boyishness which was his greatest +asset. He had a way of stepping into a case before the principals knew he +was there, and of solving it in a manner which savored not at all of +flamboyance. A quiet man was Carroll, and one whose deductive powers Eric +Leverage fairly worshiped. + +On the slippery, skiddy journey to East End the two men--professional +policeman and amateur criminologist--did not talk much. A few comments +regarding the sudden advent of fiercest winter; a remark, forcedly +jocular, from the chief, that murderers might be considerate enough to +pick better weather for the practice of their profession--and that was +all. Thus far they knew nothing about the case, and they were both too +well versed in criminology to attempt a discussion of something with +which they were unfamiliar. + +Spike Walters saw them coming--saw their headlights splitting the +frigid night. He was at the curb to meet them as they pulled up. He +told his story briefly and concisely. Leverage inspected the young man +closely, made note of his license number and the number of his +taxi-cab. Then he turned to his companion, who had stood by, a silent +and interested observer. + +"S'pose you talk to him a bit, Carroll." + +"I'm David Carroll," introduced the other man. "I'm connected with the +police department. There's a few things you tell which are rather +peculiar. Any objections to discussing them?" + +In spite of himself, Spike felt a genial warming toward this boyish-faced +man. He had heard of Carroll, and rather feared his prowess; but now that +he was face to face with him, he found himself liking the chap. Not only +that, but he was conscious of a sense of protection, as if Carroll were +there for no other purpose than to take care of him, to see that he +received a square deal. + +"Yes, sir, Mr. Carroll, I'll be glad to tell you anything I know." + +"You have said, Walters, that the passenger you picked up at the Union +Station was a woman." + +"Yes, sir, it was a woman." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Why, yes, sir. I couldn't very well be mistaken. You see--o-o-oh! +You're thinking maybe it was a man in woman's clothes? Is that it, sir?" + +Carroll smiled. + +"What do _you_ think?" + +"That's impossible, sir. It was a woman--I'd swear to that." + +"Pretty positive, eh?" + +"Absolutely, sir. Besides, take the matter of the overcoat the--the--body +has on. Even if what you think was so, sir--that it was a woman dressed +up like a man--and if he had gotten rid of the women's clothes, where +would he have gotten the clothes to put on?" + +"H-m! Sounds logical. How about the suit-case you said this woman had?" + +"Yonder it is--right on the front beside me, where it has been all +the time." + +"And you tell us that between the time you left the Union Station and the +time you got here a man got into the taxicab, was killed by the woman, +the woman got out, and you heard nothing?" + +"Yes, sir," said Spike simply. "Just that, sir." + +"Rather hard to believe, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir. That's why I called the police." Chief Leverage was shivering +under the impact of the winter blasts. + +"S'pose we take a look at the bird, David," he suggested, nodding toward +the taxi. "That might tell us something." + +Carroll nodded. The men entered the taxi, and Leverage flashed a +pocket-torch in the face of the dead man. Then he uttered an exclamation +of surprise not unmixed with horror. + +"Good Lord!" + +"You know him?" questioned Carroll easily. + +"Know him? I'll say I do. Why, man, that's Roland Warren!" + +"Warren! Roland Warren! Not the clubman?" + +"The very same one, Carroll, an' none other. Well, I'm a sonovagun! +Sa-a-ay, something surely _has_ been started here." He swung around on +the taxi-driver. "You, Walters!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"You are sure the suit-case is still in front?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well"--to Carroll--"that makes it easier. It's the woman's suit-case, +and if we can't find out who she is from that, we're pretty bum, eh?" + +"Looks so, Erie. You're satisfied"--this to Walters--"that that is her +suit-case?" + +"Absolutely. It hasn't been off the front since she handed it to me at +the station." + +Carroll swung the suit-case to the inside of the cab. It opened readily. +Leverage kept his light trained on it as Carroll dug swiftly through the +contents. Finally the eyes of the two men met. Carroll's expression was +one of frank amazement; Leverage's reflected sheer unbelief. + +"It can't be, Carroll!" + +"Yet--it is!" + +"Sufferin' wildcats!" breathed Leverage. "The suit-case ain't the woman's +at all! It's Warren's!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"FIND THE WOMAN" + + +The thing was incomprehensible, yet true. Not a single article of +feminine apparel was contained in the suit-case. Not only that, but +every garment therein which bore an identification mark was the +property of Roland Warren, the man whose body leered at them from the +floor of the taxicab. + +The two detectives again inspected the suit-case. An extra suit had been +neatly folded. The pockets bore the label of a leading tailor, and the +name "Roland R. Warren." The tailor-made shirts and underwear bore the +maker's name and Warren's initials. The handkerchiefs were Warren's. Even +those articles which were without name or initials contained the same +laundry-mark as those which they knew belonged to the dead man. + +Carroll's face showed keen interest. This newest development had rather +startled him, and made an almost irresistible appeal to his love for the +bizarre in crime. The very fact that the circumstances smacked of the +impossible intrigued him. He narrowed his eyes and gazed again upon the +form of the dead man. Finally he nudged Leverage and designated three +initials on the end of the suit-case. + +"R.R.W.--Roland R. Warren!" Leverage grunted. "It's his, all right, +Carroll. But just the same there ain't no such animal." + +Carroll turned to the dazed Walters. + +"Understand what we've just discovered, son?" he inquired mildly. + +Spike's teeth were chattering with cold. + +"I don't hardly understand none of it, sir. 'Cording to what I make out, +that suit-case belongs to the body and not to the woman." + +"Right! Now what I want to know is how that could be." + +Spike shook his head dazedly. + +"Lordy, Mr. Carroll, I couldn't be knowing that." + +"You're sure the woman got into your cab alone?" + +"Absolutely, sir. She came through the waiting-room alone, carrying that +very same suit-case--" + +"You're positive it was _that_ suit-case?" + +"Yes, sir--that is, as positive as I can be. You see I was on the lookout +for a fare, but wasn't expecting one, on account of the fact that this +here train was an accommodation, and folks that usually come in on it +take street-cars and not a taxi. Well, the minute I seen a good-lookin', +well-dressed woman comin' out the door, I sort of noticed. It surprised +me first off, because I asked myself what she was doing on that train." + +"You thought it was peculiar?" + +"Not peculiar, exactly; but sort of--of--interesting." + +"I see. Go ahead!" + +"Well, she was carrying that suit-case, and she seemed in a sort of a +hurry. She walked straight out of the door and toward the curb, and--" + +"Did she appear to be expecting some one?" + +"No, sir. I noticed that particularly. Sort of thought a fine lady like +her would have some one to meet her, which is how I happened to notice +that she didn't seem to expect nobody. She come right to the curb and +called me. I was parked along the curb on the right side of Atlantic +Avenue--headin' north, that is--and I rolled up. She handed me the +suit-case and told me to drive her to No. 981 East End Avenue. I stuck +the suit-case right where you got it from just now; and while I ain't +sayin' nothin' about what happened back yonder in the cab, Mr. Carroll, +I'll bet anything in the world that that there suit-case is the same one +she carried through the waitin'-room and handed to me." + +"H-m! Peculiar. You drove straight out here, Walters?" + +"Straight as a bee-line, sir. Frozen stiff, I was, drivin' right into the +wind eastward along East End Avenue, and I had to raise the windshield a +bit because there was ice on it and I couldn't see nothin'--an' my +headlights ain't any too strong." + +"You didn't stop anywhere?" + +"No, sir. Wait a minute--I did!" + +"Where?" + +"At the R.L. and T. railroad crossing, sir. I didn't see nor hear no +train there, and almost run into it. It was a freight, and travelin' +kinder slow. I seen the lights of the caboose and stopped the car right +close to the track. I wasn't stopped more'n fifteen or twenty seconds, +and just as soon as the train got by, I went on." + +"But you did stand still for a few seconds?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"If any one had got into or out of the cab right there, would you have +heard them?" + +"I don't know that I would. I was frozen stiff, like I told you, sir; and +I wasn't thinking of nothin' like that. Besides, the train was makin' a +noise; an' me not havin' my thoughts on nothin' but how cold I was, an' +how far I had to drive, I mos' prob'ly wouldn't have noticed--although I +might have." + +"Looks to me," chimed in Leverage, "as if that's where the shift must +have taken place; though it beats me--" + +Carroll lighted a cigarette. Of the three men, he was the only one who +seemed impervious to the cold. Leverage and the taxi-driver were both +shivering as if with the ague. Carroll, an enormous overcoat snuggled +about his neck, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his boyish face +set with interest, seemed perfectly comfortable. As a matter of fact, the +unique circumstances surrounding the murder had so interested him that he +had quite forgotten the weather. + +"Obviously," he said to Leverage, "it's up to us to find out whether the +people at this house here expected a visitor." + +"You said it, David; but I haven't any doubt it was a plant, a +fake address." + +"I think so, too." + +"Wait here." The chief started for the dark little house. "I'll ask 'em." + +Three minutes later Leverage was back. + +"Said nothing doing," he imparted laconically. "No one expected--no one +away who would be coming back--and then wanted to know who in thunder I +was. They almost dropped dead when I told 'em. No question about it, that +address was a stall. This dame had something up her sleeve, and took care +to see that your taxi man was given a long drive so she'd have plenty of +time to croak Warren." + +"Then you think she met him by arrangement, chief?" + +"Looks so to me. Only thing is, where did he get in?" + +"That's what is going to interest us for some time to come, I'm afraid. +And now suppose we go back to town? I'll drive my car; I'll keep behind +you and Walters, here. You ride together in his cab." + +Walters clambered to his seat, and succeeded, after much effort, in +starting his frozen motor. Leverage bulked beside him on the suit-case of +the dead man. The taxi swung cityward, and immediately behind trailed +Carroll in his cozy coupe. + +As Carroll drove mechanically through the night, he gave himself over to +a siege of intensive thought. The case seemed fraught with unusual +interest. Already it had developed an overplus of extraordinary +circumstances, and Carroll had a decided premonition that the road of +investigation ahead promised many surprises. + +There was every reason why it should. The social prominence of the dead +man, the mysterious disappearance of the handsomely dressed woman--all +the facts of the case pointed to an involved trail. + +If it were true that the woman had entered the taxicab alone, that the +man had come in later, and that the murder had been committed by the +woman in the cab before reaching the railroad crossing, the thing must +undoubtedly have been prearranged to the smallest fractional detail. That +being the premise, it was only a logical conclusion that persons other +than the woman and the dead man were involved. + +Interesting--decidedly so! But there was nothing to work on. Even the +suit-case clue had vanished into thin air, so far as its value to the +police was concerned. + +That suit-case bothered Carroll. He believed Spike's story, and was +convinced that the suit-case which they had examined out on East End +Avenue was the one which the woman had carried from the train to the +taxicab. There again the trail of the dead man and the vanished woman +crossed; else why was she carrying his suit-case? + +The journey was over before he knew it. The yellow taxi turned down the +alley upon which headquarters backed, and jerked to a halt before the +ominous brown-stone building. Carroll parked his car at the rear, +assigned some one to stand guard over the body, and the three men, +Leverage carrying the suit-case, ascended the steps to the main room and +thence to the chief's private office. + +The warmth of the place was welcome to all of them, and in the +comforting glow of a small grate fire, which nobly assisted the +struggling furnace in its task of heating the spacious structure, Spike +Walters seemed to lose much of the nervousness which he had exhibited +since the discovery of the body. Carroll warmed his hands at the blaze, +and then addressed Leverage. + +"How about this case, chief?" + +"How about it?" + +"You want me to butt in on it?" + +"_Want_ you? Holy sufferin' oysters! Carroll, if you didn't work on it, +I'd brain you! You're the only man in the State who could--" + +"Soft-pedal the blarney," grinned Carroll. "And now--the suit-case +again." + +He dropped to his knees and opened the suit-case. Garment by garment he +emptied it, searching for some clue, some damning bit of evidence, which +might explain the woman's possession of the dead man's belongings. He +found nothing. It was evident that the grip had been carefully packed for +a journey of several days at least; but it was a man's suit-case, and its +contents were exclusively masculine. + +Carroll shrugged as he rose to his feet. He turned toward Spike Walters +and laid a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"Walters," he said, "I want to let you know that I believe your story +all the way through. I think that Chief Leverage does, too--how about +it, chief?" + +"Sounds all right to me." + +"But we've got to hold you for a while, my lad. It's tough, but you were +the person found with the body, and we've naturally got to keep you in +custody. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir. It's none too pleasant, but I guess it's all right." + +"We'll see that you're made comfortable, and I hope we'll be able to let +you go within a day or so." + +He pressed a button, and turned Walters over to one of the officers on +inside duty, with instructions to see that the young taxi-driver was +afforded every courtesy and comfort, and was not treated as a criminal. +Spike turned at the door. + +"I want to thank you--" + +"That's all right, Spike!" + +"You're both mighty nice fellers--especially you, Mr. Carroll. I'm for +you every time!" + +Carroll blushed like a schoolgirl. The door closed behind Walters, and +Carroll faced Leverage. + +"Next thing is the body, chief." + +"Want it up here?" + +"If you please." + +An orderly was summoned, commands given, and within five minutes the body +of the dead man was borne into the room and laid carefully on the couch. +Leverage glanced inquisitively at Carroll. + +"Want the coroner?" + +"Surely; and you might also call in the newspapermen." + +"Eh? Reporters?" + +"Yes. I have a hunch, Leverage, that a great gob of sensational +publicity, right now, will be of inestimable help. Meanwhile let's get +busy before either the coroner or the reporters arrive." + +The two detectives went over the body meticulously. Warren had been shot +through the heart. Carroll bent to inspect the wound, and when he +straightened his manner showed that he had become convinced of one +important fact. In response to Leverage's query, he explained: + +"Shot fired from mighty close," he said. + +"Sure?" + +"The flame from the gun has scorched his clothes. That's proof enough." + +"In the taxi, eh?" + +"Possibly." + +"But the driver would have heard." + +"He probably would; but he didn't." + +"Ye-e-es." + +Carroll resumed his inspection of the body, examining every detail of +figure and raiment; and while he worked he talked. + +"You know something about this chap?" + +"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and +all that sort of thing. Has money--real money. Bachelor--lives +alone. Has a valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car. +Golfer--tennis-player--huntsman. Popular with women--and men, too, +I believe. About thirty-three years old." + +"Business?" + +"None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something. +That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's different +from other fellows is usually worth knowing something about." + +"Right you are! But that sort of a man--you'd hardly think he'd be the +victim of--hello, what's this?" + +Carroll had been going through the dead man's wallet. He rose to his +feet, and as he did so Leverage saw that the purse was stuffed with bills +of large denomination--a very considerable sum of money. But apparently +Carroll was not interested in the money; in his hand he held a +railroad-ticket and a small purple Pullman check. + +"What's the idea?" questioned Leverage. + +"Brings us back to the woman again," replied Carroll, with peculiar +intensity. + +"How so?" + +"He was planning to take a trip with her." + +Leverage glanced at the other man with an admixture of skepticism +and wonder. + +"How did you guess that?" + +"I didn't guess it. It's almost a sure thing. At least, it is pretty +positive that he was not planning to go alone." + +"Yes? Tell me how you know." + +Carroll extended his hand. + +"See here--a ticket for a drawing-room to New York, and _one_ +railroad-ticket!" + +"Yes, but--" + +"Two railroad-tickets are required for possession of the drawing-room," +he said quietly. "Warren had only one. It is clear, then, that the +holder of the missing ticket was going to accompany him; so what we have +to do now--" + +"Is to find the other railroad-ticket," finished Leverage dryly. "Which +isn't any lead-pipe cinch, I'd say!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CARROLL HAS A VISITOR + + +Carroll gazed intently upon the face of the dead man. There was a +half quizzical light in the detective's eyes as he spoke, apparently +to no one. + +"I've often thought," he said, "in a case like this, how much simpler +things would be if the murdered man could talk." + +"H-m!" rejoined the practical Leverage. "If he could, he wouldn't be +dead." + +"Perhaps you're right. And following that to a logical conclusion, if +he were not dead _we_ wouldn't be particularly interested in what he +had to say." + +"All of which ain't got a heap to do with the fact that your work is cut +out for you, Carroll. You're dead sure about that ticket dope, ain't you? +I ain't used to traveling in drawing-rooms myself." + +"It's straight enough, Leverage. The railroad company won't allow a +single passenger to occupy a drawing-room--that is, they demand two +tickets. If you, for instance, were traveling alone, and desired a +drawing-room, you'd be compelled to have two tickets for yourself. That +being so, it is plain that Warren there didn't intend making this trip to +New York alone. If he had, he would have had the two tickets along with +the drawing-room check. I am certain that two tickets were bought, +because the railroad men won't sell a drawing-room with a single ticket. +It is obvious, then, that he bought two tickets and gave the other one to +the person who was to make the trip with him." + +"The woman, of course!" + +"What woman?" + +"The woman in the fur coat--the one who got into the taxicab." + +"Perhaps; but she came in on the accommodation train after the New York +train was due to leave. The fast train was late." + +"So was the accommodation. They are due to make connection." + +"That's true. If we can find that ticket--" + +"We'll have found the woman, and when we find her the case will end." + +"Probably--" + +The door opened, and Sergeant O'Leary entered. + +"The coroner, sorr--him an' a reporter from each av the mornin' papers." + +"Show the coroner in first," ordered Carroll. "Let the newspapermen +wait." + +"Yis, sorr. They seem a bit impatient, sorr. They say they're holdin' up +the city edition for the news, sorr." + +"Very good. Tell them Chief Leverage says the story is worth +waiting for." + +The coroner--a short, thick-set man--entered and heard the story from +Leverage's lips. He made a cursory examination and nodded to Carroll. + +"Inquest in the morning, Mr. Carroll. Meanwhile, I reckon you want to let +them newspapermen in." + +The two reporters entered and listened popeyed to the story. They +telephoned a bulletin to their offices, and were assured of an hour's +leeway in phoning in the balance of the story. They were quivering with +excitement over what promised to be, from a newspaper standpoint, the +juiciest morsel of sensational copy with which the city had been blessed +for some time. + +To them Carroll recounted the story as he knew it, concealing nothing. + +"This is a great space-eating story," he told them in their own +language--the jargon of the fourth estate--"and the more it eats the +better it'll be for me. We want publicity on this case--all you can hand +out big chunks of it. We want to know who that woman was. The way I +figure it, this city is going to get a jolt at breakfast. Every one is +going to be comparing notes. Out of that mass of gossip we may get some +valuable information. Get that?" + +"We do. Space in the morning edition will be limited, but by evening, and +the next morning--oh, baby!" + +They took voluminous notes and telephoned in enough additional +information to keep the city rooms busy. When they would have gone, +Carroll stopped them. + +"Either of you chaps know anything of Warren's personal history?" + +The elder of the two nodded. + +"I do. Know him personally, in fact. I've played golf with him. Pretty +nice sort." + +"Rich, isn't he?" + +"Reputed to be. Never works; spends freely--not ostentatiously, but +liberally. Pretty fine sort of a chap. It's a damned shame!" + +"How about his relations with women?" + +The reporter hesitated and glanced guiltily at the dead body. + +"That's rather strong--" + +"It's not going beyond here, unless I find it necessary. I've played +clean with you boys. Suppose you do the same with me." + +"We-e-ell"--reluctantly--"he was rather much of a rounder. Nothing +coarse about him, but he never was one to resist a woman. Rather the +reverse, in fact." + +"Ever been mixed up in a scandal?" + +"Not publicly. He's friendly with a good many men--and with their wives. +A dozen, I guess; but the husbands invite him to their homes, so I don't +suppose there could be anything in the gossip. You see, folks are always +too eager to talk about a man in his position and whatever woman he +happens to be friendly with. And anyway, there hasn't been nearly so much +talk about him since his engagement was announced." + +"He is engaged?" + +"Why, yes." + +"To a girl in this city!" + +"Sure! I thought you knew that. Dandy girl--Hazel Gresham. You've heard +of Garry Gresham? It's his kid sister." + +"So-o! How long has this engagement been known?" + +"Couple of months. Pretty soft on both sides; he's got money and so has +she. She's a good scout, too, even if she is a kid." + +"How old?" + +"Hardly more than twenty; but her family seemed to welcome the match. +Warren and Garry Gresham were pretty good friends. Warren was about +thirty-three or thirty-four, you know. Gossip had it that the family was +going to object because of the difference in ages, but they didn't." + +Carroll was silent for a moment. + +"Nothing else about him you think might prove interesting?" + +"No-o." + +"And your idea of the murderer, after what you've heard?" + +"The woman in the taxicab killed him." + +"When did he get in?" + +The reporter threw back his head and laughed. + +"What is this--a game? If I knew that I'd have your job, Mr. Carroll. +The dame killed him, all right; and when we find out how she did it, and +when, and how he got in and she got out, we'll have a whale of a story!" + +"No theories as to the identity of this woman, have you?" + +"Nary one. A chap like Warren--bachelor, unencumbered--is liable to know +a heap of 'em. From what you tell me of the tickets--from the fact that +she was going away with him, I sort of figure you might do a little +social investigating and discover what woman might have been going off +with him." + +Eric Leverage had been listening intently. His mind, never swift to work, +yet worked surely. His big voice boomed into the conversation: + +"Carroll?" + +"Yes?" + +"This young fellow says Miss Gresham's family didn't have no objections +to the marriage. It just occurred to me to ask him is he _sure_?" + +The reporter flushed. + +"Why, no, chief; not sure. You never can be sure about things like that; +but so far as the public knew--" + +"That's it, exactly. How do we know, though, but what they were sore as a +pup over it, and just kept their traps closed because they didn't want +any gossip? S'posin' they were trying to break things off, an' makin' it +pretty uncomfortable for the girl? S'pose that, eh?" + +"Yes," argued the reporter. "Suppose all of that. Where does it get you?" + +"It gets you just here"--Leverage talked slowly, heavily, tapping his +spatulate fingers on the table to emphasize his points--"we know this +bird was going to elope with some skirt. All right! Now I ask this--why +go all around the block, looking for some one he might have been mixed up +with, when the woman a man is most likely to elope with is the girl he's +engaged to marry?" + +Silence--several seconds of it. Carroll spoke: + +"Miss Gresham, you mean?" + +"Sure, David--sure! I'm not sayin' she was the woman, mind you. I'm not +sayin' anything except that if I'm right in thinkin' that maybe her +folks weren't as crazy about this guy Warren as they seemed--if I'm +right in that, maybe they was plannin' to take matters in their own +hands and elope." + +"It's possible." + +"Sure, it's possible, and--" + +"But, chief," interrupted the reporter who had done most of the talking, +"why should Miss Gresham kill Warren?" + +"I didn't say she did, did I?" + +"If she was the woman in the taxi--" + +"If! Sure--_if!_ All I mentioned that for was to show you we might as +well start thinking close to home before we go to beatin' through the +bushes to follow a cold trail." + +The reporters left, and Carroll smiled at Leverage. + +"Good idea, Eric--about Miss Gresham." + +"'Tain't a hunch," said Leverage. "It just made good talkin'." + +"I'm glad you did it, anyway." + +"What is thare about it that you like?" + +"Those newspaper chaps will play it up. Maybe they won't intend to, +but they'll play it up, just the same; and it won't take us long +either to connect Miss Gresham with the crime or to link up an +iron-clad alibi for her." + +"H-m! Not bad! You know, Carroll"--and Leverage smiled frankly--"I'm +always makin' these fine suggestions an' pullin' good stunts, an' never +knowin' whether they're good or not until somebody tells me." + +"A good many folks are like that, Eric, but they don't admit it +afterward." + +"Neither do I--publicly." + +Leverage rose and yawned. + +"It's me for the hay, Carroll. I'm played out; and I have a hunch that +to-morrow I'm going to be busy as seven little queen bees--and you, too." + +Carroll reached for his overcoat. + +"A little bit of thinking things over isn't going to hurt me, either. +Good night!" + +Thirty minutes later Carroll reached his apartment, and a half-hour after +that he was sleeping soundly. The following morning he waked "all over," +as was his habit, and turned his eyes to gaze through the window. + +During the night the sleety drizzle had ceased, and the sun streamed +with brilliant coldness upon a city which shone in a glare of ice. +Leafless trees stretched their ice-covered tentacles into the cold, +penetrating air; pedestrians and horses slipped on the glassy pavements; +automobiles either skidded dangerously or set up an incessant rattle +with their chains. + +Carroll glanced at his watch. It showed nine o'clock. He started with +surprise. Then he reached for the newspapers on the table at the side of +his bed, and spread open the front pages. + +They had evidently been made up anew with the breaking of the Warren +murder story. Eight-column streamers shrieked at him from both front +pages. He read the stories through, and smiled with satisfaction. Just as +he had anticipated, both reporters, hungry for some definite clue upon +which to work, had seized upon the possibility of Hazel Gresham being the +mysterious woman in the taxicab. Not that they said so openly, but they +said enough to make the public know that the detectives in charge of the +case were likely to investigate her movements on the previous night. + +Carroll stepped into a shower, then dressed quickly and ate a light +breakfast served him by his maid, Freda. Before he finished, the doorbell +rang, and Freda announced that there was a lady to see him. + +"A lady?" + +Freda shrugged. + +"She ain't bane nothin' but a girl, sir, Mr. Carroll--just a +little girl." + +"Show her in." + +In two minutes Freda returned, and behind her came the visitor. Carroll +concealed a smile at sight of her. She was a little thing--sixteen or +seventeen years old, he judged--a fluffy, blond girl quivering with +vivacity; the type of girl who is desperately reaching for maturity, +entirely forgetful of the charms of her adolescence. He rose and bowed in +a serious, courtly manner. + +"You wish to see me?" + +"Yes, sir, I _do_. Is _this_ Mr. Carroll--the famous detective?" + +"I am David Carroll--yes." + +She inspected him with frank approval. + +"Why, you don't look any more than a boy! I thought you were old and had +whiskers--and--and--everything horrid." + +"I'm glad you're pleasantly surprised. What can I do for you?" + +"Oh, it isn't what you can do for me--it's what I can do for you!" + +"And that is?" + +"I came to tell you all about this terrible Warren murder case." + +"_You_ came to tell _me_ about it?" + +"Why, yes," she retorted smilingly. "You see, I know just _heaps_ about +the whole thing!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MISS EVELYN ROGERS + + +Carroll was more than amused; he was keenly interested. He motioned +his visitor to a chair and seated himself opposite, regarding her +quizzically. + +She was not exactly the type of person he had anticipated encountering in +a murder investigation. From the tip of her pert little hat to the toes +of her ultra-fashionable shoes she was expressive of the independent +rising generation--a generation wiser in the ways of the world than that +from which it was sprung--a generation strangely bereft of genuine youth, +yet charming in an entirely modern and unique manner. + +She was obviously a young person of italics, a human exclamation-point, +enthusiastic, irrepressible. She sat fidgeting in her chair, trying her +best to convince the detective that she was a woman grown. + +"I'm Evelyn Rogers," she gushed. "I'm the sister of Naomi Lawrence--you +know her, of _course_. She's one of the city's social leaders. Of course, +she's kind of frumpy and _terribly_ old. She must be--why, I suppose +she's every bit of thirty! And that's simply _awful!"_ + +"I'm thirty-eight," smiled Carroll. + +"No?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"Well, you don't look it. You don't look a day over twenty-two, and I +think men who are really grown up and yet look like boys are simply +_adorable!_ I do, really. And I simply _despise_ boys of twenty-two who +try to look like thirty-eight. Don't you?" + +"M-m! Not always." + +"Well, _I_ do! They're always putting on airs and trying to make us girls +think they're full-grown. I just simply haven't time to waste with them. +I feel so _old!"_ + +"I haven't a doubt of it, Miss Rogers. And now--I believe you came to +tell me something about the Warren case?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed--just _lots!_ But do you know"--she stared at him with +frank approval--"I'm terribly tickled with the way you look. You may not +believe it, but I've always been _atrociously_ in love with you." + +"No?" + +"Yes, indeed! You're such a _wonderful_ man--having your name in the +papers all the time. Oh, I've read about everything you've done! +That's how I learned so much about detectiving--or isn't that what you +call it?" + +"Detecting?" + +"That's it. You know I always was simply _incorrigible_ in making up +words when I couldn't think of the right one. Don't you think it's a +lot of trouble sometimes--thinking of just the right word in the +right place?" + +"Sometimes. But about the Warren case?" + +"Oh, yes, certainly! I'm always getting off my subject, ain't I? I +mean--am I not? Bother grammar, anyway. It's a terrible bore, don't +you think?" + +"Yes, Miss Rogers. And now--" + +"Back to that awful crime again, aren't you? It's simply sugary the way +you great detectives stick to one subject. I can do it, too, when I have +to. I took some lessons once in power of will--concentration and all that +sort of thing. It made me feel wickedly old; but I learned a great deal +about keeping my mind on one subject all the time. You know, it doesn't +matter what you concentrate on--even if it's only making biscuits, or +something messy and domestic like that--it does you good. It trains you +not to waste words, and to store up your mental energy, and all that sort +of thing. And all the time I was studying that course, I was thinking how +perfectly glorious modern science is. Just suppose Shakespeare had been +able to concentrate like us moderns can! His plays would have been +utterly _marvelous_, wouldn't they?" + +"I suppose they would. And now let's try concentrating on the +Warren case." + +"That's what I've been leading up to. You see, I knew Mr. Warren very +well. In fact, he was awfully friendly with me. To tell you the +strict truth, and absolutely in confidence, I really believe he was +in love with me!" + +"No?" + +"Yes, truly! We women have a way of knowing when a man is in love with +us. He used to be around at the house all the time. Of course, he +pretended that he came around because he liked Sis and Gerald--" + +"Gerald?" + +"That's Mr. Lawrence. He's my brother-in-law--Sis's husband. +Insufferably old-timy. Don't think of anything but business. Used to look +at me through his horn-rimmed glasses and say I was entirely too young to +be receiving attentions from a man as old as Mr. Warren; but he didn't +know. I'm not young, really, you know. Of course, I'm not twenty yet, but +a girl can be under twenty and yet be a woman, can't she?" + +"Yes"--dryly--"especially after she learns to concentrate." + +"And as intimately as I knew Roland--that's Mr. Warren, you know--of +course I didn't call him Roland to his face. Not that he didn't want me +to, but then Sis and Gerald would have disapproved--old frumps! Knowing +him so intimately, and really believing that he was in love with +me--although, of course, the minute he became engaged to Hazel Gresham I +didn't even flirt with him any more--not the least little tiny harmless +bit well, I find it excruciatingly hard to believe that he is dead!" + +"He is--quite. We're trying to discover who killed him." + +"I know it. That's what I came to see you about." + +"So you did. I'd quite forgotten--" + +"You ought to learn to concentrate, Mr. Carroll. It's really +ridiculously easy after you've studied it a little bit. Now if I had been +you, and you had been I--me--I never would have forgotten what you came +to see me about. Of course, I know you didn't forget, really; but the +chances are that you were interested talking, and absolutely failed to +remember that poor boy." + +"What poor boy?" + +"Roland Warren." + +Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. + +"I see! And now that I've remembered him again, suppose you tell me what +you know about him and the case?" + +"It's principally about what I read in the papers this morning. Really, +Mr. Carroll, there ought to be a law against newspapers printing such +ridiculous things!" + +"As what, for instance?" + +"That thing they had in there this morning. Why, the way they mentioned +Hazel Gresham, you'd have thought that they thought _she_ was the woman +who killed Roland--the woman in the taxicab." + +Carroll's eyes narrowed slightly. The faint smile still played about +his lips. + +"You don't think she was?" + +"Oh, Mr. Carroll! Please, _please_, don't be so irresistibly _absurd_! +Why in the world should Hazel kill the man she was engaged to?" + +"I don't know." + +"And besides, what does _she_ know about killing some one? That is the +most bizarre idea I have ever heard in all my life. Besides, she couldn't +have killed him, anyway." + +"Why not?" + +"Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't; and I'm sure she didn't want to. +Not that I think Roland Warren was the finest man in the world, or +anything like that. Of course, I do believe he was interested in me, and +that made me know him pretty well; but still he was an awfully nice boy, +and I'm sure Hazel was very much in love with him. So even if she could +have killed him, she wouldn't, would she?" + +"I hope not; but you said she _couldn't_. What did you mean by that?" + +"I mean that nobody can be in two places at one time. Although I did +read a funny article in the Sunday magazine section of one of the big +newspapers, last year, which said that--" + +"If Miss Gresham had been with Mr. Warren last night at midnight--she +would have been in two places at one time!" + +"Why, yes--and that's not possible; so, of course, she--" + +"What makes you think that, Miss Rogers!" + +"Think what?" + +"That Miss Gresham was not with Mr. Warren at midnight last night?" + +"Why," answered Evelyn Rogers simply, "I _know_ she wasn't--that's all." + +"You _know_?" + +"Yes, indeed--beyond the what-you-call-'em of a doubt." + +"How do you know that?" + +"It's very simple," she explained casually. "She was with me all night." + +Carroll gazed at the girl before him with new interest. Out of her +chatter he had at last garnered one important fact. His mind, trained to +seize upon the vital and instantly discard the inconsequential, clutched +the bit of information, and turned it over. From the first Carroll had +scouted the idea that the dead man's fiancee might have been responsible +for his death; but still it was a line of investigation which demanded +examination, and his pretty young visitor was making that road +exceedingly simple. He injected all the warmth of his friendly, sunny +nature in the smile which he bestowed upon her. + +"You have helped me tremendously with that piece of information, +Miss Rogers." + +"I don't see how, particularly. No one with any sense--provided they knew +Hazel, of course--could even imagine her killing any one, and least of +all an adorable boy like Roland. She was so much in love with him!" + +"Of course, I haven't the pleasure of Miss Gresham's acquaintance." + +"Of course not. You'll have to meet her, though. She's a darling! +Naturally, she's all broken up this morning because her wedding date +was all set. Now all her plans have gone smash, and she really was +_terribly_ fond--" + +"You say you spent the night with Miss Gresham?" + +"Certainly, and--" + +"Where?" + +"At her house." + +"And you are sure she was there all night?" + +"Of course! We slept in the same bed--and that's certainly proof enough, +isn't it?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You _suppose_? My goodness gracious! Don't you _know_?" + +"Well--yes. If you're sure--" + +"Why, my dear Mr. Carroll, we didn't even actually go to bed until a +quarter before twelve. At ten o'clock we made some waffles +downstairs--Hazel has just bought a perfectly _darling_ aluminum electric +waffle-iron. It makes the most toothsome waffles--all crisp and +everything. And you know when you use aluminum you don't need any grease, +so that makes the waffles much nicer. I'm getting horribly domestic since +Hazel became engaged, because she is learning--" + +"And after you made the waffles?" + +"Oh! After that we went up-stairs to her room, and put on our kimonos, +and had a heart-to-heart talk. I can't tell you what we talked about, +because sometimes--well, it was atrociously risqué--as women will, you +know, and--" + +"At a quarter before twelve you were still sitting up talking, and you +had your kimonos on?" + +"Yes, and--oh, you just ought to see Hazel's new kimono--pink _crêpe de +chine_, trimmed with satin. She looks simply ravishing in it. I told Sis +I wanted one like it, but--" + +"And then you went to bed?" + +"Yes, just about then." + +"You are sure Miss Gresham didn't get up!" + +"Oh, I'm positive she didn't! I didn't get to sleep until after one +o'clock, anyway, and I would have known." + +"You've given me some valuable information, Miss Rogers; and I'll see to +it that the newspapers correct any impression they may have left that +Miss Gresham might have been connected with the crime. Meanwhile"--he +rose--"I'm a bit overdue down at headquarters; so if you'll excuse me--" + +Evelyn Rogers rose and stood before him. Her pretty little face +was eager. + +"I've really helped you, Mr. Carroll?" + +"Enormously." + +"Well, I wonder--you know I'm just _fiendishly_ anxious to be helpful in +the world--I wonder if you'd let me help you some more?" + +"I'd be delighted." + +"Would you _really_?" + +"Really!" + +"And I can come to you any time to talk things over?" + +"Whenever you get ready." + +She clapped her hands. + +"That's simply _exquisite_! You know, Mr. Carroll, I'm just simply crazy +about you! I always have been, but I'm more so now than ever--just +_hopelessly_!" + +"Thank you." + +She made her way to the door. There she turned, and there was a peculiar +light in her eyes. + +"Mr. Carroll!" + +"Yes?" + +"I wish you had been nineteen years old just now." + +"Why?" + +"Because," she flashed, "if you had been nineteen years old when I told +you what I did, you would have kissed me!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +REGARDING ROLAND WARREN + + +For a long time after Evelyn departed, Carroll remained seated, puffing +amusedly on the cigar which followed his matutinal cigarette. Time had +been long since the detective had come in contact with so much youthful +spontaneity, and he found the experience refreshing. Then he rose and +would have left the apartment for headquarters, but again Freda +announced a caller. + +"Another young lady?" questioned Carroll. + +"No, sir. It bane young feller." + +"Show him in." + +The visitor entered, and Carroll found himself gazing into the level eyes +of a slightly disheveled and obviously excited young man of about +twenty-eight years of age. The man was slight of stature, but every +nervous gesture bespoke wiriness. + +"Are you Mr. Carroll?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm Gresham--Garrison Gresham." + +"A-a-ah! Won't you be seated!" + +"Yes. I came to have a talk with you." + +Carroll seated himself opposite his caller. Then he nodded. + +"You came to see me?" + +"About the Warren case." + +"You know something about it?" + +"Yes!" The young man seemed to bite the word. "I do." + +"What?" + +"You're in charge of the case, aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"You've seen this morning's papers?" + +"I have." + +"Well, they're rotten--absolutely rotten. They don't say it in so many +words, but the impression they create is that my sister, Hazel, was the +woman in the taxi who killed Roland Warren. It's a damned lie!" + +The young man was growing more excited. Carroll put out a +restraining hand. + +"I quite agree with you, my friend--it _was_ a pretty rotten impression +to create; but I shall see that all doubt is removed from the mind of the +public when this afternoon's papers appear. I have just learned that +your sister has an ironclad alibi." + +"You have already learned that?" + +"Yes." + +Gresham leaned forward eagerly. + +"What makes you sure--that she did not--was not--" + +"Suppose I question you--if you have no objections." + +"Fire away." + +"Where was your sister at midnight last night?" + +"At home." + +"Alone? I mean was any one besides your family there?" + +"Yes," replied Gresham, showing surprise at Carroll's evident +knowledge of facts. + +"Who?" + +"Evelyn Rogers spent the night with her. Evelyn's a seventeen-year-old +kid who has had what I believe you call a crush on my sister. They were +together in that house from ten o'clock last night, or earlier, until +this morning. And if you don't believe that--" + +"But I do. I have just had a visit from Miss Rogers, and she told me +exactly what you have just repeated; so I'm pretty well satisfied that +your sister had nothing whatever to do with the affair. I will take +pains to see that this evening's papers make that quite clear." + +Gresham rose. A load seemed to have dropped from his shoulders. + +"That's white of you, Carroll! I appreciate it." + +"Not at all. I have no desire to cause annoyance or inconvenience where +it is unnecessary. And Miss Rogers told me, with great attention to +detail, just why and how it was impossible for your sister to have been +anywhere except at home last night." + +"Evelyn's considerable of a brick, in spite of the fact that she's more +or less minus in the upper story. And now, if you're really satisfied, +I'll be going." + +The two men walked to the door together. They were about of a height; +Carroll slightly the heavier of the two. + +"You've no idea as to the identity of the woman in the taxicab, have +you, Gresham?" + +"No. Have you?" + +"None whatever; though I fancy something ought to develop in the near +future. The city is discussing it pretty freely?" + +"The town's wild about it. They don't understand anything. It's tough on +my sister. Hazel is only a kid, and I think she was in love with Warren. +Well, good day, Carroll." He extended a firm hand. "Any time I can be of +any help--" + +"Thanks, Gresham." + +Five minutes after Gresham's departure, Carroll was in his car, headed +for the police-station. He turned the case over and over in a keen, +analytic mind which had been refreshed by a night of untroubled sleep. + +There were a good many features about it which puzzled him considerably. +While he had not expected that the trail of the mysterious midnight woman +would lead to the fiancée of the dead man, the sudden dissipation of that +as a clue rather threw him off his balance. He had reached the end of a +trail almost before setting foot upon it. + +Thus far he had refused to allow himself to be worried by the strangest +feature of the case--the appearance of the dead body in a taxicab which, +according to its driver's story, could not have been other than empty. It +was always easy to explain the disappearance of a person from an +automobile; but, he figured, it was patently impossible to enter one +without the driver's knowledge. + +He reached headquarters and closeted himself with Leverage. They plunged +at once into a discussion of that phase of the case. + +"There are only two things which could have happened," said the chief of +police slowly. "One is that some one croaked that bird Warren and shoved +him into the cab while the woman was ridin' in it. The other is that he +slipped into the cab and she killed him. While I ain't jumpin' on no set +ideas, I have a hunch that the last one is right." + +"Why?" + +"Because the other--that idea of puttin' a dead body into a cab without +the driver knowing it--it just naturally ain't possible." + +"Then you are quite convinced, Leverage, that Walters did _not_ know +anything about it?" + +"Now, say, Carroll, that's putting it up to me rather strong; but since +you're asking, I'm here to say that I believe the kid. Of course it's +possible that he was in on the deal--but I'm betting Liberty bonds +against Russian rubles that he'd have slipped somewhere if that had been +the case. Nobody that's in on a murder deal is going to frame a lie that +sticks his bean as close to a noose as Walter's would be if he's not +tellin' the truth!" + +"Sounds reasonable; and yet--" + +"I'm surprised at you suspectin' the kid." + +"I don't suspect him." + +"But you said--" + +"We can't overlook anything--that's what I said. It's what I was +driving at, anyway. So far, Walters is the only tangible clue we've had +to work with. As I told you, the Hazel Gresham trail died a-borning. +The kid who came to see me this morning cleared her; and then her +brother came along right afterward, red-hot over the insinuations +against his sister in the papers. As matters stand now, there's nothing +to tie to but Spike Walters." + +"I'm glad you're handling it," said Leverage fervently. "And as you are, +I'm making so bold as to ask what you're going to do next?" + +"A little general inquiring. You can help me on that. For one thing, I +want to get hold of every bit of dope I can regarding Warren--who he was, +where he came from, what he did, the size of his bank deposits, his +business connections, his social life, and especially every morsel of +gossip that's ever been circulated about him in connection with women." + +"H-m! You think this dame was a society sort?" + +"Probably. He was undoubtedly going away with her; and a man of his stamp +doesn't often elope with a woman of the other type." + +"True enough! Well, I'll get you what dope I can." + +"I want it all. I'm afraid this is going to resolve itself into a +contest of elimination. The city is buzzing about the case to-day, and +it ought to be pretty easy to get hold of a world of gossip concerning +Warren's love-affairs--provided he had any. Everybody's concerned over +the identity of that woman, and every woman Warren has ever been mixed +up with, even in the most innocuous way, is going to be dragged into +the case." + +Carroll made his way from headquarters direct to the consolidated +railroad ticket office. He introduced himself to the chief clerk and +stated his business. The other showed keen interest. + +"The tickets were sold to him in this office, Mr. Carroll. This young man +here sold them." + +Carroll smiled genially at the skinny young chap who bustled forward +importantly, proud of his temporary spotlight position. + +"You sold some tickets to Roland Warren?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When?" + +"Day before yesterday." + +"You are sure it was Mr. Warren?" + +"Yes, sir. I have known him by sight for a longtime." + +"About the tickets--what did he buy?" + +"Two tickets and a drawing-room on No. 29 for New York--due to leave at +11.55 last night." + +"You're sure he bought _two_ tickets and a drawing-room? Or was it +one ticket?" + +"It had to be two. We can't sell a drawing-room unless the purchaser has +double transportation." + +"You delivered both tickets to him personally?" + +"Yes, sir--gave them both to him." + +From the ticket office Carroll went back to headquarters, and from there +to the coroner's office, and, accompanied by that dignitary, to the +undertaking establishment where the body was being kept under police +guard. Nothing had yet been touched. The inquest had resulted in a +verdict of "death by violence, inflicted by a revolver in the hands of a +person unknown." + +Carroll again ran through the man's pockets. In a vest pocket he +discovered what he sought. He took the trunk check to the Union Station, +and through his police badge secured access to the baggage-room. The +trunk was not there. He compared checks with the baggage-master, and +learned that the trunk had duly gone to New York. He left orders for it +to be returned to the city. + +From there he went to the office of the division superintendent, and left +a half-hour later, after an exchange of telegrams between the +superintendent and the conductor of the train for New York, which +informed him that the drawing-room engaged by Warren had been unoccupied, +nor had there been an attempt on the part of any one to secure possession +of it. Also that the only berth purchased on the train had been at a +small-town stop about four o'clock in the morning. + +Obviously, then, the person who was to share the drawing-room with +Warren, and for whom the second ticket had been bought, had never boarded +the train. The trail had doubled back again to the woman in the taxicab. + +It was not until two o'clock in the afternoon that Carroll returned to +headquarters. He found Leverage ready with his report. + +"For one thing," said the chief, "there isn't a doubt that Warren was +getting ready to leave town--and for good." + +"How so?" + +Leverage checked over his list. + +"First, he had sublet his apartment. Second, he had with him eleven +hundred dollars in cash. Third, he left his automobile with a dealer +here to be sold, and did not place an order for any other car. And +fourth--" Leverage paused impressively. + +"Yes--and fourth?" + +"He fired his valet yesterday!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VALET TALKS + + +There was a triumphant ring to Leverage's statement that the dead man's +valet had been discharged at some time during the twenty-four hours which +immediately preceded the killing. It was as if his instinct recognized a +combination of circumstances which could not be ignored. Carroll looked +up interestedly. + +"Have you talked to this fellow?" + +"No. I figured I'd better leave that phase of it to you; but I'm having +him watched. Cartwright is on the job. Right now the man is at his +boarding-place on Larson Street." + +Carroll started for the door. + +"Let's go," he suggested laconically. + +It was but a few minutes' drive from headquarters to the boarding-house +of Roland Warren's former valet. Carroll parked his car at the curb and +inspected the place closely from the outside. + +There was little architectural beauty to recommend the house. It was a +rambling, dilapidated, two-story structure, sadly in need of paint and +repairs, and bespeaking occupancy by a family none too well blessed +with the better things of existence. They proceeded to the door and +rang the bell. A slatternly woman answered their summons, and Leverage +addressed her: + +"We wish to see William Barker, please." + +"William Barker?" + +"Yes. I believe he moved here yesterday." + +"Oh, that feller!" The woman started inside. "Wait a minute," she said +crossly, and shut the door in their faces. + +While they stood waiting, Leverage glanced keenly up and down the street, +and his eye lighted on the muscular figure of Cartwright, the +plainclothes man, shivering in the partial shelter of an alley across the +way. The policeman signaled them that all was well, and resumed his +vigil. At that minute the door opened and the woman reappeared. + +"He ain't home!" she said, and promptly closed the door again. + +Carroll looked at Leverage and Leverage looked at Carroll. Leverage +crossed the street and interrogated Cartwright. + +"The landlady says he's out, Cartwright. How about it?" + +"Bum steer, chief! The bird's there--I'll bet my silk shirt on it!" + +Leverage recrossed the street and reported to Carroll. + +"You're pretty sure Cartwright has the straight dope!" + +"Sure thing," said the chief. "He's one of the most reliable men on the +force, and when he says a thing, he knows it." + +Carroll stroked his beardless chin. There was a hard, calculating light +in his eyes--eyes which alternated between a soft, friendly blue and a +steely gray. Finally he looked up at Leverage. + +"What's your idea, Eric?" + +"About him sendin' word he was out when we know he ain't?" + +"Exactly." + +"It looks darn funny to me, Carroll! 'Pears like he didn't want to +discuss the affair with us." + +"He don't know who we are." + +"He can guess pretty well. Any guy with a head on his shoulders knows +the valet of a murdered man is going to be quizzed by the police." + +"Good! Come on." + +Carroll put a firm hand on the knob and turned it. Then he stepped into +the dingy reception hall, followed by the city's chief of police. + +At the sound of visitors, the angular frame of the boarding-house-keeper +appeared in the doorway, her eyes flashing antagonistically. Leverage +turned back the lapel of his coat and disclosed the police badge. + +"Listen here, lady," he said in a voice whose very softness brooked no +opposition; "that bird Barker is here, and we're going to see him. Police +business! Where's his room?" + +The woman's face grew ashen. + +"What's he been doin'?" she quavered. "What's he been up to now?" + +"What's he been up to before this?" countered Leverage. + +"I don't know anything about him. Swear to Gawd I don't! He just come +here yesterday an' took a room. Paid cash in advance." + +"He's in his room, ain't he?" + +"What if he is? He told me to tell anybody who come along that he was +out. I didn't know you was cops. Oh, I hope there ain't nothin' goin' to +ruin the reputation of this place! There ain't a woman in town who runs a +decenter place than this." + +"Nobody's going to know anything," reassured Carroll, "provided you keep +your own tongue between your teeth. Now take us to Barker's room." + +The boarding-house-keeper led the way up a flight of dark and twisting +stairs, along a musty hall. She paused before a door at the far end. + +"There it is, sirs--and--" + +"You go downstairs," whispered Carroll. "If we should find you trying to +listen at the keyhole--" + +His manner made it unnecessary to finish the threat. The woman departed, +fluttering with excitement. Leverage's hand found the knob, and Carroll +nodded briefly. The door was flung open, and the two men entered. + +"What the--" + +The occupant of the room leaped to his feet and stood staring, his face +gone pasty white, his demeanor one of terror, which Carroll could see he +was fighting to control. Leverage closed the door gently and gazed at +the man upon whom they had called. + +William Barker was not a large man; neither was he small. He was one of +those men of medium height, whose physique deceives every one save the +anatomical expert. To the casual observer his weight would have been +catalogued at about a hundred and forty. At a glance Carroll knew that it +was nearer a hundred and eighty. Normal breadth of shoulder was more than +made up for by unusual depth of chest. Ready-made trousers bulged with +the enormous muscular development of calf and thigh. The face, +clean-shaven, was sullen with the fear inspired by the sudden entrance of +Carroll and Leverage; and there was more than a hint of evil in it. As +they watched, the sullenness of expression was supplanted by a leer, and +then by a mask of professional placidity--the bovine expression which one +expects to find in the average specimen of masculine hired help. + +The man's demeanor was a combination of abjectness and hostility. He was +plainly frightened, yet striving to appear at ease. + +Carroll and Leverage maintained silence. Barker fidgeted nervously, and +finally, when the strain became too great, burst out with: + +"Who are you fellers? Whatcha want?" + +Carroll spoke softly. + +"William Barker?" + +"What if that is my name?" + +Carroll's hands spread wide. + +"Just wanted to be sure, that's all. You _are_ William Barker?" + +"An' what if I am? What you got to do with that?" + +Carroll showed his badge. + +"And this gentleman," he finished, designating Leverage, "is chief +of police." + +Barker's voice came back to him in a half whine, half snarl. + +"I ain't done nothin'--" + +"Nobody has accused you yet." + +"Well, when you bust in on a feller like this--" + +Carroll seated himself, and Leverage followed suit. He motioned Barker +to a chair. + +"Let's talk things over," he suggested mildly. + +"Ain't nothin' to talk over." + +"You're William Barker, aren't you?" + +"I ain't said I ain't, have I?" + +Carroll's eyes grew a bit harder. His voice cracked out: + +"What's your name?" + +Barker met his gaze; then the eyes of the ex-valet shifted. + +"William Barker," he answered almost unintelligibly. + +"Very good! Now, sit down, William." + +William seated himself with ill grace. Carroll spoke again, but this time +the softness had returned to his tones. His manner approached downright +friendliness. + +"We came here to talk with you, Barker," he said frankly. "We don't +know a thing about your connection with this case; but we do know that +you were valet to Roland Warren, and therefore must possess a great +deal of information about him which no one else could possibly have. +All we want is to learn what you know about this tragedy--what you know +and what you think." + +Barker raised his head. For a long time he stared silently at Carroll. + +"I don't know who you are," he remarked at length; "but you seem to be on +the level." + +"I am on the level," returned Carroll quietly. "My name is David +Carroll--" + +"O-o-oh! So _you're_ David Carroll?" The query was a sincere tribute. + +"Yes, I'm Carroll, and I'm working on the Warren case. I don't want to +cause trouble for any one, but there are certain facts which I must +learn. You can tell me some of them. No person who is innocent has the +slightest thing to fear from me. And so--Barker--if you have nothing to +conceal, I'd advise that you talk frankly." + +"I ain't got nothin' to conceal. What made you think I had?" + +"I don't think so. I don't think anything definite at this stage of the +game. I want to find out what you know." + +"I don't know nothin', either." + +"H-m! Suppose I learn that for myself! I'll start at the beginning. Your +name is William Barker?" + +"Yes. I told you that once." + +"Where is your home? What city have you lived in mostly?" + +The man hesitated. + +"I was born in Gadsden, Alabama, if that's what you mean. Mostly I've +lived in New York and around there." + +"What cities around there?" + +"Newark." + +"Newark, New Jersey?" + +"Yes. An' in Jersey City some, and Paterson, and a little while in +Brooklyn." + +"You met Mr. Warren where?" + +"In New York. I was valet for a feller named Duckworth, and he went and +died on me--typhoid; you c'n find out all about him if you want. Mr. +Warren was a friend of Mr. Duckworth's, an' he offered me a job. We lived +in New York for a while and then we come down here." + +"How long ago?" + +"'Bout four years--maybe five." + +"What kind of a man was he--personally?" + +Carroll watched his man closely without appearing to do so. He saw +Barker flush slightly, and did not miss the jerky nervousness of his +answer--that or the forced enthusiasm. + +"Oh, I reckon he is all right. That is, he _was_ all right. Real +nice feller." + +"You were fond of him?" + +"I didn't say I was in love with him. I said he was a nice feller." + +"Treated you well?" + +"Oh, sure--he treated me fine." + +"And yet he discharged you yesterday." Then Carroll bluffed. +"Without notice!" + +Barker looked up sharply. His face betrayed his surprise; showed clearly +that Carroll's guess had scored. + +"How'd you know that?" + +"I knew it," returned Carroll. "That's sufficient." + +Barker assumed a defensive attitude. + +"Anyway," said he, "that didn't make me sore at him, because he give me a +month's pay; and that's just as good as a notice, ain't it?" + +"Ye-e-es, I guess it is." Carroll hesitated. "Did he pay you in cash?" + +"Yeh--cash." + +Again Carroll hesitated for a moment, while he lighted a cigarette. When +he spoke again, his tone was merely conversational, almost casual. + +"You've read the papers--all about Mr. Warren's murder, haven't you?" + +"I'll say I have." + +"What do you think about it?" + +Again that startled look in Barker's eyes. Again the nervous twitching +of hands. + +"Whatcha mean, what do I think about it?" + +"The woman in the taxicab--do you think she killed him?" + +Barker drew a deep breath. One might have fancied that it was a sigh +of relief. + +"Oh, _her_? Sure! She's the person that killed him!" + +"He knew a good many women?" suggested Carroll interrogatively. "He got +along pretty well with them?" + +"H-m!" William Barker nodded. "You said it then, Mr. Carroll. Mr. +Warren--he was a bird with the women!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CARROLL MAKES A MOVE + + +No slightest move of Warren's erstwhile valet--no twitching of facial +muscles, no involuntary gesture of nervousness, however slight--escaped +Carroll's attention; but with all his watchfulness, the boyish-looking +investigator was unostentatious, almost retiring in his manner. + +And this modest demeanor was having its effect on William Barker, just as +Carroll had known it would have, and as Leverage had hoped. Eric Leverage +had worked with Carroll before, and he had seen the man's personal charm, +his sunny smile, his attitude of camaraderie, perform miracles. People +had a way of talking freely to Carroll after he had chatted with them +awhile, no matter how bitter the hostility surrounding their first +meeting. Carroll was that way--he was a student of practical every-day +psychology. He worked to one end--he endeavored to learn the mental +reactions of every one of his _dramatis persoae_ toward the fact of the +crime he happened to be investigating; that and, as nearly as possible, +their feelings at the moment of the commission of the crime, no matter +where they might have been. + +"It doesn't matter what a suspect says," he had told Leverage once. "Some +of them tell the truth and some of them lie. Often the truth sounds +untrue, while the lies carry all the earmarks of honesty. It's a sheer +guess on the part of any detective. What I want to know is how my man +felt at the time the crime was committed--not where he was; and how he +feels now about the whole thing." + +"But the facts themselves are important," argued the practical chief +of police. + +"Granted! But when you have facts, you don't need a detective. I'd rather +have a suspect talk freely and never tell the truth than have him be +reticent and stick to a true story." + +Leverage's reply had been expressive of his opinion of Carroll's almost +uncanny ability. + +"Sounds like damned nonsense," said he; "but it's never failed you yet. +And even you couldn't get away with it if you lost that smile of yours!" + +Right now he was witnessing the magic of Carroll's smile. He had seen the +antagonism slowly melt from Barker's manner. The nervousness was still +there, true; but it seemed tinged with an attitude which was part +friendliness toward Carroll and part contempt for his powers. That, too, +was an old story to Leverage. More than one criminal had tripped over the +snag of underrating Carroll's ability. + +Barker's last statement--"Warren, he was a bird with the women!"--was +true. Leverage knew it was true. Carroll knew it was true. There was the +ring of truth about it. It mattered not whether Barker had an iron of his +own in the fire--it mattered not what else he said which was not +true--the two detectives knew that they had extracted from him a fact, +the relative importance of which would be established later. + +Just at present, knowledge that the dead man had been somewhat of a +philanderer seemed of considerable importance. For one thing, it +established the theory that he had been planning an elopement with the +woman in the taxicab. That being the case, a definite task was +faced--first, find the woman; then find some man vitally affected by her +elopement with Warren. + +Carroll betrayed no particular interest in Barker's statement. Instead, +he smiled genially, a sort of between-us-men smile, which did much to +disarm Barker. + +"A regular devil with 'em, eh, Barker?" + +"You spoke a mouthful that time, Mr. Carroll! What he didn't know about +women their own husbands couldn't tell him." + +"Married ones?" + +"Oh, sure! He was a specialist with them." + +"Then most of this gossip we've been hearing has a basis of fact?" + +A momentary return of caution showed in Barker's retort. + +"I don't know just what you've been hearin'." + +"A good many stories about his love affairs--with women who were +prominent socially." + +Barker shrugged. + +"Most likely they're true; although it's a safe bet that a heap of 'em +was lies. Men folks have a way of lyin' about women that way, even where +they'll tell the truth about everything else. They've got women beaten +ninety-seven ways gossiping about that sort of thing." + +"You know a thing or two yourself, Barker?" + +The man flushed with pleasure. + +"Oh, I ain't nobody's pet jackass, when it comes to that!" + +"Now you"--Carroll's tone was gentle, almost hypnotic--"of course you +know who the woman is that Mr. Warren was planning to elope with?" + +"I know--" + +Suddenly Barker paused, and his face went white. He compressed his lips +with an effort and choked back the words. Leverage, leaning forward in +tense eagerness--knowing the verbal trap that Carroll had been +planting--sighed with disappointment, and relaxed. + +"Say, what the hell are you driving at!" + +"Nothing." One would have sworn that Carroll was surprised at Barker's +flare of anger--or else that it had passed unnoticed. "I just figured +that you, having been his valet, and knowing a good deal about him, would +have knowledge of this." + +"He wasn't in the habit of discussin' his lady friends with me," growled +the ex-valet surlily. + +"Of course he wasn't; but you know, of course? You guessed?" + +"No, I didn't do nothin' of the kind. Say, what are you tryin' to +do--trip me up or somethin'?" + +"Of course not. Why should I be interested in tripping you up?" + +"You was sayin'--" + +"Don't be foolish, Barker! It wouldn't do me a bit of good to--er--trip +you up. All I want is whatever knowledge you have which may prove of +interest in solving this case." + +The man's eyes narrowed craftily. + +"You ain't got no suspicions yourself, have you?" + +"Suspicions of what?" + +"Who that dame in the taxicab was." + +Carroll laughed infectiously. + +"Goodness, no! If I had, I wouldn't be seated here chatting with you." + +Again the expression of relief flashed across Barker's face--a bit +of play lost by neither detective. Carroll was toying idly with a +gold pencil on the end of his waldemar. His outward calmness +exasperated Leverage. From this point of the interview, the chief of +police would have dropped the attitude of trustful friendliness and +resorted to a little practical third-degree stuff. He was fairly +quivering with eagerness to bluster about the room and extract +information by main force. + +And a hint of Leverage's mental seethe must have been communicated to +Carroll, for the younger man turned the battery of his sunny gaze upon +the chief of police and nodded reassuringly. The effect was +instantaneous. Leverage's temporary resentment departed much as the gas +escapes from a pin-punctured balloon. He gave ear to Barker's speech. + +"N'r you ain't the only one who don't know who that woman was. _I_ +don't!" + +"You knew he was planning to elope, though?" + +The man shook his head doggedly. + +"I knew he was leavin' the city for good, if that's what you mean." + +"No-o, not exactly. I knew that much myself. What interests me is +this--was he planning to leave with some woman?" + +Barker hesitated before replying, and when he did answer it was patent +that his words were chosen carefully. + +"I don't hardly reckon he was, Mr. Carroll. Mind you, I'm not sayin' he +wasn't; but then again I ain't sayin' he was. I can't do nothin' only +guess--same as you can." + +"I see!" Carroll was apparently unconscious of Barker's flagrant +evasion. "What I don't understand is this--when Mr. Warren was publicly +engaged to Miss Gresham, why did he try to elope with her?" + +"Elope with Miss Gresham?" Barker paused; then a slow, calculating smile +creased his lips. "Miss Gresham--her he was engaged to! Dog-gone if I +don't believe you've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Carroll!" + +"What nail?" + +"About her bein' the woman in the taxi. You know some fellers is like +that--they'd a heap rather elope with a woman they're crazy about than +stand up in a church and get married. They're sort of romantic." Barker +was waxing loquacious. "You know, you must be right. Fact, if you put it +right up to me, I'd say there wasn't no doubt that Miss Gresham was the +woman in the taxicab." + +"I had that idea," responded Carroll slowly. "But what I can't +understand, Barker, and what you might help me figure out, is this--why +should Miss Gresham kill Mr. Warren?" + +"Huh! Ask me somethin' easy, will you? I never was good at riddles." + +Leverage marveled at the change in the two men. Apparently Carroll had +swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Of course, Leverage was pretty sure +that he had not; but he was also sure that Barker thought he had. And +Barker was volunteering information--plenty of it--that was absolutely +valueless. For the first time he was forcing the conversational pace, and +Carroll seemed serenely content to drag limply along. + +"Reckon she might have been jealous of him?" drawled Carroll. + +"Jealous? Maybe. I ain't sayin' she wasn't. Of course, she must have +heard a good many things about him and other women; and when a woman gets +downright jealous there ain't much sayin' what she wouldn't do. Not that +I'm sayin' Miss Gresham croaked him. I ain't sayin' nothin' positive; but +if you're askin' me who he'd most naturally elope with, why I'd say it +was the girl he was engaged to marry. If he wasn't going to marry her, +what did he ever get engaged to her for?" + +Carroll nodded. + +"Certainly sounds reasonable." He paused, and then: "Where were you about +midnight last night?" + +"I was"--Barker's figure stiffened defensively, and his eyebrows drew +down over the deep-set eyes--"I was just shootin' some pool." + +"Shooting pool?" + +"Un-huh!" + +"Where?" + +"At Kelly's place." + +"Where is that?" + +The man hesitated, flushed, and then, somewhat sullenly: + +"On Cypress Street." + +"That's pretty close to the Union Station, isn't it?" + +"Not so close." + +"About how far away?" + +Again the momentary hesitation. + +"'Bout a half-block." + +"And you were shooting pool there?" + +"Sure I was! I c'n prove it." + +Carroll grinned disengagingly. + +"You don't need to prove anything to me, Barker. And for goodness' sake +get the idea out of your head that I'm suspecting you of anything. I had +to talk matters over with you. You knew more about the dead man than any +one else; but I couldn't think you had anything to do with it, could I? +You're not a woman!" + +Barker grinned sheepishly. + +"That's all right, Mr. Carroll. And as for me bein' a woman--well, you're +sure a woman killed him, ain't you?" + +"As sure as any one can be. And now"--Carroll rose--"I'm tremendously +obliged for all the information you've given me. Any time you run +across anything more that you think might prove of interest, look me +up, will you?" + +"Sure! Sure!" Barker's tone was almost hearty. "You're a regular feller, +Mr. Carroll--a regular feller!" + +The two detectives departed. Carroll spoke to Cartwright as he passed: + +"Keep both eyes on that fellow Barker," he ordered curtly. "I'll +send Reed up to team with you. Don't let him get away. Nab him if he +tries it." + +Cartwright nodded briefly, and Carroll and Leverage climbed into the +former's car. As they rounded the corner, Leverage turned wide eyes upon +his professional associate. + +"Carroll?" + +"Yes?" + +"You beat the Dutch!" + +"How so?" + +"You didn't swallow that bird's yarn, did you?" + +"Of course not," answered Carroll calmly. + +"I didn't think so; but you had me worried, with that innocent look of +yours. Me, if I was wantin' to play safe on this case, I'd arrest William +Barker _pronto_." + +"Why?" + +"Because," snapped Leverage positively, "I think he was mixed up in +Warren's murder!" + +"Aa-ah!" Carroll refused to become excited. "You do?" + +"Yes, I do. What do you think?" + +"I think this," answered Carroll. "I think that Mr. William Barker knows +a great deal more about the case than he has told!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ICE CREAM SODA + + +They drove in silence to headquarters, each man busy with his thoughts. +It was not until they were alone in Leverage's sanctum that the subject +of the recent interview was again broached. It was Leverage who brought +it up, in his characteristically gruff way. + +"I reckon you're wonderin', Carroll, about what I said back yonder +in the car?" + +"About arresting Barker?" + +"Yes. I guess you're figuring what I'd arrest him for, eh?" + +"I'm interested--yes." + +"I'd arrest him for this." Leverage leaned forward earnestly, his +attitude that of a man eager to convince. "Let's admit right off the reel +that the skirt in the taxicab croaked Warren. Looks like she did, anyway; +but whether she did or not, it's an even bet that there was a man mixed +up in it somewhere. And if that man isn't Mr. William Barker, then I'll +eat a month's pay." + +"You're sure there was a man mixed up somewhere?" + +"Certainly. This murder deal was planned in advance. It must have been. +Things couldn't just work out that way. And no woman, no matter how much +she wanted to bump Warren off, could think of a thing that complicated. +Even if she did think of it, she wouldn't have the nerve to carry it out +that way. Ain't I right?" + +"You may not be right, Leverage; but you're certainly logical." + +"Good! Now, so far, we ain't got any man in this case except Barker." + +Carroll shook his head. + +"You're wrong there." + +"How?" + +"Somewhere in this town is some man who is interested in the woman with +whom Warren was planning to elope. Don't forget this, Leverage--I let +Barker ramble on. I like to hear 'em talk. The minute he jumped at the +idea that the woman in the taxi was Miss Gresham, I knew perfectly well +that he knew she was not. I also believe that he knows who the woman +was. Further, I believe that she is socially prominent. That being the +case, it is a safe guess that there is some man who might commit a +murder, provided he knew in advance of the elopement. Our task now is to +discover that woman and, through her, the man interested." + +Leverage frowned thoughtfully. + +"Listens good," he volunteered at length. "Another thing--Barker admits +he was shooting pool in Kelly's place last night around midnight; and +Kelly's place is only half a block from the Union Station. That sounds +significant!" + +"It does; and then again it may mean nothing. What I am striving for is +to make William Barker feel that he is safe. The safer he feels, the more +readily he will talk. No matter how many lies he tells, everything that +he says is of value. He didn't know, of course, that we already had a +perfect alibi for Miss Gresham; but even if we hadn't, his assumed belief +that she committed the crime would have assured me that she did not. +No-o, I think we'd better not arrest the man unless he forces our +hand--tries to jump town, or something like that. Better let him remain +at large and talk frequently. If he has anything to betray, there's more +chance that he'll do it that way. Don't you think I'm right?" + +"I wouldn't admit it if I didn't, Carroll. I've seen you in action too +often to believe you're ever wrong." + +Carroll flushed boyishly. + +"Don't be absurd, Leverage! I'm often wrong--very wrong. And don't think +that I'm a transcendent detective; they don't really exist, you know. I'm +merely trying to be human, to learn the nature of the people with whom +I'm dealing. I try to learn 'em as well as they know themselves--maybe a +little better; and then I try to separate the wheat of vital facts from +the chaff of the inconsequential." + +"Just the same," insisted Leverage loyally, "you always get 'em!" + +"And when I do, it is because I have used nothing more than plain common +sense. Don't think that I attach no importance to physical clues. They're +immensely valuable; but the one weakness in a criminal is his lack of +common sense. His perspective is awry, his sense of values distorted. +Usually he bothers his head about a myriad minor details, and pays but +scant attention to the genuinely important things. It is upon that +weakness that I am banking--particularly so in the case of Barker." + +"I insist that you're a wonder, Carroll!" + +"And I insist that you're foolishly complimentary. Did you ever stop to +realize, Eric, that when a crime is committed the advantage lies entirely +with the detective? The detective can make a thousand mistakes during the +course of his investigations and still trap his man; but the criminal +cannot make one single error--not _one_!" + +"Maybe so, David; but it takes a good man to recognize that one, and to +know what to do with it." + +Carroll grinned and left, and then for two days devoted himself to a +study of the conditions surrounding the murder--that and routine matters. +The trunk, for instance, was duly returned by the railroad from New York, +and Carroll and his friend made a minute investigation of every article +contained therein. Their search was well-nigh fruitless. The trunk +contained little save the wardrobe of a well-dressed man--suits, shirts, +underwear, shoes, caps. There were also golf and tennis togs; a few +books; a handsome leather secretary, containing a good many personal +letters and one or two business missives which were of little interest. +Altogether the examination of the trunk--a process which occupied three +hours--established nothing definite, save that there was nothing to be +discovered. Its results were hopelessly negative. + +Meanwhile the city sizzled with gossip of the Warren murder. The +seemingly impenetrable mystery surrounding the case, its many sensational +features, the admission of the police department that the woman in the +case was not Hazel Gresham, fiancée of the dead man, yet the certainty +that there was a woman, and that she was of the better class--all this +served to keep the tongues of men and women alike wagging at both ends. + +Carroll was besieged with anonymous letters. Dozens of prominent +married women were mentioned as having been, at one time or another, +the object of Warren's amorous attentions. Carroll read each one +carefully and filed it away. He had hoped for this, but the results had +far exceeded his expectations, and he found himself bewildered rather +than assisted by the response from nameless individuals who were +morbidly eager to be of help. + +The detective knew that the running down of each individual trail--the +investigation of each of Warren's supposed affairs of the heart--would be +an interminable procedure. And so far not a single one of the letters had +varied from another. They connected Warren's name with that of some +married woman, and let it go at that. It was quite evident that the dead +man had been very much of a Lothario; too much so for the mental ease of +the investigator who was struggling to link the cause of his death with +one particular affair. + +The reporters allowed their imaginations to run wild. The story was what +is known, in the parlance of the newspaper world, as a "space-eater." +City editors turned their best men loose on it and devoted columns to +conjecture. There was little definite information upon which to base the +daily stories that were luridly hurled into type. Thus far Spike Walters, +driver of taxicab No. 92,381, was the only person under arrest, and only +those persons too lazy to exercise their minds were willing to believe +that Spike was guilty or that he knew more of the crime than he had told. + +Carroll read each news story attentively. No wild theory of a pop-eyed +reporter, hungry for fact, was too absurd to receive his careful +attention. But they proved of little assistance. With the spot-light of +publicity blazing on the crime, the investigation seemed to have become +static. There was no forward movement; nothing save that in the brain of +David Carroll salient facts were being seized upon and meticulously +catalogued for future reference. + +Cartwright and Reed, the plain-clothes men detailed to shadow William +Barker, reported nothing suspicious in that gentleman's movements. He +seemed to be making no effort to secure employment, but, on the other +hand, there was little of interest in what he did do. Again the stone +wall of negative action. + +Barker spent his mornings in his boarding-house, apparently luxuriating +in long slumbers; he ate always at the same cheap restaurant; and his +afternoons and evenings were devoted largely to the science of eight-ball +pool at Kelly's place. There may have been significance in his loyalty to +Kelly's place; but if there was, it was too vague for Carroll to +consider. He merely remembered the fact that Barker was a steady patron +of the pool-room near the Union Station, and filed it away with his +other threads of information concerning the murder. + +Carroll was frankly puzzled. The case differed widely from any other +with which he had ever come in contact. Usually there was an array of +persons upon whom suspicion could be justly thrown; a collection of +suspects from whom the investigator could take his choice, or from whom +he could extract facts which eventually might be used to corner the +guilty person. In the present case there was no one to whom he could +turn an accusing finger. + +Of course, he was convinced that William Barker knew a great deal about +the crime and the events which preceded it; but Barker wouldn't talk--and +he, Carroll, had no evidence that enabled him to bluff, to draw Barker +out against his will. + +The crime seemed to have lost itself in the sleety cold of the December +midnight upon which it was committed. The trails were not blind--there +were simply no trails. The circumstances baffled explanation--a lone +woman entering an empty taxicab; a run to a distant point in the city; +the discovery of the woman's disappearance, and in her stead the sight of +the dead body of a prominent society man--that, and the further blind +information that the suit-case which the woman had carried was the +property of the man whose body was huddled horribly in the taxicab. + +The woman, whoever she was, had either been unusually clever or +unusually lucky. Minute examination of the interior of the cab had +revealed nothing--not a fingerprint, nor a scrap of handkerchief. +There was absolutely nothing which could serve as a clue in establishing +her identity. + +And yet, somewhere in the city--a city of two hundred thousand souls--was +the woman who could clear up the mystery. + +Convinced that she was prominent socially, Carroll kept a close eye upon +the departures of society women for other cities. His vigil had been +unrewarded thus far. And the public as a whole waited eagerly for her +apprehension, for the public was unanimous in the belief that the woman +in the taxicab was the person who had ended Warren's life. + +The very fact of having nothing definite upon which to work was getting +on Carroll's usually equable nerves. He had little to say to Leverage +regarding the case, for the simple reason that there was very little +which could be said. Leverage, on his part, watched the detective with +keen interest, sympathizing with him, and exhibiting implicit confidence, +but the men didn't agree upon the correct procedure. Leverage was all for +arresting Barker and charging him with the murder. + +"You'll learn some facts then, Carroll," he insisted. + +But Carroll shook his head. + +"It wouldn't get us anywhere, Eric. We couldn't prove him guilty." + +"No-o, but that don't make no difference. Of course the law says a man is +innocent until you prove he ain't, but that ain't what the law does. If +we arrest this here Mr. William Barker, everybody's going to believe he's +guilty until he proves himself innocent." + +"And you think he can't do that?" + +"No! At least I'm gambling on this--Barker can't prove himself innocent +without telling who is guilty!" + +But Carroll refused to arrest the man. He knew that Leverage disapproved, +but he also knew that Leverage was sportsman enough to let him handle the +case in his own way. + +On one of his long strolls through the downtown section of the +city--daily walks which helped him to think connectedly--David Carroll +felt a hand on his arm and heard an eager feminine voice in his ear: + +"Gracious goodness! If it isn't the perfectly marvelous Mr. David +Carroll!" + +Carroll bowed instinctively. Then his lips expanded into the first +wholesome smile he had experienced in forty-eight hours. + +"Miss Evelyn Rogers!" + +"You did recognize me, didn't you? How simply splendiferous! I'm awfully +glad we met!" + +"So am I, Miss Rogers." + +She dropped her voice confidentially. + +"Will you do me a _great_ favor--an _enormous_ favor?" + +"Certainly. What is it?" + +"It's this." She looked around carefully. "I told some of my friends that +you are a friend of mine, and they don't believe it. They're over yonder +in that ice-cream place. Now, what I want you to do for me is to show +'em. I want you to take me over there and buy me an ice-cream soda!" + +Carroll laughed aloud as he took her by the arm and piloted her through +the traffic. He asked only one question: + +"What flavor?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DISCOVERY + + +If Evelyn Rogers, amply clad as to fur around the neck but somewhat +under-dressed as to lace stockings about the legs, had desired to +create a sensation among her friends, she more than succeeded. She +preceded Carroll into the place, her eyes glowing pridefully, skirted +the table at which her friends sat, then stopped abruptly, forcing +Carroll to do likewise. + +"Mr. Carroll," she said sweetly, "I want to introduce you to my friends." +She called them by name. "Girls, this is Mr. Carroll, the famous +detective!" + +Carroll bowed in his most courtly manner, and assured them that he was +delighted to make their acquaintance. He insisted that it was always a +pleasure to meet any friends of his very dear friend, Miss Rogers. The +girls at the table giggled with embarrassment, and one or two of them +made rather pallid attempts at repartee. Then Carroll and the +seventeen-year-old found a table in the very center of the floor, even as +a boy, recognizing Carroll, appeared at their elbow. + +The detective studied the list intently. Apparently there was no subject +in the world more vital at that moment than the selection of just the +proper concoction. Finally he looked up and shook his head. + +"I can't decide," he announced gravely. "They all sound so good! Walnut +banana sundae; strawberry glory; peach Melba; chocolate parfait, with +whipped cream and cracked walnuts; elegantine fizz--Help me out, please." + +She, too, plunged into the labyrinth of toothsome titles. Finally she +emerged smiling. + +"Have you ever tasted a chocolate fudge-sundae?" + +"No-o, I'm afraid not." + +"Well, it's just the _elegantest_ thing--vanilla ice-cream with hot fudge +poured over it, and as soon as they pour the fudge--it's steaming hot, +you know--simply scalding--it forms into a sort of candy, and then when +they serve it--" + +"I fancy you want one, too, don't you?" + +"Oh, goodness me, yes! I _always_ eat chocolate fudge sundaes. They're +simply scrumptious--but they do take the edge off one's dinner appetite. +Personally, I don't care so very much. I believe we eat too much anyway, +don't you, Mr. Carroll? I read in a book once that after you reach a +certain point in eating--that is, after you've swallowed just the right +number of calories--the rest don't do you a single particle of good. And +besides, ice-cream is healthy, and certainly there's nothing with more +nourishment in it than chocolate--unless it is raisins. I like raisins +well enough--" + +Carroll turned to the boy. + +"Two chocolate fudge sundaes," he ordered; "and put a few raisins on +one of them." + +He found the large eyes of the girl turned upon him adoringly. + +"Do you know," she said, "that when I said the other day that you were +the most wonderful, the most marvelous man in the world, I didn't even +know half how wonderful or marvelous you really were?" + +"Thanks! And what caused the discovery?" + +"The way you acted just now. Why, I'm sure those girls think that you've +known me all your life--or that we're engaged, or something!" + +Carroll was a trifle startled. + +"Engaged?" + +"Why not? You don't _look_ like an old man." + +The detective chuckled. + +"Nor do I feel like one when I'm with you. You're deliciously +refreshing." + +"And you are--are--exquisite! Do you know, when I'm with you, I feel +inspired to great deeds--to noble--er--attainments." + +"Really?" + +"Uh-huh! Honest to goodness. And did I really help you by what I told you +the other day?" + +"You certainly did, Miss Rogers. There isn't a doubt of it." + +She lowered her voice and leaned confidentially across the table. + +"Will you tell me something?" + +"Surely?" + +"Who really killed Mr. Warren?" + +"Eh?" + +"Who really did kill him?" + +"Why, I'm sure I don't know. I'm trying to find out." + +"Oh, pshaw! You can't pull the wool over _my_ eyes! You couldn't have +been working on the case this long and not have discovered +the--the--malefactor." + +"But that's exactly what I have done. Also it's why I rather hoped that +you might have a little more information for me." + +"Me? Information for you? How wonderful! As if you'd be interested in +anything I might know! Although I'm not an absolute fool. Gerald says I +am, of course--he's my brother-in-law--but then Gerald isn't anything but +an old crab, anyway. Hateful thing! But _you_ don't think I am, do you?" + +"No, indeed. Ah, here we are!" + +The chocolate fudge sundaes were served, and for a few moments they +gave themselves over to the task of enjoying them. It was Evelyn who +spoke first. + +"What do you want me to tell you?" + +"Almost anything. For instance--you knew Roland Warren pretty well, +didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed! I've known him forever and ever. He was an awfully nice +boy, and crazy about me--simply wild! That is, he was before he died." + +"H-m! And you saw a good deal of him?" + +"Oceans! He used to call at the house all the time. It _was_ funny, too. +Gerald used to think he was the one Roland was coming to see, and +Naomi--she's my sister--used to think that he was coming to see her; and +all the time I knew that I was the person he was calling on. It's funny, +isn't it, how old folks will get those queer ideas?" + +"Your sister is so very old?" + +"Terribly. She was thirty on her last birthday." + +"Horrors! She _is_ ancient, isn't she?" + +"Awfully! Although Naomi isn't so bad looking--" + +"_Your_ sister couldn't be." + +"Aw, quit kidding! But she isn't bad-looking, really. Lord knows she +deserves a better husband than she drew. Honestly, when the divine +providence was handing out shrubbery, they planted a lemon-tree in his +yard just before he was born." + +"Probably your sister doesn't agree with your opinion." + +"Oh, yes, she does! Of course, she doesn't talk to me about it, but I +know she ain't wild about Gerald. How could she be? He's old enough to be +her father--forty-two, if he's a minute. Don't think of anything but +business and making money. And he's _terribly_ jealous!" + +"A very complimentary picture you draw of him." + +"If I wrote what I thought about him, I could be arrested for sending it +through the mails. Goodness knows, no husband at all is a hundred per +cent better than a man like that. Not that he beats Naomi. Fact is, I'd +think he was more human if he did. Only time I ever like him is when he +flies up in a rage. He swears simply _elegantly_!" + +"Indeed?" + +"I love it. And I don't think it's wicked to love swearing, do you? I was +reading in a book once something about swearing being a perfectly natural +mental reaction, or something--like a safety-valve on a steam-engine. If +the engine didn't have the safety-valve, it would blow up. So if it's +true that swearing is like that, then there can't be any harm in it; +because anything that keeps a person from blowing up must be pretty good, +don't you think?" + +"It does sound reasonable." + +"Not that I swear myself--not out loud, anyway, but sometimes, when I'm +right peeved at Gerald or Naomi or somebody, I get in my room and say +swear-words right out loud. And I feel ever so much better for it!" + +The conversation languished while she again attacked the sundae. +Carroll spoke: + +"Have you seen your friend, Miss Gresham, lately?" + +"Hazel? I'll say I have--although she's horribly weepy since poor Roland +was killed. Of course, I'm not heartless or anything like that; but +what's the use of crying all the time when there are just as good fish in +the sea as ever were caught? I told her that, but it don't seem to do a +single bit of good. She just keeps saying, 'Poor Roland is dead,' just as +if I didn't know it as well as she does--him having been crazy about me +even before he was about her. I'm sort of afraid it's gone to the poor +girl's head. She's simply _horribly_ upset!" + +"That's not unnatural, is it?" + +"No-o, I suppose not; but it's terribly old-fashioned." + +"Does she--discuss the affair much?" + +"All the time." + +"What does she think about the woman in the taxicab?" + +"You mean the woman who killed him?" + +"Yes." + +"Well!" positively. "If I was that woman, I'd hate to meet Hazel +Gresham--if Hazel knew it!" + +"But she has no suspicion of any certain person?" + +"Goodness, no! How could she have? Of course, we agreed that it was some +vampire; but we can't decide which one. Most of the women we know don't +go in for killing men; and a heap of them are married, anyway." + +"Anyway?" + +"Yes. You wouldn't expect a nice chap like Roland to be eloping with a +_married_ woman, would you? Not in real life?" + +Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. The girl was a refreshing +mixture of world-old wisdom and almost childish innocence. She was a type +new to him, and, as such, absorbingly interesting. + +"How about Miss Gresham's brother?" he inquired idly. "How does he take +it?" + +"Oh, Garry seems all upset, too; but then the more I talk to people, the +more I think I'm the only level-headed one in the world. I haven't got a +bit excited over it, have I?" + +"Not a bit. And now"--Carroll rose and reached for the check--"suppose +we go?" + +"Where?" she asked naively. + +The opening was too obvious. + +"Where do you usually go with young gentlemen who meet you down-town in +the afternoons?" + +"Picture show," she answered frankly. "Wouldn't you just _adore_ to see +that picture at the Trianon to-day? They say it's _stupendous_!" + +"Perhaps." + +They walked up the street together. On the way they passed Eric Leverage. +That gentleman bowed heavily and stood aside in surprise, while an +exclamation, rather profane, issued from his lips. David Carroll and a +seventeen-year-old girl headed for a picture show! The thing was +unbelievable. Leverage shook his head sadly and passed on as Carroll and +Evelyn disappeared behind the din of an orchestrion. + +The picture proved not at all bad, although Evelyn excited adverse +comment from spectators unfortunate enough to be sitting within range of +her constant chatter. Apparently there was no stopping her. She talked +and talked and talked. + +The picture ended eventually, and they left the theater. Night had +descended upon the city, and the busy thoroughfare was studded with +thousands of lights, which glared coldly through the December chill. +Principally because he did not know what else to do, Carroll requested +permission to take her home in his car. She accepted with rather +disarming alacrity. + +Carroll had about run out of conversation, and his ears were tired by the +incessant din of the girl's talk. He followed her directions +mechanically, and eventually they rounded a corner in the heart of the +city's best residential district. Evelyn designated a white house which +stood back in a large yard. + +"That's it," said she. "You'd better turn first, so you can park against +the curb." + +Carroll slowed down and swung around. He was tired of the loquacious +girl, and anxious to be rid of her; but as he swung his car across the +street on the turn, something happened which riveted his attention. + +The door of Evelyn's home opened. A man and woman stood framed in the +doorway. Then the door closed, and the man descended the steps, moved +down the walk to the street, and strode swiftly away. For perhaps three +seconds he had been held clearly in the glare of Carroll's headlights. + +When the detective spoke, it was with an effort to control his tone, to +make his question casual. + +"Did you see that man, Miss Rogers?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know him?" + +"Goodness me, no! He's been here before, though." + +Carroll stopped his car at the curb. He assisted Evelyn to the ground. +Then he made a strange request. + +"I wonder, Miss Rogers, whether you'd allow me to call on you some +evening?" + +Evelyn's eyes popped open with the marvel of it. + +"You mean you want to come and call on _me_? Some _evening_?" + +"If you will allow me." + +"Allow you? Why, David Carroll--I think you're +simply--simply--_grandiloquent_! When will you come?" + +"If your sister will permit--" + +"Bother Sis! To-morrow night?" + +"Yes, to-morrow night." + +She executed a few exuberant dance steps. + +"Oh, what'll the girls say when I tell 'em?" + +Carroll climbed thoughtfully back into his car. He saw Evelyn enter the +house, but his thoughts were not with her. He was thinking of the man who +had just left. + +Carroll never forgot faces, and he had recognized the visitor. + +The man was William Barker, former valet to Roland Warren! + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LOOSE ENDS + + +Carroll's forehead was seamed with thought as he turned his car townward +and sent it hurtling through the frosty air. He drove mechanically, +scarcely knowing what he was doing. + +He was frankly puzzled, enormously surprised and not a little startled. +The afternoon had been at first amusing, then interesting--then utterly +boring. Evelyn's chatter had put him in a state of mental coma--a +lethargy from which he had been rudely aroused at sight of William Barker +leaving the residence of Evelyn Rogers' sister. + +There was something sinisterly significant in what he had seen. Not for +a moment did he entertain the idea that Barker had been seeking +employment. Negativing that possibility was the cold statement of the +disinterested young girl that Barker had been there before, and, too, +the fact that Barker was leaving from the front door instead of through +the servant's door. + +Obviously, then, Barker's mission had little to do with the matter of +domestic employment. And now that he had stumbled upon something +tangible--something definite--certain salient facts which had come to him +through the haze of girlish chatter began to stand out and assume proper +significance. + +For instance there was her constant repetition of the fact that Roland +Warren had been a frequent visitor at the Lawrence home. That might mean +nothing: it might mean a great deal. Certainly it was indicative of a +close friendship between the dead man and the members of that household. +He paid little heed to the girl's protestations that Warren had been in +love with her. No expert in the ways of the rising generation, Carroll +yet knew that no man of Warren's maturity had unleashed his affections on +a girl who yet lacked several years of womanhood. The dead man had been +too much of an epicure in femininity for such as that. + +But Carroll knew that in that house there was another woman: Naomi +Lawrence--Evelyn's sister. And while Evelyn had dismissed the sister +with a few words, Carroll remembered that the girl had described her as +being "not so bad looking" and had also said that Mrs. Lawrence fancied +that when Warren called at the house, he was calling on her. + +There, too, was the matter of Gerald Lawrence to be considered. Evelyn +insisted that Gerald was "an old crab" and also that he was of an +exceedingly jealous disposition. If that were true, then his jealousy, +coupled with a possible intimacy between Mrs. Lawrence and Warren might +have been ample motive for the taxicab tragedy. + +It was all rather puzzling. Carroll's mind leaped nimbly from one +mental trail to another. He held himself in check, afraid that his +deductions were proceeding too swiftly. He was acutely conscious of the +danger of jumping too avidly on this single tangible clue which had +come to him after four days of fruitless search. There was danger, and +he knew it, of attaching untoward importance to a combination of +circumstances which under other conditions might not have excited him +in the slightest degree. + +It was there that the case bewildered him--and he was not slow in +confessing his bewilderment. Up to this moment there had been an +appalling dearth of physical clues--of things upon which a line of +investigation could be intelligently based. And he knew that now +something had turned up, he must watch himself lest the circumstance +assume unreasonable and unwarranted proportions. + +The somber outline of police headquarters bulked in the night. Carroll +swung down the alley, shut off his motor and entered. He found Leverage +in his office and settled at once to a discussion of developments. But +when he would have spoken Leverage cut him off. Leverage had news--and +Leverage was frankly proud of the fact that he had news. + +"Just got an interesting report from Cartwright," he announced. + +"Regarding Barker?" Carroll hitched his chair forward eagerly. + +"Yes." + +"What is it?" + +"Yesterday afternoon at five o'clock William Barker went to the residence +of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Lawrence. He was in the house eighteen minutes." + +"Why wasn't this told me last night?" + +"Cartwright didn't think anything of it. He included it in his report +which was turned in to me this morning." + +"Why did he think it was unimportant?" + +"Said he thought Barker was probably looking for a job." + +"And he doesn't think so now?" + +"No-o. That is: he thinks circumstances make an investigation worth +while. You see, just a few minutes ago Barker went to the Lawrence home +again. This time he was there four minutes." + +"Does Cartwright know who was at home at that time?" + +"He thinks so. He says a maid let Barker in and that apparently Mrs. +Lawrence let him out. A young girl--whom Cartwright believes to be Mrs. +Lawrence's sister--drove up just as Barker was leaving. She was in the +car with some man--but he didn't get out. Then, just a minute ago, Gerald +Lawrence reached home. So the idea is that Mrs. Lawrence was alone with +the servants when Barker called." + +"And yet he only remained four minutes?" + +"That's what Cartwright 'phoned." Leverage paused. "What do you make of +it, Carroll?" + +"Off-hand," answered the youthful-appearing detective, "I'd say that +Barker had called to see _Mr_. Lawrence." + +"Why?" + +"We'll suppose Lawrence was home on the occasion of Barker's first +visit--do you know whether he was?" + +"No. I asked. Cartwright doesn't know. Couldn't stay, you know--because +he was under orders to follow Barker. Tonight he sent Reed after Barker +and he watched the Lawrence house." + +"Good. If it is so that Lawrence was at home when Barker called yesterday +evening and Barker then remained eighteen minutes; whereas this +afternoon, when we know that no one but Mrs. Lawrence was there--and he +remained but four minutes--it is fairly reasonable to suppose that he was +calling to see Mr. Lawrence." + +"I think you're right, Carroll." + +"I'm not at all convinced about that. But if we're proceeding along lines +of pure logic, that is the answer." + +"How about the man who drove up with the kid sister?" + +Carroll smiled. "I'm sure he had nothing whatever to do with the murder." + +"Good Lord! I didn't think he had. But still he may have been a +friend, and--" + +"That man was all right. I know that." + +"You _know_?" Leverage was incredulous. + +"Yes." Carroll grinned. "I was the man!" + +"You--? Holy sufferin' mackerel! Sa-a-ay! Was that chicken I seen you +with downtown, Lawrence's sister-in-law?" + +"Yes. Miss Evelyn Rogers. And Good Lord! Leverage, how that girl can +talk! She holds all records for conversational distance and speed. She +talked me dumb." + +Leverage was staring respectfully at Carroll. "If you were the man who +was with her, David--you must have seen Barker when he left the house." + +"I did." + +The face of the chief showed his disappointment: "That's what I get for +thinking I had a real surprise up my sleeve. You sit back with that +innocent kid face of yours and let me spill all the dope--and then tell +me perfectly matter-of-factly that you knew it all the time. How'd you +ever get wise to the thing, anyway?" + +Carroll was honest. "No thanks to my sagacity, Leverage. One of those +pieces of bull luck which I have always contended play an enormous part +in solving crime. In the first place Evelyn Rogers came to me the day +after Warren was killed to assure me that Miss Gresham had a perfect +alibi. This afternoon she lassoed me and dragged me into an ice cream +place because she wanted to prove to some of her school companions that +we were really friends." Carroll chuckled. "I quaffed freely from the +fountain of youth--and enjoyed it awhile. Then I got bored stiff. Took +her to the movies--she invited me--and did it only because I've passed +beyond the years of adolescence and didn't know how to crawfish out of +it. After which--because it seemed the proper thing to do--I volunteered +to ride her home in my car. And it was then that I saw Barker leaving the +Lawrence home. So you see, Leverage, my knowledge is the result of pure +accident--and not at all the fruit of keen perception." + +"Well, anyway--Carroll: you knew! And that takes the edge off what I +told you." + +"Not at all," returned Carroll seriously. "For while what I discovered is +perhaps valuable--that combined with the fact that Barker has been there +once before: and that on his first visit when Lawrence was probably at +home he stayed nearly five times as long as he did when we know that +Lawrence was not there--that is of help--or ought to be." + +"What do you think of it?" + +Carroll hesitated. "I don't know what to think, Eric. I'm afraid I'm +thinking about it more than I have any right. We've been so long without +anything to work on, that we're liable to let this bit of information +throw us off our balance. But of course we'll look more deeply into it." + +"How?" + +Again Carroll chuckled. "Our little friend, Miss Rogers, is suffering +from a large case of hero-worship. I'm it! And so--when I saw Barker +leaving her home--I immediately made an engagement to call upon her +to-morrow night!" + +"_You_ call on that kid--" Suddenly Leverage lay back in his swivel chair +and gave vent to a peal of raucous laughter. He banged his fist on the +arm of the chair: "Oh! _Boy_! That's the snappiest yet. David Carroll +paying a social call on a seventeen-year-old kid! Mama! Ain't that the +richest--" + +Carroll made a wry face. "Needn't rub it in. It's bad enough anyway. +And"--growing serious--"I'm hoping to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. They +ought to prove interesting." + +But Leverage could not tear himself away from the sheer humor of the +situation: "What the devil you and her going to talk about? Foxtrot +steps? Is the camel walk vulgar? Frat dance? Next week's basketball +game? Sa-a-ay! David--I'd give my chances of Heaven to be hidden behind +the door." + +"So would I," said Carroll wryly. + +"Above all things," counseled Leverage with mock severity: "Don't you go +making love to her." + +Carroll reached a muscular hand across the table. His sinewy fingers +closed around a glass paperweight. He held this poised steadily. "One +more crack out of you, Eric, and I'll slam this against your head. You're +a pretty good chief of police--but you're a rotten humorist." + +"Just the same," grinned the chief, "I can see that this joke is on you! +And now--what?" + +"For one thing," and Carroll's manner was all business again, "I want +every bit of dope I can get on Gerald Lawrence and his wife. I know that +Warren was very intimate at the house: friendly with both wife and +husband, according to what Miss Rogers says. That connects them up. What +I want to find out now is where both of 'em were the night Warren was +killed. Put a couple of your best men out to gather this dope--there +isn't any of it too minor to interest me. Meanwhile, I'll pump the kid. I +have a hunch that this isn't going to be a cold trail." + +"It better not be--or Mr. David Carroll is going to find himself with one +unsolved case on his hands. Yes, sir--if this is a blind lead, we're up +against it for fair." + +"It isn't going to be entirely blind," postulated Carroll. "Barker +assures us of that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A CHALLENGE + + +At four o'clock the following afternoon Carroll received from Chief +Leverage a detailed report on Gerald Lawrence: + +"He's a manufacturer," said Leverage. "President of the Capitol City +Woolen Mills. Rated about a hundred thousand--maybe a little more. He's +on the Board of Directors of the Second National. Has the reputation of +being hard, fearless--and considerable of a grouch. Age forty-two. + +"Married Naomi Rogers about five years ago. She was twenty-five +then--thirty now. Supposed to be beautiful--and would be a society light +except that Lawrence doesn't care for the soup-and-fish stuff. Report has +it that they're not very happy together. His parents and hers all dead. +Evelyn, her kid sister, lives with them. + +"They employ a cook and two maids. No man-servant at all. Roland Warren +was pretty intimate at the house, but so far as I can discover there was +no scandal linking the names of Warren and Mrs. Lawrence. Of course, him +knowing her pretty intimately and being friendly at the house, you could +probably find a good many folks who would say nasty things. But there +hasn't been the real gossip about her and him that there was about a heap +of other women in this town. + +"Warren and Lawrence were pretty good friends. Warren was a stockholder +in the woolen mills. On the other hand it seems as though Warren was at +the house a good deal more than just ordinary friendship would have +indicated. But that's just an idea. And there's your dope--" + +"And on the night of the murder?" questioned Carroll. "Where were they?" + +"Mrs. Lawrence was at home. Lawrence--if you're thinking of him in +connection with it--seems to have an iron-clad alibi. He went to +Nashville on a business trip and didn't get back until the +following morning." + +"Alibi, eh?" Carroll's eyes narrowed speculatively, "are you _sure_ he +was in Nashville all that time?" + +"Hm-m!" Leverage shook his head. "I don't know--but I can find out." + +Carroll rose. "Do it please. And get the dope straight." + +Carroll went to his apartment where he reluctantly commenced dressing for +the ordeal of the night. He felt himself rather ridiculous--a man of his +age calling on a girl not yet out of high school. The thing was funny--of +course--but just at the moment the joke was too entirely on him for the +full measure of amusement. + +At that, he dressed carefully, selecting a new gray suit, a white +jersey-silk shirt and a blue necktie for the occasion. At six-thirty +Freda served his dinner and at fifteen minutes after eight o'clock he +rang the bell of the Lawrence home. + +The door was opened by Evelyn: palpitant with excitement, and garbed +attractively in the demi-toilette of very-young-ladyhood. + +"Mr. Carroll--so good of you to come. I'm simply tickled to death. Let me +have your hat and coat. Come right into the living room--I want you to +meet my brother-in-law and my sister--" + +Sheepishly, Carroll followed the girl into the room. Mr. and Mrs. +Lawrence rose politely to greet him. + +At the sight of the man he had really come to see, Carroll was conscious +of an instinctive dislike. Lawrence was of medium height, slightly +stooped and not unpleasing to the eye. But his brows were inclined to +lower and the eyes themselves were set too closely together. He was +dressed plainly--almost harshly, and he stared at Carroll in a manner +bordering on the hostile. + +The detective acknowledged the introduction and then turned his gaze upon +the woman of the family. There he met with a surprise as pleasant as his +first glance at Lawrence had been unpleasant. + +There was no gainsaying the fact that Naomi Lawrence was a beautiful +woman. Dressed simply for an evening at home in a strikingly plain gown +of a rich black material, and with her magnificent neck and shoulders +rising above the midnight hue--she caused a spontaneous thrill of +masculine admiration to surge through the ordinarily immune visitor in +the gray suit. + +Her face was almost classic in its contour: her coloring a rich brunette, +her hair blue-black. No jewelry, save an engagement ring, adorned her +perfect beauty, and Carroll felt a loathing at the idea that this +magnificent creature was the wife of the stoop-shouldered, sour-faced man +who stood scowling by the living room table. + +He gravely acknowledged the introduction of the young lady upon whom he +had called: feeling a faint sense of amusement at Lawrence's overt +disdain--and a considerable embarrassment under Naomi's questioning, +level gaze. For a few moments they talked casually--but that did not +satisfy Evelyn, and she dragged him into the parlor-- + +"--just the eleganest jazz piece--" Carroll heard as through a +haze "--just got it--feet can't keep still--play it for you--" + +He found himself standing by the piano, the door between the music room +and the living room unaccountably closed. Evelyn banging out the opening +measures of the "elegant jazz piece." + +He was still staring moodily at the closed door when the din ceased and +he again heard Evelyn's voice. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Carroll. A +real honest-to-goodness-spendable penny!" + +"I was thinking," he remarked quietly, "that your sister is a very +beautiful woman." + +"Naomi? Shucks! She isn't bad looking--but she's _old_. Abominably +old! Thirty!" + +He glanced down on the girl and smiled. "That does seem old to you, +doesn't it?" + +"Treacherously! I don't know what I'd ever do if I was to get that old. +Take up crocheting, probably." + +The conversation died of dry-rot. Carroll was not at all pleased. His +excuse--the plea that he had come to call upon Evelyn--had been taken too +literally. He had fancied--in his blithe ignorance of the +seventeen-year-old ladies of the present day--that he could engineer +himself into a worthwhile conversation with the Lawrences. Since meeting +them, he was doubly anxious. There was a thinly veiled hostility about +the man which demanded investigation. And about the woman there was a +subtle atmosphere of tragedy which appealed to the masculine +protectiveness which surged strong in his bachelor breast. + +But Carroll was a sportsman. The girl had carried things her own way--and +he was too game to spoil her evening. Therefore, he temporarily gave over +all thought of a chat with the Lawrences and devoted himself to her +amusement. He informed her that the jazz music she had strummed was +simply "glorious" and that he regretted he knew very little popular +stuff. She leaped upon his remark-- + +"Oh! do _you_ play: _really_?" + +He was in again. "I have--a little." + +"I wonder if you would? Here's the _grandest_ little old song I bought +downtown--" and she placed on the piano a gaudy thing with the modest +title--"All Babies Need Daddies to Kiss 'Em." Its cover exposed a tender +love scene wherein a gentleman in evening clothes was engaged in an act +of violent osculation with a young lady whose dress was as short as her +modesty. Carroll shrugged, placed his long, slender fingers on the +keys--shook his head--and went to it. + +He played! A genuine artist--he tried to enter into the spirit of the +thing and succeeded admirably. The itchy syncopation rocked the room. His +hostess snapped her fingers deliciously and executed a few movements of a +dance which Carroll had heard referred to vaguely as the shimmy. In the +midst of the revelry he gave thought to Eric Leverage and chuckled. + +He played the chorus a second time--then stopped on a crashing chord. +Evelyn's face was beaming-- + +"Gracious! You can play, can't you?" + +"I used to--Suppose we talk awhile." + +She agreed--reluctantly. They seated themselves in easy chairs before the +gas logs. Evelyn glanced hopefully at the chandelier. "I wish the belt +would slip at the power house, don't you?" + +"Why?" innocently. + +"Oh! just because Bright lights are such a nuisance when a girl has a +feller calling on her. And these logs give a perfectly respectable light, +don't they?" + +"Indeed they do--but perhaps we'd better leave the others on." + +She sighed resignedly. "I guess we'd better. Sis is so darned proper and +Gerald is an old crab--they might say something." + +"I suppose they might. By they way, didn't they think it +was--er--strange: my coming to see you tonight?" + +She turned red. "Suppose they did--what difference does that make? I'm +not a child and if a gentleman wants to call on me I guess they haven't +got any kick." + +"What did they say when you told them I was coming?" + +"They didn't believe me at first. Then Sis said you were too old--and +you're not old at all--and Gerald said--he said--" she giggled. + +"What did Gerald say?" + +"He said, 'Damned impertinence!'" + +"H'm-m! I wonder just what he meant?" + +"Oh! goodness! It doesn't matter what Gerald means. He makes me weary. +He's simply _impossible_--and I can't see what Sis ever married him for." + +"I suppose she saw more in him than you do. They must be very happy +together." + +"Happy? Poof! Happy as two dead sardines in a can. They can't get out--so +they might as well be happy. Besides, he's away a good deal." + +"He is, eh? When was his last out-of-town trip?" + +Carroll was interested now--he had steered the conversation back to +matters of importance: "Oh! 'bout four days ago--you know--the day dear +Roland was killed by that vampire in the taxicab." + +"He was away that night: all night?" + +"Uh-huh! All night long. And would you believe that Sis--who is scared of +her shadow at night--was the one who suggested that I go spend the night +with Hazel? And it's certainly fortunate she did, because if she hadn't +I wouldn't have been with Hazel all night and you awful detectives would +probably not have believed her story that she was at home in bed, and +then you would have arrested her for murdering Roland--and she'd have +gone to jail and been hanged--or something. Wouldn't she?" + +"Hardly that bad. But it was fortunate that you were there. It made the +establishing of the alibi a very simple matter. And you say your +sister--Mrs. Lawrence--is nervous at night?" + +"Oh! fearfully. She's just like all women--scared of rats, scared of the +dark, scared of being alone--perfectly disgusting, I call it." + +"Quite a few women are that way, though--" + +"I'm not. I'm scared of snakes and flying bugs and things like that. But +I don't get scared of the dark--pff! Who's going to hurt you? That's what +I always say. I believe in figuring things out, don't you I read in a +book once where--" + +"But maybe you do Mrs. Lawrence an injustice. Maybe she isn't as afraid +at night as you imagine." + +"She is, too." + +"Yet you say she let you spend the night at Miss Gresham's house when +Mr. Lawrence was out of the city and there wasn't anybody on the place +but the servants--" + +"Worse than that: the servants don't even live on the place. She spent +the night here all alone--!" + +"Then all I'll say is that she is a brave woman. When did Mr. Lawrence +get back from Nashville?" + +"Oh! not until ten o'clock the following morning. And believe me, he was +all excited when he read about Roland in the papers. Poor Roland! If you +were only a girl, Mr. Carroll--you'd know how terrible it is to have a +man who's crazy about you and engaged to your best friend and +everything--go and get himself murdered. Why, when I read the papers that +morning, I couldn't hardly believe my own eyes. I just said to myself 'it +can't be!' I said it over and over again just like that. Having faith, I +think they call it. I was reading in a book once about having faith--" + +She talked interminably. Carroll ceased to hear the plangent voice. He +was thinking of what she had just told him--thinking earnestly. He knew +he was desperately anxious to have a talk with the Lawrences, to talk +things over in a casual manner. And tonight was his opportunity. He knew +he'd never have another like it. He didn't want to be forced to seek them +out in his capacity of detective. + +From somewhere in the rear of the house he heard the clamor of a +doorbell, then the sound of footsteps in the hall, the opening and +closing of the front door--and then Naomi Lawrence appeared in the music +room. Carroll could have sworn that her eyes were twinkling with +amusement as she addressed Evelyn--pointedly ignoring him. + +"Evelyn--that Somerville boy is here." + +"Oh! bother! What's he doin' here?" + +"He says he came to call. He's got a box of candy." + +"Piffle! What do I care about candy? He's just a kid!" + +Naomi went to the hall door. "Right this way, Charley." And as the +slender, overdressed young gentleman of nineteen entered the room, +Carroll again glimpsed the light of amusement in Naomi's eyes. + +Mr. Charley Somerville expressed himself as being "Pleaset'meetcha" and +tried to conceal his vast admiration when Evelyn informed him that this +was _the_ David Carroll. Charley was impressed but he was not particular +about showing it--Charley fancying himself considerable of a cosmopolite, +thanks to a year at Yale. His dignity was excruciatingly funny to Carroll +as the very young man seated himself, crossed one elongated and +unbelievably skinny leg over the other and arranged the creases so that +they were in the very middle. + +"A-a-ah! Taking a vacation from your work on the Warren murder case, +I presume?" + +Carroll nodded. "Yes--for awhile." + +"Detective work must be a terrible bore--mustn't it?" + +"Sometimes," answered Carroll significantly. + +"Charley Somerville!" Evelyn flamed to the defense of her friend's +profession. "At least Mr. Carroll ain't--isn't--a college freshman." + +"I'm a sophomore," asserted Charley languidly. "Passed all of my exams." + +"Anyway," snapped Evelyn, "he ain't any kid!" + +For a time the atmosphere was strained. Then Carroll recalled a +particularly good college joke he knew and he told it well. After which +Evelyn explained to Charley that Mr. Carroll was the wonderfulest piano +player in the world and David Carroll, detective, strummed out several +popular airs while the youngsters danced. + +Horrible as the situation was, it appealed irresistibly to his sense of +humor. He found himself almost enjoying it. And he worked carefully. +Eventually his patience was rewarded. He succeeded in getting them +together on a lounge with a photograph album between them. And then, very +quietly and positively, and with a brief--"Excuse me for a moment," he +walked through the hall and into the living room. + +Lawrence and his wife were at opposite sides of the library table. At +sight of Carroll, Lawrence laid down his paper and rose to his feet. + +"Well?" he inquired inhospitably. + +Carroll laughed lightly. "It got too much for me. Too much youth. I +dropped in here for a chat with you folks." + +"I didn't understand that you had come to call on us," said +Lawrence coldly. + +"Why, I didn't--" + +"You did!" snapped Lawrence. "I'm no fool, Carroll. From the minute I +heard you were coming, I knew what you had up your sleeve. You wanted +to talk about the Warren case! Now suppose you go ahead and +talk--then get out!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +NO ALIBI + + +Carroll was rarely thrown from a mental balance, but this was one of the +exceptions to a rule of conduct where poise was essential. His eyes +half-closed in their clash with the coldly antagonistic orbs of his host. +His instinctive dislike of the man flamed into open anger and he +controlled himself with an effort. + +One thing Lawrence had done: he had stripped from Carroll his disguise as +a casual caller and settled down ominously to brass tacks. Carroll +shrugged, forced a smile--then glanced at Naomi Lawrence. + +She had risen and was staring at her husband with wide-eyed indignation. +Undoubtedly she was horrified at his brusqueness. For the first time, +she, too, had made it plain that Carroll was not welcome--that his ruse +of calling upon Evelyn had been seen through plainly--but he could see +that even under those circumstances she was not forgetful that he was a +guest in her home and, as such, he was entitled to ordinary courtesy. + +Carroll was more than a little sorry for her, and also a bit rueful at +his own plight. Things had gone wrong for him from the commencement of +the evening. And this--well, the gage of battle had been flung in his +face and he was no man to refuse the challenge. But his muscles were taut +until the soft voice of Naomi broke in on the pregnant stillness-- + +"Won't you be seated, Mr. Carroll?" + +Carroll smiled gratefully at her. With her words the unpleasant tension +had lightened. He dropped into an arm chair. Lawrence followed suit, his +close-set eyes focused belligerently on Carroll's face, the hostility of +his manner being akin to a personal menace. Naomi stood by the table, +eyes shifting from one to the other. + +"I'd rather," she suggested softly, "that we did not discuss the +Warren case." + +"It doesn't matter what you prefer," snapped her husband coldly. "Carroll +forced himself upon us for that purpose--with a lack of decency which +one might have expected. Let him have his say." + +Carroll gazed squarely at Lawrence. "I'm sorry," he said, "that you see +fit to act as you are doing." + +"I asked for no criticism of my conduct." + +"Just the same, dear--" started Naomi, when her husband interrupted +angrily-- + +"Nor any apologies to him from you, Naomi. Carroll has placed himself +beyond the pale by what he has done in having the impertinence to foist +himself upon us as a social equal. Now, Carroll--are you ready with your +little catechism?" + +"Yes." The detective's voice was quite calm. "I'm quite ready." + +"Well--ask." Lawrence paused. "You _did_ come here to inquire about +Warren, didn't you?" + +Carroll could not forbear a dig: "I trust that you are not putting it +upon me to deny your statement to that effect." + +"I don't give a damn what you deny or affirm." + +"Good! Then we know all about each other, don't we. You know that I am a +detective in search of information and I know absolutely what you are!" +That dart went home--Lawrence squirmed. "So I'll come right to the point. +Is it not a fact that you were in this city at the hour Roland Warren is +supposed to have been killed?" + +He heard a surprised gasp from Naomi and saw that her face had blanched +and that she was leaning forward with eyes wide and hands clutching the +arms of the chair in which she had seated herself. + +Lawrence leered. "As the kids would say, Carroll--that's for me to know +and for you--super-detective that you are--to find out." + +Carroll was more at ease now. Lawrence's sneering aggressiveness brought +him into his own element and he was hitting straight from the shoulder: +refusing pointblank to mince matters. + +"I fancy I can," he returned calmly. "And now: is it not a fact that you +despised Warren even though you pretended to be his friend?" + +"That, too, is my business, Carroll. Do you think I'm going to feed +pap to you?" + +Carroll reflected carefully for a moment. Then suddenly his voice +crackled across the room--"You know, of course, that you are suspected of +Warren's murder?" + +Silence! Then a forced, sickly grin creased Lawrence's lips--but his +figure slumped, almost cringed. From Naomi came a choked gasp-- + +"Mr. Carroll! Not Gerald--" + +Carroll paid no heed to the woman. He sat back in his chair, eyes never +for one moment leaving Lawrence's pallid face. Nor did Carroll speak +again--he waited. It was Lawrence who broke the silence-- + +"Is--this--what you--detectives--call the third degree?" + +"It is not. Now get this straight, Lawrence--I came here to find out +what you know about Warren and the circumstances surrounding his death. I +wanted to be decent about the thing--to cause you no embarrassment if I +was convinced that you were unconnected with the crime. You have forced +my hand. You have driven me to methods which I abhor--" + +"You haven't a thing on me," said Lawrence and his tone had degenerated +into a half whine. "You can't scare me a little bit. I've got an alibi--" + +"Certainly you have. So, too, have a good many men who have eventually +been proven guilty." + +Lawrence rose nervously and paced the room. "You asked me a little while +ago if I was in this city at the hour when the crime was committed. I +answered that it was for me to know and you to find out. I'll answer +direct now--just to stop this absurd suspicion which has been directed +against me: I was _not_ in the city at that hour--or within six hours of +midnight. I was in Nashville." + +"At what hotel?" + +"At the--" Lawrence paused. "Matter of fact, I wasn't at any hotel." + +"You had registered at the Hermitage, hadn't you?" + +"Yes, but--" + +"When did you check out?" Carroll's voice was snapping out with staccato +insistence. + +"About four o'clock in the afternoon." + +"Where did you go? Where did you spend the night?" + +Lawrence shook his head helplessly. "I'll be honest, Carroll--I took +several drinks--" + +"Alone?" + +"Yes. And at two o'clock in the morning when my train left I was at the +station. I don't know what I did in the meantime--I don't remember +anything much about anything." + +"In other words," said Carroll coldly, "You have no alibi except your +own word. On the other hand we know that you checked out of the Hermitage +Hotel in Nashville at four o'clock. You could have caught the 4:25 train +and reached this city at ten minutes after eleven o'clock. You have not +the slightest proof that you didn't." + +"I--I came down on the train which left there a little after two in +the morning." + +"Prove it." + +There was a hunted look about Lawrence. "I can't prove it--a man can't +prove that he came on a certain train--" + +"Was there nobody on board who knew you?" + +"I--don't know. I was feeling badly when I got in--the berths were all +made up--I went right to sleep and when the porter woke me we were in the +yards. I dressed and came right home." + +"And yet--" Carroll was merciless "--you have no substantiation for your +statements." He switched his line of attack suddenly: "What made you +think I was coming here to discuss Roland Warren's death?" + +It was plain that Lawrence did not want to answer--yet there was +something in Carroll's mesmeric eyes which wrung words unwillingly from +his lips-- + +"Just logic," he answered weakly. "I knew that you weren't calling to see +Evelyn because you were interested in her. You knew Warren had been +pretty friendly in this house--so you came to talk to us about it. Isn't +that reasonable?" + +"I don't believe I am here to answer questions, Mr. Lawrence. You invited +me to ask them." + +Naomi broke in, her voice choked with hysteria--"What are you leading to, +Mr. Carroll? It is absurd to think that Gerald had anything to do with +Mr. Warren's death." + +Carroll swung on her, biting off his words shortly: "Do you _know_ that +he didn't?" + +"Yes--I--" + +"I didn't ask what you _thought_, Mrs. Lawrence. I am asking what +you _know_!" + +"But if he was in Nashville--" + +"If he was, then he's safe. But he himself cannot prove that he was. And +I tell you frankly that the police will investigate his movements very +carefully. It strikes me as exceedingly peculiar that he checked out from +the Hermitage Hotel at four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended +taking a two a.m. train. Remember, I am accusing your husband of nothing. +Our conversation could have been pleasant--he refused to allow it to be +so. He classified me as a professional detective and put me on that basis +in his home. I have merely accepted his invitation to act as one. If I +appear discourteous, kindly recall that it was none of my doing." + +"I'm sorry, Carroll," said Lawrence pleadingly. "I didn't know--" + +"Of course you didn't know how much I knew--or might guess. You saw fit +to insult me--" + +"I've apologized." + +"Your apologies come a trifle late, Lawrence. Entirely too late. Our +relations from now on are those of detective and suspect--" + +Again the flare of hate in Lawrence's manner: "I don't have to prove an +alibi, Carroll. You have to prove my connection with the thing. And you +can't do it!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I was in Nashville at that time. And while perhaps I can't prove +I was there--you certainly cannot prove I was not." + +"That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I'd advise you to establish that +fact if you can possibly do so. And by the way: are you in the habit of +indulging in these solitary debauches in neighboring cities?" + +Lawrence flushed. "Sometimes. I used to be a heavy drinker, and--" + +"Is that a fact, Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"Yes," she answered eagerly: almost too eagerly Carroll thought--"he has +had escapades like this--several times." + +"And you are sure that his story is true?" + +"Yes. Of course I'm sure. Why should he kill Mr. Warren? There isn't any +reason in the world--" + +"For your sake and his, I hope not. But meanwhile--" + +"Surely, Mr. Carroll--you don't intend publishing what he has told +you--about his drinking--alone--in Nashville?" + +Carroll smiled. "No indeed. In the first place, I am not at all sure that +he has told me the truth. In the second place, if I were sure of it--his +alibi would be established and I have no desire whatever to injure a man +because of a personal weakness." + +Lawrence stared at Carroll peculiarly. "You mean that if I can prove the +truth of my story, nothing will be made public about my--the affair--in +Nashville?" + +"Absolutely. Because you have treated me discourteously, Lawrence--I +don't consider myself justified in injuring your reputation. I am after +the person or persons responsible for the death of Roland Warren. Your +intimate weaknesses have no interest to either me or the public." + +Lawrence was silent for awhile, and then--"You're damned white, +Carroll. The apologies I extended a moment ago--I repeat. And this time +I'm sincere." + +"And this time they are accepted." + +"Meanwhile--you are welcome here whenever you wish to call. Perhaps--by +talking to me--you yourself may establish the alibi which I know I have, +but cannot prove." + +Carroll rose and bowed. "Thank you. And now--I'll go. If you will express +my regrets to Miss Rogers--" + +Naomi accompanied him to the door. She extended her hand--"You're wrong, +Mr. Carroll", she murmured. "Quite wrong!" + +"You are sure?" + +"I _know_! I really believe his story." + +"I hope to--soon. But just now, Mrs. Lawrence--" He saw tears in her +fine eyes. "You have nothing to fear from me if he is innocent." + +She pressed his hand gratefully, and then closed the door. Carroll, +inhaling the bracing air of the winter night, proceeded briskly to the +curb. Then, standing with one foot on the running board of his car, he +stared peculiarly at the big white house standing starkly in the +moonlight-- + +"I wonder," he mused softly--"I wonder--" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SUIT-CASE AGAIN + + +Carroll drove direct to his apartments, despite his original intention of +dropping by headquarters for a chat with Leverage. He wanted to be +alone--to think-- + +The evening had borne fruit beyond his wildest imaginings. Fact had piled +upon fact with bewildering rapidity. As yet he had been unable to sort +them in his mind, to catalogue each properly, to test for proper value. + +He reached his apartment and found it warm and comfortable. He donned +lounging robe and slippers which the thoughtful Freda had left out for +him, settled himself in an easy chair, lighted a fire which he kept +always ready in the grate and turned out the lights. Then, with his cigar +glowing and great clouds of rich smoke filling the air--he sank into a +revelry of thinking. + +Certain disclosures of the evening stood out with startling clarity. +Chief among them was the inevitable belief that Gerald Lawrence had +either killed Roland Warren or else knew who had done so--and how it was +done. Yet Carroll tried not to allow his thoughts and personal prejudices +to run away with him. He knew that now, of all times, he must keep a +tight grip on himself. + +Great as was the dislike which he had conceived for Lawrence--an +instinctive repugnance which still obtained--he was grimly determined +that he would not be swayed by his emotions. Therefore he deliberately +reviewed Lawrence's story in the light of its possible truth. + +Lawrence claimed that he belonged to that none too rare class of +prominent citizens who once every so often respond to the call of the +wild within them by going to a nearby city where they are not known and +giving themselves over to the dubious delights of a spree. Publication of +this fact alone would prove sufficient to injure Lawrence socially and in +the commercial world. The old case of the Spartan lad--Carroll reflected. +The disgrace lay in being discovered. + +Also, it was perfectly plain to Carroll that at the outset of his +conversation Lawrence had been smugly satisfied that he was possessed of +a perfect alibi. It was only under Carroll's merciless grilling that he +had been brought abruptly to realization that he had no alibi whatever. +The same logic applied there, as in Leverage's theory that Barker's +arrest would be an excellent strategic move. All Carroll had to do now +was to arrest Lawrence for Warren's murder--and the burden of proof +would have been shifted from the shoulders of the detective to that of +the suspect. It would then devolve upon Lawrence to prove an alibi that +Carroll knew perfectly well he could not prove--save by merest accident. + +But that was a procedure which Carroll abhorred. Those were police +department methods: wholesale arrests in the hope of somewhere in the +net trapping the prey. Such a course was at the bottom--and Carroll knew +it--of an enormous number of convictions of innocent men. And Carroll +had no desire to injure Lawrence provided Lawrence was free of guilt in +this particular instance. He didn't like the man--in fact his feelings +toward him amounted to a positive aversion. But through it all he tried +to be fair-minded--and he could not quite rid himself of the picture of +Naomi Lawrence--Carroll was far from impervious to the appeal of a +beautiful woman. + +So much for the probable truth of Lawrence's story. The reverse side +of the picture presented an entirely different set of facts. There was +not alone the strange procedure of checking out of the big hotel at +four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended catching an early +morning train: but there was the information so innocently dropped by +the loquacious Evelyn Rogers regarding Naomi's actions on the night of +the murder. + +According to Evelyn, her sister was an intensely nervous woman: one who +stood in fear of being alone at night. And yet this sister had +volunteered the suggestion that Evelyn spend the night with Hazel Gresham +when her husband was supposed to be out of the city. + +Carroll, well versed in applied psychology, knew that in such a +combination of facts there lay an important clue. He was well satisfied +that Naomi Lawrence had been satisfied that she was not to be alone +that night! + +Arguing with himself from that premise, the conclusion was inevitable: +she knew that her husband would return from Nashville at midnight. She +did not wish anyone--even Evelyn, to learn that he had done so. Therefore +she got Evelyn out of the house! + +The conclusion developed a further train of reasoning--one which Carroll +did not at all relish, but which he faced with frank honesty. If he was +right in his argument--then Naomi Lawrence had known of the murder before +it was committed! + +He shrank from the idea, but it would not down. He was not ready to admit +its truth--but there was no denying its logic. There was something +inexpressibly repugnant in the thought. He infinitely preferred to +believe that Naomi hated her husband--was miserable with him--he +preferred that to the idea that they were accomplices in the murder of a +prominent young man. + +Then, too, there were the strange visits of William Barker, former valet +to Warren, to the home of the Lawrences. There was no doubt remaining in +Carroll's mind that Barker knew a very great deal about Warren's murder. +That being the case it was fairly well established that he was cognizant +of the Lawrences' connection with the crime. + +Carroll had started off with the idea that someone, in addition to the +woman in the taxi-cab, had been instrumental in ending Warren's life. +Here, following a casual line of investigation, he had uncovered the +tracks of two men, both of whom he was convinced knew more about it than +they had cared to tell. + +Both men--Barker and Lawrence--had acted peculiarly under the grilling of +the detective. The former had been surly and non-informative, only to +leap eagerly upon the first verbal trend which tended to throw suspicion +upon a person whom Carroll knew--and whom Carroll knew Barker knew--was +innocent. Gerald Lawrence, on the other hand, had been downright +antagonistic until he made the startling discovery that his supposed +alibi was no alibi at all--at which his attitude changed from open +hostility to something closely akin to suppliance. + +Then, too, there was the danger of injuring an innocent man because of +his inability to prove an alibi. If Lawrence's story was true, it was +perfectly natural that even in a condition of intoxication he would +maintain his instinct for concealment of a personal weakness. The chances +were then that no one had seen him either in Nashville--after the four +o'clock train had left, or on the two a.m. train homeward bound. + +Matters could not right themselves in Carroll's mind. He knew one thing, +however--Evelyn Rogers was a wellspring of vital information. The very +fact that she talked inconsequentialities incessantly--and occasionally +let drop remarks of vital import--made her the more valuable. He knew +that he had not seen the last of the seventeen-year-old girl. And he felt +a consuming eagerness to be with her again, for now he had a definite +line of investigation to pursue. + +He slept soundly that night, and the following morning dropped in on +Leverage. The Chief of Police had a little information--with all of which +Carroll was already familiar. He told Carroll that Lawrence had been in +Nashville and that he had checked out of the Hermitage hotel in time to +catch the four o'clock train on the afternoon preceding the murder. +Carroll satisfied Leverage by accepting it as information, made sure that +nothing else of importance had developed, requested Leverage to ask the +Nashville police to determine whether Lawrence had been seen in Nashville +after 4:30 p.m.--if necessary to send one of his own men there--and left +headquarters. + +He made his way directly to a public telephone booth. He telephoned the +Lawrence home and asked for Evelyn Rogers. A maid answered and informed +him that Evelyn had left home fifteen minutes previously. + +"Any idea where she was going?" questioned Carroll. + +The answer came promptly: it mentioned the city's leading department +store--"she's gone there to get a beauty treatment," vouchsafed the maid. + +Carroll was not a little chagrined. Evelyn Rogers had put him in more +hopeless positions in their brief acquaintanceship than he had +experienced in years. There was his call upon her the previous night with +its role of dual entertainer to the young lady with a nineteen-year-old +college freshman. And now a vigil outside a beauty parlor. + +But he went grimly to work. He located the beauty parlor on the third +floor of the giant store, and paced determinedly back and forth before +its doors. + +A half hour passed; an hour--two hours. He concluded that Evelyn must be +purchasing her beauty in job lots. When two hours and thirty-five +minutes had elapsed Evelyn emerged--and Carroll groaned. With her were +three other girls, as chattery, as immature, as Evelyn herself. + +She swept down upon him in force--tongue wagging at both ends-- + +"You naughty, _naughty_ man!" she chided. "You abso_lute_ly deserted me +last night. Why, I didn't even know that you had gone--until Sis came in +and said you had asked her to extend your respects. Good gracious! I +almost _died_!" + +"I'm sorry--really," returned Carroll humbly--"But you seemed so +interested in that young man--and I had gotten into an absorbing +conversation with your sister and brother-in-law. I'm not used to girls, +you know." + +"Kidder! I think you're simply elegant!" She turned to her giggling +friends and introduced them gushingly. Carroll was in misery--a martyr to +the cause. But Evelyn would not let him get away. Through her sudden +friendship with the great detective, Evelyn was building up a reputation +that was destined to survive for years, and she was not one to fail to +make the most of her opportunities. + +It was not until almost an hour later, when the other three girls had +left for their homes--left only after they had hung around until the +ultimate moment before lunch--that Carroll found himself alone with his +little gold mine of data. He bent his head hopefully-- + +"Were you planning to eat lunch downtown?" + +She nodded. "Uh-huh!" + +"Suppose we eat together?" + +"Scrumptious!" There was no hint of hesitation in her manner. "I've been +hoping ever since we met that you'd ask me." + +They found a table mercifully secluded in the corner of the main dining +room of the city's leading hotel. For once Carroll felt gratitude for the +notoriously slow service. He begged her to order--and she did: ordered a +meal which contained T.N.T. possibilities for acute indigestion. Carroll +smiled and let her have her way--he was amused at her valiant efforts to +appear the blasé society woman. + +"I really did enjoy our conversation last night, Miss Rogers." + +"Oh! piffle! I don't fall for that." + +"I did." + +"Then why did you beat it so quick?" + +"Well, you see--I suppose I was jealous of your elegantly dressed +young friend." + +"Him? He's just a kid. A mere _child_!" + +"He seemed very much at home." + +"Kids like him always do. They make me sick--always putting on as though +they were grown up." + +She secured an olive and bit into it with a relish. "Awful good--these +olives. I love queen olives, don't you. I used to be crazy about ripe +olives, but I read in a book once that sometimes they poison you, and +when they do--there just simply isn't any anecdote in the world that can +save you. So I figured there wasn't any use taking chances--" + +Carroll let her run on until the meal was served. And it was then when +she was satisfying a normal youthful appetite that he drove straight to +the subject which had led to this masculine martyrdom. + +"The day before Mr. Warren died," he said mildly--"are you sure that your +sister made the suggestion that you spend the night with Miss Gresham?" + +"Her? Sure she did." + +"Didn't it strike you as peculiar--knowing that she'd be in the house +alone all that night?" + +"I'll say it did. I asked her was she nutty and she scolded me for being +slangy. So I told her I should worry--if she wanted to suffer alone, and +I went with Hazel. And it's an awful good thing I did, because if I +hadn't she would have been arrested and tried and convicted and +hanged--or something, and--" + +"Oh! hardly that bad. You're sure your sister was alone in the house +that night?" + +"Sure. Who could have been there with her?" + +"I'm not answering riddles. I'm asking them." + +"I've got my fingers crossed. The answer is that there wasn't any one +there. At first I thought she was going out--but she wasn't, and when I +asked her was she, she got real peeved at me." + +"Aa-a-h! You thought she was going out that night?" + +"Uh-huh," came the answer between bites at a huge lobster salad. + +"What made you think that?" + +"Oh! just something. You know, I don't get credit for having eyes, but I +sure have. And I never did understand that business anyway. But then Sis +always has been the queerest thing--ever since she married Gerald. +Say--" she looked up eagerly--"ain't he the darndest old crab you ever +saw in your life?" + +"Why, I--" + +"Ain't he? Honest?" + +"He's not exactly jovial." + +"He's a lemon! Just a plain juicy lemon. And I think she was a nut for +marrying him." + +"But--" Carroll proceeded cautiously--"you made the remark just now that +something was the queerest thing. What did you mean by that?" + +"Oh! I guess I was crazy--or something. But she got sore at me when I +asked her--" + +"Who?" + +"Sis." + +"What did you ask her?" + +"Why--" she looked up innocently--"about that suit-case!" + +"What suit-case? When was it?" + +"It was the day before Mr. Warren died--I always remember everything +now by that date. Anyway--I went in her room that morning to ask +something about what I should take to Hazel's--and what do you think +she was doing?" + +"I'll bite," he answered with assumed jocularity--"what was she doing?" + +"Packing a suit-case!" + +"No?" Carroll was keenly interested--struggling not to show it. + +"Yes, sir. I asked her what was she doing it for--and that's when she got +peeved. I told you she was a queer one." + +"Indeed she must be. Packing a suit-case--" + +"And that ain't all that was funny about that, either, Mr. Carroll." + +"No? What else about it was peculiar?" + +"That suit-case--" and Evelyn lowered her voice to an impressive +whisper--"was gone from the house the next day--and the day after it +showed up again and when I asked Sis wasn't that funny she told me to +mind my own business!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A TALK WITH HAZEL GRESHAM + + +Carroll tried to appear disinterested--strove to make his manner casual; +jocular even. Evelyn was piecing the threads of circumstances together +and the events surrounding the Warren murder were slowly clarifying in +Carroll's brain. + +But he knew that now, of all times, he must keep her from thinking that +he had any particular interest in her chatter. She was completely off +guard--and he knew that for his own interests, she must remain so. + +So he assumed a bantering attitude--he resorted to what she would have +termed "kidding." + +"Aren't you the observant young woman, though? Not a single thing escapes +your eagle eye, does it?" + +She pouted. "Oh! rag me if you want to. But I am _terribly_ noticing. +There ain't many things that happen which I don't get wise to." + +"Not even vanishing suit-cases, eh?" + +"No: not even that. It was funny about that, though. At first I thought +maybe Sis was packing up to go meet Gerald in Nashville--but I figured +out that it was bad enough to have to live with him here without chasing +all over the country after him." + +"You say that suit-case left the house after she packed it?" + +"Sure pop." + +"Who took it?" + +"I don't know. Sis was out a couple of times that day--so I guess she +did." + +Carroll shrugged. "She was probably sending some of Mr. Lawrence's +belongings to him in Nashville." + +"Huh! There're some things even a great detective like you don't know. +Don't you suppose I noticed that the clothes she was packing in that +suit-case were _hers_?" + +"Really?" + +"You bet your life, I noticed. You see," she grew suddenly confidential. +"There's a certain kind of perfume Sis uses--awful expensive. Roland +Warren used to bring it to her. Well, I've been using it too--and Sis +never did get wise. I only used it when she did--and when she smelled +it, she didn't know that she was smelling what I had on. Well, it isn't +likely she was sending that to Gerald, is it?" + +"Hardly. But are you sure she packed it?" + +"I'll say I am. I saw her do it. And then two days later I saw the bottle +on her dressing table again--and so I just naturally looked to see if the +suit-case was back and it surely was." + +"But perhaps it never left the house?" + +"Guess again, Mr. Carroll. I know--because just before I went to Hazel's +I hunted all over for it, to get some of that extract myself. And the +suit-case wasn't there. Believe me--it's _some_ perfume, too!" + +"You say Mr. Warren gave it to her?" + +"He sure did. That man wasn't any piker, believe me. It costs twelve +dollars an _ounce_!" + +"No?" + +"Yeh--goodness knows how much a pound would cost. I used it all the +time--I knew when he gave it to Sis he meant it for me--because, like I +told you, he was simply crazy about me. Told me so dozens of times. Said +he came to see me. It used to bore him terribly when he'd have to sit in +the room and talk to Sis and Gerald." + +"I fancy it did--" Carroll summoned a waiter--"A little baked Alaska +for dessert?" + +"Baked Alaska! Oh! boy! you sure spoke a mouthful that time. I'm simply +_insane_ over it!" + +She evidently had not exaggerated. She absorbed enough of the dessert +to have satisfied two growing men. It did Carroll good to witness her +frank enjoyment of his luncheon. She glanced at her wrist watch and +rose hastily-- + +"Goodness me, I've simply _got_ to be going." + +"Where?" + +She made a wry face: "Hazel Gresham's. Honestly, women get queer when +they grow up--get older than twenty. Hazel has been acting so +_peculiarly_ lately--" + +"That's natural, isn't it, Miss Rogers? Her fiancé killed--" + +"Oh! shucks! I don't mean that. That wouldn't be queer. But there's +something else bothering her. And when I try to get her to tell me what +it is, she gets right snippy and tells me to mind my own business. And +I'll tell you right now, Mr. Carroll--if there's one person in the whole +world who always minds their own business--and who doesn't pay the +slightest attention to other peoples' affairs--that person is me. I +started that a long time ago when I read something some one wrote in a +book about how much happier folks could be if they never bothered with +other folk's business--and it struck me as awfully logical. And so that's +what I've always done. Don't you think I'm sensible?" + +"I certainly do. Very sensible. And I'm sorry Miss Gresham isn't +feeling well." + +"Oh! she feels well enough. She's just acting nutty. And as for when your +name is mentioned--O-o-oh!" + +"_My_ name?" Carroll was genuinely surprised. + +"Yes siree-bob! I started telling her all about what good friends you +and I have gotten to be--and would you believe it! she jumped all +over me--just like Sis did when I told her--and said I shouldn't +associate with professional detectives--and it was immoral--and all +that sort of thing." + +"Indeed?" + +"You bet she did. It was scandalous! Of course I told her what a ducky +you are--but she begged me not to go with you any more. I told her she +was crazy--because I really don't think there's anything so very +terrible about you--do you?" + +"At least," smiled Carroll, "I won't eat you. But what you tell me about +Miss Gresham is interesting. Why in the world should she be prejudiced +against the man who is trying to locate the slayer of her fiancé?" + +"Ask me something easy. I reckon it's just like I said before: when a +woman grows up--gets to be twenty--she gets mentally unbalanced--or +something. Honestly, I haven't met a woman over nineteen years of age +in the _longest_ time who didn't have a crazy streak in her somewhere. +Have you?" + +"I'd hardly say that much--" They had crossed the hotel lobby, swung +through the doors and were standing on the sidewalk unconsciously braced +against the biting wind which shrieked around the corner and cut to the +bone, giving the lie to the bright sunshine and its promise of warmth. + +"Brrrr!" shivered Evelyn--and Carroll rose eagerly to the hint. + +"I'd be delighted to ride you to Miss Gresham's in my car--" + +"Would you? That'd be simply splendiferous! And I'd like Hazel to meet +you--then she'd know that you're just a regular human being in spite of +what everyone says." + +During the drive to the Gresham home, which stood on the side of the +mountain at the extreme southern end of the city--Evelyn did about a +hundred and one per cent of the talking. She blithely discussed +everything from the economic effect of the recent election to the +campaign against one-piece bathing suits for women: indicating +well-defined, if immature opinions on every subject. She informed him +that she was delighted with suffrage and opposed to prohibition, that the +League of Nations would be all right if only it was not so far away, that +she was sincerely of the belief that straight lines would pass out within +the year and the girl with the curvy figure have a chance again in the +world, that fur coats were all the rage--and he ought to see her +sister's--it was the _grandest_ in the city, that--she orated at length +on any subject which occurred to her tireless mind; securing his dumb +Okeh to her views--and liking him more and more with each passing minute +because he treated her seriously: like a full grown woman of twenty--or +something. + +They pulled up at the curb of the Gresham home. As they did so Garry +Gresham swung out of the gate, paused--and his eyes widened in +astonishment at sight of Carroll. Then he stepped quickly to the curb as +Carroll and the girl alighted. + +"Hello, Garry," greeted Evelyn boldly. It was the first time she had +ever called him by his first name. But Gresham did not notice. He nodded +a curt "Hello, Evelyn" and addressed himself to Carroll--eyes level, +manner direct. + +"What do you want here, Carroll?" + +There was an undertone of earnestness in the young man's words which the +detective did not miss. He simulated innocence: "I? Nothing--" + +Garry Gresham frowned. "You had no particular reason for coming here?" + +"None whatever. Why?" + +"I fancied it was peculiar--after your original suspicion of my sister--" + +Carroll laughed good-naturedly. "Rid your mind of that, my friend. I +merely happened to be downtown with Miss Rogers--and drove her up here in +my car. As a matter of fact, if you have no objection, I'd like very much +to meet your sister." + +"Why?" + +"Because she was Roland Warren's fiancée. Because she can tell me some +things about Warren which no one else can tell me. Because the Warren +case is almost as far from solution as it was one minute after the +killing occurred." + +Gresham thought intensively for a moment. "You can give me your word of +honor, Carroll, that you are convinced that my sister is not connected in +any way with the crime?" + +"I can, Gresham. So far as I now know, your sister has no connection +whatever with the case. But she must necessarily be in possession of +certain personal details regarding Warren which I'd like to find out." + +Gresham started back toward the house. "You may talk to her," he decided +briefly--"if she is willing. But I prefer to be present during the +interview." + +Carroll bowed. "As you will, Gresham." + +They walked to the house and Garry led the way to the front hall. Evelyn, +considerably piqued at being ignored, took advantage of his disappearance +in search of his sister, to open up a broadside of inconsequential +chatter before which her previous efforts paled into insignificance. And +it was in the midst of her verbal barrage that Gresham appeared at the +far end of the hall with his sister. + +Carroll was pleasantly surprised. Evelyn's protestations of intimacy with +Hazel Gresham had implanted in his mind the impression that she was +decidedly of the flapper type. He was glad to find that she was not. + +She was not a beautiful girl: rather she belonged in that very desirable +category which is labeled "Sweet." There was an attractive wistfulness +about her--an undeniable charm, a wholesomeness--the sort of a woman, +reflected Carroll instantly, whom a sensible man marries. + +There was no hint of affectation about her. Her eyes were a trifle red +and swollen and she seemed in the grip of something more than mere +excitement. But in her dress there was no ostentation--it was somber, but +not black. And she came straight to Carroll--her eyes meeting his +squarely--and they mutually acknowledged Evelyn's gushing, but unheard, +introduction-- + +"Miss Gresham--" + +"Mr. Carroll--" + +They seated themselves about a small table which stood in the center of +the reception hall, and even Evelyn sensed the undercurrent of tenseness +in the air. Her tongue became reluctantly still although she did break in +once with a triumphant--"Ain't he like I told you he was?" to Hazel. + +It was Garry who introduced the subject. "Mr. Carroll wants to ask you +something about Roland," he said softly--and Carroll, intercepting the +look which passed between brother and sister, felt a sense of warmth--a +pleasant glow; albeit it was tinged with guilt--as though he had +blundered in on something sacred. + +The girl's voice came softly in reply: her gaze unwavering. + +"What is it you wish to know, Mr. Carroll?" + +The detective was momentarily at a loss. He conscripted his entire store +of tact--"I don't want to cause you any embarrassment, Miss Gresham--" + +"This is no time for equivocation, Mr. Carroll. You may ask me whatever +you wish." + +"Thank you," he answered gratefully. "You have, of course, heard +that there is a woman connected with Mr. Warren's death--the woman +in the taxicab." + +Her face grew pallid, but she nodded. "Yes. Of course." + +He watched her closely--"Have you the slightest idea--the vaguest +suspicion--of that woman's identity?" + +"No!" she answered--and he knew that she had spoken the truth. + +"You have thought of it--of her--a good deal?" + +"Naturally." + +"Mind you--I'm not asking if you _know_--I'm merely asking if you have a +suspicion." + +"I have not--not the faintest." + +"You were quite satisfied--pardon the intense personal trend of my +questions, Miss Gresham--that during his engagement to you, Mr. Warren +was--well, that he was carrying on no affair with another woman?" + +"I say, Carroll--" It was Garry Gresham who interrupted and his voice +was harsh. But his sister halted him with a little affectionate gesture-- + +"Mr. Carroll is right, Garry: he must know these things." She turned +again to Carroll. "No, Mr. Carroll--I knew of no such affair--nor did I +suspect one. When I became engaged to Mr. Warren I placed my trust in him +as a gentleman. I still believe in him." + +"Yet we _know_ that there _was_ a woman in that cab!" + +"No-o. We know that the taxi-driver _says_ there was." + +"That's true--" + +Hazel Gresham leaned forward: her manner that of a suppliant. "Mr. +Carroll--why don't you abandon this horrible investigation? Why aren't +you content to let matters rest where they are?" + +"I couldn't do that, Miss Gresham." + +"Why not?" + +"Mr. Warren's murderer is still at large--and as a matter of duty--" + +"Duty to whom? I am content to let the matter rest where it is. All of +your investigation isn't going to restore Roland to life. You can only +cause more misery, more suffering, more heartbreak--" + +"It is a duty to the State, Miss Gresham. And, frankly, I cannot +understand your attitude--" + +"She has had enough--" broke in Garry Gresham. "She's been through hell +since--that night." + +"I'm afraid, though--" + +"Mr. Carroll--you _can_ call it off, if you will." Hazel Gresham rose +and paced the room. "The case is in your hands. You can gain nothing by +finding the person who committed the--the--deed. Let's drop it. Do me +that favor, won't you? Let's consider the whole thing at an end!" + +David Carroll was puzzled. But he was honest--"I'm afraid I cannot, Miss +Gresham. I must, at least, try to solve it." + +She paused before him: figure tensed-- + +"Then let me say, Mr. Carroll--that I hope you fail!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE WOMAN IN THE TAXI + + +From the Gresham home, David Carroll went straight to headquarters. +Developments had been tumbling over each other so fast that he found +himself unable to sort them properly. He wanted to talk the thing over +with someone, to place each new lead in the investigation under the +microscope in an attempt to discern its true value in relation to the +killing of Roland Warren. + +Eric Leverage was the one man to whom he could talk. And, locked in the +Chief's office, he told all that he knew about the case, detailing +conversations, explaining the situation as he understood it, reserving +his suspicions and watching keenly for the reaction on the stolid mind of +the plodding, practical Chief. + +Carroll placed an exceedingly high valuation on Leverage's opinion--even +though the minds of the two men were as far apart as the poles. But +Leverage was a magnificent man for the office he held: competent, +methodical, intensely orthodox--but typical of the modern police in +contradistinction to the modern detective. + +Carroll knew that modern police methods have received a great deal more +than their share of unjust criticism. He knew that the entire theory of +national policing is based on an exhaustive system of records and +statistics. It operates by brute force and all-pervading power rather +than by any attempt at sublety or keen deduction. The former is so much +safer as a method. And the combination of the two--keen analysis, logical +deduction and plodding investigation--can perform wonders, which explains +why Carroll and Leverage worked hand-in-hand with implicit confidence in +one another. + +Leverage listened with rapt attention to the report of his friend. +Occasionally the corners of his large humorous mouth twitched as Carroll +touched on one or two of the lighter phases of his investigation--and +once Leverage even twitted him about becoming "one of these here +butterfly investigators"--but Carroll knew that no word of his escaped +the retentive brain of the chief of the city's police force, and that +each was being carefully catalogued with truer knowledge of its proper +importance than Carroll had yet been able to determine. + +"And so," finished Carroll, "there you are. The thing is in as pretty a +mess as I care to encounter. Frankly, I don't know which way to turn +next--which is why I wanted to talk things over. Perhaps, between us, +we can arrive at some solution of the affair--determine upon some +course of action." + +"Yes," responded Leverage slowly, "perhaps we can. Only trouble is--there +are so many different ways of spillin' the beans that we're takin' a +chance no matter what we do. Answer me this, David: if you had to point +out one person right now as the guilty one--which'd you choose?" + +Carroll shook his head. "You know I don't like to answer questions of +that sort." + +"But you can tell me--" + +"No-o. It might start your mind working along lines parallel to mine--and +I prefer to have you buck me. But, in perfect honesty, I'll tell you that +I'm all at sea. I couldn't conscientiously make an arrest now." + +"Well--I'm willing to air my opinions," volunteered the Chief. "And I'm +telling you that if it was up to me to make an arrest to-day I'd nab Mr. +Gerald Lawrence--and haul in William Barker for good measure." + +"M-m-m!" Carroll nodded approvingly. "Sounds reasonable. How about +the woman?" + +"That's what's got me puzzled. I've worked on that end of it, and I've +had several of my best men circulating around trying to gather dope from +the gossip shops--but there doesn't seem to be a clue from this end. +Anyway--I don't believe Warren was killed by the woman in the taxi!" + +Carroll was genuinely impressed. "You don't?" + +"No. Don't believe any woman--I don't care who--would have killed him +under those circumstances." + +"You mean you believe the woman in the taxi had nothing to do with it?" + +"I don't mean anything of the kind. I know darn well she had something to +do with it--but I don't believe she did the actual killing. That's why +I'd arrest this bird Lawrence and also William Barker. They either killed +the man or they know all about it." + +"But," suggested Carroll slowly, "suppose we admit that your theory is +correct--and I've thought of it myself: how and where was that body put +into the taxicab?" + +Leverage shrugged: "That's where you come in, Carroll. I ain't the sort +of thinker who can puzzle out something like that. Of course I'd say the +only place the shift could have been made was when the taxi stopped at +the R. L. & T. railroad crossing--and every time I think that it strikes +me I must be wrong. Because any birds working a case like that couldn't +have counted on such a break in luck." + +"It might have been," suggested Carroll, "that two men entered the cab +at that crossing: Warren and another--both alive, and the killing might +have occurred between then and the time the cab reached number 981 East +End Avenue." + +"Might have--yes. But something tells me it didn't. It's asking +too much--" + +"Then what _do_ you think happened?" + +"I don't think. There just simply isn't anything you can think about an +affair like that. You either know everything or you don't know a thing!" + +"I think you're about right, Leverage. And now--let's run over the list +we have in front of us. Spike Walters--the taxi driver--comes first. +What about him?" + +Leverage rubbed his chin. "Funny about Spike, Carroll--I think the kid's +story is true." + +"So do I." + +"But unless there's some other answer to this affair--it's damned hard to +believe that the body could have been dumped into that cab, or that the +killing could have occurred there, without Spike knowing about it. Ain't +that a fact?" + +"It is." + +"And if he knows anything he hasn't told, the odds are on him to know a +whale of a sight more. And if he knows a whole heap--then the chances are +he knows enough to justify us in keeping him in jail." + +"You're right, Leverage. If Spike is innocent he's not undergoing any +enormous hardship. But if his story is untrue in any particular--then it +is probably entirely false. And since we cannot understand how that body +got into the cab or where the murderer went--we've got to hold on to +Spike. Meanwhile, we both believe him." + +"You said it, David. Now, next on the list we have Barker. What +about him?" + +"I don't like Barker particularly," said Carroll frankly. "He hasn't +what you would call an engaging personality. Not only that, but we are +agreed that he knows a great deal about the case which he hasn't +told--and doesn't intend to tell unless we force him to it. But we'll go +back to him later: he's too important a link in the chain to pass over +casually when we're trying to hit on a definite course of action. +Remembering, of course, that his visits to the Lawrence home have a +certain degree of significance." + +Leverage chuckled grimly. "You're coming around to my way of thinking, +David Carroll. Remember, I wanted to stick that bird behind the bars the +first day we talked to him--when we first knew he was lying to us." + +"Yes--but we wouldn't have gained anything--then. Perhaps now the time +is ripe to try some of that third degree stuff. But let's take up the +others. My little friend, Miss Evelyn Rogers, for instance." + +Leverage chuckled. "Go to it, David. You know more about that kid than I +ever will--or want to. Ain't suspecting her of being the woman in the +taxi, are you?" + +"Good Lord! no! She hasn't that much on her mind. And if we manage to +solve this case, we can thank her. That little tongue of hers wags at +both ends--and out of the welter of words that drip from her lips--I've +managed to extract more information than from every other source we've +tapped. I've been awfully lucky there--" + +"Don't talk like a simp, David--'tain't luck. That's your way of +working. And because there isn't anything flashy about it--you call it +luck. Why, you poor fish--there isn't any other man in the country who'd +have had the common sense to do what you did--to know that it would be a +sensible move." + +"Some day, Eric," grinned Carroll, "I'm going to throw you down--I'm +going to flunk on a case. And then you'll say to my face what you must +often have thought--that I'm a lucky, old-maidish detective." + +"G'wan wid ye! Fishing for compliments--that's what you are." + +Carroll grew serious again. "I think we're safe in eliminating Evelyn +Rogers from our calculations except as a gold mine of information. Which +takes us to her friend--Hazel Gresham." + +"And Garry Gresham. You say he didn't want you to discuss the case with +his sister." + +"They both acted mighty peculiarly," agreed Carroll. "One of them, I'm +sure, knows something about that case--has some inside dope on it. And +the one who knew has told the other one--the affection between them is +something pretty to look at, Leverage." + +"You think one of them is in on the know?" + +"Yes, I think so. And I think that their information touches someone +pretty close to them. That's obviously why they pleaded so hard with me +to call off the investigation." + +"M-m-m--They're pretty good friends to the Lawrences, aren't they!" + +"Yes--with Naomi Lawrence, anyway. I don't believe Gerald Lawrence is +especially friendly with anyone. But the Greshams and Mrs. Lawrence are +pretty intimate." + +"And you believe that the alibi Miss Rogers established for Hazel +Gresham is good?" + +Carroll hesitated a moment before replying. When he did speak it was with +obvious reluctance: "I hate to say so, Leverage--because I like Evelyn +Rogers and I took an instant liking to both Hazel Gresham and her +brother. But there seems to be something wrong about it. I do think that +Evelyn Rogers believed she was telling the truth--but I'm not so sure +that her dope was accurate. Just where the inaccuracy comes--I haven't +the least idea--but I'm not letting my likes and dislikes stand in the +way of a sane outlook on the case. I am convinced that both the young +Greshams know something more than they have told. As a matter of fact, +there isn't a doubt of it--they showed it clearly when they begged me to +call off the investigation. We know further that they are intimate with +Naomi Lawrence--and we know that either Naomi or her husband--or +both--are mixed up in this case. Events dovetail too perfectly for us to +ignore the fact that however right Evelyn Rogers may believe she is--she +may be wrong!" + +"And I'm not forgetting, either--" said Leverage grimly, "that Hazel +Gresham was engaged to marry Warren!" + +"No. Nor am I. It's a puzzling combination of circumstances, Leverage: a +perfectly knit thing--if we don't--and so now we come to Gerald Lawrence +and his wife." + +Leverage did not take his cue immediately. He sat drumming a heavy tattoo +on the tabletop, forehead corrugated in a frown of intensive thought. +When he did speak it was in a manner well-nigh abstract-- + +"Gerald Lawrence probably lied when he said he didn't leave Nashville +until the two a.m. train." + +"He may have. One thing which impressed me about Lawrence was this, +Leverage--when the man started bucking me he thought he had a perfect +alibi. He was supremely confident that I was going to be completely +nonplussed. It was only after I had questioned him closely that he +realized his alibi was no alibi at all. He realized he couldn't prove +where he was at the time the murder was committed--that for all the +evidence he could adduce he might have been right here in this city." + +"Yes--?" + +"The significant fact is this," explained Carroll--"when he made the +discovery that his alibi was no good--_he_ was the most surprised person +in the room!" + +"And you're thinking," suggested the Chief, "that if he had actually had +a hand in the murder of Warren he would have had an alibi that would have +been an alibi?" + +"Just about that. Get me straight, Chief--I would rather believe Lawrence +guilty than any other person--except perhaps Barker--with whom I have +come in contact since this investigation began. He has one of the most +unpleasant personalities I have ever known. He is a congenital grouch. +But he told his Nashville story so frankly--and then became so panicky +with surprise when my questioning showed him that his alibi was +rotten--that we must not fasten definitely upon him--" + +"--Except to be pretty darn sure that he knows more about it than he +has told." + +"Yes. Perhaps." + +"Perhaps. Ain't you sure he does?" + +"I'm not sure of anything. I haven't one single item of information save +that regarding the one person whom I would prefer to see left clear." + +"And that is?" + +"Mrs. Naomi Lawrence." + +Leverage nodded agreement. "Things do look pretty tough for her." + +"More so than you think, Eric." Carroll designated on his fingers, "Count +the facts against her as we know them: irrespective of their weight or +significance. + +"First, she is a beautiful woman, twelve years younger than her husband +and very unhappy in her domestic life. Second, she was very friendly with +Roland Warren. Of course, Miss Rogers' fatuous belief that Warren was +crazy about her is pure rot: he called at that house to see either +Gerald or Naomi Lawrence. We must admit that the chances are the woman +was the person in whom he was interested. Third, in substantiation of +that belief we know that he frequently gave her presents. It doesn't +matter how valuable the presents were--he gave them. That proves a +certain amount of interest." + +Carroll paused for a brief explanation. "Mind you, Leverage--I'm not +trying to make out a case against Naomi Lawrence--I'm only being honest. +To continue--fourth, we know that in spite of the fact that she is +afraid to remain in a house alone at night, she suggested that her +sister visit at the home of Hazel Gresham on the night Warren was +killed. Her husband was supposed--according to his story--to be in +Nashville. It is absurd to presume that when she let Evelyn go out for +the night she expected to remain alone until morning. Therefore, for the +sake of argument, we will assume that she knew her husband would be back +that night. If that is the case--we are also forced to believe that +there was something sinister about it. + +"Fifth--we are fairly positive that she packed a suit-case the morning +before the murder, that the suit-case left the house that morning and +that two days later it mysteriously reappeared--" + +"Yes," interrupted Leverage, "and we know that Warren was planning to +make a trip with someone else!" + +"Exactly!" + +"Which makes it pretty clear," finished Leverage positively, "that Mrs. +Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BARKER ACCUSES + + +The men looked at each other in silence for a minute. Leverage was +sorry for Carroll--sorry because he knew that Carroll was disappointed, +that the boyish detective had hoped against hope that the trail would +lead to some person other than the flaming creature who was Gerald +Lawrence's wife. + +It was not that Carroll had become infatuated with her. It was merely +that he liked her--liked her sincerely--and was sorry for her. + +The conclusions to be inevitably reached from the premise that Naomi was +the woman in the taxicab were none too pleasant. In the first place there +was the matter of morals involved. It had been pretty well established +that the dead man had planned a trip to New York with someone: there was +the fact that he had purchased a drawing room and two railroad +tickets--only one of which later had been found in his pockets at +midnight that night. + +Then there was the circumstance of Mrs. Lawrence packing her suit-case +and taking it, or sending it, from the house during the day--and its +reappearance a couple of days later. It also explained her willingness +that Evelyn spend the night with Hazel Gresham. Knowing that she, Naomi, +was going to leave her home before midnight, she had not wanted her +youthful sister to spend the balance of the night alone--and so had sent +her to the house of a friend. That much was clear-- + +"It's hell!" burst out Carroll. + +"You said it." + +"Suppose she _was_ the woman in the taxicab--?" + +"Yes--suppose she was: it doesn't prove that she killed Warren?" + +"No--but it proves something a good deal worse, Leverage. It proves that +she was going to elope with him." + +"It may--we don't _know_!" + +"We don't _know_ anything. But there is a certain logic which is +irrefutable--and, confound it! man--what are we going to do now?" + +Leverage refused to meet his friend's eyes. "We-e-ll, David--suppose you +tell me what _you_ think we should do?" + +"We ought to--but it's rotten! Absolutely rotten!" + +"Trouble with you, David," said Leverage kindly--"is that you're too +damned human!" + +"I can't help it. It isn't my fault. And if I was sure that Naomi +Lawrence was the woman in that taxi, I'd arrest her immediately. But I'm +not sure, Leverage--and neither are you. Let's admit that it's a ten to +one bet--we're still not positive. And I wonder if you realize what her +arrest would mean?" + +"What?" + +"We can't arrest a woman of her prominence socially without a reason--and +a darned good reason. Therefore, when we arrest her we have to tell the +public why we're doing it. And what do we tell 'em? That she was--or +might have become--Warren's light-o'-love! That she was going to elope +with him!" + +"And yet, David--all of that is probably true." + +"Probably--yes. But not positively. We haven't proved anything. And once +we explode that social bomb--we've started something that she'll never +live down. We've done more than that--we've played the devil with +Evelyn's chance of happiness. That kid will be in a swell position when +the scandal-mongers get hold of the gossip about her sister. Can't you +hear 'em--babbling about it being in the blood?" + +"But she might prove that none of it is true." + +"That doesn't make a bit of difference. Gossip pays no attention to a +refutation. Leave consideration for Mrs. Lawrence out of it +altogether--and figure where Evelyn comes in on the backwash." + +"It _is_ tough. But this is a murder case--and, anyway, I don't think she +killed Warren." + +"Even if she didn't--I fancy she'd rather be convicted of murder--than of +what this will lead to. I'm afraid, Leverage. We're trifling with +something a good deal more sacred than human life. If Naomi Lawrence is +guilty--there's no objection to her suffering. But her kid sister will +suffer too--" + +"You don't think, Carroll--that she looked like that kind?" + +"Good God! _no!_ And even if we prove that she was the woman in the +taxicab--that she was going to elope with Warren--it still won't prove +that she was that kind. There's something about that husband of +hers--meet him, Leverage--meet him! That's the only way you'll have any +understanding of my sympathy for the wife." + +Leverage rose and walked to the window. He spoke without turning, +"Tough--David; mighty tough. And we've got to do something." + +No answer. Carroll had lighted a cigarette and was puffing fiercely upon +it. Leverage spoke again softly-- + +"Haven't we?" + +"I suppose we have--" + +"Well?" + +Another long silence. "Isn't there anything we can do, Eric--before we +start something that no human power can stop? Something to make us +sure--to give us a clincher? That's all I ask. You say I'm cursed with +too much of the milk of human kindness. Perhaps I am--perhaps that's what +makes me no better detective than I am--but it's a trait--good or +bad--that I'll never get over. And until every possible doubt as to that +woman's complicity has been removed, I am opposed to any such course as +arrest and public announcement of the reasons therefor." + +Leverage shook his head. He was disappointed in his friend. Not that +Carroll would flinch from duty--but Leverage considered it a weakness +that Carroll insisted on postponing the inevitable. He was sorry--he knew +that it had to come: Naomi's arrest and the consequent nasty publicity. +His manner, as he addressed Carroll, was that of a man who washes his +hands of something-- + +"It's your case, David. Handle it your own way. That's been our agreement +always when we worked together--and I'm game to stick to it now." + +Carroll flushed. "Yet you're disappointed in me?" + +"A little--yes," said Leverage honestly. "But I've been disappointed in +you before, David--and you've always made me sorry for it. I know you +won't throw me down this time. You've never done it yet." + +"You're safe!" said Carroll grimly. "No--" as Leverage started for the +door; "Don't go! I want to think for a minute--" + +Leverage sank obediently into a chair. Carroll paced the room slowly. He +was thinking--struggling to decide upon a plan of action which would +delay the arrest of Naomi Lawrence until the ultimate moment. And finally +he flung back his head triumphantly. Leverage looked up with pleasure at +the sound of relief in his friend's voice-- + +"Leverage?" + +"Yes?" + +"You say this case is mine--absolutely? To handle as I see fit?" + +"Yes." + +"You agree that we have enough against William Barker to arrest him?" + +"Gosh--I said that the first day we met him." + +"You also agree that he knows whatever connection the Lawrences have with +the Warren murder?" + +"I do." + +"Then get Barker. Bring him here!" + +Leverage departed with a light step. There was a smile on his lips. Here +was the style of procedure with which he was familiar and in full +sympathy. Here was action supplanting stagnation--something definite +succeeding the long nerve-wracking period of conjecture which appeared to +lead nowhere save into a labyrinth of endless discussion. + +He started the machinery of the department to moving. When he returned to +his office an hour later, Carroll was still seated motionlessly before +the grate fire--an extinguished cigar between his teeth--eyes focused +intently on the dancing flames. Leverage spoke-- + +"I've got Barker." + +"Where is he?" + +"Downstairs." + +"Bring him in. You stay here when he comes--send everybody else out." + +Cartwright brought Barker into the room and Leverage dismissed the +plainclothesman. Barker, eyes wide with fear, face pallid--yet with a +certain belligerence in his attitude--confronted the two detectives. + +"I say--" he started, "what does this mean?" + +"It means," said Carroll coldly, "that you are under arrest for the +murder of Roland Warren!" + +"That I'm--" Barker fell back a step. It was plain that he was surprised. +"You're arresting _me_ for Warren's murder?" + +"Yes." + +"But I didn't do it. I'll swear I didn't." + +"Of course you'll swear it--" Carroll's steely voice excited a vast +admiration in Leverage's breast. Many times before he had seen the +transformation in his friend from all too human softness to almost +inhuman coldness--yet he never failed of surprise at the phenomenon. +"But we know you did do it." + +"You don't know nothin' of the kind," Barker's voice came in a +half-snarl. "I don't give a damn how smart you fly-cops are--you can't +prove nothin' on me." + +"That so?" + +"Yes--that's so. Just because I worked for Warren ain't no reason why you +should arrest me for his murder. Suppose I had wanted to kill him--and I +didn't--didn't have no reason at all. But suppose I had wanted too--you +know bloody well that I didn't do it." + +"Why do we know that?" + +"Because you know he was killed by a woman!" + +"Aa-a-ah! That's what you think, eh?" + +"I know a woman killed him." + +"You were present?" + +"Bah! Trying to trap me--are you? Well, I ain't going to be trapped. I +don't know nothin' about it. Like I said from the first." + +"But you do know something about it," insisted Carroll icily. "And I'd +advise you to come clean with us." + +"There ain't nothin' to come clean about." + +"You say we know that a woman killed Warren. You seem pretty confident +of that yourself. Well, we happen to know that you know who this woman +was. Who was she?" + +For the first time Barker's eyes shifted. "You know as well as me +who she was?" + +"Who was she?" Carroll's voice fairly snapped. + +"It was--Miss Hazel Gresham!" + +Carroll stared at the man. "Listen to me, Barker--you're lying and we +know you're lying. You know as well as we do that Miss Gresham was at her +own home when Warren was killed. I don't want any more lies! Not one! Now +tell us the truth!" + +Barker stared first at Carroll--then at Leverage. An expression of doubt +crossed his face. It was patent that these men knew more than he had +credited them. Finally he shrugged his shoulders-- + +"Well--Mr. Carroll, that bein' the case--I ain't goin' to stick my head +in a noose for nobody!" + +"You've decided to tell us the truth!" + +"I have." + +"You know who killed Roland Warren?" + +"Yes--I know who killed Roland Warren!" + +"Who was it?" + +Barker's face went white. Leverage and Carroll leaned forward +eagerly--nervously. It seemed an eternity before Barker's answer +came--but when it did, his words rang with conviction--he uttered a +name-- + +"_Mrs. Naomi Lawrence_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH--" + + +Barker's words reverberated through the room--to be succeeded by an +almost unnatural stillness; a silence punctured by the ticking of the +cheap clock on the mantel, by the crackling of the flames in the grate, +by the whistling of the wind around the corners of the gaunt gray stone +building which housed the police department. + +The accused man looked eagerly upon the faces of the two detectives; +then, slowly, his chest expanded with relief: he saw that they +believed him. + +And Carroll did believe. It was not that he wanted to--he had fought +himself mentally away from that conviction time after time; had +threshed over every scintilla of evidence, searching futilely for +something which would clear this radiant woman whom he had met but +once. Carroll's interest--however platonic--was intensely personal. +The woman had impressed herself indelibly upon him. It was perhaps her +air of game helplessness; perhaps the stark tragedy which he had seen +reflected in her eyes when he had first entered her home and saw that +she knew why he had come. + +And now, driven into the corner which he had hoped to avoid, his +retentive memory brought back a circumstance well-nigh forgotten. He +addressed Barker, his voice soft-hopeless. + +"You mean that Mrs. Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab?" + +"Yes, sir." The "sir," which Barker used for the first time was +respectful. + +"Where had she been during the evening--after dark of the night of +the--killing?" + +"At home--I believe." + +"You believe?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Carroll's eyes lighted. His voice cracked out accusingly: "Don't you +_know_ that that is incorrect?" + +Barker shook his head. "Why, no, sir. Of course, I ain't sayin' positive +that she _was_ at home all evenin', but--" + +"As I understand it," said Carroll slowly--"an accommodation train came +in just about that time: isn't that a fact?" + +"Some train came in then--I don't know which one it was." + +"Isn't it a fact that the woman who got into the taxicab had been a +passenger on that train: that she got off with the other passengers, +carrying a suit-case?" + +"There ain't nobody can see the passengers get off the trains at the +Union Station, Mr. Carroll. You go down them steps and approach the +waitin' room underground--crossin' under the tracks." + +"But you do know that this woman--whoever she was--passed through the +waiting room with the passengers who came on that train, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir--she done that, but it don't mean nothin'." + +"Why don't it?" + +"Well, sir, for one thing--ain't it true that the papers said the +suit-case she was carryin' wasn't hers at all. Ain't it a fact that she +had Mr. Warren's suit-case?" + +"Well?" Carroll saw his last hope glimmering. + +"You see, sir--Mr. Warren was meetin' Mrs. Lawrence at the station. He +got there with his suit-case at about ten minutes to twelve. She got +there about ten or fifteen minutes later--" + +"How did she come?" + +"On the street car. And when she come out--she was alone and it was his +suit-case she was carryin'--the same suit-case he had taken into the +station. The one you found in the taxicab." + +"I see--" Carroll did not want to believe Barker's story, but he knew +that the man was telling the truth--or at least that most of what he was +saying was true. The detective seemed crushed with disappointment. +Leverage, seated in the corner of the room, chewing savagely on a big +black cigar--was sorry for his friend: sorry--yet proud of the way he was +standing the gaff of his chagrin. Carroll again spoke to Barker--manner +almost apathetic-- + +"You know a good deal more about this thing than you've told us, don't +you Barker?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Very well: let's have your story from the beginning to the end. I'll be +honest with you: I believe a good deal of what you've told me. Some of +your story I don't believe. Other portions of it need substantiation. But +you are mighty close to being charged with murder--and now is your +chance to clear yourself. Go to it!" + +Barker plunged a hand into his pocket. "Can I smoke, Mr. Carroll?" + +"Certainly. And sit down." + +They drew up their chairs before the fire. Carroll did not look at +Barker, but Leverage's steady gaze was fixed on the man's crafty face. + +"I'm going to come clean with you, Mr. Carroll. I'm going to tell you +everythin' I know--and everythin' I think. I didn't want to do it--and I +don't want to now. But I'd a heap rather have the job of convincin' you +that I ain't mixed up in this murder than I would of makin' a jury +believe the same thing. I reckon you'll give me a square deal." + +"I will," snapped Carroll. "Go ahead." + +"In the first place," started Barker slowly, "it's my personal opinion +that Mr. Warren never had no idea of marryin' Miss Gresham. Maybe I'm all +wrong there--but it's what I think. I can't prove that, of course--an' no +one else can't either. + +"Also I happen to know that he's been crazy about Mrs. Lawrence for a +long time. He's been hangin' around the house a good deal--an' doin' +little things like a man will when he's nuts about a woman. For +instance, Mr. Warren wasn't no investing man: s'far's I know he had all +his money in gover'ment bonds and such like investments. But he sank some +money into them woolen mills that Mr. Lawrence owns. And also he +pretended that he liked that kid sister of Mrs. Lawrence's--Evelyn +Rogers. But there ain't hardly a doubt in my mind, Mr. Carroll--an' I'm +handin' it to you straight--that he was crazy about Mrs. Lawrence. And, +not meanin' no impertinence, sir--I ain't blamin' him a bit. + +"Also, I reckon she wasn't exactly indifferent to him. She's been up in +his apartment twice--which is a terrible risky thing, an' somethin' no +woman will do unless she's wild about a feller. Oh! everything was proper +while she was there. I was at home all the time and I know. But she +was--what you call, indiscreet--that is, in comin' up there at all--no +matter how decent she acted when she was there. An' also, sir, she used +to write him notes--most every day." + +"You have some of those notes?" + +"No, sir. I had one--if you want the truth--but when I saw you was +watchin' me--sure, I know you've had a couple of dicks shadowing me--I +destroyed it." + +"Where are the rest of her letters?" + +"Mr. Warren used to burn 'em up careful. He wasn't takin' no chances of +someone findin' 'em and he bein' caught in a scandal--which is why I +think he really cared about her serious. His other lady friends he used +to joke about--but never Mrs. Lawrence. An' the one letter of her's that +I had--I'm betting that he looked for three days without stopping before +he gave it up as a bad job. + +"That's the way things was when I seen him begin to make arrangements to +get away from town. It wasn't supposed to be none of my business and Mr. +Warren never was a feller I could ask questions of. When he had something +to tell me, he told it--an' I never got nothin' out of him by askin'. +But, bein' his valet, there was certain things I couldn't very well miss +knowin'. I know his apartment is sublet for the new tenants to come in on +the first of the month, he placed his car with a dealer to be sold and +he didn't order a new one an' he drew a whole heap of cash out of the +bank the day before he was killed. + +"Also that day he sent me downtown to do some shoppin'. While I was +downtown I seen him go into the railroad ticket office. I didn't pay much +attention to that then and later on he drove by the house for a minute. +I had taken his laprobe out of the car the night before and forgot to put +it back--so I thought I'd better do it. I went downstairs without his +knowing it--and when I put the laprobe in the car I seen he had a +suit-case in there. An' the suit-case wasn't his, sir--the initials on it +was N.L.--which, if you know, sir--Mrs. Lawrence's name is Naomi. + +"That made things pretty clear to me then. He drove off and come back +about a half hour later. I looked when he come back and the suit-case +wasn't in the car no more. And it was then that he handed me a big wad of +wages in advance and told me he wasn't going to need me no more and I +could quit any time after five o'clock in the afternoon." + +Barker paused, lighted another cigarette from the stump of the one he +had been smoking--inhaled a great puff, and continued. His manner was +that of a man under great mental stress--as though he was struggling to +recall every infinitesimal detail which might possibly have a bearing +on the case. + +"That sort of carries me along to the night, sir--as I left there at +five o'clock and he was still there--tellin' me goodbye and givin' me +an excellent reference and sayin' I was a good valet an' all like +that, sir. + +"After leavin' there I went out and got some supper, and then I went up +to Kelly's place and horned into an open game of pool. You know Kelly's +place is pretty close to the Union Station and when it come about ten +o'clock I got tired and went an' sat down in the corner, eatin' a hot +dog from the stand in Kelly's--an' then I sort of got to thinkin' +things over. + +"An' thinkin' things over that way, Mr. Carroll--I began to think that +Mrs. Lawrence was doin' a terrible foolish thing, and I was kinder sorry +about it. Now don't get no idea that I'm wantin' you to believe I got a +soft heart or anythin' like that--but then I sort of liked Mr. Warren and +I knew Mrs. Lawrence was a decent woman--and I knew once she got on the +train with Mr. Warren she was done for. And when I got to thinkin' about +that, sir--it struck me that maybe somethin' could be done to keep 'em +from eloping with each other that way. Not that I was plannin' to do +anything--but curiosity sort of got me, and along about eleven o'clock or +a little while after I went out of Kelly's and up to the Union Station. I +sat down over in the corner and waited for somethin' to happen--sort of +hopin' maybe I had been wrong all the time and there wasn't going to be +no elopement. + +"I waited there a long time, and then suddenly a taxicab came up to the +curb and Mr. Warren got out. Then the taxicab beat it down-town again and +Mr. Warren went in the station. And as he come in one door, I beat it out +of the other." + +"Why?" snapped Leverage. + +"Because him seein' me there was certain to start somethin'. And I wasn't +hankerin' for nothin' like that to happen. So I went across the street +and tried to get shelter against the wall of that dump of a hotel over +there. An' it was cold: I ain't seen such a cold night in my life. I +almos' froze to death." + +"And yet you continued to stand there?" + +"Sure--I was curious. Kinder foolish, maybe, but I wanted to see had I +figured right about him eloping with Mrs. Lawrence. So I stood there, +darn near dead with the cold, when the midnight Union Station street car +stopped an' Mrs. Lawrence got out. An' the first thing I noticed was that +she wasn't carryin' no suit-case. I noticed that on account of havin' +seen her suit-case in Mr. Warren's car that day. She didn't carry +nothin' but one of these handbag things that women lug around with 'em." + +"How was she dressed?" + +"Fur coat and hat and a heavy veil." + +"You could see the veil from across the street at midnight?" + +"No sir. Not from there. But when she went in the depot, I followed +across the street and looked inside to see what was goin' to happen." He +paused a moment and then Carroll prodded him on-- + +"Well--what _did_ happen?" + +"The minute Mr. Warren seen her come in he beat it through the opposite +door from where I was standin' out to the platform that runs parallel to +the tracks. An' he nodded to her to follow him. She sort of nodded like +she was wise, an' took a seat so's nobody would think anything in case +there was anyone there lookin' for something. Mr. Warren walked off down +the outside platform towards the baggage room an' after about three +minutes she gets up, kinder casual-like and follers. Soon as she went +through the door to the platform I went in the waitin' room." + +"What did you do then?" + +"Nothin'. Just made a bee line for the steam radiator an' tried to +get warm. I was so cold it hurt. An' I stood there for about ten +minutes. Then I heard that train comin' in an' I went outside into the +street again." + +Carroll's voice was tense. "In all that time did you hear +anything--anything at all?" + +Barker shook his head. "No sir--not a thing--except that train comin' in. +And then the passengers from it began to come through, and I was +surprised to see Mrs. Lawrence comin' with them, an' she was carryin' his +suit-case." + +"Whose suit-case?" + +"Mr. Warren's. She come on out to the curb an' called a taxicab." + +"Where was the taxicab standing?" + +"Parked against the curb on Atlantic Avenue about a hundred yards from +the entrance in the direction of Jackson street." + +"How did she act?" + +"Kinder nervous like. Noticin' her come out I seen the taxi driver when +he climbed back into his cab an' when he started her up. He picked up +Mrs. Lawrence an' she put the suit-case in front beside him. Then they +drove off. And that's all I know sir." + +Carroll rose and walked slowly the length of the room. + +"What did you think when you saw Mrs. Lawrence come out of the station +alone carrying Mr. Warren's suit-case? When she did that and called a +taxicab and went off in it alone?" + +"Not knowin' about no killin', Mr. Carroll--I thought they'd got together +and talked things over an' decided to call off the elopement!" + +"You did--" Carroll paused. "And the first time you knew of Warren's +death?" + +"Was when I read the newspapers the next morning." + +"Then why," barked the detective, "did you make the blunt statement that +Mrs. Lawrence killed Warren?" + +"Because," said Barker simply, "I believe she did." + +"How could she have killed him? When and how?" + +"That's easy," explained Barker quietly. "If I'm right in thinkin' that +they was goin' to call off the elopement--they could have seen that taxi +standin' against the curb and he could have got in without bein' seen. It +was awful dark where the taxi was standin' an' the driver says himself +that he was over in the restaurant gettin' warm. So what I thought right +away was that Warren got in the taxi, an' she called it. That was so they +wouldn't be seen gettin' in together at that time of night. Then I +thought they drove off. And then--" + +"Yes--and then?" + +"It was while they were alone together in that taxi, that she +killed him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +LABYRINTH + + +Long after William Barker left the room--held in custody under special +guard--David Carroll and Chief of Police Eric Leverage maintained a +thoughtful silence. Leverage wanted to talk--but refused to be the first +to broach the subject which each knew was uppermost in the mind of the +other. And it was Carroll who spoke first-- + +"Well, Eric," he said dully, "you called the turn that time." + +"Reckon I did, David." + +"It looks mighty bad for Mrs. Lawrence--mighty bad." He hesitated. "I +wonder whether Barker told the truth when he said he had been calling on +Mrs. Lawrence to apply for a job?" + +"Why not?" + +"Because when valets or butlers apply for domestic positions they don't +go to the front door, and Barker did on both occasions he visited that +house. No, Leverage--I don't think he told the truth there." + +"Then what _was_ he doing at the house?" + +"Mmm! Just struck me, Eric--that he may have been trying a little private +blackmail." + +Leverage arched his eyebrows: "On Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"Yes--on Mrs. Lawrence. You see, it's this way: according to Barker's own +story he knew everything which transpired at the station. If we believe +what he told us, and if he is correct in his belief that Mrs. Lawrence +did the killing, then we know he is the only person who--until now--had +any knowledge of the identity of the woman in the taxicab. That being the +case, and Barker being obviously not a high type of man, it is certainly +not unreasonable to presume that he was capitalizing his information." + +"Seems plausible," grunted Leverage. "But where does it get us?" + +"Just this far," explained Carroll. "Unless Barker was applying for a +position at the Lawrences--where they not only do not employ a male +servant, but have never employed one--he was not seeking employment +anywhere. He has been taking life pretty easy, all of which is +indicative of a supply of money from outside. And I fancy that Mrs. +Lawrence would pay a pretty fancy price to have her name left out of this +rotten scandal." + +Leverage held Carroll with his eyes: "Do you believe Barker's +story, David?" + +"Believe it? Why, yes. Most of it anyway." + +"You believe Mrs. Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab?" + +"I've got to believe it." + +"Do you believe she killed him?" + +"Evidence points to that answer, Leverage. You see, Barker's story +impressed me this way: it is the only sane, logical solution of the +killing which has yet been advanced. Neither of us has ever yet hit upon +an answer to the puzzle of the body in the taxicab. What Barker tells us +is perfectly plausible--" Carroll paused-- + +"You see," he continued, "from the first I have maintained that Mrs. +Lawrence is a decent woman--innately decent. I will even admit that her +domestic life was so miserably unbearable that she would entertain the +idea of eloping with Warren: that she went so far as to attempt to carry +that idea into execution. But I am also ready--and eager, too, if you +will, to believe that when she reached the stepping off place she must +have reneged. That woman couldn't have done anything else. + +"We are fairly well satisfied--from Barker's own story--that there had +been nothing wrong in the relations between Warren and Mrs. Lawrence up +to that night. But we are pretty sure that they met at the station to go +away together. What is more reasonable than to presume that she lost her +nerve at the eleventh hour: that, unhappy as she was at home, she was +unable to take the step which would forever make her a social outcast? + +"Very well. If that is true, we have them at the station at midnight. The +weather is the worst of the year. They are standing in the dark +passageway between the main waiting room and the baggage room. No light +is on the corner of Jackson street. They see only one taxicab on duty. +For all they know--the last street car has passed. They conceive the idea +of making a single taxicab do double duty--and, knowing that the driver +is across the street drinking coffee and getting warm--Warren gets into +the cab from the blind side, Mrs. Lawrence returns to the waiting room as +the accommodation rolls in, she picks up Warren's suit-case which had +been left there, steps to the curb and summons the cab, in which Warren +is hiding all the time. Sounds all right so far?" + +"Perfectly," said Leverage. "Go ahead." + +"Walters gets the signal and drives up. Mrs. Lawrence gets in. He drives +away. And then--" + +Leverage leaped forward eagerly: "Yes--?? and then?" + +"Well," said Carroll slowly, "we don't know what happened in that +taxicab. We believe that Mrs. Lawrence is a decent woman. We know that +Warren would have gone through with the elopement. That being the case, +we can fancy his keen disappointment. Under those circumstances, Eric--a +good many things could have occurred in that taxicab which might have +justified Warren's death at her hands." + +Leverage crossed to his desk, from the top drawer of which he took a box +of cigars. He was frowning as he recrossed to Carroll and offered him +one. Then, with almost exasperating deliberation, the head of the police +force clipped the end of his own cigar, held a match to it, replaced the +box in his desk and took up his post before the fire--with his back to +it so that he could watch Carroll's face. + +"You really want to believe that story, don't you, David?" he asked +gently. + +"Yes." + +"And yet you know it is shot all full of holes." + +"How?" + +"For one thing," said Leverage slowly--"how do you explain the fact that +it was a.32 that killed him. Not that a .32 is any big gun--it isn't--but +it does make a considerable racket." + +"The shooting probably took place at the R.L.&T. crossing while the train +was passing. The sound of the shot may have been drowned in the roar of +the train--not entirely smothered of course, but sufficiently blended +with the other noise not to attract the attention of the half-frozen +driver. And, the cab being stopped there, it must have been at that point +that Mrs. Lawrence--panicky over what had occurred--left the taxi." + +"You're a dandy little ol' explainer, Carroll. But you've forgotten one +other important item." + +"What is it?" + +"The address Mrs. Lawrence gave--981 East End avenue. That address was a +stall--we know it was a stall. We were hot on that end of it the night +the body was found. And if those two people were trying to get home, +Carroll--if Warren was already in the cab and Mrs. Lawrence gave the +address--and if she wanted to get away from Warren and safe at home as +soon as she could--she'd never have ordered Walters to drive to 981 East +End avenue!" + +Carroll did not answer. There was no answer possible. Leverage's logic +was irrefutable. And finally Carroll rose to his feet and slipped into +his heavy overcoat. Leverage's eyes were turned kindly upon him. + +"Where are you going, David!" + +"I'm going to play my last trump. If it doesn't uncover something--I +throw up my hands. Laugh at me if you will, Eric--rail at me for being +chicken-hearted, for playing hunches too strongly--but I have an idea +that Mrs. Lawrence did not kill Warren. Don't ask me how or why? I don't +know--I admit that frankly. But I've always banked on my knowledge of +human nature, Leverage--and my instinct has never yet betrayed me. Just +now it is forcing me to give this woman every chance in the world to +clear herself. I am hoping that circumstances will allow me to bring this +case to a conclusion without making public her connection with it--the +elopement she was planning." + +"You do believe that part of the story, then: that she was going to elope +with Warren?" + +"I do. I don't want to--but I'm honest with myself." + +"Then," exclaimed Leverage with a slight touch of exasperation in +his manner--"who in thunder could have killed Warren if she didn't? +And when?" + +"That," said Carroll simply, "is what I hope to find out." + +"From where?" + +"From the lips of Mrs. Lawrence. I'm going to have a talk with her." + +Carroll was far from happy during his drive to the Lawrence home. The +Warren mystery seemed to be verging on a solution, but in Carroll's +breast there was none of the pardonable surge of elation which normally +was his under these circumstances. It had been a peculiar case from the +first. The _dramatis personae_ had all been of the better type, with the +single exception of William Barker--they had been persons against whom +the detective was loath to believe ill. And, most eagerly, he had shied +from the belief that Mrs. Lawrence was connected in a sinister way with +the death of Roland Warren. + +Yet he found himself en-route to her home, facing the ordeal of an +interview with her--an ordeal for her as well as for him--and one through +which he feared she could not safely come. For, frankly as Carroll had +admitted to his friend that he hoped to find Naomi innocent--he was yet +honest and fearless, and failure of the woman to clear herself meant her +arrest. Carroll was determined upon that--yet he dreaded it as a child +dreads the dentist--as something painful beyond belief. + +He rang the bell--then groaned as Evelyn Rogers greeted him effusively. +She ushered him ostentatiously into the parlor and drew up a chair +close to his-- + +"Mr. Carroll--it's just simply _scrumptuous_ of you to call on me +informally like this. I can't tell you how tickled I am. I was sitting +upstairs, simply bored to extinction. Sis has been a terrible drag on me +recently--really you'd have thought there had been a death in the +family. Or something! It's been simply graveyardy! And now you come +in--like a darling angel--and save me from the willywoggles. You're a +_dear_, and--" + +"But--but--I really came to see your sister." + +"Oh! _pff_! That's what poor dear Roland used to say all the time. But I +always knew I was the one he wanted to see. Goodness, he was simply +_crazy_ about me--but of course Sis never understood that. She hasn't yet +realized that I'm grown up." + +"Peculiar how blind some folks are. But this time, Miss Rogers--I really +do want to chat with your sister. Not that I wouldn't prefer a talk with +you. So if you'll tell her I'm here--and would like to see her +_privately_--" + +Evelyn rose and started reluctantly toward the door. "I suppose it's up +to me to make myself very scarce. But it is simply _precious_ of you to +admit you'd rather talk to me. Poor Roland used to say that--but he +always said it as though he was kidding. I believe _you_!" + +"I assure you I'm serious." + +"I know it. And anyway, I was thinking of running out for a +minute--and I suppose this is a good chance. Of course, I'd stay and +see you if you wanted--but I suppose you've got something terribly +dry to discuss and so--" + +She left the room and Carroll heaved a sigh of infinite relief. A few +minutes later the hall door swung back and Naomi and Evelyn entered. He +was immensely relieved to see that the youngster was cloaked for the +street and murmured a few idle words to her before she went. And until +the front door banged behind her he remained standing before the +fireplace, his eyes focused on the tragic figure of Naomi. + +She faced him bravely enough, but in her eyes he read the message of +knowledge. There was no need for words between them. She knew why he had +come--and he knew that she knew. + +"Sit down, please, Mr. Carroll." + +He waited until she had seated herself and then followed suit. He +controlled his voice with an effort--his words came softly, reassuringly. + +"I'm sorry I've come this way, Mrs. Lawrence. I've come--" + +"I know why you have come, Mr. Carroll. You need not mince matters." + +He drew a long breath. "Isn't it true, Mrs. Lawrence, that _you_ were the +woman in the taxi-cab the night Mr. Warren was killed?" + +She inclined her head. "Yes." + +Carroll fidgeted nervously. "I must warn you to be careful in what you +say to me, my friend. I am the detective in charge of this case, and--" + +"There is no use in concealment, Mr. Carroll. I have been driven almost +crazy since that night. I have almost reached the end of my rope. It was +the scandal I have been fighting to avoid--not so much for my own sake as +for Evelyn and my husband. Publicity--of this kind--would be +very--very--awkward--for both of them." + +"I'm sorry--" Carroll hesitated. "If you don't care to talk to me--" + +She shrugged slightly. "It makes no difference--now. I'd rather talk to +you than someone who might understand less readily--or more harshly." + +"I may question you?" + +"Yes." + +"I regret it--and rest assured that I am trying to find--a way +out--for you." + +"There is no way out--from the scandal. But that is my own fault--" + +Somewhere down the block an auto horn shrieked: in another room of the +house an old grandfather's clock chimed sonorously. + +"You admit that you were the woman in the taxicab?" + +"Yes. Certainly." + +"Do you admit that you killed Roland Warren?" + +Her startled eyes flashed to his. The color drained from her cheeks. Her +answer was almost inaudible-- + +"No!" + +"You did not kill him?" Carroll was impressed with the nuance of truth in +her answer. + +"No--I did not kill him." + +"But when you got into the taxicab--isn't it a fact that he was +already there?" + +"Yes--he was there, Mr. Carroll. _But he was already dead_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A CONFESSION + + +"--Already dead!" Carroll did not know if his lips framed the words or if +the walls of the room had echoed. He was startled at a time when he +fancied that there could be no further surprise in store for him. He +found himself eyeing the woman and he wondered that he gave credence to +her statement. + +Naomi was sitting straight, large black eyes dilated, hands gripping the +arms of the chair tightly, lips slightly parted. Even under the stress of +the moment Carroll was actually conscious of her feminine allure; unable +to free himself of her hypnotic personality. She spoke--but he scarcely +heard her words through his chaos of thought. + +"He was dead--before I got into the taxi-cab." + +He saw that she was fighting to impress upon him the truth of her +well-nigh unbelievable statement, that every atom of her brain strove +desperately to convince him. And then she relaxed suddenly, as though +from too great strain, and a shudder passed over her. + +"I knew--I knew--" + +"You knew _what_, Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"I knew that you would not believe me. Oh! it's true--this story I am +telling you. But I knew no one could believe it--it stretches one's +credulity too far. That is why I have kept silent through all these days +which have passed--that and a desire to save Evelyn and my husband." + +"You love your husband?" Carroll bit his lips. The question had slipped +out before he realized that he had formed the words. But she did not +evade the issue-- + +"I despise him, Mr. Carroll. But he has played square with me--more so +than I have with him. And publication of this would hurt him--" + +"Because he cares for you?" + +"No. But because he is proud: because he is jealous of his personal +possessions--of which I am one." + +"I see--And Mr. Warren--?" + +She spread her hands in a helpless, hopeless gesture. "What's the use, +Mr. Carroll? Why, should I wrack myself with the story when you do not +even believe the reason upon which it is based? If you only believed me +when I tell you that when I got into the taxicab Roland had already +been killed--" + +"I do believe that," returned Carroll gently. + +She inbreathed sharply, then her eyes narrowed a trifle. "Do you mean +that--or is it bait to make me talk?" + +"I can not do more than repeat my statement. I believe what you +have told me." + +She held his eyes for a moment, then slowly hers shrank from the contact. +"You are telling me the truth," she ventured. + +"And if you will tell me the whole story, Mrs. Lawrence--I shall see what +I can do for you." + +"What is there to do for me? There is no way to keep my name from it--my +name and the story of the mistake which I made--was willing to make." + +"Good God! No." + +"If we--" he used the pronoun unconsciously--"can establish that, there +may be some way of keeping the details from the public. Suppose you +start at the beginning--and tell me what there is to tell?" + +She hesitated. "Everything?" + +"Everything--or nothing. A portion of the story will not help either of +us. Of course you don't have to--" + +Impulsively she leaned forward. "There is something about you, Mr. +Carroll, which makes me trust you. I feel that you are a friend rather +than an enemy." + +He bowed gratefully. "Thank you." + +"It really began shortly after my marriage to Mr. Lawrence--" she had +started her story before she knew it. "I knew that I had made a mistake. +He is nearly thirteen years older than I--a man of icy disposition, a +nature which is cruel in its frigidity. I am not that--that kind of a +woman, Mr. Carroll. I should not have married that type of man. + +"He was good enough to me in his own peculiar way. I have a little money +of my own: he is wealthy. He liked to dress me up and show me off. He was +liberal with money--if not with kindness--when there was trouble in my +family. After my parents died he allowed Evelyn to live with us. They +have never liked one another--the more reason why I am grateful to him +for allowing her to remain in the house. + +"That is the life we have led together. We have long since ceased to have +anything in common. He has kept to himself and I have remained alone. So +far as the world knew--our home life was tranquil. Unbearably so--to a +nature like mine which loves love--and life. + +"I grew to hate my husband as a man much as I admired him in certain ways +for his brain and his achievement. Our individualities are millions of +miles apart. There was no oneness in our married life. And gradually he +learned that I hated him--and he became contemptuous. That stung my +pride. He didn't care. I felt--felt unsexed! + +"No need to go into further detail. Sufficient to say that I became +desperate for a little affection, a little kindness, a little recognition +of the fact that I am a woman--and a not entirely unattractive one. It +was about then that I met Roland Warren. + +"I wonder if you understand women, Mr. Carroll? I wonder if it is +possible for you to comprehend their psychological reactions? Because if +you cannot--you will never understand what Roland Warren meant to me. You +will never understand the condition which has led to--this tragedy." + +She paused and Carroll nodded. "You can trust me to understand." + +"I believe you do. I believe you understand something of what was going +on within me when Roland came into my life. In the light of what has +transpired, the fact that I was neglected by my husband seems +absurd--trivial. But it is not absurd--it is _not_ trivial! + +"Mr. Warren was kind to me. He was attentive--courteous--I believe that +he really loved me. I may have been fooled, of course. Starved as I was +for the affection of a man, I may have been blind to the sincerity of his +protestations. But I believed him. + +"As to how I felt toward him: I don't know. I liked him--admired him. I +believe that I loved him. But again we are faced with the abnormal +condition in which I found myself. I believe I loved him as I believe he +loved me. He represented a chance for life when for three years I had +been dead--living and breathing--yet dead as a woman. And that is the +most terrible of all deaths. + +"We planned to elope. Don't ask me how I could consider such a thing. +There is no answer possible. It wasn't a sane decision--but I decided +that I would. There was the craving to get away from things--to try to +start over. To revel in the richest things of life for awhile. I was +selfish--unutterably so. I didn't think then of the effect on my +husband--or of the effect on Evelyn. I was selfish--yes. But immoral--no! +What I planned to do--under the circumstances--was not immoral. Even yet +I cannot convince myself that it was. + +"Roland laid all his plans to leave the city. In all my delirium of +preparation--the hiding and the secrecy--I felt sincerely sorry for only +one person, and that person was Hazel Gresham to whom Mr. Warren was +engaged. I believe she was in love with him. But so was I--and if he +loved me--as I said before, Mr. Carroll--I was selfish! + +"On the morning of the day we were to go--my husband was in Nashville, +you know--Mr. Warren came to the house in his car. He showed me that he +had reserved a drawing-room for us to New York. In order that we would +not be seen together, he gave me one of the railroad tickets. I was to +reach the Union Station ten minutes before train time. If you +recall--the train on which we were to go was quite late that night. + +"We planned not to talk to one another at the station until after +boarding the train. Morning would have published news of the scandal +broadcast, but until the irrevocable step had been taken--we determined +to avoid gossip. And, Mr. Carroll--I was then--what is called a 'good +woman'. My faithlessness up to that time, and to this moment, had been +mental--and mental only. + +"When he left me that morning he took with him my suit-case. We had +agreed that I was not to take a trunk: that I was to buy--a +trousseau--in New York. I looked upon it almost as a honeymoon. He took +my suit-case to the Union Station and checked it there. I did not see +him again that day." + +"Toward evening--knowing that my husband was not due back until the +following morning, and realizing that I could not leave Evelyn alone in +the house--I suggested that she spend the night with Hazel Gresham. She +was surprised--knowing that I dread to be alone at night--but was ready +enough to go. I was not overcome with either emotion or shame when I told +her good-bye that afternoon. I was so hungry for happiness that I was +dead to the other emotions. + +"I went to the station that night in a street car. I had telephoned in +advance and learned that the train was late. The night was the worst of +the winter--bitterly cold. When I reached the station, I saw that Roland +was already there, and as he saw me enter, he left through the opposite +door--walking out to the platform which parallels the railroad tracks. + +"Then from the outside, he motioned me to follow. He wanted to talk to +me, but would not risk doing so where we might be seen. I sat down for +awhile, then, as casually as I could, followed him onto the station +platform. I saw him down at the far end near the baggage room. Again he +motioned to me to follow him. And he started out past the baggage room +into the railroad yards. + +"I was very grateful to him. He was taking no risk of our being seen +together. I followed slowly--not seeing him, but knowing that he would be +waiting for me out there. You understand where I mean? It is in that +section of the railroad yards where through trains leave their early +morning Pullmans--the tracks are parallel to Atlantic Avenue--and also +the main line tracks running into the Union Station shed. + +"I was conscious of the intense cold, but excitement buoyed me up. I +passed through the gate which ordinarily bars passengers from the tracks, +but which that night had either been left open or opened by Roland. The +wind, as I stepped from under the shelter of the station shed, was +terrific: howling across the yards, stinging with sleet. It was very +slippery under foot--I had to watch closely. And I was just a trifle +nervous because here and there through the yards I could see +lanterns--yard workers and track walkers, I presume. And occasionally the +headlight of a switch engine zigzagged across the tracks--I was afraid +I'd be caught in the glare-- + +"Finally, I saw Warren. He had walked about a hundred and fifty yards +down the track and was standing in the shelter of the Pullman office +building. It was very dark there--just enough light for me to make out +his silhouette. I started forward--then stopped: frightened. + +"For I distinctly saw the figure of a man coming into the yards from +Atlantic Avenue. From the moment I noticed him I had the peculiar +impression that the man had not only seen Mr. Warren and intended +speaking to him--but also that the meeting was not unexpected. I stopped +where I was and strained my eyes through the darkness-- + +"I could not see much--save that they were talking. Of course I could +hear nothing. I was shivering--but more with premonition of tragedy than +with the terrific cold. Then suddenly I saw the two shadows merge--the +combined shadow whirled strangely. I knew that Mr. Warren was fighting +with this other man. + +"I started forward again. Then I saw one of the shadows step back from +the other. There was the flash of a revolver--no noise, because a train +was rolling under the shed at the moment. But I saw the flash of the gun. +I stood motionless, horrified. I didn't advance, didn't run-- + +"I knew that the man who had been shot was Mr. Warren. I didn't know +what to do. I felt suddenly lost; hopeless--And watching, I saw one +figure stoop and lift the prostrate man. He dragged him across the +tracks to the inky darkness between the Pullman offices and the rear of +the baggage room. I don't know what he did there--but I remember +looking toward Atlantic Avenue and seeing a yellow taxicab parked +against the curb. I could see that there was no one in the driver's +seat--and while I watched I saw the man who had done the shooting drag +Mr. Warren's body to the taxicab. It was dark in the street--the arc +light on the corner was out-- + +"I saw him throw Mr. Warren's body into the taxicab. It was then that I +turned and fled toward the station. + +"I can't tell you how I felt. At a time like that one doesn't pause to +analyze one's emotional reactions. I was conscious of horror--of that and +the idea that I must save myself. And then the thought struck me that +perhaps Mr. Warren was _not_ dead. Perhaps he was only badly wounded. If +that were the case I knew that he would freeze to death in the cab. It +was necessary to get to him-- + +"By that time I had reached the waiting room. I saw his suit-case--and +then, Mr. Carroll--I thought of something else: something which made it +imperative that I get to Mr. Warren--" She stopped suddenly. +Carroll--eyes wide with interest--motioned her on. + +"You thought of something--something which made it necessary for you to +get to him?" + +"Yes. I remembered that he had in his pocket the check for my suit-case! +He had checked it himself that day. I realized in a flash that there +would be a police investigation--and the minute that checkroom stub was +found, the detectives would have followed it up. They would have +discovered my suit-case. My name would then have been indelibly linked +with his--in--in that way-- + +"So there were two reasons why I knew I must get into that taxicab: to +recover the suit-case check--and to either assure myself that he was +dead, or else take him where he could get expert medical attention. +Almost before I knew what I was doing I seized his suit-case, which he +had left on the floor of the waiting room. I left the station along with +several passengers who had come in on the local train. I called the +taxicab--I told him to drive me to some place on East End Avenue--gave +him some address which I knew was a long distance away--so that I would +have time to learn if he was dead--and if he wasn't, to get him to a +doctor's; and if he was, to find the check--the finding of which in his +pocket would have connected me with the affair. + +"He was dead!" She paused--choked--and went on gamely. "I got out of the +taxicab when it slowed down at a railroad crossing. I walked half the +distance back to town, then caught the last street car home--" + +Her voice died away. Carroll relaxed slowly. Then a puzzled frown creased +his forehead-- + +"The man who did the actual shooting," he said quietly--"have you the +slightest idea as to his identity?" + +"No." Her manner was almost indifferent: the strain was over--she was +hardly conscious of what she was saying. "He was smaller than Mr. +Warren--a man of about my husband's size--" + +She stopped abruptly! Carroll's gaze grew steely--he made a note of the +expression of horror in her eyes. + +"About your husband's size!" he repeated softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +CARROLL DECIDES + + +For a moment she was silent. It was patent that she was groping +desperately for the correct thing to say. And finally she extended a +pleading hand-- + +"Please--don't think that!" + +"What?" + +"That is was--was my husband. He wouldn't--" + +"Why not?" + +"Anyway--it is impossible. He was in Nashville. He didn't get home +until morning." + +Carroll shook his head. "I hope he can prove he was in Nashville. We have +tried to prove it, and we cannot. And you must admit, Mrs. Lawrence, that +had he known what you planned he would have had the justification of the +unwritten law--" + +Her eyes brightened. "You think, then--that if he did--he would be +acquitted?" + +"Yes. More so in view of your story that there was a fight between the +two men. That would probably add self-defense to his plea. However, I may +be wrong in that--" + +"You are indeed, Mr. Carroll. My husband--isn't that kind of a man. And +even if he had done the shooting--he could not have concealed it from me +for this length of time. He would have given a hint--" + +"No-o. He wouldn't have done that. If he shot Warren he would have been +afraid of telling even you." + +She walked to the window where she stood for a moment looking out on the +drear December day. Then she turned tragically back to Carroll. + +"You are going to arrest me?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I believe your story, Mrs. Lawrence. And so long as there is any +way to keep your name clear of the whole miserable mess, I shall do so." + +"But if you arrest my husband--" + +"I have no intention of doing that, either--unless I am convinced that he +was in the city when the shooting occurred. I am not in favor of +indiscriminate arrests. In this case, they can do nothing but harm." + +"You are very good," she said softly. "I didn't imagine that a +detective--" + +"Some of us are human beings, Mrs. Lawrence. Is that so strange?" + +She did not answer, and for several minutes they sat in silence--each +intent in thought. It was Carroll who broke the stillness: + +"Do you know William Barker?" + +"Barker? Why, yes--certainly. He was Mr. Warren's valet." + +"I know it. Have you seen Barker since the night Mr. Warren was killed?" + +"Yes." He could scarcely distinguish her answer. "Twice." + +"He called here?" + +"Yes." + +"Was your husband at home on either occasion?" + +"No." + +"Why did he come here?" + +She hesitated, but only for the fraction of a second. "It was Barker who +was driving me to distraction. He knew that I was the woman in the +taxicab. He really believes that I killed Mr. Warren. He has been +blackmailing me." + +"A-ah! So _that_ explains his visits, and his plentiful supply of +money?" + +"Yes. Oh! it was shameful--that I should be so helpless before his +demands. It didn't matter that I had nothing to do with the killing--it +was enough that I had to pay any price to keep my name clear of scandal. +Looking back on the affair now, Mr. Carroll--I cannot understand my own +weakness. But I felt that I owed it to my husband and my sister to +protect them from scandal at any cost--and I have paid Barker a good deal +of money--" + +"I see." Carroll rose. "I want you to understand, Mrs. Lawrence, that you +have helped me tremendously. And to know, also, that I shall probably +succeed in keeping your name out of any disclosures which might have to +be made to the public." + +"But if my husband did it--" + +"In that event, it will be impossible not to tell." + +"And if he didn't do it?" + +"Then you will be safe. But," finished the detective seriously, "if your +husband didn't do it--I don't know who did. I have followed every +possible trail and unless guilt can be fastened on either your husband or +Barker, there isn't the faintest shadow of suspicion attached to anyone +else. It will make things very difficult--for me." + +During his ride to headquarters Carroll was busy with his thoughts. He +was worried about the possible complicity of Gerald Lawrence in the +shooting of Warren. He was more than halfway convinced that Lawrence +knew a good deal about it--and the obvious method was to order +Lawrence's arrest and make him prove an alibi. But such a procedure was +impossible in view of his determination to protect Naomi's name to the +ultimate moment. + +He was greeted at headquarters by a reporter for one of the two evening +papers. The reporter was eager for an interview. There had been an +appalling dearth of local news, and the Warren story had been long since +played beyond the point of public interest. The readers, explained the +reporter, were growing tired of theories and column after column of +conjecture. They wanted a few facts. + +Carroll shook his head. "Nothing definite to give out yet." + +The reporter was persistent. "You have made no new discoveries at all?" + +"Well--I'd hardly say that." + +"Then you _have_?" + +"Yes," answered Carroll frankly, "I have." + +"You think you know who killed Warren?" + +Carroll, his mind still busy with Naomi's story, answered casually. "I +believe I do. That is just a belief, mind you. But there is an outside +chance that there will be important developments within the next +twenty-four hours." + +"Something definite, eh?" + +"If anything at all happens, it will be definite." + +Then Carroll excused himself and sought Eric Leverage. Under pledge of +secrecy he told Leverage the entire story as he had heard it from Naomi +Lawrence's lips. When he finished Leverage slammed his hand on the arm of +his chair-- + +"Gerald Lawrence, or I'm a bum guesser," he stated positively. + +"Looks that way," admitted Carroll. "What I hate about the idea is that +if Lawrence is the man there will be no way on earth to keep Mrs. +Lawrence's name out of it." + +"You're right--How about Barker?" + +"I believe Barker's story. So does Mrs. Lawrence. She believes that +Barker thinks she killed Warren in the taxi." + +Leverage glanced keenly at his friend. "You are going to arrest +Lawrence?" + +"No-o. Not yet. He may not have done it--" + +"Well," sizzled the chief of police, "if he didn't and Barker didn't--who +the devil did?" + +Carroll shook his head hopelessly. "I don't know, Eric. If neither of +those two men did, we'll be left hopelessly in the air." + +"Exactly. We know that one of 'em did the shooting. We've covered this +case from every angle, and if we believe that the shooting was not done +by Mrs. Lawrence, we must suspect one of the two men involved. And if you +are sure it wasn't Barker--" + +"Let's wait a little while longer," counseled Carroll. "I want to be +absolutely sure of my ground." + +The two men sat in Leverage's office and talked. They discussed the case +again from the beginning to its present status--threshing out each detail +in the hope that they might have overlooked some vital fact which would +give them a basis upon which to proceed. Their efforts were fruitless. +The investigation had developed results--true enough--but those results +were not at all satisfactory. + +And it was about an hour later that a knock came on the door. In response +to Leverage's summons, an orderly entered. In his hand he carried an +evening paper-- + +"Just brought this in, sir. Thought you and Mr. Carroll might like +to read it." + +The orderly retired. Carroll spread the paper--then did something very +rare. He swore profoundly. His eyes focused angrily on the enormous +first page headlines: + +"CARROLL HAS SOLVED WARREN MYSTERY + +"Identity of Clubman's Slayer Known to Famous Detective + +"WILL MAKE ARREST WITHIN 24 HOURS + +"Sensational Developments Promised by David Carroll in Exclusive +Interview with Reporter for The Star." + +It all came back to Carroll now. The eager reporter, the news-hunger, +his non-committal statements. He read furiously through the story. It +proved to be one of those newspaper masterpieces which uses an enormous +number of words and says nothing. Carroll was quoted as saying only what +he had actually said. It was the personal conjecture of the reporter +writing the story which had given spur to the vivid imagination of the +headline writer. + +"So now," questioned Leverage--"what are you going to do: deny it?" + +"No!" snapped Carroll--"I can't. He hasn't misquoted a single line of +what I said. It just makes things--makes 'em mighty embarrassing." + +He sat hunched in his chair staring at the screaming headlines and +re-reading the lurid story. Again an orderly entered. + +"Young lady out there," he announced, "who wants to know if Mr. +Carroll is here." + +Instantly the mind of the detective leaped to the tragic figure of Naomi +Lawrence. "She wants to see me?" he questioned. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Show her in." He motioned to Leverage to remain. The orderly +disappeared--and in a minute, the door opened and a woman entered. +Carroll sprang to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. + +"Miss Gresham!" + +Hazel Gresham nodded. She advanced toward Carroll. Every drop of color +had been drained from her cheeks. Her manner indicated intense nervous +strain. Her eyes were wide and fixed-- + +"I would like to speak to you alone, Mr. Carroll." + +"Yes--This is Chief Leverage, Miss Gresham." + +Leverage acknowledged the introduction and would have left but the girl +stopped him. "On second thought, Mr. Leverage--you might remain." + +Eric paused. His eyes sought Carroll's face. Both men knew that something +vitally unexpected was about to be disclosed. They waited for the girl to +speak--and when she did her voice was so low as to be almost +unintelligible. + +"About a half hour ago, gentlemen--I read the story in The Star. +I--I--" she faltered for a moment, then went bravely on--"I came right +down--to save you the trouble of sending for me!" + +Silence: tense--expectant. "You did _what?"_ queried Carroll. + +"I came down--to save you the trouble--the embarrassment--of sending for +me." She looked at them eagerly. "I have come to give myself up!" + +Carroll frowned. "For what?" + +"For--for the murder of--Roland Warren!" + +The detective shook his head. "I don't understand, Miss Gresham. Really I +don't. Do you mean to tell me that _you_ were the woman in the taxicab?" + +She was biting her lips nervously. "Yes." + +"And that you shot Roland Warren?" + +"Y-yes--And when I read in the paper that you knew who did it--I came +right down here. I didn't want to--to--to be brought down--in a +patrol wagon." + +"I see--" Wild thoughts were chasing one another through Carroll's +brain. He was beginning to see light. "You are quite _sure_ that you +killed Mr. Warren?" + +"Yes, I'm sure. Why do you doubt me? Don't you suppose that I know +whether I killed him? Don't you suppose I can prove that I did it--" + +"Yes--I suppose you can. I wonder, Miss Gresham," and Carroll's voice +was very, very gentle, "if you would wait in that room yonder for a +few minutes?" + +"Certainly--" She raised her head pleadingly: "You _do_ believe me, +don't you?" + +Carroll dodged the issue. "I want to think." + +Alone with Leverage, Carroll clenched his fist--"If that isn't the most +peculiar--" + +"She's not telling the truth, is she, David?" + +"Certainly not. She couldn't smash her own alibi if she tried a +million years." + +He paced the room, walking in quick, jerky steps. Finally his face +cleared and he stopped before Leverage's chair. + +"I've got it!" he announced triumphantly. + +"Got what?" + +"Never mind," Carroll was surcharged with suppressed excitement. "I want +you to do something for me, Leverage--and do it promptly." + +"Sure--" + +"Send Cartwright and bring Garry Gresham here." + +"Garry Gresham?" + +"Yes--the young lady's brother." + +Leverage was bewildered. "What in the world do you want with him?" + +"I want him," explained Carroll confidently--"because _Garry Gresham is +the man who shot Warren!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED + + +Within an hour Garry Gresham appeared at headquarters in the company of +Cartwright. The officer left the room and the three men were alone. + +Gresham's manner was nervous, but he showed no fright. Leverage, +regarding him keenly, found reason to doubt Carroll's positive statement +that Gresham was the person they sought. The young man stood facing them +bravely, waiting-- + +"Gresham," said Carroll softly, "Your sister is in that room yonder. She +read the afternoon paper--the report that I knew who killed Roland +Warren. She immediately came here to give herself up." + +An expression of utter bewilderment crossed young Gresham's face. Then he +started forward angrily: "Why are you lying to me--" + +"Easy, Gresham--easy there. I am not lying to you." + +He saw Garry's eyes dart to the door behind which the sister was seated. +"What did she give herself up for, Carroll?" + +"For killing Roland Warren." + +Gresham took a firm grip on himself. "She didn't do it," he stated +positively. + +"Of course not," returned Carroll with equal assurance. "_You_ did! And +so that you will be quite convinced that I am not trying to trick you +into the confession which I am sure you will make--" He crossed the room +and flung open the door. "Come in, please, Miss Gresham." + +The girl entered quietly--then saw her brother. Instantly her manner +softened. She stepped swiftly to his side and took his hand in hers. +"Please, Garry--" + +Gresham smiled; a tender, affectionate smile. + +"Good scout, aren't you, Sis? But tell me," his tone was conversational, +"how did you know that I shot Roland Warren?" + +"You didn't!" She flung around on Carroll--"Don't believe him. I shot +Mr. Warren--" + +"I knew from the first that you didn't do it, Miss Gresham. I know that +Miss Rogers spent the night with you. More than that, I know the identity +of the woman in the taxicab." + +"Who was she?" It was Gresham who questioned. + +Carroll shook his head. "It doesn't matter who she was, Gresham. We're +going to keep her name out of this case. She was a woman who loved Roland +Warren--and his death saved her from a great mistake. There's no +necessity to ruin her life, is there?" + +"How did you know--it was Garry--who did the shooting?" asked the girl. + +"The minute you confessed," answered the detective quietly, "I knew that +you were doing it to shield someone. You could have had no possible +motive for shielding either of the other two men under suspicion. I knew +that it must be your brother. He had motive enough--he knew that you +were in love with Mr. Warren--engaged to him. He knew that Warren was +about to elope with another woman, that it would cause you intense +misery. So he went to the station that night to prevent the elopement. +Isn't that so, Gresham?" + +The young man nodded. "Yes. When I went to your apartment the morning +after the killing, it was for the purpose of confessing. But then when +you assured me that my sister was not under suspicion--I decided to wait +awhile before saying anything." He paused--"And as to that night--I +parked my car a couple of blocks away and walked to the station through +Jackson Street, intending to cut through the yards and approach the +waiting room from the passenger platform. I had no idea that--that there +would be--a tragedy. I wanted to reason with Warren; to beg him to save +my sister from suffering which I knew would be attendant on--his +elopement. + +"He was walking in the yards as I entered from between the Pullman +building and the baggage room. I don't know what he was doing there--but +I spoke to him. He seemed startled at seeing me. I told him that I knew +he was planning to elope--and begged him to call it off. + +"Much to my surprise, he immediately got nasty. He seemed to want to get +rid of me. He told me it was none of my damned business what he was +doing. He even admitted the truth of what I said. + +"That was the first hint of unpleasantness. But it grew--rapidly. He +cursed me--anyway we had a brief, violent quarrel. He said something +about my sister and I struck him. He clinched with me. We were fighting +then--and I am a fairly good athlete. I broke out of a clinch and hit him +pretty hard. He reached into his pocket and pulled a revolver. I managed +to grab his hand before he could fire. I got it from him, and as I jerked +it away--it went off. He fell-- + +"I was afraid then--panicky. I felt his body and realized that he was +dead. A train had just come into the yards and there were switch +engines puffing here and there--I was apprehensive that one of their +headlights would pick me up. And there were some railroad men walking +around the yards with lanterns in their hands. There was danger that I +was going to be seen--and, had I been, I felt that I wouldn't have a +leg to stand on; alone in such a place with the body of a man whom I +admitted having shot-- + +"You see, I couldn't even prove the contemplated elopement. Late that +evening I had received an anonymous telephone call from a man telling me +that if I wanted to save my sister a good deal of unpleasant gossip, I'd +better meet that midnight train as Warren was eloping on it with some +other woman. But the man who gave me this information cut off before +telling me the name of the woman. I didn't know it then--and I don't +know it now. + +"I knew I had to hide Warren's body; not that my killing was not +justified on the grounds of self-defense, but because I would not bring +my sister's name into it--and also because even if I did, there'd be no +proof of the truth of what I said. + +"I dragged his body into the shadows between the two buildings. Atlantic +Avenue was deserted. At the curb I saw a yellow taxicab and noticed that +the driver was in the restaurant across the street. I conceived the idea +of putting the body in the taxicab--I knew I wouldn't be seen doing it, +and it would serve the purpose of causing the body to be discovered at +some point other than that at which the shooting occurred. + +"I did it. Then I left. The next morning I read of the case in the papers +and I have followed it closely since. I knew you were ostensibly on the +wrong track and as a matter of self-preservation I determined to keep my +mouth shut unless it happened that the wrong person was accused. Had you +charged someone else with the killing I assure you I would have come +forward. But meanwhile--not even knowing the identity of the woman in the +taxi--there seemed no necessity for running the risk. There was nothing +save my own word to prove self-defense, you see." + +"There is now," said Carroll. Hazel started eagerly and he smiled upon +her. "The story of the woman who actually was in the taxicab +substantiates yours, Gresham. She had followed Warren into the yards to +talk to him. She saw the whole affair from a distance--and then went back +through the waiting room of the station and called the taxi in which you +had placed Warren's body." + +"Then Garry will be freed?" cried the girl hopefully: "His plea of +self-defense will acquit him?" + +"Undoubtedly," retorted Carroll. "Don't you think so, Leverage?" + +"Surest thing you know," returned the chief heartily. "And I'm darned +glad of it!" + +Garry faced his sister. "How did you know that I had killed him, Sis?" + +"I didn't," she answered quietly. "Not at first, anyway. But, if you +remember, you came in the house a little after eleven o'clock that night +and seemed excited. You came to my room--" + +"I was thinking then," explained Garry, "that maybe _you_ were eloping +with Warren." + +"Then you came home again a little after one o'clock. You waked me +then--and acted peculiarly." + +"I was reassuring myself," he said, "that you really hadn't left +the house." + +"The next morning while you were taking your shower I was putting up +your laundry," Hazel went on. "I found a revolver in your drawer. I +didn't think anything of it then--I hadn't even read the papers about +the--the--killing. But later, I remembered it. I went back to look for +the revolver--just why, I don't know--and it was gone. I questioned +you about it a couple of days later, and you denied that you had ever +had a revolver in the house. And I knew then, Garry--I knew that you +had done it." + +He squeezed her hand. "We always did know more about each other than we +were told, didn't we, Little Sis? Because at that moment, too, I knew +that you knew!" + +The young man turned back to the detectives--"And what now?" he +questioned. + +"We'll have to hold you, Gresham. You'll have to go through the form of +a trial--but you'll get off, don't worry!" + +Sister and brother left the room hand-in-hand. Alone again, the two +detectives faced each other. "You win, David," said Leverage admiringly. +"Though darned if I know how you do it?" + +"A combination of luck and common sense," returned Carroll simply. "This +time it was principally luck. It usually is in such cases--but most +detectives don't admit it. It is the wild-eyed reporter with the vivid +imagination whom we can thank for this solution. It was his fiction that +brought about Miss Gresham's ridiculous confession and that which caused +me to know that she must be shielding her brother. As to how matters +stand--I say Thank God!" + +"Why?" + +"Garry Gresham will undoubtedly be freed; it was a clear case of +self-defense. Unfortunately, the fact that there was an elopement will +have to be known--but that is a comparatively trivial thing, unpleasant +as it may be for Miss Gresham. And, most of all--I'm glad because Naomi +Lawrence's name will not be dragged into it." + +"How will you work that, David?" + +"It can be done, Eric. The district attorney is a pretty good friend of +mine--and he's a good square fellow. Of course he will have to know the +entire story; and it is a certainty that he will believe it. And when he +does--you know that he will handle the case so that Mrs. Lawrence will +not be connected. Irregular--yes. But you believe he can--and will--do +it, don't you?" + +"You bet your bottom dollar he will. He's another nut like you--so +bloomin' human it hurts." + +"And now--" said Carroll, "I want to chat with William Barker. There are +one or two loose ends I want to clear up." + +Barker was very humble as he entered the room. + +"You're free of the murder charge," stated Carroll promptly, "but we may +hold you for blackmail." + +Barker heaved a sigh of relief. "I ain't objectin' to that, Mr. Carroll. +It's a small thing when a man has thought he might be strung up." + +"Who killed Warren?" questioned the detective. + +"Don't you know?" came the surprised answer. + +"Yes--but I'm asking you." + +"I suppose you're driving at something new," retorted Barker, "but _I_ +really think Mrs. Lawrence shot him." + +"She didn't," answered Carroll. "And there's one thing I want to warn you +about right now, Barker. You're the only person except the Chief here, +and myself, who knows that Mrs. Lawrence is connected with the case. I +want her name kept out of it. Of course that makes it impossible to +arrest you for blackmail--and so, if you tell me the entire truth, I'm +going to _let_ you go free. But if I ever hear of her name in connection +with this case I'll know that you have leaked--and I'll get you if it +takes me ten years. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir, I do--thankin' you, sir. I know which side my bread is +buttered on." + +"Good. Now I'm telling you that Mrs. Lawrence did _not_ shoot Warren. +Who did?" + +"I don't know--" Suddenly his expression changed. "If it wasn't her, Mr. +Carroll--it must have been Mr. Gresham." + +"Aa-a-ah! What makes you think that?" + +Barker's eyes narrowed. "You give me your word of honor, Mr. Carroll, I +ain't goin' to be pinched for blackmail?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, it was this way, sir. Bein' Mr. Warren's valet I knew he was +plannin' to run off with Mrs. Lawrence. I knew that was going to raise an +awful row in town--and I knew that Mr. Gresham would do a heap to keep +his sister from bein' unhappy as she was going to be if Mr. Warren done +as he was plannin'. So I called up Mr. Gresham that night and told him +everything but the woman's name. My idea was that he'd bust up the +elopement. I went to the station to make sure that Mrs. Lawrence got +there--knowin' that once she' was there, if young Mr. Gresham busted +things up, I'd be able to blackmail Mrs. Lawrence--her bein' a rich +woman. I'm comin' clean with you, Mr. Carroll--" + +"Go ahead!" + +"I never seen Mr. Gresham at all at the station. And when I seen Mrs. +Lawrence get into the taxi and found out the next morning that Mr. +Warren's body was found there--of course I couldn't help thinkin' like I +did, could I?" + +"I suppose not. You're a skunk, Barker--and I hate to let you go. But if +the Chief is willing I'm going to do it--because your hide isn't worth +Mrs. Lawrence's good name. Now get out!" + +"I'm free?" questioned the man eagerly. + +"How about it, Leverage?" + +"Sure," growled Leverage. "You're the boss, David." + +Immediately as Barker left the room Carroll turned to the telephone and +called a number. + +"Who's that?" questioned Leverage. + +"Mrs. Lawrence," answered Carroll. "I want to tell her that she is safe." + +Leverage smiled broadly. And as he watched Carroll's eager face he saw an +expression of consternation cross it. Carroll covered the transmitter +with his hand-- + +"Good Lord!" he groaned, "it's Evelyn Rogers!" + +Leverage chuckled--then listened shamelessly to Carroll's end of the +conversation-- + +"Yes--yes, this is David Carroll--I'm glad you think it was sweet of me +to telephone--I want to speak to your sister--She isn't there?--Well, ask +her to telephone me at headquarters as soon as she comes in, will +you?--Uh-huh!--the Warren case has ended--and that's what I wanted to +tell her--I only did my best--Yes--Oh! say--" + +The receiver clicked on the hook. Carroll was grinning as he turned back +to his friend-- + +"Guess what that young thing said when I told her I had solved the +Warren case?" + +"Tell me, David--I'm a poor guesser." + +"She said," returned Carroll gravely--"that I am just the cutest man she +has ever known!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDNIGHT*** + + +******* This file should be named 11043-8.txt or 11043-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/4/11043 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** diff --git a/old/11043-8.zip b/old/11043-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7d3823 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11043-8.zip diff --git a/old/11043.txt b/old/11043.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e1b8c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11043.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7434 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Midnight, by Octavus Roy Cohen + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Midnight + +Author: Octavus Roy Cohen + +Release Date: February 11, 2004 [eBook #11043] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDNIGHT*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +MIDNIGHT + +BY OCTAVUS ROY COHEN + +Author of "THE CRIMSON ALIBI," "GRAY DUSK," ETC. + +1921 + + + + + + +TO DR. MILES A. WATKINS + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I OUT OF THE STORM + + II THE SUIT-CASE IS OPENED + + III "FIND THE WOMAN" + + IV CARROLL HAS A VISITOR + + V MISS EVELYN ROGERS + + VI REGARDING ROLAND WARREN + + VII THE VALET TALKS + + VIII CARROLL MAKES A MOVE + + XI ICE CREAM SODA + + X A DISCOVERY + + XI LOOSE ENDS + + XII A CHALLENGE + + XIII NO ALIBI + + XIV THE SUIT-CASE AGAIN + + XV A TALK WITH HAZEL GRESHAM + + XVI THE WOMAN IN THE TAXI + + XVII BARKER ACCUSES + +XVIII "AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH--" + + XIX LABYRINTH + + XX A CONFESSION + + XXI CARROLL DECIDES + + XXII THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +OUT OF THE STORM + + +Taxicab No. 92,381 skidded crazily on the icy pavement of Atlantic +Avenue. Spike Walters, its driver, cursed roundly as he applied the +brakes and with difficulty obtained control of the little closed car. +Depressing the clutch pedal, he negotiated the frozen thoroughfare and +parked his car in the lee of the enormous Union Station, which bulked +forbiddingly in the December midnight. + +Atlantic Avenue was deserted. The lights at the main entrance of the +Union Station glowed frigidly. Opposite, a single arc-lamp on the corner +of Cypress Street cast a white, cheerless light on the gelid pavement. +The few stores along the avenue were dark, with the exception of the +warmly lighted White Star restaurant directly opposite the Stygian spot +where Spike's car was parked. + +The city was in the grip of the first cold wave of the year. For two days +the rain had fallen--a nasty, drizzling rain which made the going soggy +and caused people to greet one another with frowns. Late that afternoon +the mercury had started a rapid downward journey. Fires were piled high +in the furnaces, automobile-owners poured alcohol into their radiators. +The streets were deserted early, and the citizens, for the most part, had +retired shiveringly under mountains of blankets and down quilts still +redolent of moth-balls. + +Winter had come with freezing blasts which swept around corners and +chilled to the bone. The rain of two days became a driving sleet, which +formed a mirror of ice over the city. + +On the seat of his yellow taxicab, Spike Walters drew a heavy lap-robe +more closely about his husky figure and shivered miserably. Fortunately, +the huge bulk of the station to his right protected him in a large +measure from the shrieking wintry winds. Mechanically Spike kept his eyes +focused upon the station entrance, half a block ahead. + +But no one was there. Nowhere was there a sign of life, nowhere an +indication of warmth or cheer or comfort. With fingers so numb that they +were almost powerless to do the bidding of his mind, Spike drew forth his +watch and glanced at it. Midnight! + +Spike replaced the watch, blew on his numb fingers in a futile effort to +restore warmth, slipped his hands back into a pair of heavy--but, on +this night, entirely inadequate--driving-gloves, and gave himself over to +a mental rebellion against the career of a professional taxi-driver. + +"Worst night I've ever known," he growled to himself; and he was not +far wrong. + +Midnight! No train due until 12.25, and that an accommodation from some +small town up-State. No taxi fares on such a train as that. The +north-bound fast train--headed for New York--that was late, too. Due at +11.55, Spike had seen a half-frozen station-master mark it up as being +fifty minutes late. Perhaps a passenger to be picked up there--some +sleepy, disgruntled, entirely unhappy person eager to attain the warmth +and coziness of a big hotel. + +Yet Spike knew that he must wait. The company for which he worked +specialized on service. It boasted that every train was met by a +yellow taxicab--and this was Spike's turn for all-night duty at the +Union Station. + +All the independent taxi-drivers had long since deserted their posts. The +parking space on Cypress Street, opposite the main entrance of the +station--a space usually crowded with commercial cars--was deserted. No +private cars were there, either. Spike seemed alone in the drear December +night, his car an exotic of the early winter. + +Ten minutes passed--fifteen. The cold bit through Spike's overcoat, +battled to the skin, and chewed to the bone. It was well nigh unbearable. +The young taxi-driver's lips became blue. He tried to light a cigarette, +but his fingers were unable to hold the match. + +He looked around. A street-car, bound for a suburb, passed noisily. It +paused briefly before the railroad-station, neither discharging nor +taking on a passenger, then clanged protestingly on its way. Impressed in +Spike's mind was a mental picture of the chilled motorman, and of the +conductor huddled over the electric heater within the car. Spike felt a +personal resentment against that conductor. Comfort seemed unfair on a +night like this; heat a luxury more to be desired than much fine gold. + +From across the street the light of the White Star Cafe beckoned. +Ordinarily Spike was not a patron of the White Star, nor other eating +establishments of its class. The White Star was notoriously unsanitary, +its food poisonously indigestible; but as Spike's eyes were held +hypnotically by the light he thought of two things--within the circle of +that light he could find heat and a scalding liquid which was flavored +with coffee. + +The vision was too much for Spike. The fast train, due now at 12.45, +might bring a fare. It was well beyond the bounds of reason that he would +get a passenger from the accommodation due in a few minutes. There were +no casuals abroad. + +The young driver clambered with difficulty from his seat. He staggered as +he tried to stand erect, his numb limbs protesting against the burden of +his healthy young body. A gale howled around the dark Jackson Street +corner of the long, rambling station, and Spike defensively covered both +ears with his gloved hands. + +He made his way eagerly across the street; slipping and sliding on the +glassy surface, head bent against the driving sleet, clothes crackling +where particles of ice had formed. Spike reached the door of the +eating-house, opened it, and almost staggered as the warmth of the place +smote him like a hot blast. + +For a few seconds he stood motionless, reveling in the sheer animal +comfort of the change. Then he made his way to the counter, seated +himself on a revolving stool, and looked up at the waiter who came +stolidly forward from the big, round-bellied stove at the rear. + +"Hello, George!" + +The restauranteur nodded. + +"Hello!" + +"My gosh! What a night!" + +"Pretty cold, ain't it?" + +"Cold?" Spike Walters looked up antagonistically. "Say, you don't know +what cold means. I'd rather have your job to-night than a million +dollars. Only if I had a million dollars I'd buy twenty stoves, set 'em +in a circle, build a big fire in each one, sit in the middle, and tell +winter to go to thunder--that's what I'd do. Now, George, hustle and lay +me out a cup of coffee, hot--get that?--and a couple of them greasy +doughnuts of yourn." + +The coffee and doughnuts were duly produced, and the stolid Athenian +retired to the torrid zone of his stove. Spike bravely tried one of the +doughnuts and gave it up as a bad job, but he quaffed the coffee with an +eagerness which burned his throat and imparted a pleasing sensation of +inward warmth. Then he stretched luxuriously and lighted a cigarette. + +He glanced through the long-unwashed window of the White Star +Cafe--"Ladies and gents welcome," it announced--and shuddered at the +prospect of again braving the elements. Across the street his +unprotesting taxicab stood parked parallel to the curb; beyond it +glowered the end of the station. To the right of the long, rambling +structure he could see the occasional glare of switch engines and +track-walkers' lanterns in the railroad yards. + +As he looked, he saw the headlight of the locomotive at the head of the +accommodation split the gloom. Instinctively Spike rose, paid his +check, and stood uncomfortably at the door, buttoning the coat tightly +around his neck. + +Of course it was impossible that the accommodation carried a fare for +him; but then duty was duty, and Spike took exceeding pride in the +company for which he worked. The company's slogan of service was part of +Spike's creed. He opened the door, recoiled for a second as the gale +swept angrily against him, then plunged blindly across the street. He +clambered into the seat of his cab, depressed the starter, and +eventually was answered by the reluctant cough of the motor. He raced it +for a while, getting the machinery heated up preparatory to the +possibility of a run. + +Then he saw the big doors at the main entrance of the station open and a +few melancholy passengers, brought to town by the accommodation train, +step to the curb, glance about in search of a street-car, and then duck +back into the station. Spike shoved his clutch in and crawled forward +along the curb, leaving the inky shadows of the far end of the station, +and emerging finally into the effulgence of the arc at the corner of +Cypress Street. + +Once again the door of the Union Station opened. This time Spike took a +professional interest in the person who stepped uncertainly out into the +night. Long experience informed him that this was a fare. + +She was of medium height, and comfortably guarded against the frigidity +of the night by a long fur coat buttoned snugly around her neck. She wore +a small squirrel tam, and was heavily veiled. In her right hand she +carried a large suit-case and in her left a purse. + +She stepped to the curb and looked around inquiringly. She signalled the +cab. Even as he speeded his car forward, Spike wondered at her +indifference to the almost unbearable cold. + +"Cab, miss?" + +He pulled up short before her. + +"Yes." Her tone was almost curt. She had her hand on the door handle +before Spike could make a move to alight. "Drive to 981 East End Avenue." + +Without leaving the driver's seat, Spike reached for her suit-case and +put it beside him. The woman--a young woman, Spike reflected--stepped +inside and slammed the door. Spike fed the gas and started, whirling +south on Atlantic Avenue for two blocks, and then turning to his left +across the long viaduct which marks the beginning of East End Avenue. + +He settled himself for a long and unpleasant drive. To reach 981 East End +Avenue he had to drive nearly five miles straight in the face of the +December gale. + +And then he found himself wondering about the woman. Her coat--a rich fur +thing of black and gray--her handbag, her whole demeanor--all bespoke +affluence. She had probably been visiting at some little town, and had +come down on the accommodation; but no one had been there to meet her. +Anyway, Spike found himself too miserable and too cold to reflect much +about his passenger. + +He drove into a head wind. The sleet slapped viciously against his +windshield and stuck there. The patent device he carried for the purpose +of clearing rain away refused to work. Spike shoved his windshield up in +order to afford a vision of the icy asphalt ahead. + +And then he grew cold in earnest. He seemed to freeze all the way +through. He drove mechanically, becoming almost numb as the wind, +unimpeded now, struck him squarely. He lost all interest in what he was +doing or where he was going. He called himself a fool for having left the +cozy warmth of the White Star Cafe. He told himself-- + +Suddenly he clamped on the brakes. It was a narrow squeak! The end of the +long freight train rumbled on into the night. Spike hadn't seen it; only +the racket of the big cars as they crossed East End Avenue, and then the +lights on the rear of the caboose, had warned him. + +He stopped his car for perhaps fifteen seconds to make sure that the +crossing was clear, then started on again, a bit shaken by the narrow +escape. He bumped cautiously across the railroad tracks. + +The rest of the journey was a nightmare. The suburb through which he was +passing seemed to have congealed. Save for the corner lights, there was +no sign of life. The roofs and sidewalks glistened with ice. Occasionally +the car struck a bump and skidded dangerously. Spike had forgotten his +passenger, forgotten the restaurant, the coffee, the weather itself. He +only remembered that he was cold--almost unbearably cold. + +Then he began taking note of the houses. There was No. 916. He looked +ahead. These were houses of the poorer type, the homes of laborers +situated on the outer edge of the suburb of East End. Funny--the +handsomely dressed woman--such a poor neighborhood-- + +He came to a halt before a dilapidated bungalow which squatted darkly in +the night. Stiff with cold, he reached his hand back to the door on the +right of the car, and with difficulty opened it. Then he spoke: + +"Here y'are, miss--No. 981!" + +There was no answer. Spike repeated: + +"Here y'are, miss." + +Still no answer. Spike clambered stiffly from the car, circled to the +curb, and stuck his head in the door. + +"Here, miss--" + +Spike stepped back. Then he again put his head inside the cab. + +"Well, I'll be--" + +The thing was impossible, and yet it was true. Spike gazed at the seat. +The woman had disappeared! + +The thing was absurd; impossible. He had seen her get into the cab at the +Union Station. There, in the front of the car, was her suit-case; but she +had gone--disappeared completely, vanished without leaving a sign. + +Momentarily forgetful of the cold, Spike found a match and lighted it. +Holding it cupped in his hands, he peered within the cab. Then he +recoiled with a cry of horror. + +For, huddled on the floor, he discerned the body of a man! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SUIT-CASE IS OPENED + + +The barren trees which lined the broad deserted thoroughfare jutted +starkly into the night, waving their menacing, ice-crusted arms. The +December gale, sweeping westward, shrieked through the glistening +branches. It shrieked warning and horror, howled and sighed, sighed +and howled. + +Spike Walters felt suddenly ill. He forgot the cold, and was conscious of +a fear which acted like a temporary anesthesia. For a few seconds he +stood staring, until the match which he held burned out and scorched the +flesh of his fingers. His jaw dropped, his eyes widened. He opened his +lips and tried to speak, but closed them again without having uttered a +sound save a choking gasp. He tried again, feeling an urge for +speech--something, anything, to make him believe that he was here, +alive--that the horror within the cab was real. This time he uttered an +"Oh, my God!" + +The words seemed to vitalize him. He fumbled for another match, found it, +and lighted it within the cab. It seemed to have the radiance of an +incandescent. + +Spike had hoped that his first impression would prove to be a mere +figment of his imagination; but now there was no doubting. There, +sprawled in an ugly, inhuman heap on the floor, head resting against the +cushioned seat of the cab, was the figure of a man. There was no doubt +that he was dead. Even Spike, young, optimistic, and unversed in the ways +of death as he was, knew that he was alone with a corpse. + +And as he gazed, a strange courage came to him. He found himself +emboldened to investigate. He was shivering while he did so, shivering +with fear and with the terrific cold of the night. He could not quite +bring himself to touch the body, but he did not need to move it to see +that murder had been done. + +The clothes told him instantly that the man was of high social station. +They were obviously expensive clothes, probably tailor-made. The big +coat, open at the top, was flung back. Beneath, Spike discerned a gray +tweed--and on the breast of the gray tweed was a splotch, a dark, ugly +thing which appeared black and was not black. Spike shuddered. He had +never liked the sight of blood. + +The match spluttered and went out. Spike looked around. He felt +hopelessly alone. Not a pedestrian; not a light. The houses, set well +back from the street, were dark, forbiddingly dark. + +He saw a street-car rattle past, bound on the final run of the night for +the car-sheds at East End. Then he was alone again--alone and frightened. + +He felt the necessity for action. He must do something--something, but +what? What was there to do? + +A great fear gripped him. He was with the body. The body was in his cab. +He would be arrested for the murder of the man! + +Of course he knew he didn't do it. The woman had committed the murder. + +Spike swore. He had almost forgotten the woman. Where was she? How had +she managed to leave the taxicab? When had the man, who now lay sprawled +in the cab, entered it? + +He had driven straight from the Union Station to the address given by +the woman--straight down East End Avenue, turning neither to right nor +left. The utter impossibilty of the situation robbed it of some of its +stark horror. And yet-- + +Spike knew that he must do something. He tried to think connectedly, and +found it a difficult task. Near him loomed the shadow which was No. 981 +East End Avenue--the address given by the woman when she entered the cab. +He might go in there and report the circumstances. Some one there would +know who she was, and--but he hesitated. + +Perhaps this thing had been prearranged. Perhaps they would get him--for +what he didn't know. When a man--a young man--comes face to face with +murder for the first time, making its acquaintance on a freezing December +midnight and in a lonely spot, he is not to be blamed if his mental +equilibrium is destroyed. + +Wild plans chased each other through his brain. He might dump the body by +the roadside and run back to town. That was absurd on the face of it, for +he would be convicting himself when the body was found. It would be +traced to him in some way--he knew that. He was already determined to +keep away from No. 981 East End Avenue. There was something sinister in +the unfriendly shadow of the rambling house. He might call the police. + +That was it--he would call the police. But how? Go into a house near by, +wake the residents, telephone headquarters that a murder had been done? +Alarm the neighborhood, and identify himself with the crime? Spike was +afraid, frankly and boyishly afraid--afraid of the present, and more +afraid of the future. + +And yet he knew that he must get in touch with the police, else the +police would eventually get in touch with him. He thought then of taking +the body in to headquarters; but he feared that his cab might be stopped +_en route_ to the city and the body discovered. They would never believe, +then, that he had been bound for headquarters. + +Almost before he knew that he had arrived at a decision, Spike had groped +his way across the icy street and pressed the bell-button on the front +door of the least unprepossessing house on the block. + +For a long time there was no answer. Finally a light shone in the hall, +and the skinny figure of a man, shivering violently despite the +blanket-robe which enfolded him, appeared in the hallway. He flashed on +the porch light from inside and peered through the glass door. Apparently +reassured, he cracked the door slightly. + +"Yes. What do you want?" + +At sound of a human voice, Spike instantly felt easier. The fact that he +could converse, that he had shed his terrible loneliness, steadied him as +nothing else could have done. He was surprised at his own calmness, at +the fact that there was scarcely a quaver in the voice with which he +answered the man. + +"I'm Spike Walters," he said with surprising quietness. "I'm a driver for +the Yellow and White Taxicab Company. My cab is No. 92,381. I have a man +in my cab who has been badly injured. I want to telephone to the city." + +The little householder opened the door wider, and Spike entered. Cold as +the house was, from the standpoint of the man within, its hold-over +warmth was a godsend to Spike's thoroughly chilled body. + +The little man designated a telephone on the wall, then started nervously +as central answered and Spike barked a single command into the +transmitter: + +"Police-station, please!" + +"Police?" + +"Never you mind, sir," Spike told the householder. "Hello! Police!" he +called to the operator. + +There was a pause, then Spike went on: + +"This is Spike Walters--Yellow and White Taxi Company. I'm out at No. 981 +East End Avenue. There's a dead man in my cab!" + +The weary voice at the other end became suddenly alive. + +"A dead man!" + +"Yes." + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know. That's why I called you." + +"When did he die? How?" + +Spike controlled himself with an effort. + +"Don't you understand? He has been killed--" + +"The devil you say!" replied the voice at headquarters, and the little +householder chimed in with a frightened squeak. + +"Yes," repeated Spike painstakingly. "The man is dead--killed. It is very +peculiar. I can't explain over the phone. I called up to ask you what I +shall do." + +"Hold connection a minute!" Spike heard a hurried whispered conversation +at the other end, then the voice barked back at him: "Stay where you +are--couple of officers coming, and coming fast!" + +It was Dan O'Leary, night desk sergeant, who was on duty at headquarters +that night, and Sergeant Dan O'Leary was a good deal of an institution on +the city's force. He hopped excitedly from his desk into the office of +Eric Leverage, the chief of police. + +Chief Leverage, a broad-shouldered, heavy-set, bushy-eyebrowed +individual, looked up from the chess-board, annoyed at this interruption +of a game which had been in progress since ten o'clock that night. +O'Leary grabbed a salute from thin air. + +"'Scuse my botherin' ye, chief, but there's hell to pay out at East End." + +O'Leary was never long at coming to the point. Leverage looked up. +So, too, did the boyish, clean-shaven young man with whom he was +playing chess. + +"An' knowin' that Mr. Carroll was playin' chess with ye, chief--an' him +naturally interested in such things--I hopped right in." + +"I'll say you did," commented the chief phlegmatically. "I have you +there, Carroll--dead to rights!" + +O'Leary was a trifle irritated at the cold reception accorded his news. + +"Ye ain't after understanding" he said slowly. "It's murder that has been +done this night." + +"H-m!" Carroll's slow, pleasant drawl seemed to soothe O'Leary. "Murder?" + +"You said it, Mr. Carroll." + +Leverage had risen. It was plain to be seen from his manner that the +chess-game was forgotten. Leverage was a policeman first and a +chess-player second--a very poor second. His voice, surcharged with +interest, cracked out into the room. + +"Spill the dope, O'Leary!" + +The night desk sergeant needed no further bidding. In a few graphic words +he outlined his telephone conversation with Spike Walters. + +Before he finished speaking, Leverage was slipping into his enormous +overcoat. He nodded to Carroll. + +"How about trotting out there with me, David?" + +Carroll smiled agreeably. + +"Thank goodness my new coupe has a heating device, chief!" + +That was all. It wasn't David Carroll's way to talk much, or to show any +untoward emotion. It was Carroll's very boyishness which was his greatest +asset. He had a way of stepping into a case before the principals knew he +was there, and of solving it in a manner which savored not at all of +flamboyance. A quiet man was Carroll, and one whose deductive powers Eric +Leverage fairly worshiped. + +On the slippery, skiddy journey to East End the two men--professional +policeman and amateur criminologist--did not talk much. A few comments +regarding the sudden advent of fiercest winter; a remark, forcedly +jocular, from the chief, that murderers might be considerate enough to +pick better weather for the practice of their profession--and that was +all. Thus far they knew nothing about the case, and they were both too +well versed in criminology to attempt a discussion of something with +which they were unfamiliar. + +Spike Walters saw them coming--saw their headlights splitting the +frigid night. He was at the curb to meet them as they pulled up. He +told his story briefly and concisely. Leverage inspected the young man +closely, made note of his license number and the number of his +taxi-cab. Then he turned to his companion, who had stood by, a silent +and interested observer. + +"S'pose you talk to him a bit, Carroll." + +"I'm David Carroll," introduced the other man. "I'm connected with the +police department. There's a few things you tell which are rather +peculiar. Any objections to discussing them?" + +In spite of himself, Spike felt a genial warming toward this boyish-faced +man. He had heard of Carroll, and rather feared his prowess; but now that +he was face to face with him, he found himself liking the chap. Not only +that, but he was conscious of a sense of protection, as if Carroll were +there for no other purpose than to take care of him, to see that he +received a square deal. + +"Yes, sir, Mr. Carroll, I'll be glad to tell you anything I know." + +"You have said, Walters, that the passenger you picked up at the Union +Station was a woman." + +"Yes, sir, it was a woman." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Why, yes, sir. I couldn't very well be mistaken. You see--o-o-oh! +You're thinking maybe it was a man in woman's clothes? Is that it, sir?" + +Carroll smiled. + +"What do _you_ think?" + +"That's impossible, sir. It was a woman--I'd swear to that." + +"Pretty positive, eh?" + +"Absolutely, sir. Besides, take the matter of the overcoat the--the--body +has on. Even if what you think was so, sir--that it was a woman dressed +up like a man--and if he had gotten rid of the women's clothes, where +would he have gotten the clothes to put on?" + +"H-m! Sounds logical. How about the suit-case you said this woman had?" + +"Yonder it is--right on the front beside me, where it has been all +the time." + +"And you tell us that between the time you left the Union Station and the +time you got here a man got into the taxicab, was killed by the woman, +the woman got out, and you heard nothing?" + +"Yes, sir," said Spike simply. "Just that, sir." + +"Rather hard to believe, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir. That's why I called the police." Chief Leverage was shivering +under the impact of the winter blasts. + +"S'pose we take a look at the bird, David," he suggested, nodding toward +the taxi. "That might tell us something." + +Carroll nodded. The men entered the taxi, and Leverage flashed a +pocket-torch in the face of the dead man. Then he uttered an exclamation +of surprise not unmixed with horror. + +"Good Lord!" + +"You know him?" questioned Carroll easily. + +"Know him? I'll say I do. Why, man, that's Roland Warren!" + +"Warren! Roland Warren! Not the clubman?" + +"The very same one, Carroll, an' none other. Well, I'm a sonovagun! +Sa-a-ay, something surely _has_ been started here." He swung around on +the taxi-driver. "You, Walters!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"You are sure the suit-case is still in front?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well"--to Carroll--"that makes it easier. It's the woman's suit-case, +and if we can't find out who she is from that, we're pretty bum, eh?" + +"Looks so, Erie. You're satisfied"--this to Walters--"that that is her +suit-case?" + +"Absolutely. It hasn't been off the front since she handed it to me at +the station." + +Carroll swung the suit-case to the inside of the cab. It opened readily. +Leverage kept his light trained on it as Carroll dug swiftly through the +contents. Finally the eyes of the two men met. Carroll's expression was +one of frank amazement; Leverage's reflected sheer unbelief. + +"It can't be, Carroll!" + +"Yet--it is!" + +"Sufferin' wildcats!" breathed Leverage. "The suit-case ain't the woman's +at all! It's Warren's!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"FIND THE WOMAN" + + +The thing was incomprehensible, yet true. Not a single article of +feminine apparel was contained in the suit-case. Not only that, but +every garment therein which bore an identification mark was the +property of Roland Warren, the man whose body leered at them from the +floor of the taxicab. + +The two detectives again inspected the suit-case. An extra suit had been +neatly folded. The pockets bore the label of a leading tailor, and the +name "Roland R. Warren." The tailor-made shirts and underwear bore the +maker's name and Warren's initials. The handkerchiefs were Warren's. Even +those articles which were without name or initials contained the same +laundry-mark as those which they knew belonged to the dead man. + +Carroll's face showed keen interest. This newest development had rather +startled him, and made an almost irresistible appeal to his love for the +bizarre in crime. The very fact that the circumstances smacked of the +impossible intrigued him. He narrowed his eyes and gazed again upon the +form of the dead man. Finally he nudged Leverage and designated three +initials on the end of the suit-case. + +"R.R.W.--Roland R. Warren!" Leverage grunted. "It's his, all right, +Carroll. But just the same there ain't no such animal." + +Carroll turned to the dazed Walters. + +"Understand what we've just discovered, son?" he inquired mildly. + +Spike's teeth were chattering with cold. + +"I don't hardly understand none of it, sir. 'Cording to what I make out, +that suit-case belongs to the body and not to the woman." + +"Right! Now what I want to know is how that could be." + +Spike shook his head dazedly. + +"Lordy, Mr. Carroll, I couldn't be knowing that." + +"You're sure the woman got into your cab alone?" + +"Absolutely, sir. She came through the waiting-room alone, carrying that +very same suit-case--" + +"You're positive it was _that_ suit-case?" + +"Yes, sir--that is, as positive as I can be. You see I was on the lookout +for a fare, but wasn't expecting one, on account of the fact that this +here train was an accommodation, and folks that usually come in on it +take street-cars and not a taxi. Well, the minute I seen a good-lookin', +well-dressed woman comin' out the door, I sort of noticed. It surprised +me first off, because I asked myself what she was doing on that train." + +"You thought it was peculiar?" + +"Not peculiar, exactly; but sort of--of--interesting." + +"I see. Go ahead!" + +"Well, she was carrying that suit-case, and she seemed in a sort of a +hurry. She walked straight out of the door and toward the curb, and--" + +"Did she appear to be expecting some one?" + +"No, sir. I noticed that particularly. Sort of thought a fine lady like +her would have some one to meet her, which is how I happened to notice +that she didn't seem to expect nobody. She come right to the curb and +called me. I was parked along the curb on the right side of Atlantic +Avenue--headin' north, that is--and I rolled up. She handed me the +suit-case and told me to drive her to No. 981 East End Avenue. I stuck +the suit-case right where you got it from just now; and while I ain't +sayin' nothin' about what happened back yonder in the cab, Mr. Carroll, +I'll bet anything in the world that that there suit-case is the same one +she carried through the waitin'-room and handed to me." + +"H-m! Peculiar. You drove straight out here, Walters?" + +"Straight as a bee-line, sir. Frozen stiff, I was, drivin' right into the +wind eastward along East End Avenue, and I had to raise the windshield a +bit because there was ice on it and I couldn't see nothin'--an' my +headlights ain't any too strong." + +"You didn't stop anywhere?" + +"No, sir. Wait a minute--I did!" + +"Where?" + +"At the R.L. and T. railroad crossing, sir. I didn't see nor hear no +train there, and almost run into it. It was a freight, and travelin' +kinder slow. I seen the lights of the caboose and stopped the car right +close to the track. I wasn't stopped more'n fifteen or twenty seconds, +and just as soon as the train got by, I went on." + +"But you did stand still for a few seconds?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"If any one had got into or out of the cab right there, would you have +heard them?" + +"I don't know that I would. I was frozen stiff, like I told you, sir; and +I wasn't thinking of nothin' like that. Besides, the train was makin' a +noise; an' me not havin' my thoughts on nothin' but how cold I was, an' +how far I had to drive, I mos' prob'ly wouldn't have noticed--although I +might have." + +"Looks to me," chimed in Leverage, "as if that's where the shift must +have taken place; though it beats me--" + +Carroll lighted a cigarette. Of the three men, he was the only one who +seemed impervious to the cold. Leverage and the taxi-driver were both +shivering as if with the ague. Carroll, an enormous overcoat snuggled +about his neck, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his boyish face +set with interest, seemed perfectly comfortable. As a matter of fact, the +unique circumstances surrounding the murder had so interested him that he +had quite forgotten the weather. + +"Obviously," he said to Leverage, "it's up to us to find out whether the +people at this house here expected a visitor." + +"You said it, David; but I haven't any doubt it was a plant, a +fake address." + +"I think so, too." + +"Wait here." The chief started for the dark little house. "I'll ask 'em." + +Three minutes later Leverage was back. + +"Said nothing doing," he imparted laconically. "No one expected--no one +away who would be coming back--and then wanted to know who in thunder I +was. They almost dropped dead when I told 'em. No question about it, that +address was a stall. This dame had something up her sleeve, and took care +to see that your taxi man was given a long drive so she'd have plenty of +time to croak Warren." + +"Then you think she met him by arrangement, chief?" + +"Looks so to me. Only thing is, where did he get in?" + +"That's what is going to interest us for some time to come, I'm afraid. +And now suppose we go back to town? I'll drive my car; I'll keep behind +you and Walters, here. You ride together in his cab." + +Walters clambered to his seat, and succeeded, after much effort, in +starting his frozen motor. Leverage bulked beside him on the suit-case of +the dead man. The taxi swung cityward, and immediately behind trailed +Carroll in his cozy coupe. + +As Carroll drove mechanically through the night, he gave himself over to +a siege of intensive thought. The case seemed fraught with unusual +interest. Already it had developed an overplus of extraordinary +circumstances, and Carroll had a decided premonition that the road of +investigation ahead promised many surprises. + +There was every reason why it should. The social prominence of the dead +man, the mysterious disappearance of the handsomely dressed woman--all +the facts of the case pointed to an involved trail. + +If it were true that the woman had entered the taxicab alone, that the +man had come in later, and that the murder had been committed by the +woman in the cab before reaching the railroad crossing, the thing must +undoubtedly have been prearranged to the smallest fractional detail. That +being the premise, it was only a logical conclusion that persons other +than the woman and the dead man were involved. + +Interesting--decidedly so! But there was nothing to work on. Even the +suit-case clue had vanished into thin air, so far as its value to the +police was concerned. + +That suit-case bothered Carroll. He believed Spike's story, and was +convinced that the suit-case which they had examined out on East End +Avenue was the one which the woman had carried from the train to the +taxicab. There again the trail of the dead man and the vanished woman +crossed; else why was she carrying his suit-case? + +The journey was over before he knew it. The yellow taxi turned down the +alley upon which headquarters backed, and jerked to a halt before the +ominous brown-stone building. Carroll parked his car at the rear, +assigned some one to stand guard over the body, and the three men, +Leverage carrying the suit-case, ascended the steps to the main room and +thence to the chief's private office. + +The warmth of the place was welcome to all of them, and in the +comforting glow of a small grate fire, which nobly assisted the +struggling furnace in its task of heating the spacious structure, Spike +Walters seemed to lose much of the nervousness which he had exhibited +since the discovery of the body. Carroll warmed his hands at the blaze, +and then addressed Leverage. + +"How about this case, chief?" + +"How about it?" + +"You want me to butt in on it?" + +"_Want_ you? Holy sufferin' oysters! Carroll, if you didn't work on it, +I'd brain you! You're the only man in the State who could--" + +"Soft-pedal the blarney," grinned Carroll. "And now--the suit-case +again." + +He dropped to his knees and opened the suit-case. Garment by garment he +emptied it, searching for some clue, some damning bit of evidence, which +might explain the woman's possession of the dead man's belongings. He +found nothing. It was evident that the grip had been carefully packed for +a journey of several days at least; but it was a man's suit-case, and its +contents were exclusively masculine. + +Carroll shrugged as he rose to his feet. He turned toward Spike Walters +and laid a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"Walters," he said, "I want to let you know that I believe your story +all the way through. I think that Chief Leverage does, too--how about +it, chief?" + +"Sounds all right to me." + +"But we've got to hold you for a while, my lad. It's tough, but you were +the person found with the body, and we've naturally got to keep you in +custody. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir. It's none too pleasant, but I guess it's all right." + +"We'll see that you're made comfortable, and I hope we'll be able to let +you go within a day or so." + +He pressed a button, and turned Walters over to one of the officers on +inside duty, with instructions to see that the young taxi-driver was +afforded every courtesy and comfort, and was not treated as a criminal. +Spike turned at the door. + +"I want to thank you--" + +"That's all right, Spike!" + +"You're both mighty nice fellers--especially you, Mr. Carroll. I'm for +you every time!" + +Carroll blushed like a schoolgirl. The door closed behind Walters, and +Carroll faced Leverage. + +"Next thing is the body, chief." + +"Want it up here?" + +"If you please." + +An orderly was summoned, commands given, and within five minutes the body +of the dead man was borne into the room and laid carefully on the couch. +Leverage glanced inquisitively at Carroll. + +"Want the coroner?" + +"Surely; and you might also call in the newspapermen." + +"Eh? Reporters?" + +"Yes. I have a hunch, Leverage, that a great gob of sensational +publicity, right now, will be of inestimable help. Meanwhile let's get +busy before either the coroner or the reporters arrive." + +The two detectives went over the body meticulously. Warren had been shot +through the heart. Carroll bent to inspect the wound, and when he +straightened his manner showed that he had become convinced of one +important fact. In response to Leverage's query, he explained: + +"Shot fired from mighty close," he said. + +"Sure?" + +"The flame from the gun has scorched his clothes. That's proof enough." + +"In the taxi, eh?" + +"Possibly." + +"But the driver would have heard." + +"He probably would; but he didn't." + +"Ye-e-es." + +Carroll resumed his inspection of the body, examining every detail of +figure and raiment; and while he worked he talked. + +"You know something about this chap?" + +"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and +all that sort of thing. Has money--real money. Bachelor--lives +alone. Has a valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car. +Golfer--tennis-player--huntsman. Popular with women--and men, too, +I believe. About thirty-three years old." + +"Business?" + +"None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something. +That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's different +from other fellows is usually worth knowing something about." + +"Right you are! But that sort of a man--you'd hardly think he'd be the +victim of--hello, what's this?" + +Carroll had been going through the dead man's wallet. He rose to his +feet, and as he did so Leverage saw that the purse was stuffed with bills +of large denomination--a very considerable sum of money. But apparently +Carroll was not interested in the money; in his hand he held a +railroad-ticket and a small purple Pullman check. + +"What's the idea?" questioned Leverage. + +"Brings us back to the woman again," replied Carroll, with peculiar +intensity. + +"How so?" + +"He was planning to take a trip with her." + +Leverage glanced at the other man with an admixture of skepticism +and wonder. + +"How did you guess that?" + +"I didn't guess it. It's almost a sure thing. At least, it is pretty +positive that he was not planning to go alone." + +"Yes? Tell me how you know." + +Carroll extended his hand. + +"See here--a ticket for a drawing-room to New York, and _one_ +railroad-ticket!" + +"Yes, but--" + +"Two railroad-tickets are required for possession of the drawing-room," +he said quietly. "Warren had only one. It is clear, then, that the +holder of the missing ticket was going to accompany him; so what we have +to do now--" + +"Is to find the other railroad-ticket," finished Leverage dryly. "Which +isn't any lead-pipe cinch, I'd say!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CARROLL HAS A VISITOR + + +Carroll gazed intently upon the face of the dead man. There was a +half quizzical light in the detective's eyes as he spoke, apparently +to no one. + +"I've often thought," he said, "in a case like this, how much simpler +things would be if the murdered man could talk." + +"H-m!" rejoined the practical Leverage. "If he could, he wouldn't be +dead." + +"Perhaps you're right. And following that to a logical conclusion, if +he were not dead _we_ wouldn't be particularly interested in what he +had to say." + +"All of which ain't got a heap to do with the fact that your work is cut +out for you, Carroll. You're dead sure about that ticket dope, ain't you? +I ain't used to traveling in drawing-rooms myself." + +"It's straight enough, Leverage. The railroad company won't allow a +single passenger to occupy a drawing-room--that is, they demand two +tickets. If you, for instance, were traveling alone, and desired a +drawing-room, you'd be compelled to have two tickets for yourself. That +being so, it is plain that Warren there didn't intend making this trip to +New York alone. If he had, he would have had the two tickets along with +the drawing-room check. I am certain that two tickets were bought, +because the railroad men won't sell a drawing-room with a single ticket. +It is obvious, then, that he bought two tickets and gave the other one to +the person who was to make the trip with him." + +"The woman, of course!" + +"What woman?" + +"The woman in the fur coat--the one who got into the taxicab." + +"Perhaps; but she came in on the accommodation train after the New York +train was due to leave. The fast train was late." + +"So was the accommodation. They are due to make connection." + +"That's true. If we can find that ticket--" + +"We'll have found the woman, and when we find her the case will end." + +"Probably--" + +The door opened, and Sergeant O'Leary entered. + +"The coroner, sorr--him an' a reporter from each av the mornin' papers." + +"Show the coroner in first," ordered Carroll. "Let the newspapermen +wait." + +"Yis, sorr. They seem a bit impatient, sorr. They say they're holdin' up +the city edition for the news, sorr." + +"Very good. Tell them Chief Leverage says the story is worth +waiting for." + +The coroner--a short, thick-set man--entered and heard the story from +Leverage's lips. He made a cursory examination and nodded to Carroll. + +"Inquest in the morning, Mr. Carroll. Meanwhile, I reckon you want to let +them newspapermen in." + +The two reporters entered and listened popeyed to the story. They +telephoned a bulletin to their offices, and were assured of an hour's +leeway in phoning in the balance of the story. They were quivering with +excitement over what promised to be, from a newspaper standpoint, the +juiciest morsel of sensational copy with which the city had been blessed +for some time. + +To them Carroll recounted the story as he knew it, concealing nothing. + +"This is a great space-eating story," he told them in their own +language--the jargon of the fourth estate--"and the more it eats the +better it'll be for me. We want publicity on this case--all you can hand +out big chunks of it. We want to know who that woman was. The way I +figure it, this city is going to get a jolt at breakfast. Every one is +going to be comparing notes. Out of that mass of gossip we may get some +valuable information. Get that?" + +"We do. Space in the morning edition will be limited, but by evening, and +the next morning--oh, baby!" + +They took voluminous notes and telephoned in enough additional +information to keep the city rooms busy. When they would have gone, +Carroll stopped them. + +"Either of you chaps know anything of Warren's personal history?" + +The elder of the two nodded. + +"I do. Know him personally, in fact. I've played golf with him. Pretty +nice sort." + +"Rich, isn't he?" + +"Reputed to be. Never works; spends freely--not ostentatiously, but +liberally. Pretty fine sort of a chap. It's a damned shame!" + +"How about his relations with women?" + +The reporter hesitated and glanced guiltily at the dead body. + +"That's rather strong--" + +"It's not going beyond here, unless I find it necessary. I've played +clean with you boys. Suppose you do the same with me." + +"We-e-ell"--reluctantly--"he was rather much of a rounder. Nothing +coarse about him, but he never was one to resist a woman. Rather the +reverse, in fact." + +"Ever been mixed up in a scandal?" + +"Not publicly. He's friendly with a good many men--and with their wives. +A dozen, I guess; but the husbands invite him to their homes, so I don't +suppose there could be anything in the gossip. You see, folks are always +too eager to talk about a man in his position and whatever woman he +happens to be friendly with. And anyway, there hasn't been nearly so much +talk about him since his engagement was announced." + +"He is engaged?" + +"Why, yes." + +"To a girl in this city!" + +"Sure! I thought you knew that. Dandy girl--Hazel Gresham. You've heard +of Garry Gresham? It's his kid sister." + +"So-o! How long has this engagement been known?" + +"Couple of months. Pretty soft on both sides; he's got money and so has +she. She's a good scout, too, even if she is a kid." + +"How old?" + +"Hardly more than twenty; but her family seemed to welcome the match. +Warren and Garry Gresham were pretty good friends. Warren was about +thirty-three or thirty-four, you know. Gossip had it that the family was +going to object because of the difference in ages, but they didn't." + +Carroll was silent for a moment. + +"Nothing else about him you think might prove interesting?" + +"No-o." + +"And your idea of the murderer, after what you've heard?" + +"The woman in the taxicab killed him." + +"When did he get in?" + +The reporter threw back his head and laughed. + +"What is this--a game? If I knew that I'd have your job, Mr. Carroll. +The dame killed him, all right; and when we find out how she did it, and +when, and how he got in and she got out, we'll have a whale of a story!" + +"No theories as to the identity of this woman, have you?" + +"Nary one. A chap like Warren--bachelor, unencumbered--is liable to know +a heap of 'em. From what you tell me of the tickets--from the fact that +she was going away with him, I sort of figure you might do a little +social investigating and discover what woman might have been going off +with him." + +Eric Leverage had been listening intently. His mind, never swift to work, +yet worked surely. His big voice boomed into the conversation: + +"Carroll?" + +"Yes?" + +"This young fellow says Miss Gresham's family didn't have no objections +to the marriage. It just occurred to me to ask him is he _sure_?" + +The reporter flushed. + +"Why, no, chief; not sure. You never can be sure about things like that; +but so far as the public knew--" + +"That's it, exactly. How do we know, though, but what they were sore as a +pup over it, and just kept their traps closed because they didn't want +any gossip? S'posin' they were trying to break things off, an' makin' it +pretty uncomfortable for the girl? S'pose that, eh?" + +"Yes," argued the reporter. "Suppose all of that. Where does it get you?" + +"It gets you just here"--Leverage talked slowly, heavily, tapping his +spatulate fingers on the table to emphasize his points--"we know this +bird was going to elope with some skirt. All right! Now I ask this--why +go all around the block, looking for some one he might have been mixed up +with, when the woman a man is most likely to elope with is the girl he's +engaged to marry?" + +Silence--several seconds of it. Carroll spoke: + +"Miss Gresham, you mean?" + +"Sure, David--sure! I'm not sayin' she was the woman, mind you. I'm not +sayin' anything except that if I'm right in thinkin' that maybe her +folks weren't as crazy about this guy Warren as they seemed--if I'm +right in that, maybe they was plannin' to take matters in their own +hands and elope." + +"It's possible." + +"Sure, it's possible, and--" + +"But, chief," interrupted the reporter who had done most of the talking, +"why should Miss Gresham kill Warren?" + +"I didn't say she did, did I?" + +"If she was the woman in the taxi--" + +"If! Sure--_if!_ All I mentioned that for was to show you we might as +well start thinking close to home before we go to beatin' through the +bushes to follow a cold trail." + +The reporters left, and Carroll smiled at Leverage. + +"Good idea, Eric--about Miss Gresham." + +"'Tain't a hunch," said Leverage. "It just made good talkin'." + +"I'm glad you did it, anyway." + +"What is thare about it that you like?" + +"Those newspaper chaps will play it up. Maybe they won't intend to, +but they'll play it up, just the same; and it won't take us long +either to connect Miss Gresham with the crime or to link up an +iron-clad alibi for her." + +"H-m! Not bad! You know, Carroll"--and Leverage smiled frankly--"I'm +always makin' these fine suggestions an' pullin' good stunts, an' never +knowin' whether they're good or not until somebody tells me." + +"A good many folks are like that, Eric, but they don't admit it +afterward." + +"Neither do I--publicly." + +Leverage rose and yawned. + +"It's me for the hay, Carroll. I'm played out; and I have a hunch that +to-morrow I'm going to be busy as seven little queen bees--and you, too." + +Carroll reached for his overcoat. + +"A little bit of thinking things over isn't going to hurt me, either. +Good night!" + +Thirty minutes later Carroll reached his apartment, and a half-hour after +that he was sleeping soundly. The following morning he waked "all over," +as was his habit, and turned his eyes to gaze through the window. + +During the night the sleety drizzle had ceased, and the sun streamed +with brilliant coldness upon a city which shone in a glare of ice. +Leafless trees stretched their ice-covered tentacles into the cold, +penetrating air; pedestrians and horses slipped on the glassy pavements; +automobiles either skidded dangerously or set up an incessant rattle +with their chains. + +Carroll glanced at his watch. It showed nine o'clock. He started with +surprise. Then he reached for the newspapers on the table at the side of +his bed, and spread open the front pages. + +They had evidently been made up anew with the breaking of the Warren +murder story. Eight-column streamers shrieked at him from both front +pages. He read the stories through, and smiled with satisfaction. Just as +he had anticipated, both reporters, hungry for some definite clue upon +which to work, had seized upon the possibility of Hazel Gresham being the +mysterious woman in the taxicab. Not that they said so openly, but they +said enough to make the public know that the detectives in charge of the +case were likely to investigate her movements on the previous night. + +Carroll stepped into a shower, then dressed quickly and ate a light +breakfast served him by his maid, Freda. Before he finished, the doorbell +rang, and Freda announced that there was a lady to see him. + +"A lady?" + +Freda shrugged. + +"She ain't bane nothin' but a girl, sir, Mr. Carroll--just a +little girl." + +"Show her in." + +In two minutes Freda returned, and behind her came the visitor. Carroll +concealed a smile at sight of her. She was a little thing--sixteen or +seventeen years old, he judged--a fluffy, blond girl quivering with +vivacity; the type of girl who is desperately reaching for maturity, +entirely forgetful of the charms of her adolescence. He rose and bowed in +a serious, courtly manner. + +"You wish to see me?" + +"Yes, sir, I _do_. Is _this_ Mr. Carroll--the famous detective?" + +"I am David Carroll--yes." + +She inspected him with frank approval. + +"Why, you don't look any more than a boy! I thought you were old and had +whiskers--and--and--everything horrid." + +"I'm glad you're pleasantly surprised. What can I do for you?" + +"Oh, it isn't what you can do for me--it's what I can do for you!" + +"And that is?" + +"I came to tell you all about this terrible Warren murder case." + +"_You_ came to tell _me_ about it?" + +"Why, yes," she retorted smilingly. "You see, I know just _heaps_ about +the whole thing!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MISS EVELYN ROGERS + + +Carroll was more than amused; he was keenly interested. He motioned +his visitor to a chair and seated himself opposite, regarding her +quizzically. + +She was not exactly the type of person he had anticipated encountering in +a murder investigation. From the tip of her pert little hat to the toes +of her ultra-fashionable shoes she was expressive of the independent +rising generation--a generation wiser in the ways of the world than that +from which it was sprung--a generation strangely bereft of genuine youth, +yet charming in an entirely modern and unique manner. + +She was obviously a young person of italics, a human exclamation-point, +enthusiastic, irrepressible. She sat fidgeting in her chair, trying her +best to convince the detective that she was a woman grown. + +"I'm Evelyn Rogers," she gushed. "I'm the sister of Naomi Lawrence--you +know her, of _course_. She's one of the city's social leaders. Of course, +she's kind of frumpy and _terribly_ old. She must be--why, I suppose +she's every bit of thirty! And that's simply _awful!"_ + +"I'm thirty-eight," smiled Carroll. + +"No?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"Well, you don't look it. You don't look a day over twenty-two, and I +think men who are really grown up and yet look like boys are simply +_adorable!_ I do, really. And I simply _despise_ boys of twenty-two who +try to look like thirty-eight. Don't you?" + +"M-m! Not always." + +"Well, _I_ do! They're always putting on airs and trying to make us girls +think they're full-grown. I just simply haven't time to waste with them. +I feel so _old!"_ + +"I haven't a doubt of it, Miss Rogers. And now--I believe you came to +tell me something about the Warren case?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed--just _lots!_ But do you know"--she stared at him with +frank approval--"I'm terribly tickled with the way you look. You may not +believe it, but I've always been _atrociously_ in love with you." + +"No?" + +"Yes, indeed! You're such a _wonderful_ man--having your name in the +papers all the time. Oh, I've read about everything you've done! +That's how I learned so much about detectiving--or isn't that what you +call it?" + +"Detecting?" + +"That's it. You know I always was simply _incorrigible_ in making up +words when I couldn't think of the right one. Don't you think it's a +lot of trouble sometimes--thinking of just the right word in the +right place?" + +"Sometimes. But about the Warren case?" + +"Oh, yes, certainly! I'm always getting off my subject, ain't I? I +mean--am I not? Bother grammar, anyway. It's a terrible bore, don't +you think?" + +"Yes, Miss Rogers. And now--" + +"Back to that awful crime again, aren't you? It's simply sugary the way +you great detectives stick to one subject. I can do it, too, when I have +to. I took some lessons once in power of will--concentration and all that +sort of thing. It made me feel wickedly old; but I learned a great deal +about keeping my mind on one subject all the time. You know, it doesn't +matter what you concentrate on--even if it's only making biscuits, or +something messy and domestic like that--it does you good. It trains you +not to waste words, and to store up your mental energy, and all that sort +of thing. And all the time I was studying that course, I was thinking how +perfectly glorious modern science is. Just suppose Shakespeare had been +able to concentrate like us moderns can! His plays would have been +utterly _marvelous_, wouldn't they?" + +"I suppose they would. And now let's try concentrating on the +Warren case." + +"That's what I've been leading up to. You see, I knew Mr. Warren very +well. In fact, he was awfully friendly with me. To tell you the +strict truth, and absolutely in confidence, I really believe he was +in love with me!" + +"No?" + +"Yes, truly! We women have a way of knowing when a man is in love with +us. He used to be around at the house all the time. Of course, he +pretended that he came around because he liked Sis and Gerald--" + +"Gerald?" + +"That's Mr. Lawrence. He's my brother-in-law--Sis's husband. +Insufferably old-timy. Don't think of anything but business. Used to look +at me through his horn-rimmed glasses and say I was entirely too young to +be receiving attentions from a man as old as Mr. Warren; but he didn't +know. I'm not young, really, you know. Of course, I'm not twenty yet, but +a girl can be under twenty and yet be a woman, can't she?" + +"Yes"--dryly--"especially after she learns to concentrate." + +"And as intimately as I knew Roland--that's Mr. Warren, you know--of +course I didn't call him Roland to his face. Not that he didn't want me +to, but then Sis and Gerald would have disapproved--old frumps! Knowing +him so intimately, and really believing that he was in love with +me--although, of course, the minute he became engaged to Hazel Gresham I +didn't even flirt with him any more--not the least little tiny harmless +bit well, I find it excruciatingly hard to believe that he is dead!" + +"He is--quite. We're trying to discover who killed him." + +"I know it. That's what I came to see you about." + +"So you did. I'd quite forgotten--" + +"You ought to learn to concentrate, Mr. Carroll. It's really +ridiculously easy after you've studied it a little bit. Now if I had been +you, and you had been I--me--I never would have forgotten what you came +to see me about. Of course, I know you didn't forget, really; but the +chances are that you were interested talking, and absolutely failed to +remember that poor boy." + +"What poor boy?" + +"Roland Warren." + +Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. + +"I see! And now that I've remembered him again, suppose you tell me what +you know about him and the case?" + +"It's principally about what I read in the papers this morning. Really, +Mr. Carroll, there ought to be a law against newspapers printing such +ridiculous things!" + +"As what, for instance?" + +"That thing they had in there this morning. Why, the way they mentioned +Hazel Gresham, you'd have thought that they thought _she_ was the woman +who killed Roland--the woman in the taxicab." + +Carroll's eyes narrowed slightly. The faint smile still played about +his lips. + +"You don't think she was?" + +"Oh, Mr. Carroll! Please, _please_, don't be so irresistibly _absurd_! +Why in the world should Hazel kill the man she was engaged to?" + +"I don't know." + +"And besides, what does _she_ know about killing some one? That is the +most bizarre idea I have ever heard in all my life. Besides, she couldn't +have killed him, anyway." + +"Why not?" + +"Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't; and I'm sure she didn't want to. +Not that I think Roland Warren was the finest man in the world, or +anything like that. Of course, I do believe he was interested in me, and +that made me know him pretty well; but still he was an awfully nice boy, +and I'm sure Hazel was very much in love with him. So even if she could +have killed him, she wouldn't, would she?" + +"I hope not; but you said she _couldn't_. What did you mean by that?" + +"I mean that nobody can be in two places at one time. Although I did +read a funny article in the Sunday magazine section of one of the big +newspapers, last year, which said that--" + +"If Miss Gresham had been with Mr. Warren last night at midnight--she +would have been in two places at one time!" + +"Why, yes--and that's not possible; so, of course, she--" + +"What makes you think that, Miss Rogers!" + +"Think what?" + +"That Miss Gresham was not with Mr. Warren at midnight last night?" + +"Why," answered Evelyn Rogers simply, "I _know_ she wasn't--that's all." + +"You _know_?" + +"Yes, indeed--beyond the what-you-call-'em of a doubt." + +"How do you know that?" + +"It's very simple," she explained casually. "She was with me all night." + +Carroll gazed at the girl before him with new interest. Out of her +chatter he had at last garnered one important fact. His mind, trained to +seize upon the vital and instantly discard the inconsequential, clutched +the bit of information, and turned it over. From the first Carroll had +scouted the idea that the dead man's fiancee might have been responsible +for his death; but still it was a line of investigation which demanded +examination, and his pretty young visitor was making that road +exceedingly simple. He injected all the warmth of his friendly, sunny +nature in the smile which he bestowed upon her. + +"You have helped me tremendously with that piece of information, +Miss Rogers." + +"I don't see how, particularly. No one with any sense--provided they knew +Hazel, of course--could even imagine her killing any one, and least of +all an adorable boy like Roland. She was so much in love with him!" + +"Of course, I haven't the pleasure of Miss Gresham's acquaintance." + +"Of course not. You'll have to meet her, though. She's a darling! +Naturally, she's all broken up this morning because her wedding date +was all set. Now all her plans have gone smash, and she really was +_terribly_ fond--" + +"You say you spent the night with Miss Gresham?" + +"Certainly, and--" + +"Where?" + +"At her house." + +"And you are sure she was there all night?" + +"Of course! We slept in the same bed--and that's certainly proof enough, +isn't it?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You _suppose_? My goodness gracious! Don't you _know_?" + +"Well--yes. If you're sure--" + +"Why, my dear Mr. Carroll, we didn't even actually go to bed until a +quarter before twelve. At ten o'clock we made some waffles +downstairs--Hazel has just bought a perfectly _darling_ aluminum electric +waffle-iron. It makes the most toothsome waffles--all crisp and +everything. And you know when you use aluminum you don't need any grease, +so that makes the waffles much nicer. I'm getting horribly domestic since +Hazel became engaged, because she is learning--" + +"And after you made the waffles?" + +"Oh! After that we went up-stairs to her room, and put on our kimonos, +and had a heart-to-heart talk. I can't tell you what we talked about, +because sometimes--well, it was atrociously risque--as women will, you +know, and--" + +"At a quarter before twelve you were still sitting up talking, and you +had your kimonos on?" + +"Yes, and--oh, you just ought to see Hazel's new kimono--pink _crepe de +chine_, trimmed with satin. She looks simply ravishing in it. I told Sis +I wanted one like it, but--" + +"And then you went to bed?" + +"Yes, just about then." + +"You are sure Miss Gresham didn't get up!" + +"Oh, I'm positive she didn't! I didn't get to sleep until after one +o'clock, anyway, and I would have known." + +"You've given me some valuable information, Miss Rogers; and I'll see to +it that the newspapers correct any impression they may have left that +Miss Gresham might have been connected with the crime. Meanwhile"--he +rose--"I'm a bit overdue down at headquarters; so if you'll excuse me--" + +Evelyn Rogers rose and stood before him. Her pretty little face +was eager. + +"I've really helped you, Mr. Carroll?" + +"Enormously." + +"Well, I wonder--you know I'm just _fiendishly_ anxious to be helpful in +the world--I wonder if you'd let me help you some more?" + +"I'd be delighted." + +"Would you _really_?" + +"Really!" + +"And I can come to you any time to talk things over?" + +"Whenever you get ready." + +She clapped her hands. + +"That's simply _exquisite_! You know, Mr. Carroll, I'm just simply crazy +about you! I always have been, but I'm more so now than ever--just +_hopelessly_!" + +"Thank you." + +She made her way to the door. There she turned, and there was a peculiar +light in her eyes. + +"Mr. Carroll!" + +"Yes?" + +"I wish you had been nineteen years old just now." + +"Why?" + +"Because," she flashed, "if you had been nineteen years old when I told +you what I did, you would have kissed me!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +REGARDING ROLAND WARREN + + +For a long time after Evelyn departed, Carroll remained seated, puffing +amusedly on the cigar which followed his matutinal cigarette. Time had +been long since the detective had come in contact with so much youthful +spontaneity, and he found the experience refreshing. Then he rose and +would have left the apartment for headquarters, but again Freda +announced a caller. + +"Another young lady?" questioned Carroll. + +"No, sir. It bane young feller." + +"Show him in." + +The visitor entered, and Carroll found himself gazing into the level eyes +of a slightly disheveled and obviously excited young man of about +twenty-eight years of age. The man was slight of stature, but every +nervous gesture bespoke wiriness. + +"Are you Mr. Carroll?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm Gresham--Garrison Gresham." + +"A-a-ah! Won't you be seated!" + +"Yes. I came to have a talk with you." + +Carroll seated himself opposite his caller. Then he nodded. + +"You came to see me?" + +"About the Warren case." + +"You know something about it?" + +"Yes!" The young man seemed to bite the word. "I do." + +"What?" + +"You're in charge of the case, aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"You've seen this morning's papers?" + +"I have." + +"Well, they're rotten--absolutely rotten. They don't say it in so many +words, but the impression they create is that my sister, Hazel, was the +woman in the taxi who killed Roland Warren. It's a damned lie!" + +The young man was growing more excited. Carroll put out a +restraining hand. + +"I quite agree with you, my friend--it _was_ a pretty rotten impression +to create; but I shall see that all doubt is removed from the mind of the +public when this afternoon's papers appear. I have just learned that +your sister has an ironclad alibi." + +"You have already learned that?" + +"Yes." + +Gresham leaned forward eagerly. + +"What makes you sure--that she did not--was not--" + +"Suppose I question you--if you have no objections." + +"Fire away." + +"Where was your sister at midnight last night?" + +"At home." + +"Alone? I mean was any one besides your family there?" + +"Yes," replied Gresham, showing surprise at Carroll's evident +knowledge of facts. + +"Who?" + +"Evelyn Rogers spent the night with her. Evelyn's a seventeen-year-old +kid who has had what I believe you call a crush on my sister. They were +together in that house from ten o'clock last night, or earlier, until +this morning. And if you don't believe that--" + +"But I do. I have just had a visit from Miss Rogers, and she told me +exactly what you have just repeated; so I'm pretty well satisfied that +your sister had nothing whatever to do with the affair. I will take +pains to see that this evening's papers make that quite clear." + +Gresham rose. A load seemed to have dropped from his shoulders. + +"That's white of you, Carroll! I appreciate it." + +"Not at all. I have no desire to cause annoyance or inconvenience where +it is unnecessary. And Miss Rogers told me, with great attention to +detail, just why and how it was impossible for your sister to have been +anywhere except at home last night." + +"Evelyn's considerable of a brick, in spite of the fact that she's more +or less minus in the upper story. And now, if you're really satisfied, +I'll be going." + +The two men walked to the door together. They were about of a height; +Carroll slightly the heavier of the two. + +"You've no idea as to the identity of the woman in the taxicab, have +you, Gresham?" + +"No. Have you?" + +"None whatever; though I fancy something ought to develop in the near +future. The city is discussing it pretty freely?" + +"The town's wild about it. They don't understand anything. It's tough on +my sister. Hazel is only a kid, and I think she was in love with Warren. +Well, good day, Carroll." He extended a firm hand. "Any time I can be of +any help--" + +"Thanks, Gresham." + +Five minutes after Gresham's departure, Carroll was in his car, headed +for the police-station. He turned the case over and over in a keen, +analytic mind which had been refreshed by a night of untroubled sleep. + +There were a good many features about it which puzzled him considerably. +While he had not expected that the trail of the mysterious midnight woman +would lead to the fiancee of the dead man, the sudden dissipation of that +as a clue rather threw him off his balance. He had reached the end of a +trail almost before setting foot upon it. + +Thus far he had refused to allow himself to be worried by the strangest +feature of the case--the appearance of the dead body in a taxicab which, +according to its driver's story, could not have been other than empty. It +was always easy to explain the disappearance of a person from an +automobile; but, he figured, it was patently impossible to enter one +without the driver's knowledge. + +He reached headquarters and closeted himself with Leverage. They plunged +at once into a discussion of that phase of the case. + +"There are only two things which could have happened," said the chief of +police slowly. "One is that some one croaked that bird Warren and shoved +him into the cab while the woman was ridin' in it. The other is that he +slipped into the cab and she killed him. While I ain't jumpin' on no set +ideas, I have a hunch that the last one is right." + +"Why?" + +"Because the other--that idea of puttin' a dead body into a cab without +the driver knowing it--it just naturally ain't possible." + +"Then you are quite convinced, Leverage, that Walters did _not_ know +anything about it?" + +"Now, say, Carroll, that's putting it up to me rather strong; but since +you're asking, I'm here to say that I believe the kid. Of course it's +possible that he was in on the deal--but I'm betting Liberty bonds +against Russian rubles that he'd have slipped somewhere if that had been +the case. Nobody that's in on a murder deal is going to frame a lie that +sticks his bean as close to a noose as Walter's would be if he's not +tellin' the truth!" + +"Sounds reasonable; and yet--" + +"I'm surprised at you suspectin' the kid." + +"I don't suspect him." + +"But you said--" + +"We can't overlook anything--that's what I said. It's what I was +driving at, anyway. So far, Walters is the only tangible clue we've had +to work with. As I told you, the Hazel Gresham trail died a-borning. +The kid who came to see me this morning cleared her; and then her +brother came along right afterward, red-hot over the insinuations +against his sister in the papers. As matters stand now, there's nothing +to tie to but Spike Walters." + +"I'm glad you're handling it," said Leverage fervently. "And as you are, +I'm making so bold as to ask what you're going to do next?" + +"A little general inquiring. You can help me on that. For one thing, I +want to get hold of every bit of dope I can regarding Warren--who he was, +where he came from, what he did, the size of his bank deposits, his +business connections, his social life, and especially every morsel of +gossip that's ever been circulated about him in connection with women." + +"H-m! You think this dame was a society sort?" + +"Probably. He was undoubtedly going away with her; and a man of his stamp +doesn't often elope with a woman of the other type." + +"True enough! Well, I'll get you what dope I can." + +"I want it all. I'm afraid this is going to resolve itself into a +contest of elimination. The city is buzzing about the case to-day, and +it ought to be pretty easy to get hold of a world of gossip concerning +Warren's love-affairs--provided he had any. Everybody's concerned over +the identity of that woman, and every woman Warren has ever been mixed +up with, even in the most innocuous way, is going to be dragged into +the case." + +Carroll made his way from headquarters direct to the consolidated +railroad ticket office. He introduced himself to the chief clerk and +stated his business. The other showed keen interest. + +"The tickets were sold to him in this office, Mr. Carroll. This young man +here sold them." + +Carroll smiled genially at the skinny young chap who bustled forward +importantly, proud of his temporary spotlight position. + +"You sold some tickets to Roland Warren?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When?" + +"Day before yesterday." + +"You are sure it was Mr. Warren?" + +"Yes, sir. I have known him by sight for a longtime." + +"About the tickets--what did he buy?" + +"Two tickets and a drawing-room on No. 29 for New York--due to leave at +11.55 last night." + +"You're sure he bought _two_ tickets and a drawing-room? Or was it +one ticket?" + +"It had to be two. We can't sell a drawing-room unless the purchaser has +double transportation." + +"You delivered both tickets to him personally?" + +"Yes, sir--gave them both to him." + +From the ticket office Carroll went back to headquarters, and from there +to the coroner's office, and, accompanied by that dignitary, to the +undertaking establishment where the body was being kept under police +guard. Nothing had yet been touched. The inquest had resulted in a +verdict of "death by violence, inflicted by a revolver in the hands of a +person unknown." + +Carroll again ran through the man's pockets. In a vest pocket he +discovered what he sought. He took the trunk check to the Union Station, +and through his police badge secured access to the baggage-room. The +trunk was not there. He compared checks with the baggage-master, and +learned that the trunk had duly gone to New York. He left orders for it +to be returned to the city. + +From there he went to the office of the division superintendent, and left +a half-hour later, after an exchange of telegrams between the +superintendent and the conductor of the train for New York, which +informed him that the drawing-room engaged by Warren had been unoccupied, +nor had there been an attempt on the part of any one to secure possession +of it. Also that the only berth purchased on the train had been at a +small-town stop about four o'clock in the morning. + +Obviously, then, the person who was to share the drawing-room with +Warren, and for whom the second ticket had been bought, had never boarded +the train. The trail had doubled back again to the woman in the taxicab. + +It was not until two o'clock in the afternoon that Carroll returned to +headquarters. He found Leverage ready with his report. + +"For one thing," said the chief, "there isn't a doubt that Warren was +getting ready to leave town--and for good." + +"How so?" + +Leverage checked over his list. + +"First, he had sublet his apartment. Second, he had with him eleven +hundred dollars in cash. Third, he left his automobile with a dealer +here to be sold, and did not place an order for any other car. And +fourth--" Leverage paused impressively. + +"Yes--and fourth?" + +"He fired his valet yesterday!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VALET TALKS + + +There was a triumphant ring to Leverage's statement that the dead man's +valet had been discharged at some time during the twenty-four hours which +immediately preceded the killing. It was as if his instinct recognized a +combination of circumstances which could not be ignored. Carroll looked +up interestedly. + +"Have you talked to this fellow?" + +"No. I figured I'd better leave that phase of it to you; but I'm having +him watched. Cartwright is on the job. Right now the man is at his +boarding-place on Larson Street." + +Carroll started for the door. + +"Let's go," he suggested laconically. + +It was but a few minutes' drive from headquarters to the boarding-house +of Roland Warren's former valet. Carroll parked his car at the curb and +inspected the place closely from the outside. + +There was little architectural beauty to recommend the house. It was a +rambling, dilapidated, two-story structure, sadly in need of paint and +repairs, and bespeaking occupancy by a family none too well blessed +with the better things of existence. They proceeded to the door and +rang the bell. A slatternly woman answered their summons, and Leverage +addressed her: + +"We wish to see William Barker, please." + +"William Barker?" + +"Yes. I believe he moved here yesterday." + +"Oh, that feller!" The woman started inside. "Wait a minute," she said +crossly, and shut the door in their faces. + +While they stood waiting, Leverage glanced keenly up and down the street, +and his eye lighted on the muscular figure of Cartwright, the +plainclothes man, shivering in the partial shelter of an alley across the +way. The policeman signaled them that all was well, and resumed his +vigil. At that minute the door opened and the woman reappeared. + +"He ain't home!" she said, and promptly closed the door again. + +Carroll looked at Leverage and Leverage looked at Carroll. Leverage +crossed the street and interrogated Cartwright. + +"The landlady says he's out, Cartwright. How about it?" + +"Bum steer, chief! The bird's there--I'll bet my silk shirt on it!" + +Leverage recrossed the street and reported to Carroll. + +"You're pretty sure Cartwright has the straight dope!" + +"Sure thing," said the chief. "He's one of the most reliable men on the +force, and when he says a thing, he knows it." + +Carroll stroked his beardless chin. There was a hard, calculating light +in his eyes--eyes which alternated between a soft, friendly blue and a +steely gray. Finally he looked up at Leverage. + +"What's your idea, Eric?" + +"About him sendin' word he was out when we know he ain't?" + +"Exactly." + +"It looks darn funny to me, Carroll! 'Pears like he didn't want to +discuss the affair with us." + +"He don't know who we are." + +"He can guess pretty well. Any guy with a head on his shoulders knows +the valet of a murdered man is going to be quizzed by the police." + +"Good! Come on." + +Carroll put a firm hand on the knob and turned it. Then he stepped into +the dingy reception hall, followed by the city's chief of police. + +At the sound of visitors, the angular frame of the boarding-house-keeper +appeared in the doorway, her eyes flashing antagonistically. Leverage +turned back the lapel of his coat and disclosed the police badge. + +"Listen here, lady," he said in a voice whose very softness brooked no +opposition; "that bird Barker is here, and we're going to see him. Police +business! Where's his room?" + +The woman's face grew ashen. + +"What's he been doin'?" she quavered. "What's he been up to now?" + +"What's he been up to before this?" countered Leverage. + +"I don't know anything about him. Swear to Gawd I don't! He just come +here yesterday an' took a room. Paid cash in advance." + +"He's in his room, ain't he?" + +"What if he is? He told me to tell anybody who come along that he was +out. I didn't know you was cops. Oh, I hope there ain't nothin' goin' to +ruin the reputation of this place! There ain't a woman in town who runs a +decenter place than this." + +"Nobody's going to know anything," reassured Carroll, "provided you keep +your own tongue between your teeth. Now take us to Barker's room." + +The boarding-house-keeper led the way up a flight of dark and twisting +stairs, along a musty hall. She paused before a door at the far end. + +"There it is, sirs--and--" + +"You go downstairs," whispered Carroll. "If we should find you trying to +listen at the keyhole--" + +His manner made it unnecessary to finish the threat. The woman departed, +fluttering with excitement. Leverage's hand found the knob, and Carroll +nodded briefly. The door was flung open, and the two men entered. + +"What the--" + +The occupant of the room leaped to his feet and stood staring, his face +gone pasty white, his demeanor one of terror, which Carroll could see he +was fighting to control. Leverage closed the door gently and gazed at +the man upon whom they had called. + +William Barker was not a large man; neither was he small. He was one of +those men of medium height, whose physique deceives every one save the +anatomical expert. To the casual observer his weight would have been +catalogued at about a hundred and forty. At a glance Carroll knew that it +was nearer a hundred and eighty. Normal breadth of shoulder was more than +made up for by unusual depth of chest. Ready-made trousers bulged with +the enormous muscular development of calf and thigh. The face, +clean-shaven, was sullen with the fear inspired by the sudden entrance of +Carroll and Leverage; and there was more than a hint of evil in it. As +they watched, the sullenness of expression was supplanted by a leer, and +then by a mask of professional placidity--the bovine expression which one +expects to find in the average specimen of masculine hired help. + +The man's demeanor was a combination of abjectness and hostility. He was +plainly frightened, yet striving to appear at ease. + +Carroll and Leverage maintained silence. Barker fidgeted nervously, and +finally, when the strain became too great, burst out with: + +"Who are you fellers? Whatcha want?" + +Carroll spoke softly. + +"William Barker?" + +"What if that is my name?" + +Carroll's hands spread wide. + +"Just wanted to be sure, that's all. You _are_ William Barker?" + +"An' what if I am? What you got to do with that?" + +Carroll showed his badge. + +"And this gentleman," he finished, designating Leverage, "is chief +of police." + +Barker's voice came back to him in a half whine, half snarl. + +"I ain't done nothin'--" + +"Nobody has accused you yet." + +"Well, when you bust in on a feller like this--" + +Carroll seated himself, and Leverage followed suit. He motioned Barker +to a chair. + +"Let's talk things over," he suggested mildly. + +"Ain't nothin' to talk over." + +"You're William Barker, aren't you?" + +"I ain't said I ain't, have I?" + +Carroll's eyes grew a bit harder. His voice cracked out: + +"What's your name?" + +Barker met his gaze; then the eyes of the ex-valet shifted. + +"William Barker," he answered almost unintelligibly. + +"Very good! Now, sit down, William." + +William seated himself with ill grace. Carroll spoke again, but this time +the softness had returned to his tones. His manner approached downright +friendliness. + +"We came here to talk with you, Barker," he said frankly. "We don't +know a thing about your connection with this case; but we do know that +you were valet to Roland Warren, and therefore must possess a great +deal of information about him which no one else could possibly have. +All we want is to learn what you know about this tragedy--what you know +and what you think." + +Barker raised his head. For a long time he stared silently at Carroll. + +"I don't know who you are," he remarked at length; "but you seem to be on +the level." + +"I am on the level," returned Carroll quietly. "My name is David +Carroll--" + +"O-o-oh! So _you're_ David Carroll?" The query was a sincere tribute. + +"Yes, I'm Carroll, and I'm working on the Warren case. I don't want to +cause trouble for any one, but there are certain facts which I must +learn. You can tell me some of them. No person who is innocent has the +slightest thing to fear from me. And so--Barker--if you have nothing to +conceal, I'd advise that you talk frankly." + +"I ain't got nothin' to conceal. What made you think I had?" + +"I don't think so. I don't think anything definite at this stage of the +game. I want to find out what you know." + +"I don't know nothin', either." + +"H-m! Suppose I learn that for myself! I'll start at the beginning. Your +name is William Barker?" + +"Yes. I told you that once." + +"Where is your home? What city have you lived in mostly?" + +The man hesitated. + +"I was born in Gadsden, Alabama, if that's what you mean. Mostly I've +lived in New York and around there." + +"What cities around there?" + +"Newark." + +"Newark, New Jersey?" + +"Yes. An' in Jersey City some, and Paterson, and a little while in +Brooklyn." + +"You met Mr. Warren where?" + +"In New York. I was valet for a feller named Duckworth, and he went and +died on me--typhoid; you c'n find out all about him if you want. Mr. +Warren was a friend of Mr. Duckworth's, an' he offered me a job. We lived +in New York for a while and then we come down here." + +"How long ago?" + +"'Bout four years--maybe five." + +"What kind of a man was he--personally?" + +Carroll watched his man closely without appearing to do so. He saw +Barker flush slightly, and did not miss the jerky nervousness of his +answer--that or the forced enthusiasm. + +"Oh, I reckon he is all right. That is, he _was_ all right. Real +nice feller." + +"You were fond of him?" + +"I didn't say I was in love with him. I said he was a nice feller." + +"Treated you well?" + +"Oh, sure--he treated me fine." + +"And yet he discharged you yesterday." Then Carroll bluffed. +"Without notice!" + +Barker looked up sharply. His face betrayed his surprise; showed clearly +that Carroll's guess had scored. + +"How'd you know that?" + +"I knew it," returned Carroll. "That's sufficient." + +Barker assumed a defensive attitude. + +"Anyway," said he, "that didn't make me sore at him, because he give me a +month's pay; and that's just as good as a notice, ain't it?" + +"Ye-e-es, I guess it is." Carroll hesitated. "Did he pay you in cash?" + +"Yeh--cash." + +Again Carroll hesitated for a moment, while he lighted a cigarette. When +he spoke again, his tone was merely conversational, almost casual. + +"You've read the papers--all about Mr. Warren's murder, haven't you?" + +"I'll say I have." + +"What do you think about it?" + +Again that startled look in Barker's eyes. Again the nervous twitching +of hands. + +"Whatcha mean, what do I think about it?" + +"The woman in the taxicab--do you think she killed him?" + +Barker drew a deep breath. One might have fancied that it was a sigh +of relief. + +"Oh, _her_? Sure! She's the person that killed him!" + +"He knew a good many women?" suggested Carroll interrogatively. "He got +along pretty well with them?" + +"H-m!" William Barker nodded. "You said it then, Mr. Carroll. Mr. +Warren--he was a bird with the women!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CARROLL MAKES A MOVE + + +No slightest move of Warren's erstwhile valet--no twitching of facial +muscles, no involuntary gesture of nervousness, however slight--escaped +Carroll's attention; but with all his watchfulness, the boyish-looking +investigator was unostentatious, almost retiring in his manner. + +And this modest demeanor was having its effect on William Barker, just as +Carroll had known it would have, and as Leverage had hoped. Eric Leverage +had worked with Carroll before, and he had seen the man's personal charm, +his sunny smile, his attitude of camaraderie, perform miracles. People +had a way of talking freely to Carroll after he had chatted with them +awhile, no matter how bitter the hostility surrounding their first +meeting. Carroll was that way--he was a student of practical every-day +psychology. He worked to one end--he endeavored to learn the mental +reactions of every one of his _dramatis persoae_ toward the fact of the +crime he happened to be investigating; that and, as nearly as possible, +their feelings at the moment of the commission of the crime, no matter +where they might have been. + +"It doesn't matter what a suspect says," he had told Leverage once. "Some +of them tell the truth and some of them lie. Often the truth sounds +untrue, while the lies carry all the earmarks of honesty. It's a sheer +guess on the part of any detective. What I want to know is how my man +felt at the time the crime was committed--not where he was; and how he +feels now about the whole thing." + +"But the facts themselves are important," argued the practical chief +of police. + +"Granted! But when you have facts, you don't need a detective. I'd rather +have a suspect talk freely and never tell the truth than have him be +reticent and stick to a true story." + +Leverage's reply had been expressive of his opinion of Carroll's almost +uncanny ability. + +"Sounds like damned nonsense," said he; "but it's never failed you yet. +And even you couldn't get away with it if you lost that smile of yours!" + +Right now he was witnessing the magic of Carroll's smile. He had seen the +antagonism slowly melt from Barker's manner. The nervousness was still +there, true; but it seemed tinged with an attitude which was part +friendliness toward Carroll and part contempt for his powers. That, too, +was an old story to Leverage. More than one criminal had tripped over the +snag of underrating Carroll's ability. + +Barker's last statement--"Warren, he was a bird with the women!"--was +true. Leverage knew it was true. Carroll knew it was true. There was the +ring of truth about it. It mattered not whether Barker had an iron of his +own in the fire--it mattered not what else he said which was not +true--the two detectives knew that they had extracted from him a fact, +the relative importance of which would be established later. + +Just at present, knowledge that the dead man had been somewhat of a +philanderer seemed of considerable importance. For one thing, it +established the theory that he had been planning an elopement with the +woman in the taxicab. That being the case, a definite task was +faced--first, find the woman; then find some man vitally affected by her +elopement with Warren. + +Carroll betrayed no particular interest in Barker's statement. Instead, +he smiled genially, a sort of between-us-men smile, which did much to +disarm Barker. + +"A regular devil with 'em, eh, Barker?" + +"You spoke a mouthful that time, Mr. Carroll! What he didn't know about +women their own husbands couldn't tell him." + +"Married ones?" + +"Oh, sure! He was a specialist with them." + +"Then most of this gossip we've been hearing has a basis of fact?" + +A momentary return of caution showed in Barker's retort. + +"I don't know just what you've been hearin'." + +"A good many stories about his love affairs--with women who were +prominent socially." + +Barker shrugged. + +"Most likely they're true; although it's a safe bet that a heap of 'em +was lies. Men folks have a way of lyin' about women that way, even where +they'll tell the truth about everything else. They've got women beaten +ninety-seven ways gossiping about that sort of thing." + +"You know a thing or two yourself, Barker?" + +The man flushed with pleasure. + +"Oh, I ain't nobody's pet jackass, when it comes to that!" + +"Now you"--Carroll's tone was gentle, almost hypnotic--"of course you +know who the woman is that Mr. Warren was planning to elope with?" + +"I know--" + +Suddenly Barker paused, and his face went white. He compressed his lips +with an effort and choked back the words. Leverage, leaning forward in +tense eagerness--knowing the verbal trap that Carroll had been +planting--sighed with disappointment, and relaxed. + +"Say, what the hell are you driving at!" + +"Nothing." One would have sworn that Carroll was surprised at Barker's +flare of anger--or else that it had passed unnoticed. "I just figured +that you, having been his valet, and knowing a good deal about him, would +have knowledge of this." + +"He wasn't in the habit of discussin' his lady friends with me," growled +the ex-valet surlily. + +"Of course he wasn't; but you know, of course? You guessed?" + +"No, I didn't do nothin' of the kind. Say, what are you tryin' to +do--trip me up or somethin'?" + +"Of course not. Why should I be interested in tripping you up?" + +"You was sayin'--" + +"Don't be foolish, Barker! It wouldn't do me a bit of good to--er--trip +you up. All I want is whatever knowledge you have which may prove of +interest in solving this case." + +The man's eyes narrowed craftily. + +"You ain't got no suspicions yourself, have you?" + +"Suspicions of what?" + +"Who that dame in the taxicab was." + +Carroll laughed infectiously. + +"Goodness, no! If I had, I wouldn't be seated here chatting with you." + +Again the expression of relief flashed across Barker's face--a bit +of play lost by neither detective. Carroll was toying idly with a +gold pencil on the end of his waldemar. His outward calmness +exasperated Leverage. From this point of the interview, the chief of +police would have dropped the attitude of trustful friendliness and +resorted to a little practical third-degree stuff. He was fairly +quivering with eagerness to bluster about the room and extract +information by main force. + +And a hint of Leverage's mental seethe must have been communicated to +Carroll, for the younger man turned the battery of his sunny gaze upon +the chief of police and nodded reassuringly. The effect was +instantaneous. Leverage's temporary resentment departed much as the gas +escapes from a pin-punctured balloon. He gave ear to Barker's speech. + +"N'r you ain't the only one who don't know who that woman was. _I_ +don't!" + +"You knew he was planning to elope, though?" + +The man shook his head doggedly. + +"I knew he was leavin' the city for good, if that's what you mean." + +"No-o, not exactly. I knew that much myself. What interests me is +this--was he planning to leave with some woman?" + +Barker hesitated before replying, and when he did answer it was patent +that his words were chosen carefully. + +"I don't hardly reckon he was, Mr. Carroll. Mind you, I'm not sayin' he +wasn't; but then again I ain't sayin' he was. I can't do nothin' only +guess--same as you can." + +"I see!" Carroll was apparently unconscious of Barker's flagrant +evasion. "What I don't understand is this--when Mr. Warren was publicly +engaged to Miss Gresham, why did he try to elope with her?" + +"Elope with Miss Gresham?" Barker paused; then a slow, calculating smile +creased his lips. "Miss Gresham--her he was engaged to! Dog-gone if I +don't believe you've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Carroll!" + +"What nail?" + +"About her bein' the woman in the taxi. You know some fellers is like +that--they'd a heap rather elope with a woman they're crazy about than +stand up in a church and get married. They're sort of romantic." Barker +was waxing loquacious. "You know, you must be right. Fact, if you put it +right up to me, I'd say there wasn't no doubt that Miss Gresham was the +woman in the taxicab." + +"I had that idea," responded Carroll slowly. "But what I can't +understand, Barker, and what you might help me figure out, is this--why +should Miss Gresham kill Mr. Warren?" + +"Huh! Ask me somethin' easy, will you? I never was good at riddles." + +Leverage marveled at the change in the two men. Apparently Carroll had +swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Of course, Leverage was pretty sure +that he had not; but he was also sure that Barker thought he had. And +Barker was volunteering information--plenty of it--that was absolutely +valueless. For the first time he was forcing the conversational pace, and +Carroll seemed serenely content to drag limply along. + +"Reckon she might have been jealous of him?" drawled Carroll. + +"Jealous? Maybe. I ain't sayin' she wasn't. Of course, she must have +heard a good many things about him and other women; and when a woman gets +downright jealous there ain't much sayin' what she wouldn't do. Not that +I'm sayin' Miss Gresham croaked him. I ain't sayin' nothin' positive; but +if you're askin' me who he'd most naturally elope with, why I'd say it +was the girl he was engaged to marry. If he wasn't going to marry her, +what did he ever get engaged to her for?" + +Carroll nodded. + +"Certainly sounds reasonable." He paused, and then: "Where were you about +midnight last night?" + +"I was"--Barker's figure stiffened defensively, and his eyebrows drew +down over the deep-set eyes--"I was just shootin' some pool." + +"Shooting pool?" + +"Un-huh!" + +"Where?" + +"At Kelly's place." + +"Where is that?" + +The man hesitated, flushed, and then, somewhat sullenly: + +"On Cypress Street." + +"That's pretty close to the Union Station, isn't it?" + +"Not so close." + +"About how far away?" + +Again the momentary hesitation. + +"'Bout a half-block." + +"And you were shooting pool there?" + +"Sure I was! I c'n prove it." + +Carroll grinned disengagingly. + +"You don't need to prove anything to me, Barker. And for goodness' sake +get the idea out of your head that I'm suspecting you of anything. I had +to talk matters over with you. You knew more about the dead man than any +one else; but I couldn't think you had anything to do with it, could I? +You're not a woman!" + +Barker grinned sheepishly. + +"That's all right, Mr. Carroll. And as for me bein' a woman--well, you're +sure a woman killed him, ain't you?" + +"As sure as any one can be. And now"--Carroll rose--"I'm tremendously +obliged for all the information you've given me. Any time you run +across anything more that you think might prove of interest, look me +up, will you?" + +"Sure! Sure!" Barker's tone was almost hearty. "You're a regular feller, +Mr. Carroll--a regular feller!" + +The two detectives departed. Carroll spoke to Cartwright as he passed: + +"Keep both eyes on that fellow Barker," he ordered curtly. "I'll +send Reed up to team with you. Don't let him get away. Nab him if he +tries it." + +Cartwright nodded briefly, and Carroll and Leverage climbed into the +former's car. As they rounded the corner, Leverage turned wide eyes upon +his professional associate. + +"Carroll?" + +"Yes?" + +"You beat the Dutch!" + +"How so?" + +"You didn't swallow that bird's yarn, did you?" + +"Of course not," answered Carroll calmly. + +"I didn't think so; but you had me worried, with that innocent look of +yours. Me, if I was wantin' to play safe on this case, I'd arrest William +Barker _pronto_." + +"Why?" + +"Because," snapped Leverage positively, "I think he was mixed up in +Warren's murder!" + +"Aa-ah!" Carroll refused to become excited. "You do?" + +"Yes, I do. What do you think?" + +"I think this," answered Carroll. "I think that Mr. William Barker knows +a great deal more about the case than he has told!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ICE CREAM SODA + + +They drove in silence to headquarters, each man busy with his thoughts. +It was not until they were alone in Leverage's sanctum that the subject +of the recent interview was again broached. It was Leverage who brought +it up, in his characteristically gruff way. + +"I reckon you're wonderin', Carroll, about what I said back yonder +in the car?" + +"About arresting Barker?" + +"Yes. I guess you're figuring what I'd arrest him for, eh?" + +"I'm interested--yes." + +"I'd arrest him for this." Leverage leaned forward earnestly, his +attitude that of a man eager to convince. "Let's admit right off the reel +that the skirt in the taxicab croaked Warren. Looks like she did, anyway; +but whether she did or not, it's an even bet that there was a man mixed +up in it somewhere. And if that man isn't Mr. William Barker, then I'll +eat a month's pay." + +"You're sure there was a man mixed up somewhere?" + +"Certainly. This murder deal was planned in advance. It must have been. +Things couldn't just work out that way. And no woman, no matter how much +she wanted to bump Warren off, could think of a thing that complicated. +Even if she did think of it, she wouldn't have the nerve to carry it out +that way. Ain't I right?" + +"You may not be right, Leverage; but you're certainly logical." + +"Good! Now, so far, we ain't got any man in this case except Barker." + +Carroll shook his head. + +"You're wrong there." + +"How?" + +"Somewhere in this town is some man who is interested in the woman with +whom Warren was planning to elope. Don't forget this, Leverage--I let +Barker ramble on. I like to hear 'em talk. The minute he jumped at the +idea that the woman in the taxi was Miss Gresham, I knew perfectly well +that he knew she was not. I also believe that he knows who the woman +was. Further, I believe that she is socially prominent. That being the +case, it is a safe guess that there is some man who might commit a +murder, provided he knew in advance of the elopement. Our task now is to +discover that woman and, through her, the man interested." + +Leverage frowned thoughtfully. + +"Listens good," he volunteered at length. "Another thing--Barker admits +he was shooting pool in Kelly's place last night around midnight; and +Kelly's place is only half a block from the Union Station. That sounds +significant!" + +"It does; and then again it may mean nothing. What I am striving for is +to make William Barker feel that he is safe. The safer he feels, the more +readily he will talk. No matter how many lies he tells, everything that +he says is of value. He didn't know, of course, that we already had a +perfect alibi for Miss Gresham; but even if we hadn't, his assumed belief +that she committed the crime would have assured me that she did not. +No-o, I think we'd better not arrest the man unless he forces our +hand--tries to jump town, or something like that. Better let him remain +at large and talk frequently. If he has anything to betray, there's more +chance that he'll do it that way. Don't you think I'm right?" + +"I wouldn't admit it if I didn't, Carroll. I've seen you in action too +often to believe you're ever wrong." + +Carroll flushed boyishly. + +"Don't be absurd, Leverage! I'm often wrong--very wrong. And don't think +that I'm a transcendent detective; they don't really exist, you know. I'm +merely trying to be human, to learn the nature of the people with whom +I'm dealing. I try to learn 'em as well as they know themselves--maybe a +little better; and then I try to separate the wheat of vital facts from +the chaff of the inconsequential." + +"Just the same," insisted Leverage loyally, "you always get 'em!" + +"And when I do, it is because I have used nothing more than plain common +sense. Don't think that I attach no importance to physical clues. They're +immensely valuable; but the one weakness in a criminal is his lack of +common sense. His perspective is awry, his sense of values distorted. +Usually he bothers his head about a myriad minor details, and pays but +scant attention to the genuinely important things. It is upon that +weakness that I am banking--particularly so in the case of Barker." + +"I insist that you're a wonder, Carroll!" + +"And I insist that you're foolishly complimentary. Did you ever stop to +realize, Eric, that when a crime is committed the advantage lies entirely +with the detective? The detective can make a thousand mistakes during the +course of his investigations and still trap his man; but the criminal +cannot make one single error--not _one_!" + +"Maybe so, David; but it takes a good man to recognize that one, and to +know what to do with it." + +Carroll grinned and left, and then for two days devoted himself to a +study of the conditions surrounding the murder--that and routine matters. +The trunk, for instance, was duly returned by the railroad from New York, +and Carroll and his friend made a minute investigation of every article +contained therein. Their search was well-nigh fruitless. The trunk +contained little save the wardrobe of a well-dressed man--suits, shirts, +underwear, shoes, caps. There were also golf and tennis togs; a few +books; a handsome leather secretary, containing a good many personal +letters and one or two business missives which were of little interest. +Altogether the examination of the trunk--a process which occupied three +hours--established nothing definite, save that there was nothing to be +discovered. Its results were hopelessly negative. + +Meanwhile the city sizzled with gossip of the Warren murder. The +seemingly impenetrable mystery surrounding the case, its many sensational +features, the admission of the police department that the woman in the +case was not Hazel Gresham, fiancee of the dead man, yet the certainty +that there was a woman, and that she was of the better class--all this +served to keep the tongues of men and women alike wagging at both ends. + +Carroll was besieged with anonymous letters. Dozens of prominent +married women were mentioned as having been, at one time or another, +the object of Warren's amorous attentions. Carroll read each one +carefully and filed it away. He had hoped for this, but the results had +far exceeded his expectations, and he found himself bewildered rather +than assisted by the response from nameless individuals who were +morbidly eager to be of help. + +The detective knew that the running down of each individual trail--the +investigation of each of Warren's supposed affairs of the heart--would be +an interminable procedure. And so far not a single one of the letters had +varied from another. They connected Warren's name with that of some +married woman, and let it go at that. It was quite evident that the dead +man had been very much of a Lothario; too much so for the mental ease of +the investigator who was struggling to link the cause of his death with +one particular affair. + +The reporters allowed their imaginations to run wild. The story was what +is known, in the parlance of the newspaper world, as a "space-eater." +City editors turned their best men loose on it and devoted columns to +conjecture. There was little definite information upon which to base the +daily stories that were luridly hurled into type. Thus far Spike Walters, +driver of taxicab No. 92,381, was the only person under arrest, and only +those persons too lazy to exercise their minds were willing to believe +that Spike was guilty or that he knew more of the crime than he had told. + +Carroll read each news story attentively. No wild theory of a pop-eyed +reporter, hungry for fact, was too absurd to receive his careful +attention. But they proved of little assistance. With the spot-light of +publicity blazing on the crime, the investigation seemed to have become +static. There was no forward movement; nothing save that in the brain of +David Carroll salient facts were being seized upon and meticulously +catalogued for future reference. + +Cartwright and Reed, the plain-clothes men detailed to shadow William +Barker, reported nothing suspicious in that gentleman's movements. He +seemed to be making no effort to secure employment, but, on the other +hand, there was little of interest in what he did do. Again the stone +wall of negative action. + +Barker spent his mornings in his boarding-house, apparently luxuriating +in long slumbers; he ate always at the same cheap restaurant; and his +afternoons and evenings were devoted largely to the science of eight-ball +pool at Kelly's place. There may have been significance in his loyalty to +Kelly's place; but if there was, it was too vague for Carroll to +consider. He merely remembered the fact that Barker was a steady patron +of the pool-room near the Union Station, and filed it away with his +other threads of information concerning the murder. + +Carroll was frankly puzzled. The case differed widely from any other +with which he had ever come in contact. Usually there was an array of +persons upon whom suspicion could be justly thrown; a collection of +suspects from whom the investigator could take his choice, or from whom +he could extract facts which eventually might be used to corner the +guilty person. In the present case there was no one to whom he could +turn an accusing finger. + +Of course, he was convinced that William Barker knew a great deal about +the crime and the events which preceded it; but Barker wouldn't talk--and +he, Carroll, had no evidence that enabled him to bluff, to draw Barker +out against his will. + +The crime seemed to have lost itself in the sleety cold of the December +midnight upon which it was committed. The trails were not blind--there +were simply no trails. The circumstances baffled explanation--a lone +woman entering an empty taxicab; a run to a distant point in the city; +the discovery of the woman's disappearance, and in her stead the sight of +the dead body of a prominent society man--that, and the further blind +information that the suit-case which the woman had carried was the +property of the man whose body was huddled horribly in the taxicab. + +The woman, whoever she was, had either been unusually clever or +unusually lucky. Minute examination of the interior of the cab had +revealed nothing--not a fingerprint, nor a scrap of handkerchief. +There was absolutely nothing which could serve as a clue in establishing +her identity. + +And yet, somewhere in the city--a city of two hundred thousand souls--was +the woman who could clear up the mystery. + +Convinced that she was prominent socially, Carroll kept a close eye upon +the departures of society women for other cities. His vigil had been +unrewarded thus far. And the public as a whole waited eagerly for her +apprehension, for the public was unanimous in the belief that the woman +in the taxicab was the person who had ended Warren's life. + +The very fact of having nothing definite upon which to work was getting +on Carroll's usually equable nerves. He had little to say to Leverage +regarding the case, for the simple reason that there was very little +which could be said. Leverage, on his part, watched the detective with +keen interest, sympathizing with him, and exhibiting implicit confidence, +but the men didn't agree upon the correct procedure. Leverage was all for +arresting Barker and charging him with the murder. + +"You'll learn some facts then, Carroll," he insisted. + +But Carroll shook his head. + +"It wouldn't get us anywhere, Eric. We couldn't prove him guilty." + +"No-o, but that don't make no difference. Of course the law says a man is +innocent until you prove he ain't, but that ain't what the law does. If +we arrest this here Mr. William Barker, everybody's going to believe he's +guilty until he proves himself innocent." + +"And you think he can't do that?" + +"No! At least I'm gambling on this--Barker can't prove himself innocent +without telling who is guilty!" + +But Carroll refused to arrest the man. He knew that Leverage disapproved, +but he also knew that Leverage was sportsman enough to let him handle the +case in his own way. + +On one of his long strolls through the downtown section of the +city--daily walks which helped him to think connectedly--David Carroll +felt a hand on his arm and heard an eager feminine voice in his ear: + +"Gracious goodness! If it isn't the perfectly marvelous Mr. David +Carroll!" + +Carroll bowed instinctively. Then his lips expanded into the first +wholesome smile he had experienced in forty-eight hours. + +"Miss Evelyn Rogers!" + +"You did recognize me, didn't you? How simply splendiferous! I'm awfully +glad we met!" + +"So am I, Miss Rogers." + +She dropped her voice confidentially. + +"Will you do me a _great_ favor--an _enormous_ favor?" + +"Certainly. What is it?" + +"It's this." She looked around carefully. "I told some of my friends that +you are a friend of mine, and they don't believe it. They're over yonder +in that ice-cream place. Now, what I want you to do for me is to show +'em. I want you to take me over there and buy me an ice-cream soda!" + +Carroll laughed aloud as he took her by the arm and piloted her through +the traffic. He asked only one question: + +"What flavor?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DISCOVERY + + +If Evelyn Rogers, amply clad as to fur around the neck but somewhat +under-dressed as to lace stockings about the legs, had desired to +create a sensation among her friends, she more than succeeded. She +preceded Carroll into the place, her eyes glowing pridefully, skirted +the table at which her friends sat, then stopped abruptly, forcing +Carroll to do likewise. + +"Mr. Carroll," she said sweetly, "I want to introduce you to my friends." +She called them by name. "Girls, this is Mr. Carroll, the famous +detective!" + +Carroll bowed in his most courtly manner, and assured them that he was +delighted to make their acquaintance. He insisted that it was always a +pleasure to meet any friends of his very dear friend, Miss Rogers. The +girls at the table giggled with embarrassment, and one or two of them +made rather pallid attempts at repartee. Then Carroll and the +seventeen-year-old found a table in the very center of the floor, even as +a boy, recognizing Carroll, appeared at their elbow. + +The detective studied the list intently. Apparently there was no subject +in the world more vital at that moment than the selection of just the +proper concoction. Finally he looked up and shook his head. + +"I can't decide," he announced gravely. "They all sound so good! Walnut +banana sundae; strawberry glory; peach Melba; chocolate parfait, with +whipped cream and cracked walnuts; elegantine fizz--Help me out, please." + +She, too, plunged into the labyrinth of toothsome titles. Finally she +emerged smiling. + +"Have you ever tasted a chocolate fudge-sundae?" + +"No-o, I'm afraid not." + +"Well, it's just the _elegantest_ thing--vanilla ice-cream with hot fudge +poured over it, and as soon as they pour the fudge--it's steaming hot, +you know--simply scalding--it forms into a sort of candy, and then when +they serve it--" + +"I fancy you want one, too, don't you?" + +"Oh, goodness me, yes! I _always_ eat chocolate fudge sundaes. They're +simply scrumptious--but they do take the edge off one's dinner appetite. +Personally, I don't care so very much. I believe we eat too much anyway, +don't you, Mr. Carroll? I read in a book once that after you reach a +certain point in eating--that is, after you've swallowed just the right +number of calories--the rest don't do you a single particle of good. And +besides, ice-cream is healthy, and certainly there's nothing with more +nourishment in it than chocolate--unless it is raisins. I like raisins +well enough--" + +Carroll turned to the boy. + +"Two chocolate fudge sundaes," he ordered; "and put a few raisins on +one of them." + +He found the large eyes of the girl turned upon him adoringly. + +"Do you know," she said, "that when I said the other day that you were +the most wonderful, the most marvelous man in the world, I didn't even +know half how wonderful or marvelous you really were?" + +"Thanks! And what caused the discovery?" + +"The way you acted just now. Why, I'm sure those girls think that you've +known me all your life--or that we're engaged, or something!" + +Carroll was a trifle startled. + +"Engaged?" + +"Why not? You don't _look_ like an old man." + +The detective chuckled. + +"Nor do I feel like one when I'm with you. You're deliciously +refreshing." + +"And you are--are--exquisite! Do you know, when I'm with you, I feel +inspired to great deeds--to noble--er--attainments." + +"Really?" + +"Uh-huh! Honest to goodness. And did I really help you by what I told you +the other day?" + +"You certainly did, Miss Rogers. There isn't a doubt of it." + +She lowered her voice and leaned confidentially across the table. + +"Will you tell me something?" + +"Surely?" + +"Who really killed Mr. Warren?" + +"Eh?" + +"Who really did kill him?" + +"Why, I'm sure I don't know. I'm trying to find out." + +"Oh, pshaw! You can't pull the wool over _my_ eyes! You couldn't have +been working on the case this long and not have discovered +the--the--malefactor." + +"But that's exactly what I have done. Also it's why I rather hoped that +you might have a little more information for me." + +"Me? Information for you? How wonderful! As if you'd be interested in +anything I might know! Although I'm not an absolute fool. Gerald says I +am, of course--he's my brother-in-law--but then Gerald isn't anything but +an old crab, anyway. Hateful thing! But _you_ don't think I am, do you?" + +"No, indeed. Ah, here we are!" + +The chocolate fudge sundaes were served, and for a few moments they +gave themselves over to the task of enjoying them. It was Evelyn who +spoke first. + +"What do you want me to tell you?" + +"Almost anything. For instance--you knew Roland Warren pretty well, +didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed! I've known him forever and ever. He was an awfully nice +boy, and crazy about me--simply wild! That is, he was before he died." + +"H-m! And you saw a good deal of him?" + +"Oceans! He used to call at the house all the time. It _was_ funny, too. +Gerald used to think he was the one Roland was coming to see, and +Naomi--she's my sister--used to think that he was coming to see her; and +all the time I knew that I was the person he was calling on. It's funny, +isn't it, how old folks will get those queer ideas?" + +"Your sister is so very old?" + +"Terribly. She was thirty on her last birthday." + +"Horrors! She _is_ ancient, isn't she?" + +"Awfully! Although Naomi isn't so bad looking--" + +"_Your_ sister couldn't be." + +"Aw, quit kidding! But she isn't bad-looking, really. Lord knows she +deserves a better husband than she drew. Honestly, when the divine +providence was handing out shrubbery, they planted a lemon-tree in his +yard just before he was born." + +"Probably your sister doesn't agree with your opinion." + +"Oh, yes, she does! Of course, she doesn't talk to me about it, but I +know she ain't wild about Gerald. How could she be? He's old enough to be +her father--forty-two, if he's a minute. Don't think of anything but +business and making money. And he's _terribly_ jealous!" + +"A very complimentary picture you draw of him." + +"If I wrote what I thought about him, I could be arrested for sending it +through the mails. Goodness knows, no husband at all is a hundred per +cent better than a man like that. Not that he beats Naomi. Fact is, I'd +think he was more human if he did. Only time I ever like him is when he +flies up in a rage. He swears simply _elegantly_!" + +"Indeed?" + +"I love it. And I don't think it's wicked to love swearing, do you? I was +reading in a book once something about swearing being a perfectly natural +mental reaction, or something--like a safety-valve on a steam-engine. If +the engine didn't have the safety-valve, it would blow up. So if it's +true that swearing is like that, then there can't be any harm in it; +because anything that keeps a person from blowing up must be pretty good, +don't you think?" + +"It does sound reasonable." + +"Not that I swear myself--not out loud, anyway, but sometimes, when I'm +right peeved at Gerald or Naomi or somebody, I get in my room and say +swear-words right out loud. And I feel ever so much better for it!" + +The conversation languished while she again attacked the sundae. +Carroll spoke: + +"Have you seen your friend, Miss Gresham, lately?" + +"Hazel? I'll say I have--although she's horribly weepy since poor Roland +was killed. Of course, I'm not heartless or anything like that; but +what's the use of crying all the time when there are just as good fish in +the sea as ever were caught? I told her that, but it don't seem to do a +single bit of good. She just keeps saying, 'Poor Roland is dead,' just as +if I didn't know it as well as she does--him having been crazy about me +even before he was about her. I'm sort of afraid it's gone to the poor +girl's head. She's simply _horribly_ upset!" + +"That's not unnatural, is it?" + +"No-o, I suppose not; but it's terribly old-fashioned." + +"Does she--discuss the affair much?" + +"All the time." + +"What does she think about the woman in the taxicab?" + +"You mean the woman who killed him?" + +"Yes." + +"Well!" positively. "If I was that woman, I'd hate to meet Hazel +Gresham--if Hazel knew it!" + +"But she has no suspicion of any certain person?" + +"Goodness, no! How could she have? Of course, we agreed that it was some +vampire; but we can't decide which one. Most of the women we know don't +go in for killing men; and a heap of them are married, anyway." + +"Anyway?" + +"Yes. You wouldn't expect a nice chap like Roland to be eloping with a +_married_ woman, would you? Not in real life?" + +Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. The girl was a refreshing +mixture of world-old wisdom and almost childish innocence. She was a type +new to him, and, as such, absorbingly interesting. + +"How about Miss Gresham's brother?" he inquired idly. "How does he take +it?" + +"Oh, Garry seems all upset, too; but then the more I talk to people, the +more I think I'm the only level-headed one in the world. I haven't got a +bit excited over it, have I?" + +"Not a bit. And now"--Carroll rose and reached for the check--"suppose +we go?" + +"Where?" she asked naively. + +The opening was too obvious. + +"Where do you usually go with young gentlemen who meet you down-town in +the afternoons?" + +"Picture show," she answered frankly. "Wouldn't you just _adore_ to see +that picture at the Trianon to-day? They say it's _stupendous_!" + +"Perhaps." + +They walked up the street together. On the way they passed Eric Leverage. +That gentleman bowed heavily and stood aside in surprise, while an +exclamation, rather profane, issued from his lips. David Carroll and a +seventeen-year-old girl headed for a picture show! The thing was +unbelievable. Leverage shook his head sadly and passed on as Carroll and +Evelyn disappeared behind the din of an orchestrion. + +The picture proved not at all bad, although Evelyn excited adverse +comment from spectators unfortunate enough to be sitting within range of +her constant chatter. Apparently there was no stopping her. She talked +and talked and talked. + +The picture ended eventually, and they left the theater. Night had +descended upon the city, and the busy thoroughfare was studded with +thousands of lights, which glared coldly through the December chill. +Principally because he did not know what else to do, Carroll requested +permission to take her home in his car. She accepted with rather +disarming alacrity. + +Carroll had about run out of conversation, and his ears were tired by the +incessant din of the girl's talk. He followed her directions +mechanically, and eventually they rounded a corner in the heart of the +city's best residential district. Evelyn designated a white house which +stood back in a large yard. + +"That's it," said she. "You'd better turn first, so you can park against +the curb." + +Carroll slowed down and swung around. He was tired of the loquacious +girl, and anxious to be rid of her; but as he swung his car across the +street on the turn, something happened which riveted his attention. + +The door of Evelyn's home opened. A man and woman stood framed in the +doorway. Then the door closed, and the man descended the steps, moved +down the walk to the street, and strode swiftly away. For perhaps three +seconds he had been held clearly in the glare of Carroll's headlights. + +When the detective spoke, it was with an effort to control his tone, to +make his question casual. + +"Did you see that man, Miss Rogers?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know him?" + +"Goodness me, no! He's been here before, though." + +Carroll stopped his car at the curb. He assisted Evelyn to the ground. +Then he made a strange request. + +"I wonder, Miss Rogers, whether you'd allow me to call on you some +evening?" + +Evelyn's eyes popped open with the marvel of it. + +"You mean you want to come and call on _me_? Some _evening_?" + +"If you will allow me." + +"Allow you? Why, David Carroll--I think you're +simply--simply--_grandiloquent_! When will you come?" + +"If your sister will permit--" + +"Bother Sis! To-morrow night?" + +"Yes, to-morrow night." + +She executed a few exuberant dance steps. + +"Oh, what'll the girls say when I tell 'em?" + +Carroll climbed thoughtfully back into his car. He saw Evelyn enter the +house, but his thoughts were not with her. He was thinking of the man who +had just left. + +Carroll never forgot faces, and he had recognized the visitor. + +The man was William Barker, former valet to Roland Warren! + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LOOSE ENDS + + +Carroll's forehead was seamed with thought as he turned his car townward +and sent it hurtling through the frosty air. He drove mechanically, +scarcely knowing what he was doing. + +He was frankly puzzled, enormously surprised and not a little startled. +The afternoon had been at first amusing, then interesting--then utterly +boring. Evelyn's chatter had put him in a state of mental coma--a +lethargy from which he had been rudely aroused at sight of William Barker +leaving the residence of Evelyn Rogers' sister. + +There was something sinisterly significant in what he had seen. Not for +a moment did he entertain the idea that Barker had been seeking +employment. Negativing that possibility was the cold statement of the +disinterested young girl that Barker had been there before, and, too, +the fact that Barker was leaving from the front door instead of through +the servant's door. + +Obviously, then, Barker's mission had little to do with the matter of +domestic employment. And now that he had stumbled upon something +tangible--something definite--certain salient facts which had come to him +through the haze of girlish chatter began to stand out and assume proper +significance. + +For instance there was her constant repetition of the fact that Roland +Warren had been a frequent visitor at the Lawrence home. That might mean +nothing: it might mean a great deal. Certainly it was indicative of a +close friendship between the dead man and the members of that household. +He paid little heed to the girl's protestations that Warren had been in +love with her. No expert in the ways of the rising generation, Carroll +yet knew that no man of Warren's maturity had unleashed his affections on +a girl who yet lacked several years of womanhood. The dead man had been +too much of an epicure in femininity for such as that. + +But Carroll knew that in that house there was another woman: Naomi +Lawrence--Evelyn's sister. And while Evelyn had dismissed the sister +with a few words, Carroll remembered that the girl had described her as +being "not so bad looking" and had also said that Mrs. Lawrence fancied +that when Warren called at the house, he was calling on her. + +There, too, was the matter of Gerald Lawrence to be considered. Evelyn +insisted that Gerald was "an old crab" and also that he was of an +exceedingly jealous disposition. If that were true, then his jealousy, +coupled with a possible intimacy between Mrs. Lawrence and Warren might +have been ample motive for the taxicab tragedy. + +It was all rather puzzling. Carroll's mind leaped nimbly from one +mental trail to another. He held himself in check, afraid that his +deductions were proceeding too swiftly. He was acutely conscious of the +danger of jumping too avidly on this single tangible clue which had +come to him after four days of fruitless search. There was danger, and +he knew it, of attaching untoward importance to a combination of +circumstances which under other conditions might not have excited him +in the slightest degree. + +It was there that the case bewildered him--and he was not slow in +confessing his bewilderment. Up to this moment there had been an +appalling dearth of physical clues--of things upon which a line of +investigation could be intelligently based. And he knew that now +something had turned up, he must watch himself lest the circumstance +assume unreasonable and unwarranted proportions. + +The somber outline of police headquarters bulked in the night. Carroll +swung down the alley, shut off his motor and entered. He found Leverage +in his office and settled at once to a discussion of developments. But +when he would have spoken Leverage cut him off. Leverage had news--and +Leverage was frankly proud of the fact that he had news. + +"Just got an interesting report from Cartwright," he announced. + +"Regarding Barker?" Carroll hitched his chair forward eagerly. + +"Yes." + +"What is it?" + +"Yesterday afternoon at five o'clock William Barker went to the residence +of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Lawrence. He was in the house eighteen minutes." + +"Why wasn't this told me last night?" + +"Cartwright didn't think anything of it. He included it in his report +which was turned in to me this morning." + +"Why did he think it was unimportant?" + +"Said he thought Barker was probably looking for a job." + +"And he doesn't think so now?" + +"No-o. That is: he thinks circumstances make an investigation worth +while. You see, just a few minutes ago Barker went to the Lawrence home +again. This time he was there four minutes." + +"Does Cartwright know who was at home at that time?" + +"He thinks so. He says a maid let Barker in and that apparently Mrs. +Lawrence let him out. A young girl--whom Cartwright believes to be Mrs. +Lawrence's sister--drove up just as Barker was leaving. She was in the +car with some man--but he didn't get out. Then, just a minute ago, Gerald +Lawrence reached home. So the idea is that Mrs. Lawrence was alone with +the servants when Barker called." + +"And yet he only remained four minutes?" + +"That's what Cartwright 'phoned." Leverage paused. "What do you make of +it, Carroll?" + +"Off-hand," answered the youthful-appearing detective, "I'd say that +Barker had called to see _Mr_. Lawrence." + +"Why?" + +"We'll suppose Lawrence was home on the occasion of Barker's first +visit--do you know whether he was?" + +"No. I asked. Cartwright doesn't know. Couldn't stay, you know--because +he was under orders to follow Barker. Tonight he sent Reed after Barker +and he watched the Lawrence house." + +"Good. If it is so that Lawrence was at home when Barker called yesterday +evening and Barker then remained eighteen minutes; whereas this +afternoon, when we know that no one but Mrs. Lawrence was there--and he +remained but four minutes--it is fairly reasonable to suppose that he was +calling to see Mr. Lawrence." + +"I think you're right, Carroll." + +"I'm not at all convinced about that. But if we're proceeding along lines +of pure logic, that is the answer." + +"How about the man who drove up with the kid sister?" + +Carroll smiled. "I'm sure he had nothing whatever to do with the murder." + +"Good Lord! I didn't think he had. But still he may have been a +friend, and--" + +"That man was all right. I know that." + +"You _know_?" Leverage was incredulous. + +"Yes." Carroll grinned. "I was the man!" + +"You--? Holy sufferin' mackerel! Sa-a-ay! Was that chicken I seen you +with downtown, Lawrence's sister-in-law?" + +"Yes. Miss Evelyn Rogers. And Good Lord! Leverage, how that girl can +talk! She holds all records for conversational distance and speed. She +talked me dumb." + +Leverage was staring respectfully at Carroll. "If you were the man who +was with her, David--you must have seen Barker when he left the house." + +"I did." + +The face of the chief showed his disappointment: "That's what I get for +thinking I had a real surprise up my sleeve. You sit back with that +innocent kid face of yours and let me spill all the dope--and then tell +me perfectly matter-of-factly that you knew it all the time. How'd you +ever get wise to the thing, anyway?" + +Carroll was honest. "No thanks to my sagacity, Leverage. One of those +pieces of bull luck which I have always contended play an enormous part +in solving crime. In the first place Evelyn Rogers came to me the day +after Warren was killed to assure me that Miss Gresham had a perfect +alibi. This afternoon she lassoed me and dragged me into an ice cream +place because she wanted to prove to some of her school companions that +we were really friends." Carroll chuckled. "I quaffed freely from the +fountain of youth--and enjoyed it awhile. Then I got bored stiff. Took +her to the movies--she invited me--and did it only because I've passed +beyond the years of adolescence and didn't know how to crawfish out of +it. After which--because it seemed the proper thing to do--I volunteered +to ride her home in my car. And it was then that I saw Barker leaving the +Lawrence home. So you see, Leverage, my knowledge is the result of pure +accident--and not at all the fruit of keen perception." + +"Well, anyway--Carroll: you knew! And that takes the edge off what I +told you." + +"Not at all," returned Carroll seriously. "For while what I discovered is +perhaps valuable--that combined with the fact that Barker has been there +once before: and that on his first visit when Lawrence was probably at +home he stayed nearly five times as long as he did when we know that +Lawrence was not there--that is of help--or ought to be." + +"What do you think of it?" + +Carroll hesitated. "I don't know what to think, Eric. I'm afraid I'm +thinking about it more than I have any right. We've been so long without +anything to work on, that we're liable to let this bit of information +throw us off our balance. But of course we'll look more deeply into it." + +"How?" + +Again Carroll chuckled. "Our little friend, Miss Rogers, is suffering +from a large case of hero-worship. I'm it! And so--when I saw Barker +leaving her home--I immediately made an engagement to call upon her +to-morrow night!" + +"_You_ call on that kid--" Suddenly Leverage lay back in his swivel chair +and gave vent to a peal of raucous laughter. He banged his fist on the +arm of the chair: "Oh! _Boy_! That's the snappiest yet. David Carroll +paying a social call on a seventeen-year-old kid! Mama! Ain't that the +richest--" + +Carroll made a wry face. "Needn't rub it in. It's bad enough anyway. +And"--growing serious--"I'm hoping to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. They +ought to prove interesting." + +But Leverage could not tear himself away from the sheer humor of the +situation: "What the devil you and her going to talk about? Foxtrot +steps? Is the camel walk vulgar? Frat dance? Next week's basketball +game? Sa-a-ay! David--I'd give my chances of Heaven to be hidden behind +the door." + +"So would I," said Carroll wryly. + +"Above all things," counseled Leverage with mock severity: "Don't you go +making love to her." + +Carroll reached a muscular hand across the table. His sinewy fingers +closed around a glass paperweight. He held this poised steadily. "One +more crack out of you, Eric, and I'll slam this against your head. You're +a pretty good chief of police--but you're a rotten humorist." + +"Just the same," grinned the chief, "I can see that this joke is on you! +And now--what?" + +"For one thing," and Carroll's manner was all business again, "I want +every bit of dope I can get on Gerald Lawrence and his wife. I know that +Warren was very intimate at the house: friendly with both wife and +husband, according to what Miss Rogers says. That connects them up. What +I want to find out now is where both of 'em were the night Warren was +killed. Put a couple of your best men out to gather this dope--there +isn't any of it too minor to interest me. Meanwhile, I'll pump the kid. I +have a hunch that this isn't going to be a cold trail." + +"It better not be--or Mr. David Carroll is going to find himself with one +unsolved case on his hands. Yes, sir--if this is a blind lead, we're up +against it for fair." + +"It isn't going to be entirely blind," postulated Carroll. "Barker +assures us of that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A CHALLENGE + + +At four o'clock the following afternoon Carroll received from Chief +Leverage a detailed report on Gerald Lawrence: + +"He's a manufacturer," said Leverage. "President of the Capitol City +Woolen Mills. Rated about a hundred thousand--maybe a little more. He's +on the Board of Directors of the Second National. Has the reputation of +being hard, fearless--and considerable of a grouch. Age forty-two. + +"Married Naomi Rogers about five years ago. She was twenty-five +then--thirty now. Supposed to be beautiful--and would be a society light +except that Lawrence doesn't care for the soup-and-fish stuff. Report has +it that they're not very happy together. His parents and hers all dead. +Evelyn, her kid sister, lives with them. + +"They employ a cook and two maids. No man-servant at all. Roland Warren +was pretty intimate at the house, but so far as I can discover there was +no scandal linking the names of Warren and Mrs. Lawrence. Of course, him +knowing her pretty intimately and being friendly at the house, you could +probably find a good many folks who would say nasty things. But there +hasn't been the real gossip about her and him that there was about a heap +of other women in this town. + +"Warren and Lawrence were pretty good friends. Warren was a stockholder +in the woolen mills. On the other hand it seems as though Warren was at +the house a good deal more than just ordinary friendship would have +indicated. But that's just an idea. And there's your dope--" + +"And on the night of the murder?" questioned Carroll. "Where were they?" + +"Mrs. Lawrence was at home. Lawrence--if you're thinking of him in +connection with it--seems to have an iron-clad alibi. He went to +Nashville on a business trip and didn't get back until the +following morning." + +"Alibi, eh?" Carroll's eyes narrowed speculatively, "are you _sure_ he +was in Nashville all that time?" + +"Hm-m!" Leverage shook his head. "I don't know--but I can find out." + +Carroll rose. "Do it please. And get the dope straight." + +Carroll went to his apartment where he reluctantly commenced dressing for +the ordeal of the night. He felt himself rather ridiculous--a man of his +age calling on a girl not yet out of high school. The thing was funny--of +course--but just at the moment the joke was too entirely on him for the +full measure of amusement. + +At that, he dressed carefully, selecting a new gray suit, a white +jersey-silk shirt and a blue necktie for the occasion. At six-thirty +Freda served his dinner and at fifteen minutes after eight o'clock he +rang the bell of the Lawrence home. + +The door was opened by Evelyn: palpitant with excitement, and garbed +attractively in the demi-toilette of very-young-ladyhood. + +"Mr. Carroll--so good of you to come. I'm simply tickled to death. Let me +have your hat and coat. Come right into the living room--I want you to +meet my brother-in-law and my sister--" + +Sheepishly, Carroll followed the girl into the room. Mr. and Mrs. +Lawrence rose politely to greet him. + +At the sight of the man he had really come to see, Carroll was conscious +of an instinctive dislike. Lawrence was of medium height, slightly +stooped and not unpleasing to the eye. But his brows were inclined to +lower and the eyes themselves were set too closely together. He was +dressed plainly--almost harshly, and he stared at Carroll in a manner +bordering on the hostile. + +The detective acknowledged the introduction and then turned his gaze upon +the woman of the family. There he met with a surprise as pleasant as his +first glance at Lawrence had been unpleasant. + +There was no gainsaying the fact that Naomi Lawrence was a beautiful +woman. Dressed simply for an evening at home in a strikingly plain gown +of a rich black material, and with her magnificent neck and shoulders +rising above the midnight hue--she caused a spontaneous thrill of +masculine admiration to surge through the ordinarily immune visitor in +the gray suit. + +Her face was almost classic in its contour: her coloring a rich brunette, +her hair blue-black. No jewelry, save an engagement ring, adorned her +perfect beauty, and Carroll felt a loathing at the idea that this +magnificent creature was the wife of the stoop-shouldered, sour-faced man +who stood scowling by the living room table. + +He gravely acknowledged the introduction of the young lady upon whom he +had called: feeling a faint sense of amusement at Lawrence's overt +disdain--and a considerable embarrassment under Naomi's questioning, +level gaze. For a few moments they talked casually--but that did not +satisfy Evelyn, and she dragged him into the parlor-- + +"--just the eleganest jazz piece--" Carroll heard as through a +haze "--just got it--feet can't keep still--play it for you--" + +He found himself standing by the piano, the door between the music room +and the living room unaccountably closed. Evelyn banging out the opening +measures of the "elegant jazz piece." + +He was still staring moodily at the closed door when the din ceased and +he again heard Evelyn's voice. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Carroll. A +real honest-to-goodness-spendable penny!" + +"I was thinking," he remarked quietly, "that your sister is a very +beautiful woman." + +"Naomi? Shucks! She isn't bad looking--but she's _old_. Abominably +old! Thirty!" + +He glanced down on the girl and smiled. "That does seem old to you, +doesn't it?" + +"Treacherously! I don't know what I'd ever do if I was to get that old. +Take up crocheting, probably." + +The conversation died of dry-rot. Carroll was not at all pleased. His +excuse--the plea that he had come to call upon Evelyn--had been taken too +literally. He had fancied--in his blithe ignorance of the +seventeen-year-old ladies of the present day--that he could engineer +himself into a worthwhile conversation with the Lawrences. Since meeting +them, he was doubly anxious. There was a thinly veiled hostility about +the man which demanded investigation. And about the woman there was a +subtle atmosphere of tragedy which appealed to the masculine +protectiveness which surged strong in his bachelor breast. + +But Carroll was a sportsman. The girl had carried things her own way--and +he was too game to spoil her evening. Therefore, he temporarily gave over +all thought of a chat with the Lawrences and devoted himself to her +amusement. He informed her that the jazz music she had strummed was +simply "glorious" and that he regretted he knew very little popular +stuff. She leaped upon his remark-- + +"Oh! do _you_ play: _really_?" + +He was in again. "I have--a little." + +"I wonder if you would? Here's the _grandest_ little old song I bought +downtown--" and she placed on the piano a gaudy thing with the modest +title--"All Babies Need Daddies to Kiss 'Em." Its cover exposed a tender +love scene wherein a gentleman in evening clothes was engaged in an act +of violent osculation with a young lady whose dress was as short as her +modesty. Carroll shrugged, placed his long, slender fingers on the +keys--shook his head--and went to it. + +He played! A genuine artist--he tried to enter into the spirit of the +thing and succeeded admirably. The itchy syncopation rocked the room. His +hostess snapped her fingers deliciously and executed a few movements of a +dance which Carroll had heard referred to vaguely as the shimmy. In the +midst of the revelry he gave thought to Eric Leverage and chuckled. + +He played the chorus a second time--then stopped on a crashing chord. +Evelyn's face was beaming-- + +"Gracious! You can play, can't you?" + +"I used to--Suppose we talk awhile." + +She agreed--reluctantly. They seated themselves in easy chairs before the +gas logs. Evelyn glanced hopefully at the chandelier. "I wish the belt +would slip at the power house, don't you?" + +"Why?" innocently. + +"Oh! just because Bright lights are such a nuisance when a girl has a +feller calling on her. And these logs give a perfectly respectable light, +don't they?" + +"Indeed they do--but perhaps we'd better leave the others on." + +She sighed resignedly. "I guess we'd better. Sis is so darned proper and +Gerald is an old crab--they might say something." + +"I suppose they might. By they way, didn't they think it +was--er--strange: my coming to see you tonight?" + +She turned red. "Suppose they did--what difference does that make? I'm +not a child and if a gentleman wants to call on me I guess they haven't +got any kick." + +"What did they say when you told them I was coming?" + +"They didn't believe me at first. Then Sis said you were too old--and +you're not old at all--and Gerald said--he said--" she giggled. + +"What did Gerald say?" + +"He said, 'Damned impertinence!'" + +"H'm-m! I wonder just what he meant?" + +"Oh! goodness! It doesn't matter what Gerald means. He makes me weary. +He's simply _impossible_--and I can't see what Sis ever married him for." + +"I suppose she saw more in him than you do. They must be very happy +together." + +"Happy? Poof! Happy as two dead sardines in a can. They can't get out--so +they might as well be happy. Besides, he's away a good deal." + +"He is, eh? When was his last out-of-town trip?" + +Carroll was interested now--he had steered the conversation back to +matters of importance: "Oh! 'bout four days ago--you know--the day dear +Roland was killed by that vampire in the taxicab." + +"He was away that night: all night?" + +"Uh-huh! All night long. And would you believe that Sis--who is scared of +her shadow at night--was the one who suggested that I go spend the night +with Hazel? And it's certainly fortunate she did, because if she hadn't +I wouldn't have been with Hazel all night and you awful detectives would +probably not have believed her story that she was at home in bed, and +then you would have arrested her for murdering Roland--and she'd have +gone to jail and been hanged--or something. Wouldn't she?" + +"Hardly that bad. But it was fortunate that you were there. It made the +establishing of the alibi a very simple matter. And you say your +sister--Mrs. Lawrence--is nervous at night?" + +"Oh! fearfully. She's just like all women--scared of rats, scared of the +dark, scared of being alone--perfectly disgusting, I call it." + +"Quite a few women are that way, though--" + +"I'm not. I'm scared of snakes and flying bugs and things like that. But +I don't get scared of the dark--pff! Who's going to hurt you? That's what +I always say. I believe in figuring things out, don't you I read in a +book once where--" + +"But maybe you do Mrs. Lawrence an injustice. Maybe she isn't as afraid +at night as you imagine." + +"She is, too." + +"Yet you say she let you spend the night at Miss Gresham's house when +Mr. Lawrence was out of the city and there wasn't anybody on the place +but the servants--" + +"Worse than that: the servants don't even live on the place. She spent +the night here all alone--!" + +"Then all I'll say is that she is a brave woman. When did Mr. Lawrence +get back from Nashville?" + +"Oh! not until ten o'clock the following morning. And believe me, he was +all excited when he read about Roland in the papers. Poor Roland! If you +were only a girl, Mr. Carroll--you'd know how terrible it is to have a +man who's crazy about you and engaged to your best friend and +everything--go and get himself murdered. Why, when I read the papers that +morning, I couldn't hardly believe my own eyes. I just said to myself 'it +can't be!' I said it over and over again just like that. Having faith, I +think they call it. I was reading in a book once about having faith--" + +She talked interminably. Carroll ceased to hear the plangent voice. He +was thinking of what she had just told him--thinking earnestly. He knew +he was desperately anxious to have a talk with the Lawrences, to talk +things over in a casual manner. And tonight was his opportunity. He knew +he'd never have another like it. He didn't want to be forced to seek them +out in his capacity of detective. + +From somewhere in the rear of the house he heard the clamor of a +doorbell, then the sound of footsteps in the hall, the opening and +closing of the front door--and then Naomi Lawrence appeared in the music +room. Carroll could have sworn that her eyes were twinkling with +amusement as she addressed Evelyn--pointedly ignoring him. + +"Evelyn--that Somerville boy is here." + +"Oh! bother! What's he doin' here?" + +"He says he came to call. He's got a box of candy." + +"Piffle! What do I care about candy? He's just a kid!" + +Naomi went to the hall door. "Right this way, Charley." And as the +slender, overdressed young gentleman of nineteen entered the room, +Carroll again glimpsed the light of amusement in Naomi's eyes. + +Mr. Charley Somerville expressed himself as being "Pleaset'meetcha" and +tried to conceal his vast admiration when Evelyn informed him that this +was _the_ David Carroll. Charley was impressed but he was not particular +about showing it--Charley fancying himself considerable of a cosmopolite, +thanks to a year at Yale. His dignity was excruciatingly funny to Carroll +as the very young man seated himself, crossed one elongated and +unbelievably skinny leg over the other and arranged the creases so that +they were in the very middle. + +"A-a-ah! Taking a vacation from your work on the Warren murder case, +I presume?" + +Carroll nodded. "Yes--for awhile." + +"Detective work must be a terrible bore--mustn't it?" + +"Sometimes," answered Carroll significantly. + +"Charley Somerville!" Evelyn flamed to the defense of her friend's +profession. "At least Mr. Carroll ain't--isn't--a college freshman." + +"I'm a sophomore," asserted Charley languidly. "Passed all of my exams." + +"Anyway," snapped Evelyn, "he ain't any kid!" + +For a time the atmosphere was strained. Then Carroll recalled a +particularly good college joke he knew and he told it well. After which +Evelyn explained to Charley that Mr. Carroll was the wonderfulest piano +player in the world and David Carroll, detective, strummed out several +popular airs while the youngsters danced. + +Horrible as the situation was, it appealed irresistibly to his sense of +humor. He found himself almost enjoying it. And he worked carefully. +Eventually his patience was rewarded. He succeeded in getting them +together on a lounge with a photograph album between them. And then, very +quietly and positively, and with a brief--"Excuse me for a moment," he +walked through the hall and into the living room. + +Lawrence and his wife were at opposite sides of the library table. At +sight of Carroll, Lawrence laid down his paper and rose to his feet. + +"Well?" he inquired inhospitably. + +Carroll laughed lightly. "It got too much for me. Too much youth. I +dropped in here for a chat with you folks." + +"I didn't understand that you had come to call on us," said +Lawrence coldly. + +"Why, I didn't--" + +"You did!" snapped Lawrence. "I'm no fool, Carroll. From the minute I +heard you were coming, I knew what you had up your sleeve. You wanted +to talk about the Warren case! Now suppose you go ahead and +talk--then get out!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +NO ALIBI + + +Carroll was rarely thrown from a mental balance, but this was one of the +exceptions to a rule of conduct where poise was essential. His eyes +half-closed in their clash with the coldly antagonistic orbs of his host. +His instinctive dislike of the man flamed into open anger and he +controlled himself with an effort. + +One thing Lawrence had done: he had stripped from Carroll his disguise as +a casual caller and settled down ominously to brass tacks. Carroll +shrugged, forced a smile--then glanced at Naomi Lawrence. + +She had risen and was staring at her husband with wide-eyed indignation. +Undoubtedly she was horrified at his brusqueness. For the first time, +she, too, had made it plain that Carroll was not welcome--that his ruse +of calling upon Evelyn had been seen through plainly--but he could see +that even under those circumstances she was not forgetful that he was a +guest in her home and, as such, he was entitled to ordinary courtesy. + +Carroll was more than a little sorry for her, and also a bit rueful at +his own plight. Things had gone wrong for him from the commencement of +the evening. And this--well, the gage of battle had been flung in his +face and he was no man to refuse the challenge. But his muscles were taut +until the soft voice of Naomi broke in on the pregnant stillness-- + +"Won't you be seated, Mr. Carroll?" + +Carroll smiled gratefully at her. With her words the unpleasant tension +had lightened. He dropped into an arm chair. Lawrence followed suit, his +close-set eyes focused belligerently on Carroll's face, the hostility of +his manner being akin to a personal menace. Naomi stood by the table, +eyes shifting from one to the other. + +"I'd rather," she suggested softly, "that we did not discuss the +Warren case." + +"It doesn't matter what you prefer," snapped her husband coldly. "Carroll +forced himself upon us for that purpose--with a lack of decency which +one might have expected. Let him have his say." + +Carroll gazed squarely at Lawrence. "I'm sorry," he said, "that you see +fit to act as you are doing." + +"I asked for no criticism of my conduct." + +"Just the same, dear--" started Naomi, when her husband interrupted +angrily-- + +"Nor any apologies to him from you, Naomi. Carroll has placed himself +beyond the pale by what he has done in having the impertinence to foist +himself upon us as a social equal. Now, Carroll--are you ready with your +little catechism?" + +"Yes." The detective's voice was quite calm. "I'm quite ready." + +"Well--ask." Lawrence paused. "You _did_ come here to inquire about +Warren, didn't you?" + +Carroll could not forbear a dig: "I trust that you are not putting it +upon me to deny your statement to that effect." + +"I don't give a damn what you deny or affirm." + +"Good! Then we know all about each other, don't we. You know that I am a +detective in search of information and I know absolutely what you are!" +That dart went home--Lawrence squirmed. "So I'll come right to the point. +Is it not a fact that you were in this city at the hour Roland Warren is +supposed to have been killed?" + +He heard a surprised gasp from Naomi and saw that her face had blanched +and that she was leaning forward with eyes wide and hands clutching the +arms of the chair in which she had seated herself. + +Lawrence leered. "As the kids would say, Carroll--that's for me to know +and for you--super-detective that you are--to find out." + +Carroll was more at ease now. Lawrence's sneering aggressiveness brought +him into his own element and he was hitting straight from the shoulder: +refusing pointblank to mince matters. + +"I fancy I can," he returned calmly. "And now: is it not a fact that you +despised Warren even though you pretended to be his friend?" + +"That, too, is my business, Carroll. Do you think I'm going to feed +pap to you?" + +Carroll reflected carefully for a moment. Then suddenly his voice +crackled across the room--"You know, of course, that you are suspected of +Warren's murder?" + +Silence! Then a forced, sickly grin creased Lawrence's lips--but his +figure slumped, almost cringed. From Naomi came a choked gasp-- + +"Mr. Carroll! Not Gerald--" + +Carroll paid no heed to the woman. He sat back in his chair, eyes never +for one moment leaving Lawrence's pallid face. Nor did Carroll speak +again--he waited. It was Lawrence who broke the silence-- + +"Is--this--what you--detectives--call the third degree?" + +"It is not. Now get this straight, Lawrence--I came here to find out +what you know about Warren and the circumstances surrounding his death. I +wanted to be decent about the thing--to cause you no embarrassment if I +was convinced that you were unconnected with the crime. You have forced +my hand. You have driven me to methods which I abhor--" + +"You haven't a thing on me," said Lawrence and his tone had degenerated +into a half whine. "You can't scare me a little bit. I've got an alibi--" + +"Certainly you have. So, too, have a good many men who have eventually +been proven guilty." + +Lawrence rose nervously and paced the room. "You asked me a little while +ago if I was in this city at the hour when the crime was committed. I +answered that it was for me to know and you to find out. I'll answer +direct now--just to stop this absurd suspicion which has been directed +against me: I was _not_ in the city at that hour--or within six hours of +midnight. I was in Nashville." + +"At what hotel?" + +"At the--" Lawrence paused. "Matter of fact, I wasn't at any hotel." + +"You had registered at the Hermitage, hadn't you?" + +"Yes, but--" + +"When did you check out?" Carroll's voice was snapping out with staccato +insistence. + +"About four o'clock in the afternoon." + +"Where did you go? Where did you spend the night?" + +Lawrence shook his head helplessly. "I'll be honest, Carroll--I took +several drinks--" + +"Alone?" + +"Yes. And at two o'clock in the morning when my train left I was at the +station. I don't know what I did in the meantime--I don't remember +anything much about anything." + +"In other words," said Carroll coldly, "You have no alibi except your +own word. On the other hand we know that you checked out of the Hermitage +Hotel in Nashville at four o'clock. You could have caught the 4:25 train +and reached this city at ten minutes after eleven o'clock. You have not +the slightest proof that you didn't." + +"I--I came down on the train which left there a little after two in +the morning." + +"Prove it." + +There was a hunted look about Lawrence. "I can't prove it--a man can't +prove that he came on a certain train--" + +"Was there nobody on board who knew you?" + +"I--don't know. I was feeling badly when I got in--the berths were all +made up--I went right to sleep and when the porter woke me we were in the +yards. I dressed and came right home." + +"And yet--" Carroll was merciless "--you have no substantiation for your +statements." He switched his line of attack suddenly: "What made you +think I was coming here to discuss Roland Warren's death?" + +It was plain that Lawrence did not want to answer--yet there was +something in Carroll's mesmeric eyes which wrung words unwillingly from +his lips-- + +"Just logic," he answered weakly. "I knew that you weren't calling to see +Evelyn because you were interested in her. You knew Warren had been +pretty friendly in this house--so you came to talk to us about it. Isn't +that reasonable?" + +"I don't believe I am here to answer questions, Mr. Lawrence. You invited +me to ask them." + +Naomi broke in, her voice choked with hysteria--"What are you leading to, +Mr. Carroll? It is absurd to think that Gerald had anything to do with +Mr. Warren's death." + +Carroll swung on her, biting off his words shortly: "Do you _know_ that +he didn't?" + +"Yes--I--" + +"I didn't ask what you _thought_, Mrs. Lawrence. I am asking what +you _know_!" + +"But if he was in Nashville--" + +"If he was, then he's safe. But he himself cannot prove that he was. And +I tell you frankly that the police will investigate his movements very +carefully. It strikes me as exceedingly peculiar that he checked out from +the Hermitage Hotel at four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended +taking a two a.m. train. Remember, I am accusing your husband of nothing. +Our conversation could have been pleasant--he refused to allow it to be +so. He classified me as a professional detective and put me on that basis +in his home. I have merely accepted his invitation to act as one. If I +appear discourteous, kindly recall that it was none of my doing." + +"I'm sorry, Carroll," said Lawrence pleadingly. "I didn't know--" + +"Of course you didn't know how much I knew--or might guess. You saw fit +to insult me--" + +"I've apologized." + +"Your apologies come a trifle late, Lawrence. Entirely too late. Our +relations from now on are those of detective and suspect--" + +Again the flare of hate in Lawrence's manner: "I don't have to prove an +alibi, Carroll. You have to prove my connection with the thing. And you +can't do it!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I was in Nashville at that time. And while perhaps I can't prove +I was there--you certainly cannot prove I was not." + +"That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I'd advise you to establish that +fact if you can possibly do so. And by the way: are you in the habit of +indulging in these solitary debauches in neighboring cities?" + +Lawrence flushed. "Sometimes. I used to be a heavy drinker, and--" + +"Is that a fact, Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"Yes," she answered eagerly: almost too eagerly Carroll thought--"he has +had escapades like this--several times." + +"And you are sure that his story is true?" + +"Yes. Of course I'm sure. Why should he kill Mr. Warren? There isn't any +reason in the world--" + +"For your sake and his, I hope not. But meanwhile--" + +"Surely, Mr. Carroll--you don't intend publishing what he has told +you--about his drinking--alone--in Nashville?" + +Carroll smiled. "No indeed. In the first place, I am not at all sure that +he has told me the truth. In the second place, if I were sure of it--his +alibi would be established and I have no desire whatever to injure a man +because of a personal weakness." + +Lawrence stared at Carroll peculiarly. "You mean that if I can prove the +truth of my story, nothing will be made public about my--the affair--in +Nashville?" + +"Absolutely. Because you have treated me discourteously, Lawrence--I +don't consider myself justified in injuring your reputation. I am after +the person or persons responsible for the death of Roland Warren. Your +intimate weaknesses have no interest to either me or the public." + +Lawrence was silent for awhile, and then--"You're damned white, +Carroll. The apologies I extended a moment ago--I repeat. And this time +I'm sincere." + +"And this time they are accepted." + +"Meanwhile--you are welcome here whenever you wish to call. Perhaps--by +talking to me--you yourself may establish the alibi which I know I have, +but cannot prove." + +Carroll rose and bowed. "Thank you. And now--I'll go. If you will express +my regrets to Miss Rogers--" + +Naomi accompanied him to the door. She extended her hand--"You're wrong, +Mr. Carroll", she murmured. "Quite wrong!" + +"You are sure?" + +"I _know_! I really believe his story." + +"I hope to--soon. But just now, Mrs. Lawrence--" He saw tears in her +fine eyes. "You have nothing to fear from me if he is innocent." + +She pressed his hand gratefully, and then closed the door. Carroll, +inhaling the bracing air of the winter night, proceeded briskly to the +curb. Then, standing with one foot on the running board of his car, he +stared peculiarly at the big white house standing starkly in the +moonlight-- + +"I wonder," he mused softly--"I wonder--" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SUIT-CASE AGAIN + + +Carroll drove direct to his apartments, despite his original intention of +dropping by headquarters for a chat with Leverage. He wanted to be +alone--to think-- + +The evening had borne fruit beyond his wildest imaginings. Fact had piled +upon fact with bewildering rapidity. As yet he had been unable to sort +them in his mind, to catalogue each properly, to test for proper value. + +He reached his apartment and found it warm and comfortable. He donned +lounging robe and slippers which the thoughtful Freda had left out for +him, settled himself in an easy chair, lighted a fire which he kept +always ready in the grate and turned out the lights. Then, with his cigar +glowing and great clouds of rich smoke filling the air--he sank into a +revelry of thinking. + +Certain disclosures of the evening stood out with startling clarity. +Chief among them was the inevitable belief that Gerald Lawrence had +either killed Roland Warren or else knew who had done so--and how it was +done. Yet Carroll tried not to allow his thoughts and personal prejudices +to run away with him. He knew that now, of all times, he must keep a +tight grip on himself. + +Great as was the dislike which he had conceived for Lawrence--an +instinctive repugnance which still obtained--he was grimly determined +that he would not be swayed by his emotions. Therefore he deliberately +reviewed Lawrence's story in the light of its possible truth. + +Lawrence claimed that he belonged to that none too rare class of +prominent citizens who once every so often respond to the call of the +wild within them by going to a nearby city where they are not known and +giving themselves over to the dubious delights of a spree. Publication of +this fact alone would prove sufficient to injure Lawrence socially and in +the commercial world. The old case of the Spartan lad--Carroll reflected. +The disgrace lay in being discovered. + +Also, it was perfectly plain to Carroll that at the outset of his +conversation Lawrence had been smugly satisfied that he was possessed of +a perfect alibi. It was only under Carroll's merciless grilling that he +had been brought abruptly to realization that he had no alibi whatever. +The same logic applied there, as in Leverage's theory that Barker's +arrest would be an excellent strategic move. All Carroll had to do now +was to arrest Lawrence for Warren's murder--and the burden of proof +would have been shifted from the shoulders of the detective to that of +the suspect. It would then devolve upon Lawrence to prove an alibi that +Carroll knew perfectly well he could not prove--save by merest accident. + +But that was a procedure which Carroll abhorred. Those were police +department methods: wholesale arrests in the hope of somewhere in the +net trapping the prey. Such a course was at the bottom--and Carroll knew +it--of an enormous number of convictions of innocent men. And Carroll +had no desire to injure Lawrence provided Lawrence was free of guilt in +this particular instance. He didn't like the man--in fact his feelings +toward him amounted to a positive aversion. But through it all he tried +to be fair-minded--and he could not quite rid himself of the picture of +Naomi Lawrence--Carroll was far from impervious to the appeal of a +beautiful woman. + +So much for the probable truth of Lawrence's story. The reverse side +of the picture presented an entirely different set of facts. There was +not alone the strange procedure of checking out of the big hotel at +four o'clock in the afternoon when he intended catching an early +morning train: but there was the information so innocently dropped by +the loquacious Evelyn Rogers regarding Naomi's actions on the night of +the murder. + +According to Evelyn, her sister was an intensely nervous woman: one who +stood in fear of being alone at night. And yet this sister had +volunteered the suggestion that Evelyn spend the night with Hazel Gresham +when her husband was supposed to be out of the city. + +Carroll, well versed in applied psychology, knew that in such a +combination of facts there lay an important clue. He was well satisfied +that Naomi Lawrence had been satisfied that she was not to be alone +that night! + +Arguing with himself from that premise, the conclusion was inevitable: +she knew that her husband would return from Nashville at midnight. She +did not wish anyone--even Evelyn, to learn that he had done so. Therefore +she got Evelyn out of the house! + +The conclusion developed a further train of reasoning--one which Carroll +did not at all relish, but which he faced with frank honesty. If he was +right in his argument--then Naomi Lawrence had known of the murder before +it was committed! + +He shrank from the idea, but it would not down. He was not ready to admit +its truth--but there was no denying its logic. There was something +inexpressibly repugnant in the thought. He infinitely preferred to +believe that Naomi hated her husband--was miserable with him--he +preferred that to the idea that they were accomplices in the murder of a +prominent young man. + +Then, too, there were the strange visits of William Barker, former valet +to Warren, to the home of the Lawrences. There was no doubt remaining in +Carroll's mind that Barker knew a very great deal about Warren's murder. +That being the case it was fairly well established that he was cognizant +of the Lawrences' connection with the crime. + +Carroll had started off with the idea that someone, in addition to the +woman in the taxi-cab, had been instrumental in ending Warren's life. +Here, following a casual line of investigation, he had uncovered the +tracks of two men, both of whom he was convinced knew more about it than +they had cared to tell. + +Both men--Barker and Lawrence--had acted peculiarly under the grilling of +the detective. The former had been surly and non-informative, only to +leap eagerly upon the first verbal trend which tended to throw suspicion +upon a person whom Carroll knew--and whom Carroll knew Barker knew--was +innocent. Gerald Lawrence, on the other hand, had been downright +antagonistic until he made the startling discovery that his supposed +alibi was no alibi at all--at which his attitude changed from open +hostility to something closely akin to suppliance. + +Then, too, there was the danger of injuring an innocent man because of +his inability to prove an alibi. If Lawrence's story was true, it was +perfectly natural that even in a condition of intoxication he would +maintain his instinct for concealment of a personal weakness. The chances +were then that no one had seen him either in Nashville--after the four +o'clock train had left, or on the two a.m. train homeward bound. + +Matters could not right themselves in Carroll's mind. He knew one thing, +however--Evelyn Rogers was a wellspring of vital information. The very +fact that she talked inconsequentialities incessantly--and occasionally +let drop remarks of vital import--made her the more valuable. He knew +that he had not seen the last of the seventeen-year-old girl. And he felt +a consuming eagerness to be with her again, for now he had a definite +line of investigation to pursue. + +He slept soundly that night, and the following morning dropped in on +Leverage. The Chief of Police had a little information--with all of which +Carroll was already familiar. He told Carroll that Lawrence had been in +Nashville and that he had checked out of the Hermitage hotel in time to +catch the four o'clock train on the afternoon preceding the murder. +Carroll satisfied Leverage by accepting it as information, made sure that +nothing else of importance had developed, requested Leverage to ask the +Nashville police to determine whether Lawrence had been seen in Nashville +after 4:30 p.m.--if necessary to send one of his own men there--and left +headquarters. + +He made his way directly to a public telephone booth. He telephoned the +Lawrence home and asked for Evelyn Rogers. A maid answered and informed +him that Evelyn had left home fifteen minutes previously. + +"Any idea where she was going?" questioned Carroll. + +The answer came promptly: it mentioned the city's leading department +store--"she's gone there to get a beauty treatment," vouchsafed the maid. + +Carroll was not a little chagrined. Evelyn Rogers had put him in more +hopeless positions in their brief acquaintanceship than he had +experienced in years. There was his call upon her the previous night with +its role of dual entertainer to the young lady with a nineteen-year-old +college freshman. And now a vigil outside a beauty parlor. + +But he went grimly to work. He located the beauty parlor on the third +floor of the giant store, and paced determinedly back and forth before +its doors. + +A half hour passed; an hour--two hours. He concluded that Evelyn must be +purchasing her beauty in job lots. When two hours and thirty-five +minutes had elapsed Evelyn emerged--and Carroll groaned. With her were +three other girls, as chattery, as immature, as Evelyn herself. + +She swept down upon him in force--tongue wagging at both ends-- + +"You naughty, _naughty_ man!" she chided. "You abso_lute_ly deserted me +last night. Why, I didn't even know that you had gone--until Sis came in +and said you had asked her to extend your respects. Good gracious! I +almost _died_!" + +"I'm sorry--really," returned Carroll humbly--"But you seemed so +interested in that young man--and I had gotten into an absorbing +conversation with your sister and brother-in-law. I'm not used to girls, +you know." + +"Kidder! I think you're simply elegant!" She turned to her giggling +friends and introduced them gushingly. Carroll was in misery--a martyr to +the cause. But Evelyn would not let him get away. Through her sudden +friendship with the great detective, Evelyn was building up a reputation +that was destined to survive for years, and she was not one to fail to +make the most of her opportunities. + +It was not until almost an hour later, when the other three girls had +left for their homes--left only after they had hung around until the +ultimate moment before lunch--that Carroll found himself alone with his +little gold mine of data. He bent his head hopefully-- + +"Were you planning to eat lunch downtown?" + +She nodded. "Uh-huh!" + +"Suppose we eat together?" + +"Scrumptious!" There was no hint of hesitation in her manner. "I've been +hoping ever since we met that you'd ask me." + +They found a table mercifully secluded in the corner of the main dining +room of the city's leading hotel. For once Carroll felt gratitude for the +notoriously slow service. He begged her to order--and she did: ordered a +meal which contained T.N.T. possibilities for acute indigestion. Carroll +smiled and let her have her way--he was amused at her valiant efforts to +appear the blase society woman. + +"I really did enjoy our conversation last night, Miss Rogers." + +"Oh! piffle! I don't fall for that." + +"I did." + +"Then why did you beat it so quick?" + +"Well, you see--I suppose I was jealous of your elegantly dressed +young friend." + +"Him? He's just a kid. A mere _child_!" + +"He seemed very much at home." + +"Kids like him always do. They make me sick--always putting on as though +they were grown up." + +She secured an olive and bit into it with a relish. "Awful good--these +olives. I love queen olives, don't you. I used to be crazy about ripe +olives, but I read in a book once that sometimes they poison you, and +when they do--there just simply isn't any anecdote in the world that can +save you. So I figured there wasn't any use taking chances--" + +Carroll let her run on until the meal was served. And it was then when +she was satisfying a normal youthful appetite that he drove straight to +the subject which had led to this masculine martyrdom. + +"The day before Mr. Warren died," he said mildly--"are you sure that your +sister made the suggestion that you spend the night with Miss Gresham?" + +"Her? Sure she did." + +"Didn't it strike you as peculiar--knowing that she'd be in the house +alone all that night?" + +"I'll say it did. I asked her was she nutty and she scolded me for being +slangy. So I told her I should worry--if she wanted to suffer alone, and +I went with Hazel. And it's an awful good thing I did, because if I +hadn't she would have been arrested and tried and convicted and +hanged--or something, and--" + +"Oh! hardly that bad. You're sure your sister was alone in the house +that night?" + +"Sure. Who could have been there with her?" + +"I'm not answering riddles. I'm asking them." + +"I've got my fingers crossed. The answer is that there wasn't any one +there. At first I thought she was going out--but she wasn't, and when I +asked her was she, she got real peeved at me." + +"Aa-a-h! You thought she was going out that night?" + +"Uh-huh," came the answer between bites at a huge lobster salad. + +"What made you think that?" + +"Oh! just something. You know, I don't get credit for having eyes, but I +sure have. And I never did understand that business anyway. But then Sis +always has been the queerest thing--ever since she married Gerald. +Say--" she looked up eagerly--"ain't he the darndest old crab you ever +saw in your life?" + +"Why, I--" + +"Ain't he? Honest?" + +"He's not exactly jovial." + +"He's a lemon! Just a plain juicy lemon. And I think she was a nut for +marrying him." + +"But--" Carroll proceeded cautiously--"you made the remark just now that +something was the queerest thing. What did you mean by that?" + +"Oh! I guess I was crazy--or something. But she got sore at me when I +asked her--" + +"Who?" + +"Sis." + +"What did you ask her?" + +"Why--" she looked up innocently--"about that suit-case!" + +"What suit-case? When was it?" + +"It was the day before Mr. Warren died--I always remember everything +now by that date. Anyway--I went in her room that morning to ask +something about what I should take to Hazel's--and what do you think +she was doing?" + +"I'll bite," he answered with assumed jocularity--"what was she doing?" + +"Packing a suit-case!" + +"No?" Carroll was keenly interested--struggling not to show it. + +"Yes, sir. I asked her what was she doing it for--and that's when she got +peeved. I told you she was a queer one." + +"Indeed she must be. Packing a suit-case--" + +"And that ain't all that was funny about that, either, Mr. Carroll." + +"No? What else about it was peculiar?" + +"That suit-case--" and Evelyn lowered her voice to an impressive +whisper--"was gone from the house the next day--and the day after it +showed up again and when I asked Sis wasn't that funny she told me to +mind my own business!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A TALK WITH HAZEL GRESHAM + + +Carroll tried to appear disinterested--strove to make his manner casual; +jocular even. Evelyn was piecing the threads of circumstances together +and the events surrounding the Warren murder were slowly clarifying in +Carroll's brain. + +But he knew that now, of all times, he must keep her from thinking that +he had any particular interest in her chatter. She was completely off +guard--and he knew that for his own interests, she must remain so. + +So he assumed a bantering attitude--he resorted to what she would have +termed "kidding." + +"Aren't you the observant young woman, though? Not a single thing escapes +your eagle eye, does it?" + +She pouted. "Oh! rag me if you want to. But I am _terribly_ noticing. +There ain't many things that happen which I don't get wise to." + +"Not even vanishing suit-cases, eh?" + +"No: not even that. It was funny about that, though. At first I thought +maybe Sis was packing up to go meet Gerald in Nashville--but I figured +out that it was bad enough to have to live with him here without chasing +all over the country after him." + +"You say that suit-case left the house after she packed it?" + +"Sure pop." + +"Who took it?" + +"I don't know. Sis was out a couple of times that day--so I guess she +did." + +Carroll shrugged. "She was probably sending some of Mr. Lawrence's +belongings to him in Nashville." + +"Huh! There're some things even a great detective like you don't know. +Don't you suppose I noticed that the clothes she was packing in that +suit-case were _hers_?" + +"Really?" + +"You bet your life, I noticed. You see," she grew suddenly confidential. +"There's a certain kind of perfume Sis uses--awful expensive. Roland +Warren used to bring it to her. Well, I've been using it too--and Sis +never did get wise. I only used it when she did--and when she smelled +it, she didn't know that she was smelling what I had on. Well, it isn't +likely she was sending that to Gerald, is it?" + +"Hardly. But are you sure she packed it?" + +"I'll say I am. I saw her do it. And then two days later I saw the bottle +on her dressing table again--and so I just naturally looked to see if the +suit-case was back and it surely was." + +"But perhaps it never left the house?" + +"Guess again, Mr. Carroll. I know--because just before I went to Hazel's +I hunted all over for it, to get some of that extract myself. And the +suit-case wasn't there. Believe me--it's _some_ perfume, too!" + +"You say Mr. Warren gave it to her?" + +"He sure did. That man wasn't any piker, believe me. It costs twelve +dollars an _ounce_!" + +"No?" + +"Yeh--goodness knows how much a pound would cost. I used it all the +time--I knew when he gave it to Sis he meant it for me--because, like I +told you, he was simply crazy about me. Told me so dozens of times. Said +he came to see me. It used to bore him terribly when he'd have to sit in +the room and talk to Sis and Gerald." + +"I fancy it did--" Carroll summoned a waiter--"A little baked Alaska +for dessert?" + +"Baked Alaska! Oh! boy! you sure spoke a mouthful that time. I'm simply +_insane_ over it!" + +She evidently had not exaggerated. She absorbed enough of the dessert +to have satisfied two growing men. It did Carroll good to witness her +frank enjoyment of his luncheon. She glanced at her wrist watch and +rose hastily-- + +"Goodness me, I've simply _got_ to be going." + +"Where?" + +She made a wry face: "Hazel Gresham's. Honestly, women get queer when +they grow up--get older than twenty. Hazel has been acting so +_peculiarly_ lately--" + +"That's natural, isn't it, Miss Rogers? Her fiance killed--" + +"Oh! shucks! I don't mean that. That wouldn't be queer. But there's +something else bothering her. And when I try to get her to tell me what +it is, she gets right snippy and tells me to mind my own business. And +I'll tell you right now, Mr. Carroll--if there's one person in the whole +world who always minds their own business--and who doesn't pay the +slightest attention to other peoples' affairs--that person is me. I +started that a long time ago when I read something some one wrote in a +book about how much happier folks could be if they never bothered with +other folk's business--and it struck me as awfully logical. And so that's +what I've always done. Don't you think I'm sensible?" + +"I certainly do. Very sensible. And I'm sorry Miss Gresham isn't +feeling well." + +"Oh! she feels well enough. She's just acting nutty. And as for when your +name is mentioned--O-o-oh!" + +"_My_ name?" Carroll was genuinely surprised. + +"Yes siree-bob! I started telling her all about what good friends you +and I have gotten to be--and would you believe it! she jumped all +over me--just like Sis did when I told her--and said I shouldn't +associate with professional detectives--and it was immoral--and all +that sort of thing." + +"Indeed?" + +"You bet she did. It was scandalous! Of course I told her what a ducky +you are--but she begged me not to go with you any more. I told her she +was crazy--because I really don't think there's anything so very +terrible about you--do you?" + +"At least," smiled Carroll, "I won't eat you. But what you tell me about +Miss Gresham is interesting. Why in the world should she be prejudiced +against the man who is trying to locate the slayer of her fiance?" + +"Ask me something easy. I reckon it's just like I said before: when a +woman grows up--gets to be twenty--she gets mentally unbalanced--or +something. Honestly, I haven't met a woman over nineteen years of age +in the _longest_ time who didn't have a crazy streak in her somewhere. +Have you?" + +"I'd hardly say that much--" They had crossed the hotel lobby, swung +through the doors and were standing on the sidewalk unconsciously braced +against the biting wind which shrieked around the corner and cut to the +bone, giving the lie to the bright sunshine and its promise of warmth. + +"Brrrr!" shivered Evelyn--and Carroll rose eagerly to the hint. + +"I'd be delighted to ride you to Miss Gresham's in my car--" + +"Would you? That'd be simply splendiferous! And I'd like Hazel to meet +you--then she'd know that you're just a regular human being in spite of +what everyone says." + +During the drive to the Gresham home, which stood on the side of the +mountain at the extreme southern end of the city--Evelyn did about a +hundred and one per cent of the talking. She blithely discussed +everything from the economic effect of the recent election to the +campaign against one-piece bathing suits for women: indicating +well-defined, if immature opinions on every subject. She informed him +that she was delighted with suffrage and opposed to prohibition, that the +League of Nations would be all right if only it was not so far away, that +she was sincerely of the belief that straight lines would pass out within +the year and the girl with the curvy figure have a chance again in the +world, that fur coats were all the rage--and he ought to see her +sister's--it was the _grandest_ in the city, that--she orated at length +on any subject which occurred to her tireless mind; securing his dumb +Okeh to her views--and liking him more and more with each passing minute +because he treated her seriously: like a full grown woman of twenty--or +something. + +They pulled up at the curb of the Gresham home. As they did so Garry +Gresham swung out of the gate, paused--and his eyes widened in +astonishment at sight of Carroll. Then he stepped quickly to the curb as +Carroll and the girl alighted. + +"Hello, Garry," greeted Evelyn boldly. It was the first time she had +ever called him by his first name. But Gresham did not notice. He nodded +a curt "Hello, Evelyn" and addressed himself to Carroll--eyes level, +manner direct. + +"What do you want here, Carroll?" + +There was an undertone of earnestness in the young man's words which the +detective did not miss. He simulated innocence: "I? Nothing--" + +Garry Gresham frowned. "You had no particular reason for coming here?" + +"None whatever. Why?" + +"I fancied it was peculiar--after your original suspicion of my sister--" + +Carroll laughed good-naturedly. "Rid your mind of that, my friend. I +merely happened to be downtown with Miss Rogers--and drove her up here in +my car. As a matter of fact, if you have no objection, I'd like very much +to meet your sister." + +"Why?" + +"Because she was Roland Warren's fiancee. Because she can tell me some +things about Warren which no one else can tell me. Because the Warren +case is almost as far from solution as it was one minute after the +killing occurred." + +Gresham thought intensively for a moment. "You can give me your word of +honor, Carroll, that you are convinced that my sister is not connected in +any way with the crime?" + +"I can, Gresham. So far as I now know, your sister has no connection +whatever with the case. But she must necessarily be in possession of +certain personal details regarding Warren which I'd like to find out." + +Gresham started back toward the house. "You may talk to her," he decided +briefly--"if she is willing. But I prefer to be present during the +interview." + +Carroll bowed. "As you will, Gresham." + +They walked to the house and Garry led the way to the front hall. Evelyn, +considerably piqued at being ignored, took advantage of his disappearance +in search of his sister, to open up a broadside of inconsequential +chatter before which her previous efforts paled into insignificance. And +it was in the midst of her verbal barrage that Gresham appeared at the +far end of the hall with his sister. + +Carroll was pleasantly surprised. Evelyn's protestations of intimacy with +Hazel Gresham had implanted in his mind the impression that she was +decidedly of the flapper type. He was glad to find that she was not. + +She was not a beautiful girl: rather she belonged in that very desirable +category which is labeled "Sweet." There was an attractive wistfulness +about her--an undeniable charm, a wholesomeness--the sort of a woman, +reflected Carroll instantly, whom a sensible man marries. + +There was no hint of affectation about her. Her eyes were a trifle red +and swollen and she seemed in the grip of something more than mere +excitement. But in her dress there was no ostentation--it was somber, but +not black. And she came straight to Carroll--her eyes meeting his +squarely--and they mutually acknowledged Evelyn's gushing, but unheard, +introduction-- + +"Miss Gresham--" + +"Mr. Carroll--" + +They seated themselves about a small table which stood in the center of +the reception hall, and even Evelyn sensed the undercurrent of tenseness +in the air. Her tongue became reluctantly still although she did break in +once with a triumphant--"Ain't he like I told you he was?" to Hazel. + +It was Garry who introduced the subject. "Mr. Carroll wants to ask you +something about Roland," he said softly--and Carroll, intercepting the +look which passed between brother and sister, felt a sense of warmth--a +pleasant glow; albeit it was tinged with guilt--as though he had +blundered in on something sacred. + +The girl's voice came softly in reply: her gaze unwavering. + +"What is it you wish to know, Mr. Carroll?" + +The detective was momentarily at a loss. He conscripted his entire store +of tact--"I don't want to cause you any embarrassment, Miss Gresham--" + +"This is no time for equivocation, Mr. Carroll. You may ask me whatever +you wish." + +"Thank you," he answered gratefully. "You have, of course, heard +that there is a woman connected with Mr. Warren's death--the woman +in the taxicab." + +Her face grew pallid, but she nodded. "Yes. Of course." + +He watched her closely--"Have you the slightest idea--the vaguest +suspicion--of that woman's identity?" + +"No!" she answered--and he knew that she had spoken the truth. + +"You have thought of it--of her--a good deal?" + +"Naturally." + +"Mind you--I'm not asking if you _know_--I'm merely asking if you have a +suspicion." + +"I have not--not the faintest." + +"You were quite satisfied--pardon the intense personal trend of my +questions, Miss Gresham--that during his engagement to you, Mr. Warren +was--well, that he was carrying on no affair with another woman?" + +"I say, Carroll--" It was Garry Gresham who interrupted and his voice +was harsh. But his sister halted him with a little affectionate gesture-- + +"Mr. Carroll is right, Garry: he must know these things." She turned +again to Carroll. "No, Mr. Carroll--I knew of no such affair--nor did I +suspect one. When I became engaged to Mr. Warren I placed my trust in him +as a gentleman. I still believe in him." + +"Yet we _know_ that there _was_ a woman in that cab!" + +"No-o. We know that the taxi-driver _says_ there was." + +"That's true--" + +Hazel Gresham leaned forward: her manner that of a suppliant. "Mr. +Carroll--why don't you abandon this horrible investigation? Why aren't +you content to let matters rest where they are?" + +"I couldn't do that, Miss Gresham." + +"Why not?" + +"Mr. Warren's murderer is still at large--and as a matter of duty--" + +"Duty to whom? I am content to let the matter rest where it is. All of +your investigation isn't going to restore Roland to life. You can only +cause more misery, more suffering, more heartbreak--" + +"It is a duty to the State, Miss Gresham. And, frankly, I cannot +understand your attitude--" + +"She has had enough--" broke in Garry Gresham. "She's been through hell +since--that night." + +"I'm afraid, though--" + +"Mr. Carroll--you _can_ call it off, if you will." Hazel Gresham rose +and paced the room. "The case is in your hands. You can gain nothing by +finding the person who committed the--the--deed. Let's drop it. Do me +that favor, won't you? Let's consider the whole thing at an end!" + +David Carroll was puzzled. But he was honest--"I'm afraid I cannot, Miss +Gresham. I must, at least, try to solve it." + +She paused before him: figure tensed-- + +"Then let me say, Mr. Carroll--that I hope you fail!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE WOMAN IN THE TAXI + + +From the Gresham home, David Carroll went straight to headquarters. +Developments had been tumbling over each other so fast that he found +himself unable to sort them properly. He wanted to talk the thing over +with someone, to place each new lead in the investigation under the +microscope in an attempt to discern its true value in relation to the +killing of Roland Warren. + +Eric Leverage was the one man to whom he could talk. And, locked in the +Chief's office, he told all that he knew about the case, detailing +conversations, explaining the situation as he understood it, reserving +his suspicions and watching keenly for the reaction on the stolid mind of +the plodding, practical Chief. + +Carroll placed an exceedingly high valuation on Leverage's opinion--even +though the minds of the two men were as far apart as the poles. But +Leverage was a magnificent man for the office he held: competent, +methodical, intensely orthodox--but typical of the modern police in +contradistinction to the modern detective. + +Carroll knew that modern police methods have received a great deal more +than their share of unjust criticism. He knew that the entire theory of +national policing is based on an exhaustive system of records and +statistics. It operates by brute force and all-pervading power rather +than by any attempt at sublety or keen deduction. The former is so much +safer as a method. And the combination of the two--keen analysis, logical +deduction and plodding investigation--can perform wonders, which explains +why Carroll and Leverage worked hand-in-hand with implicit confidence in +one another. + +Leverage listened with rapt attention to the report of his friend. +Occasionally the corners of his large humorous mouth twitched as Carroll +touched on one or two of the lighter phases of his investigation--and +once Leverage even twitted him about becoming "one of these here +butterfly investigators"--but Carroll knew that no word of his escaped +the retentive brain of the chief of the city's police force, and that +each was being carefully catalogued with truer knowledge of its proper +importance than Carroll had yet been able to determine. + +"And so," finished Carroll, "there you are. The thing is in as pretty a +mess as I care to encounter. Frankly, I don't know which way to turn +next--which is why I wanted to talk things over. Perhaps, between us, +we can arrive at some solution of the affair--determine upon some +course of action." + +"Yes," responded Leverage slowly, "perhaps we can. Only trouble is--there +are so many different ways of spillin' the beans that we're takin' a +chance no matter what we do. Answer me this, David: if you had to point +out one person right now as the guilty one--which'd you choose?" + +Carroll shook his head. "You know I don't like to answer questions of +that sort." + +"But you can tell me--" + +"No-o. It might start your mind working along lines parallel to mine--and +I prefer to have you buck me. But, in perfect honesty, I'll tell you that +I'm all at sea. I couldn't conscientiously make an arrest now." + +"Well--I'm willing to air my opinions," volunteered the Chief. "And I'm +telling you that if it was up to me to make an arrest to-day I'd nab Mr. +Gerald Lawrence--and haul in William Barker for good measure." + +"M-m-m!" Carroll nodded approvingly. "Sounds reasonable. How about +the woman?" + +"That's what's got me puzzled. I've worked on that end of it, and I've +had several of my best men circulating around trying to gather dope from +the gossip shops--but there doesn't seem to be a clue from this end. +Anyway--I don't believe Warren was killed by the woman in the taxi!" + +Carroll was genuinely impressed. "You don't?" + +"No. Don't believe any woman--I don't care who--would have killed him +under those circumstances." + +"You mean you believe the woman in the taxi had nothing to do with it?" + +"I don't mean anything of the kind. I know darn well she had something to +do with it--but I don't believe she did the actual killing. That's why +I'd arrest this bird Lawrence and also William Barker. They either killed +the man or they know all about it." + +"But," suggested Carroll slowly, "suppose we admit that your theory is +correct--and I've thought of it myself: how and where was that body put +into the taxicab?" + +Leverage shrugged: "That's where you come in, Carroll. I ain't the sort +of thinker who can puzzle out something like that. Of course I'd say the +only place the shift could have been made was when the taxi stopped at +the R. L. & T. railroad crossing--and every time I think that it strikes +me I must be wrong. Because any birds working a case like that couldn't +have counted on such a break in luck." + +"It might have been," suggested Carroll, "that two men entered the cab +at that crossing: Warren and another--both alive, and the killing might +have occurred between then and the time the cab reached number 981 East +End Avenue." + +"Might have--yes. But something tells me it didn't. It's asking +too much--" + +"Then what _do_ you think happened?" + +"I don't think. There just simply isn't anything you can think about an +affair like that. You either know everything or you don't know a thing!" + +"I think you're about right, Leverage. And now--let's run over the list +we have in front of us. Spike Walters--the taxi driver--comes first. +What about him?" + +Leverage rubbed his chin. "Funny about Spike, Carroll--I think the kid's +story is true." + +"So do I." + +"But unless there's some other answer to this affair--it's damned hard to +believe that the body could have been dumped into that cab, or that the +killing could have occurred there, without Spike knowing about it. Ain't +that a fact?" + +"It is." + +"And if he knows anything he hasn't told, the odds are on him to know a +whale of a sight more. And if he knows a whole heap--then the chances are +he knows enough to justify us in keeping him in jail." + +"You're right, Leverage. If Spike is innocent he's not undergoing any +enormous hardship. But if his story is untrue in any particular--then it +is probably entirely false. And since we cannot understand how that body +got into the cab or where the murderer went--we've got to hold on to +Spike. Meanwhile, we both believe him." + +"You said it, David. Now, next on the list we have Barker. What +about him?" + +"I don't like Barker particularly," said Carroll frankly. "He hasn't +what you would call an engaging personality. Not only that, but we are +agreed that he knows a great deal about the case which he hasn't +told--and doesn't intend to tell unless we force him to it. But we'll go +back to him later: he's too important a link in the chain to pass over +casually when we're trying to hit on a definite course of action. +Remembering, of course, that his visits to the Lawrence home have a +certain degree of significance." + +Leverage chuckled grimly. "You're coming around to my way of thinking, +David Carroll. Remember, I wanted to stick that bird behind the bars the +first day we talked to him--when we first knew he was lying to us." + +"Yes--but we wouldn't have gained anything--then. Perhaps now the time +is ripe to try some of that third degree stuff. But let's take up the +others. My little friend, Miss Evelyn Rogers, for instance." + +Leverage chuckled. "Go to it, David. You know more about that kid than I +ever will--or want to. Ain't suspecting her of being the woman in the +taxi, are you?" + +"Good Lord! no! She hasn't that much on her mind. And if we manage to +solve this case, we can thank her. That little tongue of hers wags at +both ends--and out of the welter of words that drip from her lips--I've +managed to extract more information than from every other source we've +tapped. I've been awfully lucky there--" + +"Don't talk like a simp, David--'tain't luck. That's your way of +working. And because there isn't anything flashy about it--you call it +luck. Why, you poor fish--there isn't any other man in the country who'd +have had the common sense to do what you did--to know that it would be a +sensible move." + +"Some day, Eric," grinned Carroll, "I'm going to throw you down--I'm +going to flunk on a case. And then you'll say to my face what you must +often have thought--that I'm a lucky, old-maidish detective." + +"G'wan wid ye! Fishing for compliments--that's what you are." + +Carroll grew serious again. "I think we're safe in eliminating Evelyn +Rogers from our calculations except as a gold mine of information. Which +takes us to her friend--Hazel Gresham." + +"And Garry Gresham. You say he didn't want you to discuss the case with +his sister." + +"They both acted mighty peculiarly," agreed Carroll. "One of them, I'm +sure, knows something about that case--has some inside dope on it. And +the one who knew has told the other one--the affection between them is +something pretty to look at, Leverage." + +"You think one of them is in on the know?" + +"Yes, I think so. And I think that their information touches someone +pretty close to them. That's obviously why they pleaded so hard with me +to call off the investigation." + +"M-m-m--They're pretty good friends to the Lawrences, aren't they!" + +"Yes--with Naomi Lawrence, anyway. I don't believe Gerald Lawrence is +especially friendly with anyone. But the Greshams and Mrs. Lawrence are +pretty intimate." + +"And you believe that the alibi Miss Rogers established for Hazel +Gresham is good?" + +Carroll hesitated a moment before replying. When he did speak it was with +obvious reluctance: "I hate to say so, Leverage--because I like Evelyn +Rogers and I took an instant liking to both Hazel Gresham and her +brother. But there seems to be something wrong about it. I do think that +Evelyn Rogers believed she was telling the truth--but I'm not so sure +that her dope was accurate. Just where the inaccuracy comes--I haven't +the least idea--but I'm not letting my likes and dislikes stand in the +way of a sane outlook on the case. I am convinced that both the young +Greshams know something more than they have told. As a matter of fact, +there isn't a doubt of it--they showed it clearly when they begged me to +call off the investigation. We know further that they are intimate with +Naomi Lawrence--and we know that either Naomi or her husband--or +both--are mixed up in this case. Events dovetail too perfectly for us to +ignore the fact that however right Evelyn Rogers may believe she is--she +may be wrong!" + +"And I'm not forgetting, either--" said Leverage grimly, "that Hazel +Gresham was engaged to marry Warren!" + +"No. Nor am I. It's a puzzling combination of circumstances, Leverage: a +perfectly knit thing--if we don't--and so now we come to Gerald Lawrence +and his wife." + +Leverage did not take his cue immediately. He sat drumming a heavy tattoo +on the tabletop, forehead corrugated in a frown of intensive thought. +When he did speak it was in a manner well-nigh abstract-- + +"Gerald Lawrence probably lied when he said he didn't leave Nashville +until the two a.m. train." + +"He may have. One thing which impressed me about Lawrence was this, +Leverage--when the man started bucking me he thought he had a perfect +alibi. He was supremely confident that I was going to be completely +nonplussed. It was only after I had questioned him closely that he +realized his alibi was no alibi at all. He realized he couldn't prove +where he was at the time the murder was committed--that for all the +evidence he could adduce he might have been right here in this city." + +"Yes--?" + +"The significant fact is this," explained Carroll--"when he made the +discovery that his alibi was no good--_he_ was the most surprised person +in the room!" + +"And you're thinking," suggested the Chief, "that if he had actually had +a hand in the murder of Warren he would have had an alibi that would have +been an alibi?" + +"Just about that. Get me straight, Chief--I would rather believe Lawrence +guilty than any other person--except perhaps Barker--with whom I have +come in contact since this investigation began. He has one of the most +unpleasant personalities I have ever known. He is a congenital grouch. +But he told his Nashville story so frankly--and then became so panicky +with surprise when my questioning showed him that his alibi was +rotten--that we must not fasten definitely upon him--" + +"--Except to be pretty darn sure that he knows more about it than he +has told." + +"Yes. Perhaps." + +"Perhaps. Ain't you sure he does?" + +"I'm not sure of anything. I haven't one single item of information save +that regarding the one person whom I would prefer to see left clear." + +"And that is?" + +"Mrs. Naomi Lawrence." + +Leverage nodded agreement. "Things do look pretty tough for her." + +"More so than you think, Eric." Carroll designated on his fingers, "Count +the facts against her as we know them: irrespective of their weight or +significance. + +"First, she is a beautiful woman, twelve years younger than her husband +and very unhappy in her domestic life. Second, she was very friendly with +Roland Warren. Of course, Miss Rogers' fatuous belief that Warren was +crazy about her is pure rot: he called at that house to see either +Gerald or Naomi Lawrence. We must admit that the chances are the woman +was the person in whom he was interested. Third, in substantiation of +that belief we know that he frequently gave her presents. It doesn't +matter how valuable the presents were--he gave them. That proves a +certain amount of interest." + +Carroll paused for a brief explanation. "Mind you, Leverage--I'm not +trying to make out a case against Naomi Lawrence--I'm only being honest. +To continue--fourth, we know that in spite of the fact that she is +afraid to remain in a house alone at night, she suggested that her +sister visit at the home of Hazel Gresham on the night Warren was +killed. Her husband was supposed--according to his story--to be in +Nashville. It is absurd to presume that when she let Evelyn go out for +the night she expected to remain alone until morning. Therefore, for the +sake of argument, we will assume that she knew her husband would be back +that night. If that is the case--we are also forced to believe that +there was something sinister about it. + +"Fifth--we are fairly positive that she packed a suit-case the morning +before the murder, that the suit-case left the house that morning and +that two days later it mysteriously reappeared--" + +"Yes," interrupted Leverage, "and we know that Warren was planning to +make a trip with someone else!" + +"Exactly!" + +"Which makes it pretty clear," finished Leverage positively, "that Mrs. +Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BARKER ACCUSES + + +The men looked at each other in silence for a minute. Leverage was +sorry for Carroll--sorry because he knew that Carroll was disappointed, +that the boyish detective had hoped against hope that the trail would +lead to some person other than the flaming creature who was Gerald +Lawrence's wife. + +It was not that Carroll had become infatuated with her. It was merely +that he liked her--liked her sincerely--and was sorry for her. + +The conclusions to be inevitably reached from the premise that Naomi was +the woman in the taxicab were none too pleasant. In the first place there +was the matter of morals involved. It had been pretty well established +that the dead man had planned a trip to New York with someone: there was +the fact that he had purchased a drawing room and two railroad +tickets--only one of which later had been found in his pockets at +midnight that night. + +Then there was the circumstance of Mrs. Lawrence packing her suit-case +and taking it, or sending it, from the house during the day--and its +reappearance a couple of days later. It also explained her willingness +that Evelyn spend the night with Hazel Gresham. Knowing that she, Naomi, +was going to leave her home before midnight, she had not wanted her +youthful sister to spend the balance of the night alone--and so had sent +her to the house of a friend. That much was clear-- + +"It's hell!" burst out Carroll. + +"You said it." + +"Suppose she _was_ the woman in the taxicab--?" + +"Yes--suppose she was: it doesn't prove that she killed Warren?" + +"No--but it proves something a good deal worse, Leverage. It proves that +she was going to elope with him." + +"It may--we don't _know_!" + +"We don't _know_ anything. But there is a certain logic which is +irrefutable--and, confound it! man--what are we going to do now?" + +Leverage refused to meet his friend's eyes. "We-e-ll, David--suppose you +tell me what _you_ think we should do?" + +"We ought to--but it's rotten! Absolutely rotten!" + +"Trouble with you, David," said Leverage kindly--"is that you're too +damned human!" + +"I can't help it. It isn't my fault. And if I was sure that Naomi +Lawrence was the woman in that taxi, I'd arrest her immediately. But I'm +not sure, Leverage--and neither are you. Let's admit that it's a ten to +one bet--we're still not positive. And I wonder if you realize what her +arrest would mean?" + +"What?" + +"We can't arrest a woman of her prominence socially without a reason--and +a darned good reason. Therefore, when we arrest her we have to tell the +public why we're doing it. And what do we tell 'em? That she was--or +might have become--Warren's light-o'-love! That she was going to elope +with him!" + +"And yet, David--all of that is probably true." + +"Probably--yes. But not positively. We haven't proved anything. And once +we explode that social bomb--we've started something that she'll never +live down. We've done more than that--we've played the devil with +Evelyn's chance of happiness. That kid will be in a swell position when +the scandal-mongers get hold of the gossip about her sister. Can't you +hear 'em--babbling about it being in the blood?" + +"But she might prove that none of it is true." + +"That doesn't make a bit of difference. Gossip pays no attention to a +refutation. Leave consideration for Mrs. Lawrence out of it +altogether--and figure where Evelyn comes in on the backwash." + +"It _is_ tough. But this is a murder case--and, anyway, I don't think she +killed Warren." + +"Even if she didn't--I fancy she'd rather be convicted of murder--than of +what this will lead to. I'm afraid, Leverage. We're trifling with +something a good deal more sacred than human life. If Naomi Lawrence is +guilty--there's no objection to her suffering. But her kid sister will +suffer too--" + +"You don't think, Carroll--that she looked like that kind?" + +"Good God! _no!_ And even if we prove that she was the woman in the +taxicab--that she was going to elope with Warren--it still won't prove +that she was that kind. There's something about that husband of +hers--meet him, Leverage--meet him! That's the only way you'll have any +understanding of my sympathy for the wife." + +Leverage rose and walked to the window. He spoke without turning, +"Tough--David; mighty tough. And we've got to do something." + +No answer. Carroll had lighted a cigarette and was puffing fiercely upon +it. Leverage spoke again softly-- + +"Haven't we?" + +"I suppose we have--" + +"Well?" + +Another long silence. "Isn't there anything we can do, Eric--before we +start something that no human power can stop? Something to make us +sure--to give us a clincher? That's all I ask. You say I'm cursed with +too much of the milk of human kindness. Perhaps I am--perhaps that's what +makes me no better detective than I am--but it's a trait--good or +bad--that I'll never get over. And until every possible doubt as to that +woman's complicity has been removed, I am opposed to any such course as +arrest and public announcement of the reasons therefor." + +Leverage shook his head. He was disappointed in his friend. Not that +Carroll would flinch from duty--but Leverage considered it a weakness +that Carroll insisted on postponing the inevitable. He was sorry--he knew +that it had to come: Naomi's arrest and the consequent nasty publicity. +His manner, as he addressed Carroll, was that of a man who washes his +hands of something-- + +"It's your case, David. Handle it your own way. That's been our agreement +always when we worked together--and I'm game to stick to it now." + +Carroll flushed. "Yet you're disappointed in me?" + +"A little--yes," said Leverage honestly. "But I've been disappointed in +you before, David--and you've always made me sorry for it. I know you +won't throw me down this time. You've never done it yet." + +"You're safe!" said Carroll grimly. "No--" as Leverage started for the +door; "Don't go! I want to think for a minute--" + +Leverage sank obediently into a chair. Carroll paced the room slowly. He +was thinking--struggling to decide upon a plan of action which would +delay the arrest of Naomi Lawrence until the ultimate moment. And finally +he flung back his head triumphantly. Leverage looked up with pleasure at +the sound of relief in his friend's voice-- + +"Leverage?" + +"Yes?" + +"You say this case is mine--absolutely? To handle as I see fit?" + +"Yes." + +"You agree that we have enough against William Barker to arrest him?" + +"Gosh--I said that the first day we met him." + +"You also agree that he knows whatever connection the Lawrences have with +the Warren murder?" + +"I do." + +"Then get Barker. Bring him here!" + +Leverage departed with a light step. There was a smile on his lips. Here +was the style of procedure with which he was familiar and in full +sympathy. Here was action supplanting stagnation--something definite +succeeding the long nerve-wracking period of conjecture which appeared to +lead nowhere save into a labyrinth of endless discussion. + +He started the machinery of the department to moving. When he returned to +his office an hour later, Carroll was still seated motionlessly before +the grate fire--an extinguished cigar between his teeth--eyes focused +intently on the dancing flames. Leverage spoke-- + +"I've got Barker." + +"Where is he?" + +"Downstairs." + +"Bring him in. You stay here when he comes--send everybody else out." + +Cartwright brought Barker into the room and Leverage dismissed the +plainclothesman. Barker, eyes wide with fear, face pallid--yet with a +certain belligerence in his attitude--confronted the two detectives. + +"I say--" he started, "what does this mean?" + +"It means," said Carroll coldly, "that you are under arrest for the +murder of Roland Warren!" + +"That I'm--" Barker fell back a step. It was plain that he was surprised. +"You're arresting _me_ for Warren's murder?" + +"Yes." + +"But I didn't do it. I'll swear I didn't." + +"Of course you'll swear it--" Carroll's steely voice excited a vast +admiration in Leverage's breast. Many times before he had seen the +transformation in his friend from all too human softness to almost +inhuman coldness--yet he never failed of surprise at the phenomenon. +"But we know you did do it." + +"You don't know nothin' of the kind," Barker's voice came in a +half-snarl. "I don't give a damn how smart you fly-cops are--you can't +prove nothin' on me." + +"That so?" + +"Yes--that's so. Just because I worked for Warren ain't no reason why you +should arrest me for his murder. Suppose I had wanted to kill him--and I +didn't--didn't have no reason at all. But suppose I had wanted too--you +know bloody well that I didn't do it." + +"Why do we know that?" + +"Because you know he was killed by a woman!" + +"Aa-a-ah! That's what you think, eh?" + +"I know a woman killed him." + +"You were present?" + +"Bah! Trying to trap me--are you? Well, I ain't going to be trapped. I +don't know nothin' about it. Like I said from the first." + +"But you do know something about it," insisted Carroll icily. "And I'd +advise you to come clean with us." + +"There ain't nothin' to come clean about." + +"You say we know that a woman killed Warren. You seem pretty confident +of that yourself. Well, we happen to know that you know who this woman +was. Who was she?" + +For the first time Barker's eyes shifted. "You know as well as me +who she was?" + +"Who was she?" Carroll's voice fairly snapped. + +"It was--Miss Hazel Gresham!" + +Carroll stared at the man. "Listen to me, Barker--you're lying and we +know you're lying. You know as well as we do that Miss Gresham was at her +own home when Warren was killed. I don't want any more lies! Not one! Now +tell us the truth!" + +Barker stared first at Carroll--then at Leverage. An expression of doubt +crossed his face. It was patent that these men knew more than he had +credited them. Finally he shrugged his shoulders-- + +"Well--Mr. Carroll, that bein' the case--I ain't goin' to stick my head +in a noose for nobody!" + +"You've decided to tell us the truth!" + +"I have." + +"You know who killed Roland Warren?" + +"Yes--I know who killed Roland Warren!" + +"Who was it?" + +Barker's face went white. Leverage and Carroll leaned forward +eagerly--nervously. It seemed an eternity before Barker's answer +came--but when it did, his words rang with conviction--he uttered a +name-- + +"_Mrs. Naomi Lawrence_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH--" + + +Barker's words reverberated through the room--to be succeeded by an +almost unnatural stillness; a silence punctured by the ticking of the +cheap clock on the mantel, by the crackling of the flames in the grate, +by the whistling of the wind around the corners of the gaunt gray stone +building which housed the police department. + +The accused man looked eagerly upon the faces of the two detectives; +then, slowly, his chest expanded with relief: he saw that they +believed him. + +And Carroll did believe. It was not that he wanted to--he had fought +himself mentally away from that conviction time after time; had +threshed over every scintilla of evidence, searching futilely for +something which would clear this radiant woman whom he had met but +once. Carroll's interest--however platonic--was intensely personal. +The woman had impressed herself indelibly upon him. It was perhaps her +air of game helplessness; perhaps the stark tragedy which he had seen +reflected in her eyes when he had first entered her home and saw that +she knew why he had come. + +And now, driven into the corner which he had hoped to avoid, his +retentive memory brought back a circumstance well-nigh forgotten. He +addressed Barker, his voice soft-hopeless. + +"You mean that Mrs. Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab?" + +"Yes, sir." The "sir," which Barker used for the first time was +respectful. + +"Where had she been during the evening--after dark of the night of +the--killing?" + +"At home--I believe." + +"You believe?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Carroll's eyes lighted. His voice cracked out accusingly: "Don't you +_know_ that that is incorrect?" + +Barker shook his head. "Why, no, sir. Of course, I ain't sayin' positive +that she _was_ at home all evenin', but--" + +"As I understand it," said Carroll slowly--"an accommodation train came +in just about that time: isn't that a fact?" + +"Some train came in then--I don't know which one it was." + +"Isn't it a fact that the woman who got into the taxicab had been a +passenger on that train: that she got off with the other passengers, +carrying a suit-case?" + +"There ain't nobody can see the passengers get off the trains at the +Union Station, Mr. Carroll. You go down them steps and approach the +waitin' room underground--crossin' under the tracks." + +"But you do know that this woman--whoever she was--passed through the +waiting room with the passengers who came on that train, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir--she done that, but it don't mean nothin'." + +"Why don't it?" + +"Well, sir, for one thing--ain't it true that the papers said the +suit-case she was carryin' wasn't hers at all. Ain't it a fact that she +had Mr. Warren's suit-case?" + +"Well?" Carroll saw his last hope glimmering. + +"You see, sir--Mr. Warren was meetin' Mrs. Lawrence at the station. He +got there with his suit-case at about ten minutes to twelve. She got +there about ten or fifteen minutes later--" + +"How did she come?" + +"On the street car. And when she come out--she was alone and it was his +suit-case she was carryin'--the same suit-case he had taken into the +station. The one you found in the taxicab." + +"I see--" Carroll did not want to believe Barker's story, but he knew +that the man was telling the truth--or at least that most of what he was +saying was true. The detective seemed crushed with disappointment. +Leverage, seated in the corner of the room, chewing savagely on a big +black cigar--was sorry for his friend: sorry--yet proud of the way he was +standing the gaff of his chagrin. Carroll again spoke to Barker--manner +almost apathetic-- + +"You know a good deal more about this thing than you've told us, don't +you Barker?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Very well: let's have your story from the beginning to the end. I'll be +honest with you: I believe a good deal of what you've told me. Some of +your story I don't believe. Other portions of it need substantiation. But +you are mighty close to being charged with murder--and now is your +chance to clear yourself. Go to it!" + +Barker plunged a hand into his pocket. "Can I smoke, Mr. Carroll?" + +"Certainly. And sit down." + +They drew up their chairs before the fire. Carroll did not look at +Barker, but Leverage's steady gaze was fixed on the man's crafty face. + +"I'm going to come clean with you, Mr. Carroll. I'm going to tell you +everythin' I know--and everythin' I think. I didn't want to do it--and I +don't want to now. But I'd a heap rather have the job of convincin' you +that I ain't mixed up in this murder than I would of makin' a jury +believe the same thing. I reckon you'll give me a square deal." + +"I will," snapped Carroll. "Go ahead." + +"In the first place," started Barker slowly, "it's my personal opinion +that Mr. Warren never had no idea of marryin' Miss Gresham. Maybe I'm all +wrong there--but it's what I think. I can't prove that, of course--an' no +one else can't either. + +"Also I happen to know that he's been crazy about Mrs. Lawrence for a +long time. He's been hangin' around the house a good deal--an' doin' +little things like a man will when he's nuts about a woman. For +instance, Mr. Warren wasn't no investing man: s'far's I know he had all +his money in gover'ment bonds and such like investments. But he sank some +money into them woolen mills that Mr. Lawrence owns. And also he +pretended that he liked that kid sister of Mrs. Lawrence's--Evelyn +Rogers. But there ain't hardly a doubt in my mind, Mr. Carroll--an' I'm +handin' it to you straight--that he was crazy about Mrs. Lawrence. And, +not meanin' no impertinence, sir--I ain't blamin' him a bit. + +"Also, I reckon she wasn't exactly indifferent to him. She's been up in +his apartment twice--which is a terrible risky thing, an' somethin' no +woman will do unless she's wild about a feller. Oh! everything was proper +while she was there. I was at home all the time and I know. But she +was--what you call, indiscreet--that is, in comin' up there at all--no +matter how decent she acted when she was there. An' also, sir, she used +to write him notes--most every day." + +"You have some of those notes?" + +"No, sir. I had one--if you want the truth--but when I saw you was +watchin' me--sure, I know you've had a couple of dicks shadowing me--I +destroyed it." + +"Where are the rest of her letters?" + +"Mr. Warren used to burn 'em up careful. He wasn't takin' no chances of +someone findin' 'em and he bein' caught in a scandal--which is why I +think he really cared about her serious. His other lady friends he used +to joke about--but never Mrs. Lawrence. An' the one letter of her's that +I had--I'm betting that he looked for three days without stopping before +he gave it up as a bad job. + +"That's the way things was when I seen him begin to make arrangements to +get away from town. It wasn't supposed to be none of my business and Mr. +Warren never was a feller I could ask questions of. When he had something +to tell me, he told it--an' I never got nothin' out of him by askin'. +But, bein' his valet, there was certain things I couldn't very well miss +knowin'. I know his apartment is sublet for the new tenants to come in on +the first of the month, he placed his car with a dealer to be sold and +he didn't order a new one an' he drew a whole heap of cash out of the +bank the day before he was killed. + +"Also that day he sent me downtown to do some shoppin'. While I was +downtown I seen him go into the railroad ticket office. I didn't pay much +attention to that then and later on he drove by the house for a minute. +I had taken his laprobe out of the car the night before and forgot to put +it back--so I thought I'd better do it. I went downstairs without his +knowing it--and when I put the laprobe in the car I seen he had a +suit-case in there. An' the suit-case wasn't his, sir--the initials on it +was N.L.--which, if you know, sir--Mrs. Lawrence's name is Naomi. + +"That made things pretty clear to me then. He drove off and come back +about a half hour later. I looked when he come back and the suit-case +wasn't in the car no more. And it was then that he handed me a big wad of +wages in advance and told me he wasn't going to need me no more and I +could quit any time after five o'clock in the afternoon." + +Barker paused, lighted another cigarette from the stump of the one he +had been smoking--inhaled a great puff, and continued. His manner was +that of a man under great mental stress--as though he was struggling to +recall every infinitesimal detail which might possibly have a bearing +on the case. + +"That sort of carries me along to the night, sir--as I left there at +five o'clock and he was still there--tellin' me goodbye and givin' me +an excellent reference and sayin' I was a good valet an' all like +that, sir. + +"After leavin' there I went out and got some supper, and then I went up +to Kelly's place and horned into an open game of pool. You know Kelly's +place is pretty close to the Union Station and when it come about ten +o'clock I got tired and went an' sat down in the corner, eatin' a hot +dog from the stand in Kelly's--an' then I sort of got to thinkin' +things over. + +"An' thinkin' things over that way, Mr. Carroll--I began to think that +Mrs. Lawrence was doin' a terrible foolish thing, and I was kinder sorry +about it. Now don't get no idea that I'm wantin' you to believe I got a +soft heart or anythin' like that--but then I sort of liked Mr. Warren and +I knew Mrs. Lawrence was a decent woman--and I knew once she got on the +train with Mr. Warren she was done for. And when I got to thinkin' about +that, sir--it struck me that maybe somethin' could be done to keep 'em +from eloping with each other that way. Not that I was plannin' to do +anything--but curiosity sort of got me, and along about eleven o'clock or +a little while after I went out of Kelly's and up to the Union Station. I +sat down over in the corner and waited for somethin' to happen--sort of +hopin' maybe I had been wrong all the time and there wasn't going to be +no elopement. + +"I waited there a long time, and then suddenly a taxicab came up to the +curb and Mr. Warren got out. Then the taxicab beat it down-town again and +Mr. Warren went in the station. And as he come in one door, I beat it out +of the other." + +"Why?" snapped Leverage. + +"Because him seein' me there was certain to start somethin'. And I wasn't +hankerin' for nothin' like that to happen. So I went across the street +and tried to get shelter against the wall of that dump of a hotel over +there. An' it was cold: I ain't seen such a cold night in my life. I +almos' froze to death." + +"And yet you continued to stand there?" + +"Sure--I was curious. Kinder foolish, maybe, but I wanted to see had I +figured right about him eloping with Mrs. Lawrence. So I stood there, +darn near dead with the cold, when the midnight Union Station street car +stopped an' Mrs. Lawrence got out. An' the first thing I noticed was that +she wasn't carryin' no suit-case. I noticed that on account of havin' +seen her suit-case in Mr. Warren's car that day. She didn't carry +nothin' but one of these handbag things that women lug around with 'em." + +"How was she dressed?" + +"Fur coat and hat and a heavy veil." + +"You could see the veil from across the street at midnight?" + +"No sir. Not from there. But when she went in the depot, I followed +across the street and looked inside to see what was goin' to happen." He +paused a moment and then Carroll prodded him on-- + +"Well--what _did_ happen?" + +"The minute Mr. Warren seen her come in he beat it through the opposite +door from where I was standin' out to the platform that runs parallel to +the tracks. An' he nodded to her to follow him. She sort of nodded like +she was wise, an' took a seat so's nobody would think anything in case +there was anyone there lookin' for something. Mr. Warren walked off down +the outside platform towards the baggage room an' after about three +minutes she gets up, kinder casual-like and follers. Soon as she went +through the door to the platform I went in the waitin' room." + +"What did you do then?" + +"Nothin'. Just made a bee line for the steam radiator an' tried to +get warm. I was so cold it hurt. An' I stood there for about ten +minutes. Then I heard that train comin' in an' I went outside into the +street again." + +Carroll's voice was tense. "In all that time did you hear +anything--anything at all?" + +Barker shook his head. "No sir--not a thing--except that train comin' in. +And then the passengers from it began to come through, and I was +surprised to see Mrs. Lawrence comin' with them, an' she was carryin' his +suit-case." + +"Whose suit-case?" + +"Mr. Warren's. She come on out to the curb an' called a taxicab." + +"Where was the taxicab standing?" + +"Parked against the curb on Atlantic Avenue about a hundred yards from +the entrance in the direction of Jackson street." + +"How did she act?" + +"Kinder nervous like. Noticin' her come out I seen the taxi driver when +he climbed back into his cab an' when he started her up. He picked up +Mrs. Lawrence an' she put the suit-case in front beside him. Then they +drove off. And that's all I know sir." + +Carroll rose and walked slowly the length of the room. + +"What did you think when you saw Mrs. Lawrence come out of the station +alone carrying Mr. Warren's suit-case? When she did that and called a +taxicab and went off in it alone?" + +"Not knowin' about no killin', Mr. Carroll--I thought they'd got together +and talked things over an' decided to call off the elopement!" + +"You did--" Carroll paused. "And the first time you knew of Warren's +death?" + +"Was when I read the newspapers the next morning." + +"Then why," barked the detective, "did you make the blunt statement that +Mrs. Lawrence killed Warren?" + +"Because," said Barker simply, "I believe she did." + +"How could she have killed him? When and how?" + +"That's easy," explained Barker quietly. "If I'm right in thinkin' that +they was goin' to call off the elopement--they could have seen that taxi +standin' against the curb and he could have got in without bein' seen. It +was awful dark where the taxi was standin' an' the driver says himself +that he was over in the restaurant gettin' warm. So what I thought right +away was that Warren got in the taxi, an' she called it. That was so they +wouldn't be seen gettin' in together at that time of night. Then I +thought they drove off. And then--" + +"Yes--and then?" + +"It was while they were alone together in that taxi, that she +killed him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +LABYRINTH + + +Long after William Barker left the room--held in custody under special +guard--David Carroll and Chief of Police Eric Leverage maintained a +thoughtful silence. Leverage wanted to talk--but refused to be the first +to broach the subject which each knew was uppermost in the mind of the +other. And it was Carroll who spoke first-- + +"Well, Eric," he said dully, "you called the turn that time." + +"Reckon I did, David." + +"It looks mighty bad for Mrs. Lawrence--mighty bad." He hesitated. "I +wonder whether Barker told the truth when he said he had been calling on +Mrs. Lawrence to apply for a job?" + +"Why not?" + +"Because when valets or butlers apply for domestic positions they don't +go to the front door, and Barker did on both occasions he visited that +house. No, Leverage--I don't think he told the truth there." + +"Then what _was_ he doing at the house?" + +"Mmm! Just struck me, Eric--that he may have been trying a little private +blackmail." + +Leverage arched his eyebrows: "On Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"Yes--on Mrs. Lawrence. You see, it's this way: according to Barker's own +story he knew everything which transpired at the station. If we believe +what he told us, and if he is correct in his belief that Mrs. Lawrence +did the killing, then we know he is the only person who--until now--had +any knowledge of the identity of the woman in the taxicab. That being the +case, and Barker being obviously not a high type of man, it is certainly +not unreasonable to presume that he was capitalizing his information." + +"Seems plausible," grunted Leverage. "But where does it get us?" + +"Just this far," explained Carroll. "Unless Barker was applying for a +position at the Lawrences--where they not only do not employ a male +servant, but have never employed one--he was not seeking employment +anywhere. He has been taking life pretty easy, all of which is +indicative of a supply of money from outside. And I fancy that Mrs. +Lawrence would pay a pretty fancy price to have her name left out of this +rotten scandal." + +Leverage held Carroll with his eyes: "Do you believe Barker's +story, David?" + +"Believe it? Why, yes. Most of it anyway." + +"You believe Mrs. Lawrence was the woman in the taxicab?" + +"I've got to believe it." + +"Do you believe she killed him?" + +"Evidence points to that answer, Leverage. You see, Barker's story +impressed me this way: it is the only sane, logical solution of the +killing which has yet been advanced. Neither of us has ever yet hit upon +an answer to the puzzle of the body in the taxicab. What Barker tells us +is perfectly plausible--" Carroll paused-- + +"You see," he continued, "from the first I have maintained that Mrs. +Lawrence is a decent woman--innately decent. I will even admit that her +domestic life was so miserably unbearable that she would entertain the +idea of eloping with Warren: that she went so far as to attempt to carry +that idea into execution. But I am also ready--and eager, too, if you +will, to believe that when she reached the stepping off place she must +have reneged. That woman couldn't have done anything else. + +"We are fairly well satisfied--from Barker's own story--that there had +been nothing wrong in the relations between Warren and Mrs. Lawrence up +to that night. But we are pretty sure that they met at the station to go +away together. What is more reasonable than to presume that she lost her +nerve at the eleventh hour: that, unhappy as she was at home, she was +unable to take the step which would forever make her a social outcast? + +"Very well. If that is true, we have them at the station at midnight. The +weather is the worst of the year. They are standing in the dark +passageway between the main waiting room and the baggage room. No light +is on the corner of Jackson street. They see only one taxicab on duty. +For all they know--the last street car has passed. They conceive the idea +of making a single taxicab do double duty--and, knowing that the driver +is across the street drinking coffee and getting warm--Warren gets into +the cab from the blind side, Mrs. Lawrence returns to the waiting room as +the accommodation rolls in, she picks up Warren's suit-case which had +been left there, steps to the curb and summons the cab, in which Warren +is hiding all the time. Sounds all right so far?" + +"Perfectly," said Leverage. "Go ahead." + +"Walters gets the signal and drives up. Mrs. Lawrence gets in. He drives +away. And then--" + +Leverage leaped forward eagerly: "Yes--?? and then?" + +"Well," said Carroll slowly, "we don't know what happened in that +taxicab. We believe that Mrs. Lawrence is a decent woman. We know that +Warren would have gone through with the elopement. That being the case, +we can fancy his keen disappointment. Under those circumstances, Eric--a +good many things could have occurred in that taxicab which might have +justified Warren's death at her hands." + +Leverage crossed to his desk, from the top drawer of which he took a box +of cigars. He was frowning as he recrossed to Carroll and offered him +one. Then, with almost exasperating deliberation, the head of the police +force clipped the end of his own cigar, held a match to it, replaced the +box in his desk and took up his post before the fire--with his back to +it so that he could watch Carroll's face. + +"You really want to believe that story, don't you, David?" he asked +gently. + +"Yes." + +"And yet you know it is shot all full of holes." + +"How?" + +"For one thing," said Leverage slowly--"how do you explain the fact that +it was a.32 that killed him. Not that a .32 is any big gun--it isn't--but +it does make a considerable racket." + +"The shooting probably took place at the R.L.&T. crossing while the train +was passing. The sound of the shot may have been drowned in the roar of +the train--not entirely smothered of course, but sufficiently blended +with the other noise not to attract the attention of the half-frozen +driver. And, the cab being stopped there, it must have been at that point +that Mrs. Lawrence--panicky over what had occurred--left the taxi." + +"You're a dandy little ol' explainer, Carroll. But you've forgotten one +other important item." + +"What is it?" + +"The address Mrs. Lawrence gave--981 East End avenue. That address was a +stall--we know it was a stall. We were hot on that end of it the night +the body was found. And if those two people were trying to get home, +Carroll--if Warren was already in the cab and Mrs. Lawrence gave the +address--and if she wanted to get away from Warren and safe at home as +soon as she could--she'd never have ordered Walters to drive to 981 East +End avenue!" + +Carroll did not answer. There was no answer possible. Leverage's logic +was irrefutable. And finally Carroll rose to his feet and slipped into +his heavy overcoat. Leverage's eyes were turned kindly upon him. + +"Where are you going, David!" + +"I'm going to play my last trump. If it doesn't uncover something--I +throw up my hands. Laugh at me if you will, Eric--rail at me for being +chicken-hearted, for playing hunches too strongly--but I have an idea +that Mrs. Lawrence did not kill Warren. Don't ask me how or why? I don't +know--I admit that frankly. But I've always banked on my knowledge of +human nature, Leverage--and my instinct has never yet betrayed me. Just +now it is forcing me to give this woman every chance in the world to +clear herself. I am hoping that circumstances will allow me to bring this +case to a conclusion without making public her connection with it--the +elopement she was planning." + +"You do believe that part of the story, then: that she was going to elope +with Warren?" + +"I do. I don't want to--but I'm honest with myself." + +"Then," exclaimed Leverage with a slight touch of exasperation in +his manner--"who in thunder could have killed Warren if she didn't? +And when?" + +"That," said Carroll simply, "is what I hope to find out." + +"From where?" + +"From the lips of Mrs. Lawrence. I'm going to have a talk with her." + +Carroll was far from happy during his drive to the Lawrence home. The +Warren mystery seemed to be verging on a solution, but in Carroll's +breast there was none of the pardonable surge of elation which normally +was his under these circumstances. It had been a peculiar case from the +first. The _dramatis personae_ had all been of the better type, with the +single exception of William Barker--they had been persons against whom +the detective was loath to believe ill. And, most eagerly, he had shied +from the belief that Mrs. Lawrence was connected in a sinister way with +the death of Roland Warren. + +Yet he found himself en-route to her home, facing the ordeal of an +interview with her--an ordeal for her as well as for him--and one through +which he feared she could not safely come. For, frankly as Carroll had +admitted to his friend that he hoped to find Naomi innocent--he was yet +honest and fearless, and failure of the woman to clear herself meant her +arrest. Carroll was determined upon that--yet he dreaded it as a child +dreads the dentist--as something painful beyond belief. + +He rang the bell--then groaned as Evelyn Rogers greeted him effusively. +She ushered him ostentatiously into the parlor and drew up a chair +close to his-- + +"Mr. Carroll--it's just simply _scrumptuous_ of you to call on me +informally like this. I can't tell you how tickled I am. I was sitting +upstairs, simply bored to extinction. Sis has been a terrible drag on me +recently--really you'd have thought there had been a death in the +family. Or something! It's been simply graveyardy! And now you come +in--like a darling angel--and save me from the willywoggles. You're a +_dear_, and--" + +"But--but--I really came to see your sister." + +"Oh! _pff_! That's what poor dear Roland used to say all the time. But I +always knew I was the one he wanted to see. Goodness, he was simply +_crazy_ about me--but of course Sis never understood that. She hasn't yet +realized that I'm grown up." + +"Peculiar how blind some folks are. But this time, Miss Rogers--I really +do want to chat with your sister. Not that I wouldn't prefer a talk with +you. So if you'll tell her I'm here--and would like to see her +_privately_--" + +Evelyn rose and started reluctantly toward the door. "I suppose it's up +to me to make myself very scarce. But it is simply _precious_ of you to +admit you'd rather talk to me. Poor Roland used to say that--but he +always said it as though he was kidding. I believe _you_!" + +"I assure you I'm serious." + +"I know it. And anyway, I was thinking of running out for a +minute--and I suppose this is a good chance. Of course, I'd stay and +see you if you wanted--but I suppose you've got something terribly +dry to discuss and so--" + +She left the room and Carroll heaved a sigh of infinite relief. A few +minutes later the hall door swung back and Naomi and Evelyn entered. He +was immensely relieved to see that the youngster was cloaked for the +street and murmured a few idle words to her before she went. And until +the front door banged behind her he remained standing before the +fireplace, his eyes focused on the tragic figure of Naomi. + +She faced him bravely enough, but in her eyes he read the message of +knowledge. There was no need for words between them. She knew why he had +come--and he knew that she knew. + +"Sit down, please, Mr. Carroll." + +He waited until she had seated herself and then followed suit. He +controlled his voice with an effort--his words came softly, reassuringly. + +"I'm sorry I've come this way, Mrs. Lawrence. I've come--" + +"I know why you have come, Mr. Carroll. You need not mince matters." + +He drew a long breath. "Isn't it true, Mrs. Lawrence, that _you_ were the +woman in the taxi-cab the night Mr. Warren was killed?" + +She inclined her head. "Yes." + +Carroll fidgeted nervously. "I must warn you to be careful in what you +say to me, my friend. I am the detective in charge of this case, and--" + +"There is no use in concealment, Mr. Carroll. I have been driven almost +crazy since that night. I have almost reached the end of my rope. It was +the scandal I have been fighting to avoid--not so much for my own sake as +for Evelyn and my husband. Publicity--of this kind--would be +very--very--awkward--for both of them." + +"I'm sorry--" Carroll hesitated. "If you don't care to talk to me--" + +She shrugged slightly. "It makes no difference--now. I'd rather talk to +you than someone who might understand less readily--or more harshly." + +"I may question you?" + +"Yes." + +"I regret it--and rest assured that I am trying to find--a way +out--for you." + +"There is no way out--from the scandal. But that is my own fault--" + +Somewhere down the block an auto horn shrieked: in another room of the +house an old grandfather's clock chimed sonorously. + +"You admit that you were the woman in the taxicab?" + +"Yes. Certainly." + +"Do you admit that you killed Roland Warren?" + +Her startled eyes flashed to his. The color drained from her cheeks. Her +answer was almost inaudible-- + +"No!" + +"You did not kill him?" Carroll was impressed with the nuance of truth in +her answer. + +"No--I did not kill him." + +"But when you got into the taxicab--isn't it a fact that he was +already there?" + +"Yes--he was there, Mr. Carroll. _But he was already dead_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A CONFESSION + + +"--Already dead!" Carroll did not know if his lips framed the words or if +the walls of the room had echoed. He was startled at a time when he +fancied that there could be no further surprise in store for him. He +found himself eyeing the woman and he wondered that he gave credence to +her statement. + +Naomi was sitting straight, large black eyes dilated, hands gripping the +arms of the chair tightly, lips slightly parted. Even under the stress of +the moment Carroll was actually conscious of her feminine allure; unable +to free himself of her hypnotic personality. She spoke--but he scarcely +heard her words through his chaos of thought. + +"He was dead--before I got into the taxi-cab." + +He saw that she was fighting to impress upon him the truth of her +well-nigh unbelievable statement, that every atom of her brain strove +desperately to convince him. And then she relaxed suddenly, as though +from too great strain, and a shudder passed over her. + +"I knew--I knew--" + +"You knew _what_, Mrs. Lawrence?" + +"I knew that you would not believe me. Oh! it's true--this story I am +telling you. But I knew no one could believe it--it stretches one's +credulity too far. That is why I have kept silent through all these days +which have passed--that and a desire to save Evelyn and my husband." + +"You love your husband?" Carroll bit his lips. The question had slipped +out before he realized that he had formed the words. But she did not +evade the issue-- + +"I despise him, Mr. Carroll. But he has played square with me--more so +than I have with him. And publication of this would hurt him--" + +"Because he cares for you?" + +"No. But because he is proud: because he is jealous of his personal +possessions--of which I am one." + +"I see--And Mr. Warren--?" + +She spread her hands in a helpless, hopeless gesture. "What's the use, +Mr. Carroll? Why, should I wrack myself with the story when you do not +even believe the reason upon which it is based? If you only believed me +when I tell you that when I got into the taxicab Roland had already +been killed--" + +"I do believe that," returned Carroll gently. + +She inbreathed sharply, then her eyes narrowed a trifle. "Do you mean +that--or is it bait to make me talk?" + +"I can not do more than repeat my statement. I believe what you +have told me." + +She held his eyes for a moment, then slowly hers shrank from the contact. +"You are telling me the truth," she ventured. + +"And if you will tell me the whole story, Mrs. Lawrence--I shall see what +I can do for you." + +"What is there to do for me? There is no way to keep my name from it--my +name and the story of the mistake which I made--was willing to make." + +"Good God! No." + +"If we--" he used the pronoun unconsciously--"can establish that, there +may be some way of keeping the details from the public. Suppose you +start at the beginning--and tell me what there is to tell?" + +She hesitated. "Everything?" + +"Everything--or nothing. A portion of the story will not help either of +us. Of course you don't have to--" + +Impulsively she leaned forward. "There is something about you, Mr. +Carroll, which makes me trust you. I feel that you are a friend rather +than an enemy." + +He bowed gratefully. "Thank you." + +"It really began shortly after my marriage to Mr. Lawrence--" she had +started her story before she knew it. "I knew that I had made a mistake. +He is nearly thirteen years older than I--a man of icy disposition, a +nature which is cruel in its frigidity. I am not that--that kind of a +woman, Mr. Carroll. I should not have married that type of man. + +"He was good enough to me in his own peculiar way. I have a little money +of my own: he is wealthy. He liked to dress me up and show me off. He was +liberal with money--if not with kindness--when there was trouble in my +family. After my parents died he allowed Evelyn to live with us. They +have never liked one another--the more reason why I am grateful to him +for allowing her to remain in the house. + +"That is the life we have led together. We have long since ceased to have +anything in common. He has kept to himself and I have remained alone. So +far as the world knew--our home life was tranquil. Unbearably so--to a +nature like mine which loves love--and life. + +"I grew to hate my husband as a man much as I admired him in certain ways +for his brain and his achievement. Our individualities are millions of +miles apart. There was no oneness in our married life. And gradually he +learned that I hated him--and he became contemptuous. That stung my +pride. He didn't care. I felt--felt unsexed! + +"No need to go into further detail. Sufficient to say that I became +desperate for a little affection, a little kindness, a little recognition +of the fact that I am a woman--and a not entirely unattractive one. It +was about then that I met Roland Warren. + +"I wonder if you understand women, Mr. Carroll? I wonder if it is +possible for you to comprehend their psychological reactions? Because if +you cannot--you will never understand what Roland Warren meant to me. You +will never understand the condition which has led to--this tragedy." + +She paused and Carroll nodded. "You can trust me to understand." + +"I believe you do. I believe you understand something of what was going +on within me when Roland came into my life. In the light of what has +transpired, the fact that I was neglected by my husband seems +absurd--trivial. But it is not absurd--it is _not_ trivial! + +"Mr. Warren was kind to me. He was attentive--courteous--I believe that +he really loved me. I may have been fooled, of course. Starved as I was +for the affection of a man, I may have been blind to the sincerity of his +protestations. But I believed him. + +"As to how I felt toward him: I don't know. I liked him--admired him. I +believe that I loved him. But again we are faced with the abnormal +condition in which I found myself. I believe I loved him as I believe he +loved me. He represented a chance for life when for three years I had +been dead--living and breathing--yet dead as a woman. And that is the +most terrible of all deaths. + +"We planned to elope. Don't ask me how I could consider such a thing. +There is no answer possible. It wasn't a sane decision--but I decided +that I would. There was the craving to get away from things--to try to +start over. To revel in the richest things of life for awhile. I was +selfish--unutterably so. I didn't think then of the effect on my +husband--or of the effect on Evelyn. I was selfish--yes. But immoral--no! +What I planned to do--under the circumstances--was not immoral. Even yet +I cannot convince myself that it was. + +"Roland laid all his plans to leave the city. In all my delirium of +preparation--the hiding and the secrecy--I felt sincerely sorry for only +one person, and that person was Hazel Gresham to whom Mr. Warren was +engaged. I believe she was in love with him. But so was I--and if he +loved me--as I said before, Mr. Carroll--I was selfish! + +"On the morning of the day we were to go--my husband was in Nashville, +you know--Mr. Warren came to the house in his car. He showed me that he +had reserved a drawing-room for us to New York. In order that we would +not be seen together, he gave me one of the railroad tickets. I was to +reach the Union Station ten minutes before train time. If you +recall--the train on which we were to go was quite late that night. + +"We planned not to talk to one another at the station until after +boarding the train. Morning would have published news of the scandal +broadcast, but until the irrevocable step had been taken--we determined +to avoid gossip. And, Mr. Carroll--I was then--what is called a 'good +woman'. My faithlessness up to that time, and to this moment, had been +mental--and mental only. + +"When he left me that morning he took with him my suit-case. We had +agreed that I was not to take a trunk: that I was to buy--a +trousseau--in New York. I looked upon it almost as a honeymoon. He took +my suit-case to the Union Station and checked it there. I did not see +him again that day." + +"Toward evening--knowing that my husband was not due back until the +following morning, and realizing that I could not leave Evelyn alone in +the house--I suggested that she spend the night with Hazel Gresham. She +was surprised--knowing that I dread to be alone at night--but was ready +enough to go. I was not overcome with either emotion or shame when I told +her good-bye that afternoon. I was so hungry for happiness that I was +dead to the other emotions. + +"I went to the station that night in a street car. I had telephoned in +advance and learned that the train was late. The night was the worst of +the winter--bitterly cold. When I reached the station, I saw that Roland +was already there, and as he saw me enter, he left through the opposite +door--walking out to the platform which parallels the railroad tracks. + +"Then from the outside, he motioned me to follow. He wanted to talk to +me, but would not risk doing so where we might be seen. I sat down for +awhile, then, as casually as I could, followed him onto the station +platform. I saw him down at the far end near the baggage room. Again he +motioned to me to follow him. And he started out past the baggage room +into the railroad yards. + +"I was very grateful to him. He was taking no risk of our being seen +together. I followed slowly--not seeing him, but knowing that he would be +waiting for me out there. You understand where I mean? It is in that +section of the railroad yards where through trains leave their early +morning Pullmans--the tracks are parallel to Atlantic Avenue--and also +the main line tracks running into the Union Station shed. + +"I was conscious of the intense cold, but excitement buoyed me up. I +passed through the gate which ordinarily bars passengers from the tracks, +but which that night had either been left open or opened by Roland. The +wind, as I stepped from under the shelter of the station shed, was +terrific: howling across the yards, stinging with sleet. It was very +slippery under foot--I had to watch closely. And I was just a trifle +nervous because here and there through the yards I could see +lanterns--yard workers and track walkers, I presume. And occasionally the +headlight of a switch engine zigzagged across the tracks--I was afraid +I'd be caught in the glare-- + +"Finally, I saw Warren. He had walked about a hundred and fifty yards +down the track and was standing in the shelter of the Pullman office +building. It was very dark there--just enough light for me to make out +his silhouette. I started forward--then stopped: frightened. + +"For I distinctly saw the figure of a man coming into the yards from +Atlantic Avenue. From the moment I noticed him I had the peculiar +impression that the man had not only seen Mr. Warren and intended +speaking to him--but also that the meeting was not unexpected. I stopped +where I was and strained my eyes through the darkness-- + +"I could not see much--save that they were talking. Of course I could +hear nothing. I was shivering--but more with premonition of tragedy than +with the terrific cold. Then suddenly I saw the two shadows merge--the +combined shadow whirled strangely. I knew that Mr. Warren was fighting +with this other man. + +"I started forward again. Then I saw one of the shadows step back from +the other. There was the flash of a revolver--no noise, because a train +was rolling under the shed at the moment. But I saw the flash of the gun. +I stood motionless, horrified. I didn't advance, didn't run-- + +"I knew that the man who had been shot was Mr. Warren. I didn't know +what to do. I felt suddenly lost; hopeless--And watching, I saw one +figure stoop and lift the prostrate man. He dragged him across the +tracks to the inky darkness between the Pullman offices and the rear of +the baggage room. I don't know what he did there--but I remember +looking toward Atlantic Avenue and seeing a yellow taxicab parked +against the curb. I could see that there was no one in the driver's +seat--and while I watched I saw the man who had done the shooting drag +Mr. Warren's body to the taxicab. It was dark in the street--the arc +light on the corner was out-- + +"I saw him throw Mr. Warren's body into the taxicab. It was then that I +turned and fled toward the station. + +"I can't tell you how I felt. At a time like that one doesn't pause to +analyze one's emotional reactions. I was conscious of horror--of that and +the idea that I must save myself. And then the thought struck me that +perhaps Mr. Warren was _not_ dead. Perhaps he was only badly wounded. If +that were the case I knew that he would freeze to death in the cab. It +was necessary to get to him-- + +"By that time I had reached the waiting room. I saw his suit-case--and +then, Mr. Carroll--I thought of something else: something which made it +imperative that I get to Mr. Warren--" She stopped suddenly. +Carroll--eyes wide with interest--motioned her on. + +"You thought of something--something which made it necessary for you to +get to him?" + +"Yes. I remembered that he had in his pocket the check for my suit-case! +He had checked it himself that day. I realized in a flash that there +would be a police investigation--and the minute that checkroom stub was +found, the detectives would have followed it up. They would have +discovered my suit-case. My name would then have been indelibly linked +with his--in--in that way-- + +"So there were two reasons why I knew I must get into that taxicab: to +recover the suit-case check--and to either assure myself that he was +dead, or else take him where he could get expert medical attention. +Almost before I knew what I was doing I seized his suit-case, which he +had left on the floor of the waiting room. I left the station along with +several passengers who had come in on the local train. I called the +taxicab--I told him to drive me to some place on East End Avenue--gave +him some address which I knew was a long distance away--so that I would +have time to learn if he was dead--and if he wasn't, to get him to a +doctor's; and if he was, to find the check--the finding of which in his +pocket would have connected me with the affair. + +"He was dead!" She paused--choked--and went on gamely. "I got out of the +taxicab when it slowed down at a railroad crossing. I walked half the +distance back to town, then caught the last street car home--" + +Her voice died away. Carroll relaxed slowly. Then a puzzled frown creased +his forehead-- + +"The man who did the actual shooting," he said quietly--"have you the +slightest idea as to his identity?" + +"No." Her manner was almost indifferent: the strain was over--she was +hardly conscious of what she was saying. "He was smaller than Mr. +Warren--a man of about my husband's size--" + +She stopped abruptly! Carroll's gaze grew steely--he made a note of the +expression of horror in her eyes. + +"About your husband's size!" he repeated softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +CARROLL DECIDES + + +For a moment she was silent. It was patent that she was groping +desperately for the correct thing to say. And finally she extended a +pleading hand-- + +"Please--don't think that!" + +"What?" + +"That is was--was my husband. He wouldn't--" + +"Why not?" + +"Anyway--it is impossible. He was in Nashville. He didn't get home +until morning." + +Carroll shook his head. "I hope he can prove he was in Nashville. We have +tried to prove it, and we cannot. And you must admit, Mrs. Lawrence, that +had he known what you planned he would have had the justification of the +unwritten law--" + +Her eyes brightened. "You think, then--that if he did--he would be +acquitted?" + +"Yes. More so in view of your story that there was a fight between the +two men. That would probably add self-defense to his plea. However, I may +be wrong in that--" + +"You are indeed, Mr. Carroll. My husband--isn't that kind of a man. And +even if he had done the shooting--he could not have concealed it from me +for this length of time. He would have given a hint--" + +"No-o. He wouldn't have done that. If he shot Warren he would have been +afraid of telling even you." + +She walked to the window where she stood for a moment looking out on the +drear December day. Then she turned tragically back to Carroll. + +"You are going to arrest me?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I believe your story, Mrs. Lawrence. And so long as there is any +way to keep your name clear of the whole miserable mess, I shall do so." + +"But if you arrest my husband--" + +"I have no intention of doing that, either--unless I am convinced that he +was in the city when the shooting occurred. I am not in favor of +indiscriminate arrests. In this case, they can do nothing but harm." + +"You are very good," she said softly. "I didn't imagine that a +detective--" + +"Some of us are human beings, Mrs. Lawrence. Is that so strange?" + +She did not answer, and for several minutes they sat in silence--each +intent in thought. It was Carroll who broke the stillness: + +"Do you know William Barker?" + +"Barker? Why, yes--certainly. He was Mr. Warren's valet." + +"I know it. Have you seen Barker since the night Mr. Warren was killed?" + +"Yes." He could scarcely distinguish her answer. "Twice." + +"He called here?" + +"Yes." + +"Was your husband at home on either occasion?" + +"No." + +"Why did he come here?" + +She hesitated, but only for the fraction of a second. "It was Barker who +was driving me to distraction. He knew that I was the woman in the +taxicab. He really believes that I killed Mr. Warren. He has been +blackmailing me." + +"A-ah! So _that_ explains his visits, and his plentiful supply of +money?" + +"Yes. Oh! it was shameful--that I should be so helpless before his +demands. It didn't matter that I had nothing to do with the killing--it +was enough that I had to pay any price to keep my name clear of scandal. +Looking back on the affair now, Mr. Carroll--I cannot understand my own +weakness. But I felt that I owed it to my husband and my sister to +protect them from scandal at any cost--and I have paid Barker a good deal +of money--" + +"I see." Carroll rose. "I want you to understand, Mrs. Lawrence, that you +have helped me tremendously. And to know, also, that I shall probably +succeed in keeping your name out of any disclosures which might have to +be made to the public." + +"But if my husband did it--" + +"In that event, it will be impossible not to tell." + +"And if he didn't do it?" + +"Then you will be safe. But," finished the detective seriously, "if your +husband didn't do it--I don't know who did. I have followed every +possible trail and unless guilt can be fastened on either your husband or +Barker, there isn't the faintest shadow of suspicion attached to anyone +else. It will make things very difficult--for me." + +During his ride to headquarters Carroll was busy with his thoughts. He +was worried about the possible complicity of Gerald Lawrence in the +shooting of Warren. He was more than halfway convinced that Lawrence +knew a good deal about it--and the obvious method was to order +Lawrence's arrest and make him prove an alibi. But such a procedure was +impossible in view of his determination to protect Naomi's name to the +ultimate moment. + +He was greeted at headquarters by a reporter for one of the two evening +papers. The reporter was eager for an interview. There had been an +appalling dearth of local news, and the Warren story had been long since +played beyond the point of public interest. The readers, explained the +reporter, were growing tired of theories and column after column of +conjecture. They wanted a few facts. + +Carroll shook his head. "Nothing definite to give out yet." + +The reporter was persistent. "You have made no new discoveries at all?" + +"Well--I'd hardly say that." + +"Then you _have_?" + +"Yes," answered Carroll frankly, "I have." + +"You think you know who killed Warren?" + +Carroll, his mind still busy with Naomi's story, answered casually. "I +believe I do. That is just a belief, mind you. But there is an outside +chance that there will be important developments within the next +twenty-four hours." + +"Something definite, eh?" + +"If anything at all happens, it will be definite." + +Then Carroll excused himself and sought Eric Leverage. Under pledge of +secrecy he told Leverage the entire story as he had heard it from Naomi +Lawrence's lips. When he finished Leverage slammed his hand on the arm of +his chair-- + +"Gerald Lawrence, or I'm a bum guesser," he stated positively. + +"Looks that way," admitted Carroll. "What I hate about the idea is that +if Lawrence is the man there will be no way on earth to keep Mrs. +Lawrence's name out of it." + +"You're right--How about Barker?" + +"I believe Barker's story. So does Mrs. Lawrence. She believes that +Barker thinks she killed Warren in the taxi." + +Leverage glanced keenly at his friend. "You are going to arrest +Lawrence?" + +"No-o. Not yet. He may not have done it--" + +"Well," sizzled the chief of police, "if he didn't and Barker didn't--who +the devil did?" + +Carroll shook his head hopelessly. "I don't know, Eric. If neither of +those two men did, we'll be left hopelessly in the air." + +"Exactly. We know that one of 'em did the shooting. We've covered this +case from every angle, and if we believe that the shooting was not done +by Mrs. Lawrence, we must suspect one of the two men involved. And if you +are sure it wasn't Barker--" + +"Let's wait a little while longer," counseled Carroll. "I want to be +absolutely sure of my ground." + +The two men sat in Leverage's office and talked. They discussed the case +again from the beginning to its present status--threshing out each detail +in the hope that they might have overlooked some vital fact which would +give them a basis upon which to proceed. Their efforts were fruitless. +The investigation had developed results--true enough--but those results +were not at all satisfactory. + +And it was about an hour later that a knock came on the door. In response +to Leverage's summons, an orderly entered. In his hand he carried an +evening paper-- + +"Just brought this in, sir. Thought you and Mr. Carroll might like +to read it." + +The orderly retired. Carroll spread the paper--then did something very +rare. He swore profoundly. His eyes focused angrily on the enormous +first page headlines: + +"CARROLL HAS SOLVED WARREN MYSTERY + +"Identity of Clubman's Slayer Known to Famous Detective + +"WILL MAKE ARREST WITHIN 24 HOURS + +"Sensational Developments Promised by David Carroll in Exclusive +Interview with Reporter for The Star." + +It all came back to Carroll now. The eager reporter, the news-hunger, +his non-committal statements. He read furiously through the story. It +proved to be one of those newspaper masterpieces which uses an enormous +number of words and says nothing. Carroll was quoted as saying only what +he had actually said. It was the personal conjecture of the reporter +writing the story which had given spur to the vivid imagination of the +headline writer. + +"So now," questioned Leverage--"what are you going to do: deny it?" + +"No!" snapped Carroll--"I can't. He hasn't misquoted a single line of +what I said. It just makes things--makes 'em mighty embarrassing." + +He sat hunched in his chair staring at the screaming headlines and +re-reading the lurid story. Again an orderly entered. + +"Young lady out there," he announced, "who wants to know if Mr. +Carroll is here." + +Instantly the mind of the detective leaped to the tragic figure of Naomi +Lawrence. "She wants to see me?" he questioned. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Show her in." He motioned to Leverage to remain. The orderly +disappeared--and in a minute, the door opened and a woman entered. +Carroll sprang to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. + +"Miss Gresham!" + +Hazel Gresham nodded. She advanced toward Carroll. Every drop of color +had been drained from her cheeks. Her manner indicated intense nervous +strain. Her eyes were wide and fixed-- + +"I would like to speak to you alone, Mr. Carroll." + +"Yes--This is Chief Leverage, Miss Gresham." + +Leverage acknowledged the introduction and would have left but the girl +stopped him. "On second thought, Mr. Leverage--you might remain." + +Eric paused. His eyes sought Carroll's face. Both men knew that something +vitally unexpected was about to be disclosed. They waited for the girl to +speak--and when she did her voice was so low as to be almost +unintelligible. + +"About a half hour ago, gentlemen--I read the story in The Star. +I--I--" she faltered for a moment, then went bravely on--"I came right +down--to save you the trouble of sending for me!" + +Silence: tense--expectant. "You did _what?"_ queried Carroll. + +"I came down--to save you the trouble--the embarrassment--of sending for +me." She looked at them eagerly. "I have come to give myself up!" + +Carroll frowned. "For what?" + +"For--for the murder of--Roland Warren!" + +The detective shook his head. "I don't understand, Miss Gresham. Really I +don't. Do you mean to tell me that _you_ were the woman in the taxicab?" + +She was biting her lips nervously. "Yes." + +"And that you shot Roland Warren?" + +"Y-yes--And when I read in the paper that you knew who did it--I came +right down here. I didn't want to--to--to be brought down--in a +patrol wagon." + +"I see--" Wild thoughts were chasing one another through Carroll's +brain. He was beginning to see light. "You are quite _sure_ that you +killed Mr. Warren?" + +"Yes, I'm sure. Why do you doubt me? Don't you suppose that I know +whether I killed him? Don't you suppose I can prove that I did it--" + +"Yes--I suppose you can. I wonder, Miss Gresham," and Carroll's voice +was very, very gentle, "if you would wait in that room yonder for a +few minutes?" + +"Certainly--" She raised her head pleadingly: "You _do_ believe me, +don't you?" + +Carroll dodged the issue. "I want to think." + +Alone with Leverage, Carroll clenched his fist--"If that isn't the most +peculiar--" + +"She's not telling the truth, is she, David?" + +"Certainly not. She couldn't smash her own alibi if she tried a +million years." + +He paced the room, walking in quick, jerky steps. Finally his face +cleared and he stopped before Leverage's chair. + +"I've got it!" he announced triumphantly. + +"Got what?" + +"Never mind," Carroll was surcharged with suppressed excitement. "I want +you to do something for me, Leverage--and do it promptly." + +"Sure--" + +"Send Cartwright and bring Garry Gresham here." + +"Garry Gresham?" + +"Yes--the young lady's brother." + +Leverage was bewildered. "What in the world do you want with him?" + +"I want him," explained Carroll confidently--"because _Garry Gresham is +the man who shot Warren!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED + + +Within an hour Garry Gresham appeared at headquarters in the company of +Cartwright. The officer left the room and the three men were alone. + +Gresham's manner was nervous, but he showed no fright. Leverage, +regarding him keenly, found reason to doubt Carroll's positive statement +that Gresham was the person they sought. The young man stood facing them +bravely, waiting-- + +"Gresham," said Carroll softly, "Your sister is in that room yonder. She +read the afternoon paper--the report that I knew who killed Roland +Warren. She immediately came here to give herself up." + +An expression of utter bewilderment crossed young Gresham's face. Then he +started forward angrily: "Why are you lying to me--" + +"Easy, Gresham--easy there. I am not lying to you." + +He saw Garry's eyes dart to the door behind which the sister was seated. +"What did she give herself up for, Carroll?" + +"For killing Roland Warren." + +Gresham took a firm grip on himself. "She didn't do it," he stated +positively. + +"Of course not," returned Carroll with equal assurance. "_You_ did! And +so that you will be quite convinced that I am not trying to trick you +into the confession which I am sure you will make--" He crossed the room +and flung open the door. "Come in, please, Miss Gresham." + +The girl entered quietly--then saw her brother. Instantly her manner +softened. She stepped swiftly to his side and took his hand in hers. +"Please, Garry--" + +Gresham smiled; a tender, affectionate smile. + +"Good scout, aren't you, Sis? But tell me," his tone was conversational, +"how did you know that I shot Roland Warren?" + +"You didn't!" She flung around on Carroll--"Don't believe him. I shot +Mr. Warren--" + +"I knew from the first that you didn't do it, Miss Gresham. I know that +Miss Rogers spent the night with you. More than that, I know the identity +of the woman in the taxicab." + +"Who was she?" It was Gresham who questioned. + +Carroll shook his head. "It doesn't matter who she was, Gresham. We're +going to keep her name out of this case. She was a woman who loved Roland +Warren--and his death saved her from a great mistake. There's no +necessity to ruin her life, is there?" + +"How did you know--it was Garry--who did the shooting?" asked the girl. + +"The minute you confessed," answered the detective quietly, "I knew that +you were doing it to shield someone. You could have had no possible +motive for shielding either of the other two men under suspicion. I knew +that it must be your brother. He had motive enough--he knew that you +were in love with Mr. Warren--engaged to him. He knew that Warren was +about to elope with another woman, that it would cause you intense +misery. So he went to the station that night to prevent the elopement. +Isn't that so, Gresham?" + +The young man nodded. "Yes. When I went to your apartment the morning +after the killing, it was for the purpose of confessing. But then when +you assured me that my sister was not under suspicion--I decided to wait +awhile before saying anything." He paused--"And as to that night--I +parked my car a couple of blocks away and walked to the station through +Jackson Street, intending to cut through the yards and approach the +waiting room from the passenger platform. I had no idea that--that there +would be--a tragedy. I wanted to reason with Warren; to beg him to save +my sister from suffering which I knew would be attendant on--his +elopement. + +"He was walking in the yards as I entered from between the Pullman +building and the baggage room. I don't know what he was doing there--but +I spoke to him. He seemed startled at seeing me. I told him that I knew +he was planning to elope--and begged him to call it off. + +"Much to my surprise, he immediately got nasty. He seemed to want to get +rid of me. He told me it was none of my damned business what he was +doing. He even admitted the truth of what I said. + +"That was the first hint of unpleasantness. But it grew--rapidly. He +cursed me--anyway we had a brief, violent quarrel. He said something +about my sister and I struck him. He clinched with me. We were fighting +then--and I am a fairly good athlete. I broke out of a clinch and hit him +pretty hard. He reached into his pocket and pulled a revolver. I managed +to grab his hand before he could fire. I got it from him, and as I jerked +it away--it went off. He fell-- + +"I was afraid then--panicky. I felt his body and realized that he was +dead. A train had just come into the yards and there were switch +engines puffing here and there--I was apprehensive that one of their +headlights would pick me up. And there were some railroad men walking +around the yards with lanterns in their hands. There was danger that I +was going to be seen--and, had I been, I felt that I wouldn't have a +leg to stand on; alone in such a place with the body of a man whom I +admitted having shot-- + +"You see, I couldn't even prove the contemplated elopement. Late that +evening I had received an anonymous telephone call from a man telling me +that if I wanted to save my sister a good deal of unpleasant gossip, I'd +better meet that midnight train as Warren was eloping on it with some +other woman. But the man who gave me this information cut off before +telling me the name of the woman. I didn't know it then--and I don't +know it now. + +"I knew I had to hide Warren's body; not that my killing was not +justified on the grounds of self-defense, but because I would not bring +my sister's name into it--and also because even if I did, there'd be no +proof of the truth of what I said. + +"I dragged his body into the shadows between the two buildings. Atlantic +Avenue was deserted. At the curb I saw a yellow taxicab and noticed that +the driver was in the restaurant across the street. I conceived the idea +of putting the body in the taxicab--I knew I wouldn't be seen doing it, +and it would serve the purpose of causing the body to be discovered at +some point other than that at which the shooting occurred. + +"I did it. Then I left. The next morning I read of the case in the papers +and I have followed it closely since. I knew you were ostensibly on the +wrong track and as a matter of self-preservation I determined to keep my +mouth shut unless it happened that the wrong person was accused. Had you +charged someone else with the killing I assure you I would have come +forward. But meanwhile--not even knowing the identity of the woman in the +taxi--there seemed no necessity for running the risk. There was nothing +save my own word to prove self-defense, you see." + +"There is now," said Carroll. Hazel started eagerly and he smiled upon +her. "The story of the woman who actually was in the taxicab +substantiates yours, Gresham. She had followed Warren into the yards to +talk to him. She saw the whole affair from a distance--and then went back +through the waiting room of the station and called the taxi in which you +had placed Warren's body." + +"Then Garry will be freed?" cried the girl hopefully: "His plea of +self-defense will acquit him?" + +"Undoubtedly," retorted Carroll. "Don't you think so, Leverage?" + +"Surest thing you know," returned the chief heartily. "And I'm darned +glad of it!" + +Garry faced his sister. "How did you know that I had killed him, Sis?" + +"I didn't," she answered quietly. "Not at first, anyway. But, if you +remember, you came in the house a little after eleven o'clock that night +and seemed excited. You came to my room--" + +"I was thinking then," explained Garry, "that maybe _you_ were eloping +with Warren." + +"Then you came home again a little after one o'clock. You waked me +then--and acted peculiarly." + +"I was reassuring myself," he said, "that you really hadn't left +the house." + +"The next morning while you were taking your shower I was putting up +your laundry," Hazel went on. "I found a revolver in your drawer. I +didn't think anything of it then--I hadn't even read the papers about +the--the--killing. But later, I remembered it. I went back to look for +the revolver--just why, I don't know--and it was gone. I questioned +you about it a couple of days later, and you denied that you had ever +had a revolver in the house. And I knew then, Garry--I knew that you +had done it." + +He squeezed her hand. "We always did know more about each other than we +were told, didn't we, Little Sis? Because at that moment, too, I knew +that you knew!" + +The young man turned back to the detectives--"And what now?" he +questioned. + +"We'll have to hold you, Gresham. You'll have to go through the form of +a trial--but you'll get off, don't worry!" + +Sister and brother left the room hand-in-hand. Alone again, the two +detectives faced each other. "You win, David," said Leverage admiringly. +"Though darned if I know how you do it?" + +"A combination of luck and common sense," returned Carroll simply. "This +time it was principally luck. It usually is in such cases--but most +detectives don't admit it. It is the wild-eyed reporter with the vivid +imagination whom we can thank for this solution. It was his fiction that +brought about Miss Gresham's ridiculous confession and that which caused +me to know that she must be shielding her brother. As to how matters +stand--I say Thank God!" + +"Why?" + +"Garry Gresham will undoubtedly be freed; it was a clear case of +self-defense. Unfortunately, the fact that there was an elopement will +have to be known--but that is a comparatively trivial thing, unpleasant +as it may be for Miss Gresham. And, most of all--I'm glad because Naomi +Lawrence's name will not be dragged into it." + +"How will you work that, David?" + +"It can be done, Eric. The district attorney is a pretty good friend of +mine--and he's a good square fellow. Of course he will have to know the +entire story; and it is a certainty that he will believe it. And when he +does--you know that he will handle the case so that Mrs. Lawrence will +not be connected. Irregular--yes. But you believe he can--and will--do +it, don't you?" + +"You bet your bottom dollar he will. He's another nut like you--so +bloomin' human it hurts." + +"And now--" said Carroll, "I want to chat with William Barker. There are +one or two loose ends I want to clear up." + +Barker was very humble as he entered the room. + +"You're free of the murder charge," stated Carroll promptly, "but we may +hold you for blackmail." + +Barker heaved a sigh of relief. "I ain't objectin' to that, Mr. Carroll. +It's a small thing when a man has thought he might be strung up." + +"Who killed Warren?" questioned the detective. + +"Don't you know?" came the surprised answer. + +"Yes--but I'm asking you." + +"I suppose you're driving at something new," retorted Barker, "but _I_ +really think Mrs. Lawrence shot him." + +"She didn't," answered Carroll. "And there's one thing I want to warn you +about right now, Barker. You're the only person except the Chief here, +and myself, who knows that Mrs. Lawrence is connected with the case. I +want her name kept out of it. Of course that makes it impossible to +arrest you for blackmail--and so, if you tell me the entire truth, I'm +going to _let_ you go free. But if I ever hear of her name in connection +with this case I'll know that you have leaked--and I'll get you if it +takes me ten years. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir, I do--thankin' you, sir. I know which side my bread is +buttered on." + +"Good. Now I'm telling you that Mrs. Lawrence did _not_ shoot Warren. +Who did?" + +"I don't know--" Suddenly his expression changed. "If it wasn't her, Mr. +Carroll--it must have been Mr. Gresham." + +"Aa-a-ah! What makes you think that?" + +Barker's eyes narrowed. "You give me your word of honor, Mr. Carroll, I +ain't goin' to be pinched for blackmail?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, it was this way, sir. Bein' Mr. Warren's valet I knew he was +plannin' to run off with Mrs. Lawrence. I knew that was going to raise an +awful row in town--and I knew that Mr. Gresham would do a heap to keep +his sister from bein' unhappy as she was going to be if Mr. Warren done +as he was plannin'. So I called up Mr. Gresham that night and told him +everything but the woman's name. My idea was that he'd bust up the +elopement. I went to the station to make sure that Mrs. Lawrence got +there--knowin' that once she' was there, if young Mr. Gresham busted +things up, I'd be able to blackmail Mrs. Lawrence--her bein' a rich +woman. I'm comin' clean with you, Mr. Carroll--" + +"Go ahead!" + +"I never seen Mr. Gresham at all at the station. And when I seen Mrs. +Lawrence get into the taxi and found out the next morning that Mr. +Warren's body was found there--of course I couldn't help thinkin' like I +did, could I?" + +"I suppose not. You're a skunk, Barker--and I hate to let you go. But if +the Chief is willing I'm going to do it--because your hide isn't worth +Mrs. Lawrence's good name. Now get out!" + +"I'm free?" questioned the man eagerly. + +"How about it, Leverage?" + +"Sure," growled Leverage. "You're the boss, David." + +Immediately as Barker left the room Carroll turned to the telephone and +called a number. + +"Who's that?" questioned Leverage. + +"Mrs. Lawrence," answered Carroll. "I want to tell her that she is safe." + +Leverage smiled broadly. And as he watched Carroll's eager face he saw an +expression of consternation cross it. Carroll covered the transmitter +with his hand-- + +"Good Lord!" he groaned, "it's Evelyn Rogers!" + +Leverage chuckled--then listened shamelessly to Carroll's end of the +conversation-- + +"Yes--yes, this is David Carroll--I'm glad you think it was sweet of me +to telephone--I want to speak to your sister--She isn't there?--Well, ask +her to telephone me at headquarters as soon as she comes in, will +you?--Uh-huh!--the Warren case has ended--and that's what I wanted to +tell her--I only did my best--Yes--Oh! say--" + +The receiver clicked on the hook. Carroll was grinning as he turned back +to his friend-- + +"Guess what that young thing said when I told her I had solved the +Warren case?" + +"Tell me, David--I'm a poor guesser." + +"She said," returned Carroll gravely--"that I am just the cutest man she +has ever known!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDNIGHT*** + + +******* This file should be named 11043.txt or 11043.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/4/11043 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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