diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:47 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:47 -0700 |
| commit | 416a1d1af0612814bc1e4b456d2f0cb7b47c227d (patch) | |
| tree | 86f7da12c2d736525812b3bcd3702da71797e4d7 /5073-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '5073-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 5073-h/5073-h.htm | 17930 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5073-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 267951 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5073-h/images/img01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 339451 bytes |
3 files changed, 17930 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/5073-h/5073-h.htm b/5073-h/5073-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49c26d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/5073-h/5073-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17930 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The War Terror, by Arthur B. Reeve</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The War Terror, by Arthur B. Reeve</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The War Terror</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Arthur B. Reeve</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 1, 2004 [eBook #5073]<br /> +[Most recently updated: October 2, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAR TERROR ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h4>THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES</h4> + +<h1>The War Terror</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Arthur B. Reeve</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap00">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. THE WAR TERROR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. THE ELECTRO-MAGNETIC GUN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. THE MURDER SYNDICATE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. THE AIR PIRATE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. THE ULTRA-VIOLET RAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. THE TRIPLE MIRROR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. THE WIRELESS WIRETAPPERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. THE HOUSEBOAT MYSTERY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. THE RADIO DETECTIVE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. THE CURIO SHOP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. THE “PILLAR OF DEATH”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. THE ARROW POISON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. THE RADIUM ROBBER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. THE SPINTHARISCOPE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. THE ASPHYXIATING SAFE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. THE DEAD LINE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. THE PASTE REPLICA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. THE BURGLAR’S MICROPHONE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. THE GERM LETTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. THE ARTIFICIAL KIDNEY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. THE POISON BRACELET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. THE DEVIL WORSHIPERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. THE PSYCHIC CURSE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. THE SERPENT’S TOOTH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. THE “HAPPY DUST”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. THE BINET TEST</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. THE LIE DETECTOR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII. THE FAMILY SKELETON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX. THE LEAD POISONER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX. THE ELECTROLYTIC MURDER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XXXI. THE EUGENIC BRIDE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XXXII. THE GERM PLASM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SEX CONTROL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">CHAPTER XXXIV. THE BILLIONAIRE BABY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">CHAPTER XXXV. THE PSYCHANALYSIS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">CHAPTER XXXVI. THE ENDS OF JUSTICE</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap00"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +As I look back now on the sensational events of the past months since the great +European War began, it seems to me as if there had never been a period in Craig +Kennedy’s life more replete with thrilling adventures than this. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, scarcely had one mysterious event been straightened out from the +tangled skein, when another, even more baffling, crowded on its very heels. +</p> + +<p> +As was to have been expected with us in America, not all of these remarkable +experiences grew either directly or indirectly out of the war, but there were +several that did, and they proved to be only the beginning of a succession of +events which kept me busy chronicling for the <i>Star</i> the exploits of my +capable and versatile friend. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether, this period of the war was, I am sure, quite the most exciting of +the many series of episodes through which Craig has been called upon to go. Yet +he seemed to meet each situation as it arose with a fresh mind, which was +amazing even to me who have known him so long and so intimately. +</p> + +<p> +As was naturally to be supposed, also, at such a time, it was not long before +Craig found himself entangled in the marvelous spy system of the warring +European nations. These systems revealed their devious and dark ways, ramifying +as they did tentacle-like even across the ocean in their efforts to gain their +ends in neutral America. Not only so, but, as I shall some day endeavor to show +later, when the ban of silence imposed by neutrality is raised after the war, +many of the horrors of the war were brought home intimately to us. +</p> + +<p> +I have, after mature consideration, decided that even at present nothing but +good can come from the publication at least of some part of the strange series +of adventures through which Kennedy and I have just gone, especially those +which might, if we had not succeeded, have caused most important changes in +current history. As for the other adventures, no question can be raised about +the propriety of their publication. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, it came about that early in August, when the war cloud was just +beginning to loom blackest, Kennedy was unexpectedly called into one of the +strangest, most dangerous situations in which his peculiar and perilous +profession had ever involved him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +THE WAR TERROR</h2> + +<p> +“I must see Professor Kennedy—where is he?—I must see him, for God’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +I was almost carried off my feet by the inrush of a wild-eyed girl, seemingly +half crazed with excitement, as she cried out Craig’s name. +</p> + +<p> +Startled by my own involuntary exclamation of surprise which followed the +vision that shot past me as I opened our door in response to a sudden, sharp +series of pushes at the buzzer, Kennedy bounded swiftly toward me, and the girl +almost flung herself upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Miss—er—Miss—my dear young lady—what’s the matter?” he stammered, +catching her by the arm gently. +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy forced our strange visitor into a chair, I observed that she was all +a-tremble. Her teeth fairly chattered. Alternately her nervous, peaceless hands +clutched at an imaginary something in the air, as if for support, then, finding +none, she would let her wrists fall supine, while she gazed about with +quivering lips and wild, restless eyes. Plainly, there was something she +feared. She was almost over the verge of hysteria. +</p> + +<p> +She was a striking girl, of medium height and slender form, but it was her face +that fascinated me, with its delicately molded features, intense unfathomable +eyes of dark brown, and lips that showed her idealistic, high-strung +temperament. +</p> + +<p> +“Please,” he soothed, “get yourself together, please—try! What is the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked about, as if she feared that the very walls had eyes and ears. Yet +there seemed to be something bursting from her lips that she could not +restrain. +</p> + +<p> +“My life,” she cried wildly, “my life is at stake. Oh—help me, help me! Unless +I commit a murder to-night, I shall be killed myself!” +</p> + +<p> +The words sounded so doubly strange from a girl of her evident refinement that +I watched her narrowly, not sure yet but that we had a plain case of insanity +to deal with. +</p> + +<p> +“A murder?” repeated Kennedy incredulously. “<i>You</i> commit a murder?” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes rested on him, as if fascinated, but she did not flinch as she replied +desperately, “Yes—Baron Kreiger—you know, the German diplomat and financier, +who is in America raising money and arousing sympathy with his country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Baron Kreiger!” exclaimed Kennedy in surprise, looking at her more keenly. +</p> + +<p> +We had not met the Baron, but we had heard much about him, young, handsome, of +an old family, trusted already in spite of his youth by many of the more +advanced of old world financial and political leaders, one who had made a most +favorable impression on democratic America at a time when such impressions were +valuable. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing from one of us to the other, she seemed suddenly, with a great effort, +to recollect herself, for she reached into her chatelaine and pulled out a card +from a case. +</p> + +<p> +It read simply, “Miss Paula Lowe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied, more calmly now to Kennedy’s repetition of the Baron’s +name, “you see, I belong to a secret group.” She appeared to hesitate, then +suddenly added, “I am an anarchist.” +</p> + +<p> +She watched the effect of her confession and, finding the look on Kennedy’s +face encouraging rather than shocked, went on breathlessly: “We are fighting +war with war—this iron-bound organization of men and women. We have pledged +ourselves to exterminate all kings, emperors and rulers, ministers of war, +generals—but first of all the financiers who lend money that makes war +possible.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, her eyes gleaming momentarily with something like the militant +enthusiasm that must have enlisted her in the paradoxical war against war. +</p> + +<p> +“We are at least going to make another war impossible!” she exclaimed, for the +moment evidently forgetting herself. +</p> + +<p> +“And your plan?” prompted Kennedy, in the most matter-of-fact manner, as though +he were discussing an ordinary campaign for social betterment. “How were you +to—reach the Baron?” +</p> + +<p> +“We had a drawing,” she answered with amazing calmness, as if the mere telling +relieved her pent-up feelings. “Another woman and I were chosen. We knew the +Baron’s weakness for a pretty face. We planned to become acquainted with +him—lure him on.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice trailed off, as if, the first burst of confidence over, she felt +something that would lock her secret tighter in her breast. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later she resumed, now talking rapidly, disconnectedly, giving Kennedy +no chance to interrupt or guide the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know, Professor Kennedy,” she began again, “but there are similar +groups to ours in European countries and the plan is to strike terror and +consternation everywhere in the world at once. Why, at our headquarters there +have been drawn up plans and agreements with other groups and there are set +down the time, place, and manner of all the—the removals.” +</p> + +<p> +Momentarily she seemed to be carried away by something like the fanaticism of +the fervor which had at first captured her, even still held her as she recited +her incredible story. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, can’t you understand?” she went on, as if to justify herself. “The +increase in armies, the frightful implements of slaughter, the total failure of +the peace propaganda—they have all defied civilization! +</p> + +<p> +“And then, too, the old, red-blooded emotions of battle have all been +eliminated by the mechanical conditions of modern warfare in which men and +women are just so many units, automata. Don’t you see? To fight war with its +own weapons—that has become the only last resort.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eager, flushed face betrayed the enthusiasm which had once carried her into +the “Group,” as she called it. I wondered what had brought her now to us. +</p> + +<p> +“We are no longer making war against man,” she cried. “We are making war +against picric acid and electric wires!” +</p> + +<p> +I confess that I could not help thinking that there was no doubt that to a +certain type of mind the reasoning might appeal most strongly. +</p> + +<p> +“And you would do it in war time, too?” asked Kennedy quickly. +</p> + +<p> +She was ready with an answer. “King George of Greece was killed at the head of +his troops. Remember Nazim Pasha, too. Such people are easily reached in time +of peace and in time of war, also, by sympathizers on their own side. That’s +it, you see—we have followers of all nationalities.” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, her burst of enthusiasm spent. A moment later she leaned forward, +her clean-cut profile showing her more earnest than before. “But, oh, Professor +Kennedy,” she added, “it is working itself out to be more terrible than war +itself!” +</p> + +<p> +“Have any of the plans been carried out yet?” asked Craig, I thought a little +superciliously, for there had certainly been no such wholesale assassination +yet as she had hinted at. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to catch her breath. “Yes,” she murmured, then checked herself as if +in fear of saying too much. “That is, I—I think so.” +</p> + +<p> +I wondered if she were concealing something, perhaps had already had a hand in +some such enterprise and it had frightened her. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy leaned forward, observing the girl’s discomfiture. “Miss Lowe,” he +said, catching her eye and holding it almost hypnotically, “why have you come +to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +The question, pointblank, seemed to startle her. Evidently she had thought to +tell only as little as necessary, and in her own way. She gave a little nervous +laugh, as if to pass it off. But Kennedy’s eyes conquered. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, can’t you understand yet?” she exclaimed, rising passionately and throwing +out her arms in appeal. “I was carried away with my hatred of war. I hate it +yet. But now—the sudden realization of what this compact all means has—well, +caused something in me to—to snap. I don’t care what oath I have taken. Oh, +Professor Kennedy, you—you must save him!” +</p> + +<p> +I looked up at her quickly. What did she mean? At first she had come to be +saved herself. “You must save him!” she implored. +</p> + +<p> +Our door buzzer sounded. +</p> + +<p> +She gazed about with a hunted look, as if she felt that some one had even now +pursued her and found out. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do?” she whispered. “Where shall I go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quick—in here. No one will know,” urged Kennedy, opening the door to his room. +He paused for an instant, hurriedly. “Tell me—have you and this other woman met +the Baron yet? How far has it gone?” +</p> + +<p> +The look she gave him was peculiar. I could not fathom what was going on in her +mind. But there was no hesitation about her answer. “Yes,” she replied, “I—we +have met him. He is to come back to New York from Washington to-day—this +afternoon—to arrange a private loan of five million dollars with some bankers +secretly. We were to see him to-night—a quiet dinner, after an automobile ride +up the Hudson—” +</p> + +<p> +“Both of you?” interrupted Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—that—that other woman and myself,” she repeated, with a peculiar catch in +her voice. “To-night was the time fixed in the drawing for the—” +</p> + +<p> +The word stuck in her throat. Kennedy understood. “Yes, yes,” he encouraged, +“but who is the other woman?” +</p> + +<p> +Before she could reply, the buzzer had sounded again and she had retreated from +the door. Quickly Kennedy closed it and opened the outside door. +</p> + +<p> +It was our old friend Burke of the Secret Service. +</p> + +<p> +Without a word of greeting, a hasty glance seemed to assure him that Kennedy +and I were alone. He closed the door himself, and, instead of sitting down, +came close to Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Kennedy,” he blurted out in a tone of suppressed excitement, “can I trust you +to keep a big secret?” +</p> + +<p> +Craig looked at him reproachfully, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon—a thousand times,” hastened Burke. “I was so excited, I +wasn’t thinking—” +</p> + +<p> +“Once is enough, Burke,” laughed Kennedy, his good nature restored at Burke’s +crestfallen appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see,” went on the Secret Service man, “this thing is so very +important that—well, I forgot.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down and hitched his chair close to us, as he went on in a lowered, +almost awestruck tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Kennedy,” he whispered, “I’m on the trail, I think, of something growing out +of these terrible conditions in Europe that will tax the best in the Secret +Service. Think of it, man. There’s an organization, right here in this city, a +sort of assassin’s club, as it were, aimed at all the powerful men the world +over. Why, the most refined and intellectual reformers have joined with the +most red-handed anarchists and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Sh! not so loud,” cautioned Craig. “I think I have one of them in the next +room. Have they done anything yet to the Baron?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Burke’s turn now to look from one to the other of us in unfeigned +surprise that we should already know something of his secret. +</p> + +<p> +“The Baron?” he repeated, lowering his voice. “What Baron?” +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that Burke knew nothing, at least of this new plot which Miss +Lowe had indicated. Kennedy beckoned him over to the window furthest from the +door to his own room. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you discovered?” he asked, forestalling Burke in the questioning. +“What has happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t heard, then?” replied Burke. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded negatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Fortescue, the American inventor of fortescite, the new explosive, died very +strangely this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” encouraged Kennedy, as Burke came to a full stop to observe the effect +of the information. +</p> + +<p> +“Most incomprehensible, too,” he pursued. “No cause, apparently. But it might +have been overlooked, perhaps, except for one thing. It wasn’t known generally, +but Fortescue had just perfected a successful electro-magnetic gun—powderless, +smokeless, flashless, noiseless and of tremendous power. To-morrow he was to +have signed the contract to sell it to England. This morning he is found dead +and the final plans of the gun are gone!” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy and Burke were standing mutely looking at each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is in the next room?” whispered Burke hoarsely, recollecting Kennedy’s +caution of silence. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not reply immediately. He was evidently much excited by Burke’s +news of the wonderful electro-magnetic gun. +</p> + +<p> +“Burke,” he exclaimed suddenly, “let’s join forces. I think we are both on the +trail of a world-wide conspiracy—a sort of murder syndicate to wipe out war!” +</p> + +<p> +Burke’s only reply was a low whistle that involuntarily escaped him as he +reached over and grasped Craig’s hand, which to him represented the sealing of +the compact. +</p> + +<p> +As for me, I could not restrain a mental shudder at the power that their first +murder had evidently placed in the hands of the anarchists, if they indeed had +the electro-magnetic gun which inventors had been seeking for generations. What +might they not do with it—perhaps even use it themselves and turn the latest +invention against society itself! +</p> + +<p> +Hastily Craig gave a whispered account of our strange visit from Miss Lowe, +while Burke listened, open-mouthed. +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely finished when he reached for the telephone and asked for long +distance. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the German embassy in Washington?” asked Craig a few moments later +when he got his number. “This is Craig Kennedy, in New York. The United States +Secret Service will vouch for me—mention to them Mr. Burke of their New York +office who is here with me now. I understand that Baron Kreiger is leaving for +New York to meet some bankers this afternoon. He must not do so. He is in the +gravest danger if he—What? He left last night at midnight and is already here?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy turned to us blankly. +</p> + +<p> +The door to his room opened suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +There stood Miss Lowe, gazing wild-eyed at us. Evidently her supernervous +condition had heightened the keenness of her senses. She had heard what we were +saying. I tried to read her face. It was not fear that I saw there. It was +rage; it was jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“The traitress—it is Marie!” she shrieked. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment, obtusely, I did not understand. +</p> + +<p> +“She has made a secret appointment with him,” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +At last I saw the truth. Paula Lowe had fallen in love with the man she had +sworn to kill! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +THE ELECTRO-MAGNETIC GUN</h2> + +<p> +“What shall we do?” demanded Burke, instantly taking in the dangerous situation +that the Baron’s sudden change of plans had opened up. +</p> + +<p> +“Call O’Connor,” I suggested, thinking of the police bureau of missing persons, +and reaching for the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” almost shouted Craig, seizing my arm. “The police will inevitably +spoil it all. No, we must play a lone hand in this if we are to work it out. +How was Fortescue discovered, Burke?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sitting in a chair in his laboratory. He must have been there all night. There +wasn’t a mark on him, not a sign of violence, yet his face was terribly drawn +as though he were gasping for breath or his heart had suddenly failed him. So +far, I believe, the coroner has no clue and isn’t advertising the case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take me there, then,” decided Craig quickly. “Walter, I must trust Miss Lowe +to you on the journey. We must all go. That must be our starting point, if we +are to run this thing down.” +</p> + +<p> +I caught his significant look to me and interpreted it to mean that he wanted +me to watch Miss Lowe especially. I gathered that taking her was in the nature +of a third degree and as a result he expected to derive some information from +her. Her face was pale and drawn as we four piled into a taxicab for a quick +run downtown to the laboratory of Fortescue from which Burke had come directly +to us with his story. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know of these anarchists?” asked Kennedy of Burke as we sped +along. “Why do you suspect them?” +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that he was discussing the case so that Paula could overhear, +for a purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, we received a tip from abroad—I won’t say where,” replied Burke +guardedly, taking his cue. “They call themselves the ‘Group,’ I believe, which +is a common enough term among anarchists. It seems they are composed of +terrorists of all nations.” +</p> + +<p> +“The leader?” inquired Kennedy, leading him on. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one, I believe, a little florid, stout German. I think he is a +paranoiac who believes there has fallen on himself a divine mission to end all +warfare. Quite likely he is one of those who have fled to America to avoid +military service. Perhaps, why certainly, you must know him—Annenberg, an +instructor in economics now at the University?” +</p> + +<p> +Craig nodded and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. We had indeed heard of +Annenberg and some of his radical theories which had sometimes quite alarmed +the conservative faculty. I felt that this was getting pretty close home to us +now. +</p> + +<p> +“How about Mrs. Annenberg?” Craig asked, recalling the clever young wife of the +middle-aged professor. +</p> + +<p> +At the mere mention of the name, I felt a sort of start in Miss Lowe, who was +seated next to me in the taxicab. She had quickly recovered herself, but not +before I saw that Kennedy’s plan of breaking down the last barrier of her +reserve was working. +</p> + +<p> +“She is one of them, too,” Burke nodded. “I have had my men out shadowing them +and their friends. They tell me that the Annenbergs hold salons—I suppose you +would call them that—attended by numbers of men and women of high social and +intellectual position who dabble in radicalism and all sorts of things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are the other leaders?” asked Craig. “Have you any idea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some idea,” returned Burke. “There seems to be a Frenchman, a tall, wiry man +of forty-five or fifty with a black mustache which once had a military twist. +There are a couple of Englishmen. Then there are five or six Americans who seem +to be active. One, I believe, is a young woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy checked him with a covert glance, but did not betray by a movement of a +muscle to Miss Lowe that either Burke or himself suspected her of being the +young woman in question. +</p> + +<p> +“There are three Russians,” continued Burke, “all of whom have escaped from +Siberia. Then there is at least one Austrian, a Spaniard from the Ferrer +school, and Tomasso and Enrico, two Italians, rather heavily built, swarthy, +bearded. They look the part. Of course there are others. But these in the main, +I think, compose what might be called ‘the inner circle’ of the ‘Group.’” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed an alarming, terrifying revelation, as we began to realize that +Miss Lowe had undoubtedly been telling the truth. Not alone was there this +American group, evidently, but all over Europe the lines of the conspiracy had +apparently spread. It was not a casual gathering of ordinary malcontents. It +went deeper than that. It included many who in their disgust at war secretly +were not unwilling to wink at violence to end the curse. I could not but +reflect on the dangerous ground on which most of them were treading, shaking +the basis of all civilization in order to cut out one modern excrescence. +</p> + +<p> +The big fact to us, just at present, was that this group had made America its +headquarters, that plans had been studiously matured and even reduced to +writing, if Paula were to be believed. Everything had been carefully staged for +a great simultaneous blow or series of blows that would rouse the whole world. +</p> + +<p> +As I watched I could not escape observing that Miss Lowe followed Burke +furtively now, as though he had some uncanny power. +</p> + +<p> +Fortescue’s laboratory was in an old building on a side street several blocks +from the main thoroughfares of Manhattan. He had evidently chosen it, partly +because of its very inaccessibility in order to secure the quiet necessary for +his work. +</p> + +<p> +“If he had any visitors last night,” commented Kennedy when our cab at last +pulled up before the place, “they might have come and gone unnoticed.” +</p> + +<p> +We entered. Nothing had been disturbed in the laboratory by the coroner and +Kennedy was able to gain a complete idea of the case rapidly, almost as well as +if we had been called in immediately. +</p> + +<p> +Fortescue’s body, it seemed, had been discovered sprawled out in a big +armchair, as Burke had said, by one of his assistants only a few hours before +when he had come to the laboratory in the morning to open it. Evidently he had +been there undisturbed all night, keeping a gruesome vigil over his looted +treasure house. +</p> + +<p> +As we gleaned the meager facts, it became more evident that whoever had +perpetrated the crime must have had the diabolical cunning to do it in some +ordinary way that aroused no suspicion on the part of the victim, for there was +no sign of any violence anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +As we entered the laboratory, I noted an involuntary shudder on the part of +Paula Lowe, but, as far as I knew, it was no more than might have been felt by +anyone under the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Fortescue’s body had been removed from the chair in which it had been found and +lay on a couch at the other end of the room, covered merely by a sheet. +Otherwise, everything, even the armchair, was undisturbed. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy pulled back a corner of the sheet, disclosing the face, contorted and +of a peculiar, purplish hue from the congested blood vessels. He bent over and +I did so, too. There was an unmistakable odor of tobacco on him. A moment +Kennedy studied the face before us, then slowly replaced the sheet. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lowe had paused just inside the door and seemed resolutely bound not to +look at anything. Kennedy meanwhile had begun a most minute search of the table +and floor of the laboratory near the spot where the armchair had been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +In my effort to glean what I could from her actions and expressions I did not +notice that Craig had dropped to his knees and was peering into the shadow +under the laboratory table. When at last he rose and straightened himself up, +however, I saw that he was holding in the palm of his hand a half-smoked, +gold-tipped cigarette, which had evidently fallen on the floor beneath the +table where it had burned itself out, leaving a blackened mark on the wood. +</p> + +<p> +An instant afterward he picked out from the pile of articles found in +Fortescue’s pockets and lying on another table a silver cigarette case. He +snapped it open. Fortescue’s cigarettes, of which there were perhaps a half +dozen in the case, were cork-tipped. +</p> + +<p> +Some one had evidently visited the inventor the night before, had apparently +offered him a cigarette, for there were any number of the cork-tipped stubs +lying about. Who was it? I caught Paula looking with fascinated gaze at the +gold-tipped stub, as Kennedy carefully folded it up in a piece of paper and +deposited it in his pocket. Did she know something about the case, I wondered? +</p> + +<p> +Without a word, Kennedy seemed to take in the scant furniture of the laboratory +at a glance and a quick step or two brought him before a steel filing cabinet. +One drawer, which had not been closed as tightly as the rest, projected a bit. +On its face was a little typewritten card bearing the inscription: “E-M GUN.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled the drawer open and glanced over the data in it. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what is an electro-magnetic gun?” I asked, interpreting the initials on +the drawer. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he explained as he turned over the notes and sketches, “the primary +principle involved in the construction of such a gun consists in impelling the +projectile by the magnetic action of a solenoid, the sectional coils or helices +of which are supplied with current through devices actuated by the projectile +itself. In other words, the sections of helices of the solenoid produce an +accelerated motion of the projectile by acting successively on it, after a +principle involved in the construction of electro-magnetic rock drills and +dispatch tubes. +</p> + +<p> +“All projectiles used in this gun of Fortescue’s evidently must have magnetic +properties and projectiles of iron or containing large portions of iron are +necessary. You see, many coils are wound around the barrel of the gun. As the +projectile starts it does so under the attraction of those coils ahead which +the current makes temporary magnets. It automatically cuts off the current from +those coils that it passes, allowing those further on only to attract it, and +preventing those behind from pulling it back.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused to study the scraps of plans. “Fortescue had evidently also worked +out a way of changing the poles of the coils as the projectile passed, causing +them then to repel the projectile, which must have added to its velocity. He +seems to have overcome the practical difficulty that in order to obtain service +velocities with service projectiles an enormous number of windings and a +tremendously long barrel are necessary as well as an abnormally heavy current +beyond the safe carrying capacity of the solenoid which would raise the +temperature to a point that would destroy the coils.” +</p> + +<p> +He continued turning over the prints and notes in the drawer. When he finished, +he looked up at us with an expression that indicated that he had merely +satisfied himself of something he had already suspected. +</p> + +<p> +“You were right, Burke,” he said. “The final plans are gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Burke, who, in the meantime, had been telephoning about the city in a vain +effort to locate Baron Kreiger, both at such banking offices in Wall Street as +he might be likely to visit and at some of the hotels most frequented by +foreigners, merely nodded. He was evidently at a loss completely how to +proceed. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, there seemed to be innumerable problems—to warn Baron Kreiger, to get +the list of the assassinations, to guard Miss Lowe against falling into the +hands of her anarchist friends again, to find the murderer of Fortescue, to +prevent the use of the electro-magnetic gun, and, if possible, to seize the +anarchists before they had a chance to carry further their plans. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing more that we can do here,” remarked Craig briskly, betraying +no sign of hesitation. “I think the best thing we can do is to go to my own +laboratory. There at least there is something I must investigate sooner or +later.” +</p> + +<p> +No one offering either a suggestion or an objection, we four again entered our +cab. It was quite noticeable now that the visit had shaken Paula Lowe, but +Kennedy still studiously refrained from questioning her, trusting that what she +had seen and heard, especially Burke’s report as to Baron Kreiger, would have +its effect. +</p> + +<p> +Like everyone visiting Craig’s laboratory for the first time, Miss Lowe seemed +to feel the spell of the innumerable strange and uncanny instruments which he +had gathered about him in his scientific warfare against crime. I could see +that she was becoming more and more nervous, perhaps fearing even that in some +incomprehensible way he might read her own thoughts. Yet one thing I did not +detect. She showed no disposition to turn back on the course on which she had +entered by coming to us in the first place. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was quickly and deftly testing the stub of the little thin, gold-tipped +cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Excessive smoking,” he remarked casually, “causes neuroses of the heart and +tobacco has a specific affinity for the coronary arteries as well as a +tremendous effect on the vagus nerve. But I don’t think this was any ordinary +smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +He had finished his tests and a quiet smile of satisfaction flitted momentarily +over his face. We had been watching him anxiously, wondering what he had found. +</p> + +<p> +As he looked up he remarked to us, with his eyes fixed on Miss Lowe, “That was +a ladies’ cigarette. Did you notice the size? There has been a woman in this +case—presumably.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl, suddenly transformed by the rapid-fire succession of discoveries, +stood before us like a specter. +</p> + +<p> +“The ‘Group,’ as anarchists call it,” pursued Craig, “is the loosest sort of +organization conceivable, I believe, with no set membership, no officers, no +laws—just a place of meeting with no fixity, where the comrades get together. +Could you get us into the inner circle, Miss Lowe?” +</p> + +<p> +Her only answer was a little suppressed scream. Kennedy had asked the question +merely for its effect, for it was only too evident that there was no time, even +if she could have managed it, for us to play the “stool pigeon.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy, who had been clearing up the materials he had used in the analysis of +the cigarette, wheeled about suddenly. “Where is the headquarters of the inner +circle?” he shot out. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lowe hesitated. That had evidently been one of the things she had +determined not to divulge. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” insisted Kennedy. “You must!” +</p> + +<p> +If it had been Burke’s bulldozing she would never have yielded. But as she +looked into Kennedy’s eyes she read there that he had long since fathomed the +secret of her wildly beating heart, that if she would accomplish the purpose of +saving the Baron she must stop at nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“At—Maplehurst,” she answered in a low tone, dropping her eyes from his +penetrating gaze, “Professor Annenberg’s home—out on Long Island.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must act swiftly if we are to succeed,” considered Kennedy, his tone +betraying rather sympathy with than triumph over the wretched girl who had at +last cast everything in the balance to outweigh the terrible situation into +which she had been drawn. “To send Miss Lowe for that fatal list of +assassinations is to send her either back into the power of this murderous +group and let them know that she has told us, or perhaps to involve her again +in the completion of their plans.” +</p> + +<p> +She sank back into a chair in complete nervous and physical collapse, covering +her face with her hands at the realization that in her new-found passion to +save the Baron she had bared her sensitive soul for the dissection of three men +whom she had never seen before. +</p> + +<p> +“We must have that list,” pursued Kennedy decisively. “We must visit +Annenberg’s headquarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” she asked, trembling now with genuine fear at the thought that he +might ask her to accompany us as he had on our visit to Fortescue’s laboratory +that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Lowe,” said Kennedy, bending over her, “you have gone too far now ever to +turn back. You are not equal to the trip. Would you like to remain here? No one +will suspect. Here at least you will be safe until we return.” +</p> + +<p> +Her answer was a mute expression of thanks and confidence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +THE MURDER SYNDICATE</h2> + +<p> +Quickly now Craig completed his arrangements for the visit to the headquarters +of the real anarchist leader. Burke telephoned for a high-powered car, while +Miss Lowe told frankly of the habits of Annenberg and the chances of finding +his place unguarded, which were good in the daytime. Kennedy’s only equipment +for the excursion consisted in a small package which he took from a cabinet at +the end of the room, and, with a parting reassurance to Paula Lowe, we were +soon speeding over the bridge to the borough across the river. +</p> + +<p> +We realized that it might prove a desperate undertaking, but the crisis was +such that it called for any risk. +</p> + +<p> +Our quest took us to a rather dilapidated old house on the outskirts of the +little Long Island town. The house stood alone, not far from the tracks of a +trolley that ran at infrequent intervals. Even a hasty reconnoitering showed +that to stop our motor at even a reasonable distance from it was in itself to +arouse suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +Although the house seemed deserted, Craig took no chances, but directed the car +to turn at the next crossroad and then run back along a road back of and +parallel to that on which Annenberg’s was situated. It was perhaps a quarter of +a mile away, across an open field, that we stopped and ran the car up along the +side of the road in some bushes. Annenberg’s was plainly visible and it was not +at all likely that anyone there would suspect trouble from that quarter. +</p> + +<p> +A hasty conference with Burke followed, in which Kennedy unwrapped his small +package, leaving part of its contents with him, and adding careful +instructions. +</p> + +<p> +Then Kennedy and I retraced our steps down the road, across by the crossroad, +and at last back to the mysterious house. +</p> + +<p> +To all appearance there had been no need of such excessive caution. Not a sound +or motion greeted us as we entered the gate and made our way around to the rear +of the house. The very isolation of the house was now our protection, for we +had no inquisitive neighbors to watch us for the instant when Kennedy, with the +dexterity of a yeggman, inserted his knife between the sashes of the kitchen +window and turned the catch which admitted us. +</p> + +<p> +We made our way on cautious tiptoe through a dining room to a living room, and, +finding nothing, proceeded upstairs. There was not a soul, apparently, in the +house, nor in fact anything to indicate that it was different from most small +suburban homes, until at last we mounted to the attic. +</p> + +<p> +It was finished off in one large room across the back of the house and two in +front. As we opened the door to the larger room, we could only gaze about in +surprise. This was the rendezvous, the arsenal, literary, explosive and +toxicological of the “Group.” Ranged on a table were all the materials for +bomb-making, while in a cabinet I fancied there were poisons enough to decimate +a city. +</p> + +<p> +On the walls were pictures, mostly newspaper prints, of the assassins of +McKinley, of King Humbert, of the King of Greece, of King Carlos and others, +interspersed with portraits of anarchist and anti-militarist leaders of all +lands. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy sniffed. Over all I, too, could catch the faint odor of stale tobacco. +No time was to be lost, however, and while Craig set to work rapidly going +through the contents of a desk in the corner, I glanced over the contents of a +drawer of a heavy mission table. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s some of Annenberg’s literature,” I remarked, coming across a small pile +of manuscript, entitled “The Human Slaughter House.” +</p> + +<p> +“Read it,” panted Kennedy, seeing that I had about completed my part of the +job. “It may give a clue.” +</p> + +<p> +Hastily I scanned the mad, frantic indictment of war, while Craig continued in +his search: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“I see wild beasts all around me, distorted unnaturally, in a life and death +struggle, with bloodshot eyes, with foaming, gnashing mouths. They attack and +kill one another and try to mangle each other. I leap to my feet. I race out +into the night and tread on quaking flesh, step on hard heads, and stumble over +weapons and helmets. Something is clutching at my feet like hands, so that I +race away like a hunted deer with the hounds at his heels—and ever over more +bodies—breathless… out of one field into another. Horror is crooning over my +head. Horror is crooning beneath my feet. And nothing but dying, mangled flesh! +</p> + +<p> +“Of a sudden I see nothing but blood before me. The heavens have opened and the +red blood pours in through the windows. Blood wells up on an altar. The walls +run blood from the ceiling to the floor and… a giant of blood stands before me. +His beard and his hair drip blood. He seats himself on the altar and laughs +from thick lips. The black executioner raises his sword and whirls it above my +head. Another moment and my head will roll down on the floor. Another moment +and the red jet will spurt from my neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Murderers! Murderers! None other than murderers!” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I paused in the reading. “There’s nothing here,” I remarked, glancing over the +curious document for a clue, but finding none. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” remarked Craig contemplatively, “one can at least easily understand how +sensitive and imaginative people who have fallen under the influence of one who +writes in that way can feel justified in killing those responsible for bringing +such horrors on the human race. Hello—what’s this?” +</p> + +<p> +He had discovered a false back of one of the drawers in the desk and had +jimmied it open. On the top of innumerable papers lay a large linen envelope. +On its face it bore in typewriting, just like the card on the drawer at +Fortescue’s, “E-M GUN.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the original envelope that contained the final plans of the +electro-magnetic gun,” he explained, opening it. +</p> + +<p> +The envelope was empty. We looked at each other a moment in silence. What had +been done with the plans? +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a bell rang, startling me beyond measure. It was, however, only the +telephone, of which an extension reached up into the attic-arsenal. Some one, +who did not know that we were there, was evidently calling up. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy quickly unhooked the receiver with a hasty motion to me to be silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello,” I heard him answer. “Yes, this is it.” +</p> + +<p> +He had disguised his voice. I waited anxiously and watched his face to gather +what response he received. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce!” he exclaimed, with his hand over the transmitter so that his voice +would not be heard at the other end of the line. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” I asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Mrs. Annenberg—I am sure. But she was too keen for me. She caught on. +There must be some password or form of expression that they use, which we don’t +know, for she hung up the receiver almost as soon as she heard me.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy waited a minute or so. Then he whistled into the transmitter. It was +done apparently to see whether there was anyone listening. But there was no +answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Operator, operator!” he called insistently, moving the hook up and down. “Yes, +operator. Can you tell me what number that was which just called?” +</p> + +<p> +He waited impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Bleecker—7l80,” he repeated after the girl. “Thank you. Information, please.” +</p> + +<p> +Again we waited, as Craig tried to trace the call up. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the street address of Bleecker, 7180?” he asked. “Five hundred and one +East Fifth—a tenement. Thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“A tenement?” I repeated blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he cried, now for the first time excited. “Don’t you begin to see the +scheme? I’ll wager that Baron Kreiger has been lured to New York to purchase +the electro-magnetic gun which they have stolen from Fortescue and the British. +That is the bait that is held out to him by the woman. Call up Miss Lowe at the +laboratory and see if she knows the place.” +</p> + +<p> +I gave central the number, while he fell to at the little secret drawer of the +desk again. The grinding of the wheels of a passing trolley interfered somewhat +with giving the number and I had to wait a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—Walter—here’s the list!” almost shouted Kennedy, as he broke open a +black-japanned dispatch box in the desk. +</p> + +<p> +I bent over it, as far as the slack of the telephone wire of the receiver at my +ear would permit. Annenberg had worked with amazing care and neatness on the +list, even going so far as to draw at the top, in black, a death’s head. The +rest of it was elaborately prepared in flaming red ink. +</p> + +<p> +Craig gasped to observe the list of world-famous men marked for destruction in +London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, Vienna, St. Petersburg, and even in New York and +Washington. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the date set?” I asked, still with my ear glued to the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“To-night and to-morrow,” he replied, stuffing the fateful sheet into his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Rummaging about in the drawer of the table, I had come to a package of +gold-tipped cigarettes which had interested me and I had left them out. Kennedy +was now looking at them curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“What is to be the method, do you suppose?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“By a poison that is among the most powerful, approaching even cyanogen,” he +replied confidently, tapping the cigarettes. “Do you smell the odor in this +room? What is it like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stale tobacco,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly—nicotine. Two or three drops on the mouth-end of a cigar or cigarette. +The intended victim thinks it is only natural. But it is the purest form of the +deadly alkaloid—fatal in a few minutes, too.” +</p> + +<p> +He examined the thin little cigarettes more carefully. “Nicotine,” he went on, +“was about the first alkaloid that was recovered from the body by chemical +analysis in a homicide case. That is the penetrating, persistent odor you +smelled at Fortescue’s and also here. It’s a very good poison—if you are not +particular about being discovered. A pound of ordinary smoking tobacco contains +from a half to an ounce of it. It is almost entirely consumed by combustion; +otherwise a pipeful would be fatal. Of course they may have thought that +investigators would believe that their victims were inveterate smokers. But +even the worst tobacco fiend wouldn’t show traces of the weed to such an +extent.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lowe answered at last and Kennedy took the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“What is at five hundred and one East Fifth?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A headquarters of the Group in the city,” she answered. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I believe that the plans of that gun are there and that the Baron—” +</p> + +<p> +“You damned spies!” came a voice from behind us. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy dropped the receiver, turning quickly, his automatic gleaming in his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +There was just a glimpse of a man with glittering bright blue eyes that had an +almost fiendish, baleful glare. An instant later the door which had so +unexpectedly opened banged shut, we heard a key turn in the lock—and the man +dropped to the floor before even Kennedy’s automatic could test its ability to +penetrate wood on a chance at hitting something the other side of it. +</p> + +<p> +We were prisoners! +</p> + +<p> +My mind worked automatically. At this very moment, perhaps, Baron Kreiger might +be negotiating for the electro-magnetic gun. We had found out where he was, in +all probability, but we were powerless to help him. I thought of Miss Lowe, and +picked up the receiver which Kennedy had dropped. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer. The wire had been cut. We were isolated! +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had jumped to the window. I followed to restrain him, fearing that he +had some mad scheme for climbing out. Instead, quickly he placed a peculiar +arrangement, from the little package he had brought, holding it to his eye as +if sighting it, his right hand grasping a handle as one holds a stereoscope. A +moment later, as I examined it more closely, I saw that instead of looking at +anything he had before him a small parabolic mirror turned away from him. +</p> + +<p> +His finger pressed alternately on a button on the handle and I could see that +there flashed in the little mirror a minute incandescent lamp which seemed to +have a special filament arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +The glaring sun was streaming in at the window and I wondered what could +possibly be accomplished by the little light in competition with the sun +itself. +</p> + +<p> +“Signaling by electric light in the daytime may sound to you ridiculous,” +explained Craig, still industriously flashing the light, “but this arrangement +with Professor Donath’s signal mirror makes it possible, all right. +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t expected this, but I thought I might want to communicate with Burke +quickly. You see, I sight the lamp and then press the button which causes the +light in the mirror to flash. It seems a paradox that a light like this can be +seen from a distance of even five miles and yet be invisible to one for whom it +was not intended, but it is so. I use the ordinary Morse code—two seconds for a +dot, six for a dash with a four-second interval.” +</p> + +<p> +“What message did you send?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I told him that Baron Kreiger was at five hundred and one East Fifth, +probably; to get the secret service office in New York by wire and have them +raid the place, then to come and rescue us. That was Annenberg. He must have +come up by that trolley we heard passing just before.” +</p> + +<p> +The minutes seemed ages as we waited for Burke to start the machinery of the +raid and then come for us. +</p> + +<p> +“No—you can’t have a cigarette—and if I had a pair of bracelets with me, I’d +search you myself,” we heard a welcome voice growl outside the door a few +minutes later. “Look in that other pocket, Tom.” +</p> + +<p> +The lock grated back and there stood Burke holding in a grip of steel the +undersized Annenberg, while the chauffeur who had driven our car swung open the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d have been up sooner,” apologized Burke, giving the anarchist an extra +twist just to let him know that he was at last in the hands of the law, “only I +figured that this fellow couldn’t have got far away in this God-forsaken +Ducktown and I might as well pick him up while I had a chance. That’s a great +little instrument of yours, Kennedy. I got you, fine.” +</p> + +<p> +Annenberg, seeing we were now four to one, concluded that discretion was the +better part of valor and ceased to struggle, though now and then I could see he +glanced at Kennedy out of the corner of his eye. To every question he +maintained a stolid silence. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later, with the arch anarchist safely pinioned between us, we +were speeding back toward New York, laying plans for Burke to dispatch warnings +abroad to those whose names appeared on the fatal list, and at the same time to +round up as many of the conspirators as possible in America. +</p> + +<p> +As for Kennedy, his main interest now lay in Baron Kreiger and Paula. While she +had been driven frantic by the outcome of the terrible pact into which she had +been drawn, some one, undoubtedly, had been trying to sell Baron Kreiger the +gun that had been stolen from the American inventor. Once they had his money +and he had received the plans of the gun, a fatal cigarette would be smoked. +Could we prevent it? +</p> + +<p> +On we tore back to the city, across the bridge and down through the canyons of +East Side streets. +</p> + +<p> +At last we pulled up before the tenement at five hundred and one. As we did so, +one of Burke’s men jumped out of the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we in time?” shouted Burke. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an awful mix-up,” returned the man. “I can’t make anything out of it, so +I ordered ’em all held here till you came.” +</p> + +<p> +We pushed past without a word of criticism of his wonderful acumen. +</p> + +<p> +On the top floor we came upon a young man, bending over the form of a girl who +had fainted. On the floor of the middle of the room was a mass of charred +papers which had evidently burned a hole in the carpet before they had been +stamped out. Near by was an unlighted cigarette, crushed flat on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“How is she?” asked Kennedy anxiously of the young man, as he dropped down on +the other side of the girl. +</p> + +<p> +It was Paula. She had fainted, but was just now coming out of the borderland of +unconsciousness. +</p> + +<p> +“Was I in time? Had he smoked it?” she moaned weakly, as there swam before her +eyes, evidently, a hazy vision of our faces. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy turned to the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Baron Kreiger, I presume?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +The young man nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Burke of the Secret Service,” introduced Craig, indicating our friend. “My +name is Kennedy. Tell what happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had just concluded a transaction,” returned Kreiger in good but carefully +guarded English. “Suddenly the door burst open. She seized these papers and +dashed a cigarette out of my hands. The next instant she had touched a match to +them and had fallen in a faint almost in the blaze. Strangest experience I ever +had in my life. Then all these other fellows came bursting in—said they were +Secret Service men, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had no time to reply, for a cry from Annenberg directed our attention +to the next room where on a couch lay a figure all huddled up. +</p> + +<p> +As we looked we saw it was a woman, her head sweating profusely, and her hands +cold and clammy. There was a strange twitching of the muscles of the face, the +pupils of her eyes were widely dilated, her pulse weak and irregular. Evidently +her circulation had failed so that it responded only feebly to stimulants, for +her respiration was slow and labored, with loud inspiratory gasps. +</p> + +<p> +Annenberg had burst with superhuman strength from Burke’s grasp and was +kneeling by the side of his wife’s deathbed. +</p> + +<p> +“It—was all Paula’s fault—” gasped the woman. “I—knew I had better—carry it +through—like the Fortescue visit—alone.” +</p> + +<p> +I felt a sense of reassurance at the words. At least my suspicions had been +unfounded. Paula was innocent of the murder of Fortescue. +</p> + +<p> +“Severe, acute nicotine poisoning,” remarked Kennedy, as he rejoined us a +moment later. “There is nothing we can do—now.” +</p> + +<p> +Paula moved at the words, as though they had awakened a new energy in her. With +a supreme effort she raised herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I—I failed?” she cried, catching sight of Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Miss Lowe,” he answered gently. “You won. The plans of the terrible gun +are destroyed. The Baron is safe. Mrs. Annenberg has herself smoked one of the +fatal cigarettes intended for him.” +</p> + +<p> +Kreiger looked at us, uncomprehending. Kennedy picked up the crushed, unlighted +cigarette and laid it in the palm of his hand beside another, half smoked, +which he had found beside Mrs. Annenberg. +</p> + +<p> +“They are deadly,” he said simply to Kreiger. “A few drops of pure nicotine +hidden by that pretty gilt tip would have accomplished all that the bitterest +anarchist could desire.” +</p> + +<p> +All at once Kreiger seemed to realize what he had escaped so narrowly. He +turned toward Paula. The revulsion of her feelings at seeing him safe was too +much for her shattered nerves. +</p> + +<p> +With a faint little cry, she tottered. +</p> + +<p> +Before any of us could reach her, he had caught her in his arms and imprinted a +warm kiss on the insensible lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Some water—quick!” he cried, still holding her close. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +THE AIR PIRATE</h2> + +<p> +Rounding up the “Group” took several days, and it proved to be a great story +for the <i>Star</i>. I was pretty fagged when it was all over, but there was a +great deal of satisfaction in knowing that we had frustrated one of the most +daring anarchist plots of recent years. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you arrange to spend the week-end with me at Stuyvesant Verplanck’s at +Bluffwood?” asked Kennedy over the telephone, the afternoon that I had +completed my work on the newspaper of undoing what Annenberg and the rest had +attempted. +</p> + +<p> +“How long since society took you up?” I asked airily, adding, “Is it a large +house party you are getting up?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have heard of the so-called ‘phantom bandit’ of Bluffwood, haven’t you?” +he returned rather brusquely, as though there was no time now for bantering. +</p> + +<p> +I confess that in the excitement of the anarchists I had forgotten it, but now +I recalled that for several days I had been reading little paragraphs about +robberies on the big estates on the Long Island shore of the Sound. One of the +local correspondents had called the robber a “phantom bandit,” but I had +thought it nothing more than an attempt to make good copy out of a rather +ordinary occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he hurried on, “that’s the reason why I have been ‘taken up by +society,’ as you so elegantly phrase it. From the secret hiding-places of the +boudoirs and safes of fashionable women at Bluffwood, thousands of dollars’ +worth of jewels and other trinkets have mysteriously vanished. Of course you’ll +come along. Why, it will be just the story to tone up that alleged page of +society news you hand out in the Sunday <i>Star</i>. There—we’re quits now. +Seriously, though, Walter, it really seems to be a very baffling case, or +rather series of cases. The whole colony out there is terrorized. They don’t +know who the robber is, or how he operates, or who will be the next victim, but +his skill and success seem almost uncanny. Mr. Verplanck has put one of his +cars at my disposal and I’m up here at the laboratory gathering some apparatus +that may be useful. I’ll pick you up anywhere between this and the Bridge—how +about Columbus Circle in half an hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” I agreed, deciding quickly from his tone and manner of assurance that +it would be a case I could not afford to miss. +</p> + +<p> +The Stuyvesant Verplancks, I knew, were among the leaders of the rather +recherché society at Bluffwood, and the pace at which Bluffwood moved and had +its being was such as to guarantee a good story in one way or another. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” remarked Kennedy, as we sped out over the picturesque roads of the north +shore of Long Island, “this fellow, or fellows, seems to have taken the measure +of all the wealthy members of the exclusive organizations out there—the +Westport Yacht Club, the Bluffwood Country Club, the North Shore Hunt, and all +of them. It’s a positive scandal, the ease with which he seems to come and go +without detection, striking now here, now there, often at places that it seems +physically impossible to get at, and yet always with the same diabolical skill +and success. One night he will take some baubles worth thousands, the next pass +them by for something apparently of no value at all, a piece of bric-à-brac, a +bundle of letters, anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seems purposeless, insane, doesn’t it?” I put in. +</p> + +<p> +“Not when he always takes something—often more valuable than money,” returned +Craig. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned back in the car and surveyed the glimpses of bay and countryside as +we were whisked by the breaks in the trees. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he remarked meditatively, “have you ever considered the possibilities +of blackmail if the right sort of evidence were obtained under this new +‘white-slavery act’? Scandals that some of the fast set may be inclined to wink +at, that at worst used to end in Reno, become felonies with federal prison +sentences looming up in the background. Think it over.” +</p> + +<p> +Stuyvesant Verplanck had telephoned rather hurriedly to Craig earlier in the +day, retaining his services, but telling only in the briefest way of the extent +of the depredations, and hinting that more than jewelry might be at stake. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasant ride, but we finished it in silence. Verplanck was, as I +recalled, a large masterful man, one of those who demanded and liked large +things—such as the estate of several hundred acres which we at last entered. +</p> + +<p> +It was on a neck of land with the restless waters of the Sound on one side and +the calmer waters of the bay on the other. Westport Bay lay in a beautifully +wooded, hilly country, and the house itself was on an elevation, with a huge +sweep of terraced lawn before it down to the water’s edge. All around, for +miles, were other large estates, a veritable colony of wealth. +</p> + +<p> +As we pulled up under the broad stone porte-cochère, Verplanck, who had been +expecting us, led the way into his library, a great room, literally crowded +with curios and objects of art which he had collected on his travels. It was a +superb mental workshop, overlooking the bay, with a stretch of several miles of +sheltered water. +</p> + +<p> +“You will recall,” began Verplanck, wasting no time over preliminaries, but +plunging directly into the subject, “that the prominent robberies of late have +been at seacoast resorts, especially on the shores of Long Island Sound, +within, say, a hundred miles of New York. There has been a great deal of talk +about dark and muffled automobiles that have conveyed mysterious parties +swiftly and silently across country. +</p> + +<p> +“My theory,” he went on self-assertively, “is that the attack has been made +always along water routes. Under shadow of darkness, it is easy to slip into +one of the sheltered coves or miniature fiords with which the north coast of +the Island abounds, land a cut-throat crew primed with exact information of the +treasure on some of these estates. Once the booty is secured, the criminal +could put out again into the Sound without leaving a clue.” +</p> + +<p> +He seemed to be considering his theory. “Perhaps the robberies last summer at +Narragansett, Newport, and a dozen other New England places were perpetrated by +the same cracksman. I believe,” he concluded, lowering his voice, “that there +plies to-day on the wide waters of the Sound a slim, swift motor boat which +wears the air of a pleasure craft, yet is as black a pirate as ever flew the +Jolly Roger. She may at this moment be anchored off some exclusive yacht club, +flying the respectable burgee of the club—who knows?” +</p> + +<p> +He paused as if his deductions settled the case so far. He would have resumed +in the same vein, if the door had not opened. A lady in a cobwebby gown entered +the room. She was of middle age, but had retained her youth with a skill that +her sisters of less leisure always envy. Evidently she had not expected to find +anyone, yet nothing seemed to disconcert her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Verplanck,” her husband introduced, “Professor Kennedy and his associate, +Mr. Jameson—those detectives we have heard about. We were discussing the +robberies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” she said, smiling, “my husband has been thinking of forming himself +into a vigilance committee. The local authorities are all at sea.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought there was a trace of something veiled in the remark and fancied, not +only then but later, that there was an air of constraint between the couple. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not been robbed yourself?” queried Craig tentatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed we have,” exclaimed Verplanck quickly. “The other night I was awakened +by the noise of some one down here in this very library. I fired a shot, wild, +and shouted, but before I could get down here the intruder had fled through a +window, and half rolling down the terraces. Mrs. Verplanck was awakened by the +rumpus and both of us heard a peculiar whirring noise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like an automobile muffled down,” she put in. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he asserted vigorously, “more like a powerful motor boat, one with the +exhaust under water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she shrugged, “at any rate, we saw no one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did the intruder get anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the lucky part. He had just opened this safe apparently and begun to +ransack it. This is my private safe. Mrs. Verplanck has another built into her +own room upstairs where she keeps her jewels.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a very modern safe, is it?” ventured Kennedy. “The fellow ripped off +the outer casing with what they call a ‘can-opener.’” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I keep it against fire rather than burglars. But he overlooked a box of +valuable heirlooms, some silver with the Verplanck arms. I think I must have +scared him off just in time. He seized a package in the safe, but it was only +some business correspondence. I don’t relish having lost it, particularly. It +related to a gentlemen’s agreement a number of us had in the recent cotton +corner. I suppose the Government would like to have it. But—here’s the point. +If it is so easy to get in and get away, no one in Bluffwood is safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, he robbed the Montgomery Carter place the other night,” remarked Mrs. +Verplanck, “and almost got a lot of old Mrs. Carter’s jewels as well as stuff +belonging to her son, Montgomery, Junior. That was the first robbery. Mr. +Carter, that is Junior—Monty, everyone calls him—and his chauffeur almost +captured the fellow, but he managed to escape in the woods.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the woods?” repeated Craig. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Verplanck nodded. “But they saved the loot he was about to take.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no one is safe any more,” reiterated Verplanck. “Carter seems to be the +only one who has had a real chance at him, and he was able to get away neatly.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he’s not the only one who got off without a loss,” she put in +significantly. “The last visit—” Then she paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Where was the last attempt?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“At the house of Mrs. Hollingsworth—around the point on this side of the bay. +You can’t see it from here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to go there,” remarked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. Car or boat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Boat, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we go in my little runabout, the <i>Streamline II</i>? She’s as fast +as any ordinary automobile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good. Then we can get an idea of the harbor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll telephone first that we are coming,” said Verplanck. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ll go, too,” considered Mrs. Verplanck, ringing for a heavy wrap. +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you please,” said Verplanck. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Streamline</i> was a three-stepped boat which. Verplanck had built for +racing, a beautiful craft, managed much like a racing automobile. As she +started from the dock, the purring drone of her eight cylinders sent her +feathering over the waves like a skipping stone. She sank back into the water, +her bow leaping upward, a cloud of spray in her wake, like a waterspout. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hollingsworth was a wealthy divorcée, living rather quietly with her two +children, of whom the courts had awarded her the care. She was a striking +woman, one of those for whom the new styles of dress seem especially to have +been designed. I gathered, however, that she was not on very good terms with +the little Westport clique in which the Verplancks moved, or at least not with +Mrs. Verplanck. The two women seemed to regard each other rather coldly, I +thought, although Mr. Verplanck, man-like, seemed to scorn any distinctions and +was more than cordial. I wondered why Mrs. Verplanck had come. +</p> + +<p> +The Hollingsworth house was a beautiful little place down the bay from the +Yacht Club, but not as far as Verplanck’s, or the Carter estate, which was +opposite. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Mrs. Hollingsworth when the reason for our visit had been +explained, “the attempt was a failure. I happened to be awake, rather late, or +perhaps you would call it early. I thought I heard a noise as if some one was +trying to break into the drawing-room through the window. I switched on all the +lights. I have them arranged so for just that purpose of scaring off intruders. +Then, as I looked out of my window on the second floor, I fancied I could see a +dark figure slink into the shadow of the shrubbery at the side of the house. +Then there was a whirr. It might have been an automobile, although it sounded +differently from that—more like a motor boat. At any rate, there was no trace +of a car that we could discover in the morning. The road had been oiled, too, +and a car would have left marks. And yet some one was here. There were marks on +the drawing-room window just where I heard the sounds.” +</p> + +<p> +Who could it be? I asked myself as we left. I knew that the great army of +chauffeurs was infested with thieves, thugs and gunmen. Then, too, there were +maids, always useful as scouts for these corsairs who prey on the rich. Yet so +adroitly had everything been done in these cases that not a clue seemed to have +been left behind by which to trace the thief. +</p> + +<p> +We returned to Verplanck’s in the <i>Streamline</i> in record time, dined, and +then found McNeill, a local detective, waiting to add his quota of information. +McNeill was of the square-toed, double-chinned, bull-necked variety, just the +man to take along if there was any fighting. He had, however, very little to +add to the solution of the mystery, apparently believing in the +chauffeur-and-maid theory. +</p> + +<p> +It was too late to do anything more that night, and we sat on the Verplanck +porch, overlooking the beautiful harbor. It was a black, inky night, with no +moon, one of those nights when the myriad lights on the boats were mere points +in the darkness. As we looked out over the water, considering the case which as +yet we had hardly started on, Kennedy seemed engrossed in the study in black. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I saw a moving light for an instant across the bay, above the boats, +and as though it were in the darkness of the hills on the other side. Is there +a road over there, above the Carter house?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a road part of the way on the crest of the hill,” replied Mrs. +Verplanck. “You can see a car on it, now and then, through the trees, like a +moving light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Over there, I mean,” reiterated Kennedy, indicating the light as it flashed +now faintly, then disappeared, to reappear further along, like a gigantic +firefly in the night. +</p> + +<p> +“N-no,” said Verplanck. “I don’t think the road runs down as far as that. It is +further up the bay.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it then?” asked Kennedy, half to himself. “It seems to be traveling +rapidly. Now it must be about opposite the Carter house. There—it has gone.” +</p> + +<p> +We continued to watch for several minutes, but it did not reappear. Could it +have been a light on the mast of a boat moving rapidly up the bay and perhaps +nearer to us than we suspected? Nothing further happened, however, and we +retired early, expecting to start with fresh minds on the case in the morning. +Several watchmen whom Verplanck employed both on the shore and along the +driveways were left guarding every possible entrance to the estate. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the next morning as we met in the cheery east breakfast room, Verplanck’s +gardener came in, hat in hand, with much suppressed excitement. +</p> + +<p> +In his hand he held an orange which he had found in the shrubbery underneath +the windows of the house. In it was stuck a long nail and to the nail was +fastened a tag. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy read it quickly. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“If this had been a bomb, you and your detectives would never have known what +struck you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“A<small>QUAERO</small>.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +THE ULTRA-VIOLET RAY</h2> + +<p> +“Good Gad, man!” exclaimed Verplanck, who had read it over Craig’s shoulder. +“What do you make of <i>that?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy merely shook his head. Mrs. Verplanck was the calmest of all. +</p> + +<p> +“The light,” I cried. “You remember the light? Could it have been a signal to +some one on this side of the bay, a signal light in the woods?” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly,” commented Kennedy absently, adding, “Robbery with this fellow seems +to be an art as carefully strategized as a promoter’s plan or a merchant’s +trade campaign. I think I’ll run over this morning and see if there is any +trace of anything on the Carter estate.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the telephone rang insistently. It was McNeill, much excited, though +he had not heard of the orange incident. Verplanck answered the call. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you heard the news?” asked McNeill. “They report this morning that that +fellow must have turned up last night at Belle Aire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Belle Aire? Why, man, that’s fifty miles away and on the other side of the +island. He was here last night,” and Verplanck related briefly the find of the +morning. “No boat could get around the island in that time and as for a +car—those roads are almost impossible at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t help it,” returned McNeill doggedly. “The Halstead estate out at Belle +Aire was robbed last night. It’s spooky all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell McNeill I want to see him—will meet him in the village directly,” cut in +Craig before Verplanck had finished. +</p> + +<p> +We bolted a hasty breakfast and in one of Verplanck’s cars hurried to meet +McNeill. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you intend doing?” he asked helplessly, as Kennedy finished his +recital of the queer doings of the night before. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going out now to look around the Carter place. Can you come along?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” agreed McNeill, climbing into the car. “You know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll introduce you. Queer chap, Carter. He’s a lawyer, although I don’t +think he has much practice, except managing his mother’s estate.” +</p> + +<p> +McNeill settled back in the luxurious car with an exclamation of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of Verplanck?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He seems to me to be a very public-spirited man,” answered Kennedy discreetly. +</p> + +<p> +That, however, was not what McNeill meant and he ignored it. And so for the +next ten minutes we were entertained with a little retail scandal of Westport +and Bluffwood, including a tale that seemed to have gained currency that +Verplanck and Mrs. Hollingsworth were too friendly to please Mrs. Verplanck. I +set the whole thing down to the hostility and jealousy of the towns people who +misinterpret everything possible in the smart set, although I could not help +recalling how quickly she had spoken when we had visited the Hollingsworth +house in the <i>Streamline</i> the day before. +</p> + +<p> +Montgomery Carter happened to be at home and, at least openly, interposed no +objection to our going about the grounds. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” explained Kennedy, watching the effect of his words as if to note +whether Carter himself had noticed anything unusual the night before, “we saw a +light moving over here last night. To tell the truth, I half expected you would +have a story to add to ours, of a second visit.” +</p> + +<p> +Carter smiled. “No objection at all. I’m simply nonplussed at the nerve of this +fellow, coming back again. I guess you’ve heard what a narrow squeak he had +with me. You’re welcome to go anywhere, just so long as you don’t disturb my +study down there in the boathouse. I use that because it overlooks the bay—just +the place to study over knotty legal problems.” +</p> + +<p> +Back of, or in front of the Carter house, according as you fancied it faced the +bay or not, was the boathouse, built by Carter’s father, who had been a great +yachtsman in his day and commodore of the club. His son had not gone in much +for water sports and had converted the corner underneath a sort of observation +tower into a sort of country law office. +</p> + +<p> +“There has always seemed to me to be something strange about that boathouse +since the old man died,” remarked McNeill in a half whisper as we left Carter. +“He always keeps it locked and never lets anyone go in there, although they say +he has it fitted beautifully with hundreds of volumes of law books, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had been climbing the hill back of the house and now paused to look +about. Below was the Carter garage. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” exclaimed McNeill, as if he had at last hit on a great discovery, +“Carter has a new chauffeur, a fellow named Wickham. I just saw him driving +down to the village. He’s a chap that it might pay us to watch—a newcomer, +smart as a steel trap, they say, but not much of a talker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you take that job—watch him,” encouraged Kennedy. “We can’t know too +much about strangers here, McNeill.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” agreed the detective. “I’ll follow him back to the village and +get a line on him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be easily discouraged,” added Kennedy, as McNeill started down the hill +to the garage. “If he is a fox he’ll try to throw you off the trail. Hang on.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was that for?” I asked as the detective disappeared. “Did you want to get +rid of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Partly,” replied Craig, descending slowly, after a long survey of the +surrounding country. +</p> + +<p> +We had reached the garage, deserted now except for our own car. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to investigate that tower,” remarked Kennedy with a keen look at me, +“if it could be done without seeming to violate Mr. Carter’s hospitality.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I observed, my eye catching a ladder beside the garage, “there’s a +ladder. We can do no more than try.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked over to the automobile, took a little package out, slipped it into +his pocket, and a few minutes later we had set the ladder up against the side +of the boathouse farthest away from the house. It was the work of only a moment +for Kennedy to scale it and prowl across the roof to the tower, while I stood +guard at the foot. +</p> + +<p> +“No one has been up there recently,” he panted breathlessly as he rejoined me. +“There isn’t a sign.” +</p> + +<p> +We took the ladder quietly back to the garage, then Kennedy led the way down +the shore to a sort of little summerhouse cut off from the boathouse and garage +by the trees, though over the top of a hedge one could still see the boathouse +tower. +</p> + +<p> +We sat down, and Craig filled his lungs with the good salt air, sweeping his +eye about the blue and green panorama as though this were a holiday and not a +mystery case. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he said at length, “I wish you’d take the car and go around to +Verplanck’s. I don’t think you can see the tower through the trees, but I +should like to be sure.” +</p> + +<p> +I found that it could not be seen, though I tried all over the place and got +myself disliked by the gardener and suspected by a watchman with a dog. +</p> + +<p> +It could not have been from the tower of the boathouse that we had seen the +light, and I hurried back to Craig to tell him so. But when I returned, I found +that he was impatiently pacing the little rustic summerhouse, no longer +interested in what he had sent me to find out. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” I asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Just come out here and I’ll show you something,” he replied, leaving the +summerhouse and approaching the boathouse from the other side of the hedge, on +the beach, so that the house itself cut us off from observation from Carter’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I fixed a lens on the top of that tower when I was up there,” he explained, +pointing up at it. “It must be about fifty feet high. From there, you see, it +throws a reflection down to this mirror. I did it because through a skylight in +the tower I could read whatever was written by anyone sitting at Carter’s desk +in the corner under it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Read?” I repeated, mystified. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by invisible light,” he continued. “This invisible light business, you +know, is pretty well understood by this time. I was only repeating what was +suggested once by Professor Wood of Johns Hopkins. Practically all sources of +light, you understand, give out more or less ultraviolet light, which plays no +part in vision whatever. The human eye is sensitive to but few of the light +rays that reach it, and if our eyes were constituted just the least bit +differently we should have an entirely different set of images. +</p> + +<p> +“But by the use of various devices we can, as it were, translate these +ultraviolet rays into terms of what the human eye can see. In order to do it, +all the visible light rays which show us the thing as we see it—the tree green, +the sky blue—must be cut off. So in taking an ultraviolet photograph a screen +must be used which will be opaque to these visible rays and yet will let the +ultraviolet rays through to form the image. That gave Professor Wood a lot of +trouble. Glass won’t do, for glass cuts off the ultraviolet rays entirely. +Quartz is a very good medium, but it does not cut off all the visible light. In +fact there is only one thing that will do the work, and that is metallic +silver.” +</p> + +<p> +I could not fathom what he was driving at, but the fascination of Kennedy +himself was quite sufficient. +</p> + +<p> +“Silver,” he went on, “is all right if the objects can be illuminated by an +electric spark or some other source rich in the rays. But it isn’t entirely +satisfactory when sunlight is concerned, for various reasons that I need not +bore you with. Professor Wood has worked out a process of depositing nickel on +glass. That’s it up there,” he concluded, wheeling a lower reflector about +until it caught the image of the afternoon sun thrown from the lens on the top +of the tower. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” he resumed, “that upper lens is concave so that it enlarges +tremendously. I can do some wonderful tricks with that.” +</p> + +<p> +I had been lighting a cigarette and held a box of safety wind matches in my +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me that matchbox,” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +He placed it at the foot of the tower. Then he went off, I should say, without +exaggeration, a hundred feet. +</p> + +<p> +The lettering on the matchbox could be seen in the silvered mirror, enlarged to +such a point that the letters were plainly visible! +</p> + +<p> +“Think of the possibilities in that,” he added excitedly. “I saw them at once. +You can read what some one is writing at a desk a hundred, perhaps two hundred +feet away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I cried, more interested in the practical aspects of it than in the +mechanics and optics. “What have you found?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some one came into the boathouse while you were away,” he said. “He had a +note. It read, ‘Those new detectives are watching everything. We must have the +evidence. You must get those letters to-night, without fail.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Letters—evidence,” I repeated. “Who wrote it? Who received it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t see over the hedge who had entered the boathouse, and by the time I +got around here he was gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it Wickham—or intended for Wickham?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll gain nothing by staying here,” he said. “There is just one possibility +in the case, and I can guard against that only by returning to Verplanck’s and +getting some of that stuff I brought up here with me. Let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon though it was, after our return, Kennedy insisted on +hurrying from Verplanck’s to the Yacht Club up the bay. It was a large +building, extending out into the water on made land, from which ran a long, +substantial dock. He had stopped long enough only to ask Verplanck to lend him +the services of his best mechanician, a Frenchman named Armand. +</p> + +<p> +On the end of the yacht club dock Kennedy and Armand set up a large affair +which looked like a mortar. I watched curiously, dividing my attention between +them and the splendid view of the harbor which the end of the dock commanded on +all sides. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this?” I asked finally. “Fireworks?” +</p> + +<p> +“A rocket mortar of light weight,” explained Kennedy, then dropped into French +as he explained to Armand the manipulation of the thing. +</p> + +<p> +There was a searchlight near by on the dock. +</p> + +<p> +“You can use that?” queried Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes. Mr. Verplanck, he is vice-commodore of the club. Oh, yes, I can use +that. Why, Monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had uncovered a round brass case. It did not seem to amount to much, as +compared to some of the complicated apparatus he had used. In it was a +four-sided prism of glass—I should have said, cut off the corner of a huge +glass cube. +</p> + +<p> +He handed it to us. +</p> + +<p> +“Look in it,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +It certainly was about the most curious piece of crystal gazing I had ever +done. Turn the thing any way I pleased and I could see my face in it, just as +in an ordinary mirror. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call it?” Armand asked, much interested. +</p> + +<p> +“A triple mirror,” replied Kennedy, and again, half in English and half in +French, neither of which I could follow, he explained the use of the mirror to +the mechanician. +</p> + +<p> +We were returning up the dock, leaving Armand with instructions to be at the +club at dusk, when we met McNeill, tired and disgusted. +</p> + +<p> +“What luck?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” he returned. “I had a ‘short’ shadow and a ‘long’ shadow at +Wickham’s heels all day. You know what I mean. Instead of one man, two—the +second sleuthing in the other’s tracks. If he escaped Number One, Number Two +would take it up, and I was ready to move up into Number Two’s place. They kept +him in sight about all the time. Not a fact. But then, of course, we don’t know +what he was doing before we took up tailing him. Say,” he added, “I have just +got word from an agency with which I correspond in New York that it is reported +that a yeggman named ‘Australia Mac,’ a very daring and clever chap, has been +attempting to dispose of some of the goods which we know have been stolen +through one of the worst ‘fences’ in New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” asked Craig, with the mention of Australia Mac showing the first +real interest yet in anything that McNeill had done since we met him the night +before. +</p> + +<p> +“All so far. I wired for more details immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know anything about this Australia Mac?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much. No one does. He’s a new man, it seems, to the police here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be here at eight o’clock, McNeill,” said Craig, as we left the club for +Verplanck’s. “If you can find out more about this yeggman, so much the better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you made any progress?” asked Verplanck as we entered the estate a few +minutes later. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” returned Craig, telling only enough to whet his interest. “There’s a +clue, as I half expected, from New York, too. But we are so far away that we’ll +have to stick to my original plan. You can trust Armand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we shall transfer our activity to the Yacht Club to-night,” was all that +Kennedy vouchsafed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +THE TRIPLE MIRROR</h2> + +<p> +It was the regular Saturday night dance at the club, a brilliant spectacle, +faces that radiated pleasure, gowns that for startling combinations of color +would have shamed a Futurist, music that set the feet tapping irresistibly—a +scene which I shall pass over because it really has no part in the story. +</p> + +<p> +The fascination of the ballroom was utterly lost on Craig. “Think of all the +houses only half guarded about here to-night,” he mused, as we joined Armand +and McNeill on the end of the dock. I could not help noting that that was the +only idea which the gay, variegated, sparkling tango throng conveyed to him. +</p> + +<p> +In front of the club was strung out a long line of cars, and at the dock +several speed boats of national and international reputation, among them the +famous <i>Streamline II</i>, at our instant beck and call. In it Craig had +already placed some rather bulky pieces of apparatus, as well as a brass case +containing a second triple mirror like that which he had left with Armand. +</p> + +<p> +With McNeill, I walked back along the pier, leaving Kennedy with Armand, until +we came to the wide porch, where we joined the wallflowers and the +rocking-chair fleet. Mrs. Verplanck, I observed, was a beautiful dancer. I +picked her out in the throng immediately, dancing with Carter. +</p> + +<p> +McNeill tugged at my sleeve. Without a word I saw what he meant me to see. +Verplanck and Mrs. Hollingsworth were dancing together. Just then, across the +porch I caught sight of Kennedy at one of the wide windows. He was trying to +attract Verplanck’s attention, and as he did so I worked my way through the +throng of chatting couples leaving the floor until I reached him. Verplanck, +oblivious, finished the dance; then, seeming to recollect that he had something +to attend to, caught sight of us, and ran off during the intermission from the +gay crowd to which he resigned Mrs. Hollingsworth. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s that light down the bay,” whispered Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly Verplanck forgot about the dance. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“In the same place.” +</p> + +<p> +I had not noticed, but Mrs. Verplanck, woman-like, had been able to watch +several things at once. She had seen us and had joined us. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to run down there in the <i>Streamline?</i>” he asked. “It will +only take a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it—that light again?” she asked, as she joined us in walking down the +dock. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered her husband, pausing to look for a moment at the stuff Kennedy +had left with Armand. Mrs. Verplanck leaned over the <i>Streamline</i>, turned +as she saw me, and said: “I wish I could go with you. But evening dress is not +the thing for a shivery night in a speed boat. I think I know as much about it +as Mr. Verplanck. Are you going to leave Armand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Kennedy, taking his place beside Verplanck, who was seated at +the steering wheel. “Walter and McNeill, if you two will sit back there, we’re +ready. All right.” +</p> + +<p> +Armand had cast us off and Mrs. Verplanck waved from the end of the float as +the <i>Streamline</i> quickly shot out into the night, a buzzing, throbbing +shape of mahogany and brass, with her exhausts sticking out like funnels and +booming like a pipe organ. It took her only seconds to eat into the miles. +</p> + +<p> +“A little more to port,” said Kennedy, as Verplanck swung her around. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the steady droning of the engine seemed a bit less rhythmical. +Verplanck throttled her down, but it had no effect. He shut her off. Something +was wrong. As he crawled out into the space forward of us where the engine was, +it seemed as if the <i>Streamline</i> had broken down suddenly and completely. +</p> + +<p> +Here we were floundering around in the middle of the bay. +</p> + +<p> +“Chuck-chuck-chuck,” came in quick staccato out of the night. It was Montgomery +Carter, alone, on his way across the bay from the club, in his own boat. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello—Carter,” called Verplanck. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Verplanck. What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know. Engine trouble of some kind. Can you give us a line?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got to go down to the house,” he said, ranging up near us. “Then I can +take you back. Perhaps I’d better get you out of the way of any other boats +first. You don’t mind going over and then back?” +</p> + +<p> +Verplanck looked at Craig. “On the contrary,” muttered Craig, as he made fast +the welcome line. +</p> + +<p> +The Carter dock was some three miles from the club on the other side of the +bay. As we came up to it, Carter shut off his engine, bent over it a moment, +made fast, and left us with a hurried, “Wait here.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, overhead, we heard a peculiar whirring noise that seemed to vibrate +through the air. Something huge, black, monster-like, slid down a board runway +into the water, traveled a few feet, in white suds and spray, rose in the +darkness—and was gone! +</p> + +<p> +As the thing disappeared, I thought I could hear a mocking laugh flung back at +us. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked, straining my eyes at what had seemed for an instant like +a great flying fish with finny tail and huge fins at the sides and above. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Aquaero,’” quoted Kennedy quickly. “Don’t you understand—a hydroaeroplane—a +flying boat. There are hundreds of privately owned flying boats now wherever +there is navigable water. That was the secret of Carter’s boathouse, of the +light we saw in the air.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this Aquaero—who is he?” persisted McNeill. “Carter—Wickham—Australia +Mac?” +</p> + +<p> +We looked at each other blankly. No one said a word. We were captured, just as +effectively as if we were ironed in a dungeon. There were the black water, the +distant lights, which at any other time I should have said would have been +beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had sprung into Carter’s boat. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce,” he exclaimed. “He’s put her out of business.” +</p> + +<p> +Verplanck, chagrined, had been going over his own engine feverishly. “Do you +see that?” he asked suddenly, holding up in the light of a lantern a little nut +which he had picked out of the complicated machinery. “It never belonged to +this engine. Some one placed it there, knowing it would work its way into a +vital part with the vibration.” +</p> + +<p> +Who was the person, the only one who could have done it? The answer was on my +lips, but I repressed it. Mrs. Verplanck herself had been bending over the +engine when last I saw her. All at once it flashed over me that she knew more +about the phantom bandit than she had admitted. Yet what possible object could +she have had in putting the <i>Streamline</i> out of commission? +</p> + +<p> +My mind was working rapidly, piecing together the fragmentary facts. The remark +of Kennedy, long before, instantly assumed new significance. What were the +possibilities of blackmail in the right sort of evidence? The yeggman had been +after what was more valuable than jewels—letters! Whose? Suddenly I saw the +situation. Carter had not been robbed at all. He was in league with the robber. +That much was a blind to divert suspicion. He was a lawyer—some one’s lawyer. I +recalled the message about letters and evidence, and as I did so there came to +mind a picture of Carter and the woman he had been dancing with. In return for +his inside information about the jewels of the wealthy homes of Bluffwood, the +yeggman was to get something of interest and importance to his client. +</p> + +<p> +The situation called for instant action. Yet what could we do, marooned on the +other side of the bay? +</p> + +<p> +From the Club dock a long finger of light swept out into the night, plainly +enough near the dock, but diffused and disclosing nothing in the distance. +Armand had trained it down the bay in the direction we had taken, but by the +time the beam reached us it was so weak that it was lost. +</p> + +<p> +Craig had leaped up on the Carter dock and was capping and uncapping with the +brass cover the package which contained the triple mirror. +</p> + +<p> +Still in the distance I could see the wide path of light, aimed toward us, but +of no avail. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Using the triple mirror to signal to Armand. It is something better than +wireless. Wireless requires heavy and complicated apparatus. This is portable, +heatless, almost weightless, a source of light depending for its power on +another source of light at a great distance.” +</p> + +<p> +I wondered how Armand could ever detect its feeble ray. +</p> + +<p> +“Even in the case of a rolling ship,” Kennedy continued, alternately covering +and uncovering the mirror, “the beam of light which this mirror reflects always +goes back, unerring, to its source. It would do so from an aeroplane, so high +in the air that it could not be located. The returning beam is invisible to +anyone not immediately in the path of the ray, and the ray always goes to the +observer. It is simply a matter of pure mathematics practically applied. The +angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection. There is not a variation of +a foot in two miles.” +</p> + +<p> +“What message are you sending him?” asked Verplanck. +</p> + +<p> +“To tell Mrs. Hollingsworth to hurry home immediately,” Kennedy replied, still +flashing the letters according to his code. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Hollingsworth?” repeated Verplanck, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. This hydroaeroplane yeggman is after something besides jewels to-night. +Were those letters that were stolen from you the only ones you had in the +safe?” +</p> + +<p> +Verplanck looked up quickly. “Yes, yes. Of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had none from a woman—” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he almost shouted. Of a sudden it seemed to dawn on him what Kennedy was +driving at—the robbery of his own house with no loss except of a packet of +letters on business, followed by the attempt on Mrs. Hollingsworth. “Do you +think I’d keep dynamite, even in the safe?” +</p> + +<p> +To hide his confusion he had turned and was bending again over the engine. +</p> + +<p> +“How is it?” asked Kennedy, his signaling over. +</p> + +<p> +“Able to run on four cylinders and one propeller,” replied Verplanck. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let’s try her. Watch the engine. I’ll take the wheel.” +</p> + +<p> +Limping along, the engine skipping and missing, the once peerless +<i>Streamline</i> started back across the bay. Instead of heading toward the +club, Kennedy pointed her bow somewhere between that and Verplanck’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish Armand would get busy,” he remarked, after glancing now and then in the +direction of the club. “What can be the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +There came the boom as if of a gun far away in the direction in which he was +looking, then another. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there it is. Good fellow. I suppose he had to deliver my message to Mrs. +Hollingsworth himself first.” +</p> + +<p> +From every quarter showed huge balls of fire, rising from the sea, as it were, +with a brilliantly luminous flame. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked, somewhat startled. +</p> + +<p> +“A German invention for use at night against torpedo and aeroplane attacks. +From that mortar Armand has shot half a dozen bombs of phosphide of calcium +which are hurled far into the darkness. They are so constructed that they float +after a short plunge and are ignited on contact by the action of the salt water +itself.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a beautiful pyrotechnic display, lighting up the shore and hills of the +bay as if by an unearthly flare. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s that thing now!” exclaimed Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +In the glow we could see a peculiar, birdlike figure flying through the air +over toward the Hollingsworth house. It was the hydroaeroplane. +</p> + +<p> +Out from the little stretch of lawn under the accentuated shadow of the trees, +she streaked into the air, swaying from side to side as the pilot operated the +stabilizers on the ends of the planes to counteract the puffs of wind off the +land. +</p> + +<p> +How could she ever be stopped? +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Streamline</i>, halting and limping, though she was, had almost crossed +the bay before the light bombs had been fired by Armand. Every moment brought +the flying boat nearer. +</p> + +<p> +She swerved. Evidently the pilot had seen us at last and realized who we were. +I was so engrossed watching the thing that I had not noticed that Kennedy had +given the wheel to Verplanck and was standing in the bow, endeavoring to sight +what looked like a huge gun. +</p> + +<p> +In rapid succession half a dozen shots rang out. I fancied I could almost hear +the ripping and tearing of the tough rubber-coated silken wings of the +hydroaeroplane as the wind widened the perforation the gun had made. +</p> + +<p> +She had not been flying high, but now she swooped down almost like a gull, +seeking to rest on the water. We were headed toward her now, and as the flying +boat sank I saw one of the passengers rise in his seat, swing his arm, and far +out something splashed in the bay. +</p> + +<p> +On the water, with wings helpless, the flying boat was no match for the +<i>Streamline</i> now. She struck at an acute angle, rebounded in the air for a +moment, and with a hiss skittered along over the waves, planing with the help +of her exhaust under the step of the boat. +</p> + +<p> +There she was, a hull, narrow, scow-bowed, like a hydroplane, with a long +pointed stern and a cockpit for two men, near the bow. There were two wide, +winglike planes, on a light latticework of wood covered with silk, trussed and +wired like a kite frame, the upper plane about five feet above the lower, which +was level with the boat deck. We could see the eight-cylindered engine which +drove a two-bladed wooden propeller, and over the stern were the air rudder and +the horizontal planes. There she was, the hobbled steed now of the phantom +bandit who had accomplished the seemingly impossible. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of everything, however, the flying boat reached the shore a trifle +ahead of us. As she did so both figures in her jumped, and one disappeared +quickly up the bank, leaving the other alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Verplanck, McNeill—get him,” cried Kennedy, as our own boat grated on the +beach. “Come, Walter, we’ll take the other one.” +</p> + +<p> +The man had seen that there was no safety in flight. Down the shore he stood, +without a hat, his hair blown pompadour by the wind. +</p> + +<p> +As we approached Carter turned superciliously, unbuttoning his bulky khaki life +preserver jacket. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he asked coolly. +</p> + +<p> +Not for a moment did Kennedy allow the assumed coolness to take him back, +knowing that Carter’s delay did not cover the retreat of the other man. +</p> + +<p> +“So,” Craig exclaimed, “you are the—the air pirate?” +</p> + +<p> +Carter disdained to reply. +</p> + +<p> +“It was you who suggested the millionaire households, full of jewels, silver +and gold, only half guarded; you, who knew the habits of the people; you, who +traded that information in return for another piece of thievery by your +partner, Australia Mac—Wickham he called himself here in Bluffwood. It was +you—-” +</p> + +<p> +A car drove up hastily, and I noted that we were still on the Hollingsworth +estate. Mrs. Hollingsworth had seen us and had driven over toward us. +</p> + +<p> +“Montgomery!” she cried, startled. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Kennedy quickly, “air pirate and lawyer for Mrs. Verplanck in the +suit which she contemplated bringing—” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hollingsworth grew pale under the ghastly, flickering light from the bay. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she cried, realizing at what Kennedy hinted, “the letters!” +</p> + +<p> +“At the bottom of the harbor, now,” said Kennedy. “Mr. Verplanck tells me he +has destroyed his. The past is blotted out as far as that is concerned. The +future is—for you three to determine. For the present I’ve caught a yeggman and +a blackmailer.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +THE WIRELESS WIRETAPPERS</h2> + +<p> +Kennedy did not wait at Bluffwood longer than was necessary. It was easy enough +now to silence Montgomery Carter, and the reconciliation of the Verplancks was +assured. In the <i>Star</i> I made the case appear at the time to involve +merely the capture of Australia Mac. +</p> + +<p> +When I dropped into the office the next day as usual, I found that I had +another assignment that would take me out on Long Island. The story looked +promising and I was rather pleased to get it. +</p> + +<p> +“Bound for Seaville, I’ll wager,” sounded a familiar voice in my ear, as I +hurried up to the train entrance at the Long Island corner of the Pennsylvania +Station. +</p> + +<p> +I turned quickly, to find Kennedy just behind me, breathless and perspiring. +</p> + +<p> +“Er—yes,” I stammered in surprise at seeing him so unexpectedly, “but where did +you come from? How did you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me introduce Mr. Jack Waldon,” he went on, as we edged our way toward the +gate, “the brother of Mrs. Tracy Edwards, who disappeared so strangely from the +houseboat <i>Lucie</i> last night at Seaville. That is the case you’re going to +write up, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +It was then for the first time that I noticed the excited young man beside +Kennedy was really his companion. +</p> + +<p> +I shook hands with Waldon, who gave me a grip that was both a greeting and an +added impulse in our general direction through the wicket. +</p> + +<p> +“Might have known the <i>Star</i> would assign you to this Edwards case,” +panted Kennedy, mopping his forehead, for the heat in the terminal was +oppressive and the crowd, though not large, was closely packed. “Mr. Jameson is +my right-hand man,” he explained to Waldon, taking us each by the arm and +urging us forward. “Waldon was afraid we might miss the train or I should have +tried to get you, Walter, at the office.” +</p> + +<p> +It was all done so suddenly that they quite took away what remaining breath I +had, as we settled ourselves to swelter in the smoker instead of in the +concourse. I did not even protest at the matter-of-fact assurance with which +Craig assumed that his deduction as to my destination was correct. +</p> + +<p> +Waldon, a handsome young fellow in a flannel suit and yachting cap somewhat the +worse for his evidently perturbed state of mind, seemed to eye me for the +moment doubtfully, in spite of Kennedy’s cordial greeting. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had all the first editions of the evening papers,” I hinted as we sped +through the tunnel, “but the stories seemed to be quite the same—pretty meager +in details.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” returned Waldon with a glance at Kennedy, “I tried to keep as much out +of the papers as I could just now for Lucie’s sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t fear Jameson,” remarked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +He fumbled in his pocket, then paused a moment and shot a glance of inquiry at +Waldon, who nodded a mute acquiescence to him. +</p> + +<p> +“There seem to have been a number of very peculiar disappearances lately,” +resumed Kennedy, “but this case of Mrs. Edwards is by far the most +extraordinary. Of course the <i>Star</i> hasn’t had that—yet,” he concluded, +handing me a sheet of notepaper. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Waldon didn’t give it out, hoping to avoid scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +I took the paper and read eagerly, in a woman’s hand: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> M<small>ISS</small> F<small>OX</small>: +I have been down here at Seaville on our houseboat, the <i>Lucie</i>, for +several days for a purpose which now is accomplished. +</p> + +<p> +“Already I had my suspicions of you, from a source which I need not name. +Therefore, when the <i>Kronprinz</i> got into wireless communication with the +station at Seaville I determined through our own wireless on the <i>Lucie</i> +to overhear whether there would be any exchange of messages between my husband +and yourself. +</p> + +<p> +“I was able to overhear the whole thing and I want you to know that your secret +is no longer a secret from me, and that I have already told Mr. Edwards that I +know it. You ruin his life by your intimacy which you seem to want to keep up, +although you know you have no right to do it, but you shall not ruin mine. +</p> + +<p> +“I am thoroughly disillusioned now. I have not decided on what steps to take, +but—” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Only a casual glance was necessary to show me that the writing seemed to grow +more and more weak as it progressed, and the note stopped abruptly, as if the +writer had been suddenly interrupted or some new idea had occurred to her. +</p> + +<p> +Hastily I tried to figure it out. Lucie Waldon, as everybody knew, was a famous +beauty, a marvel of charm and daintiness, slender, with big, soulful, wistful +eyes. Her marriage to Tracy Edwards, the wealthy plunger and stockbroker, had +been a great social event the year before, and it was reputed at the time that +Edwards had showered her with jewels and dresses to the wonder and talk even of +society. +</p> + +<p> +As for Valerie Fox, I knew she had won quick recognition and even fame as a +dancer in New York during the previous winter, and I recalled reading three or +four days before that she had just returned on the <i>Kronprinz</i> from a trip +abroad. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suppose you have had time to see Miss Fox,” I remarked. “Where is +she?” +</p> + +<p> +“At Beach Park now, I think,” replied Waldon, “a resort a few miles nearer the +city on the south shore, where there is a large colony of actors.” +</p> + +<p> +I handed back the letter to Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make of it?” he asked, as he folded it up and put it back into his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I hardly know what to say,” I replied. “Of course there have been rumors, I +believe, that all was not exactly like a honeymoon still with the Tracy +Edwardses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” returned Waldon slowly, “I know myself that there has been some trouble, +but nothing definite until I found this letter last night in my sister’s room. +She never said anything about it either to mother or myself. They haven’t been +much together during the summer, and last night when she disappeared Tracy was +in the city. But I hadn’t thought much about it before, for, of course, you +know he has large financial interests that make him keep in pretty close touch +with New York and this summer hasn’t been a particularly good one on the stock +exchange.” +</p> + +<p> +“And,” I put in, “a plunger doesn’t always make the best of husbands. Perhaps +there is temperament to be reckoned with here.” +</p> + +<p> +“There seem to be a good many things to be reckoned with,” Craig considered. +“For example, here’s a houseboat, the <i>Lucie</i>, a palatial affair, cruising +about aimlessly, with a beautiful woman on it. She gives a little party, in the +absence of her husband, to her brother, his fiancée and her mother, who visit +her from his yacht, the <i>Nautilus</i>. They break up, those living on the +<i>Lucie</i> going to their rooms and the rest back to the yacht, which is +anchored out further in the deeper water of the bay. +</p> + +<p> +“Some time in the middle of the night her maid, Juanita, finds that she is not +in her room. Her brother is summoned back from his yacht and finds that she has +left this pathetic, unfinished letter. But otherwise there is no trace of her. +Her husband is notified and hurries out there, but he can find no clue. +Meanwhile, Mr. Waldon, in despair, hurries down to the city to engage me +quietly.” +</p> + +<p> +“You remember I told you,” suggested Waldon, “that my sister hadn’t been +feeling well for several days. In fact it seemed that the sea air wasn’t doing +her much good, and some one last night suggested that she try the mountains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had there been anything that would foreshadow the—er—disappearance?” asked +Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Only as I say, that for two or three days she seemed to be listless, to be +sinking by slow and easy stages into a sort of vacant, moody state of ill +health.” +</p> + +<p> +“She had a doctor, I suppose?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Dr. Jermyn, Tracy’s own personal physician came down from the city +several days ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he say?” +</p> + +<p> +“He simply said that it was congestion of the lungs. As far as he could see +there was no apparent cause for it. I don’t think he was very enthusiastic +about the mountain air idea. The fact is he was like a good many doctors under +the circumstances, noncommittal—wanted her under observation, and all that sort +of thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your opinion?” I pressed Craig. “Do you think she has run away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally, I’d rather not attempt to say yet,” Craig replied cautiously. “But +there are several possibilities. Yes, she might have left the houseboat in some +other boat, of course. Then there is the possibility of accident. It was a hot +night. She might have been leaning from the window and have lost her balance. I +have even thought of drugs, that she might have taken something in her +despondency and have fallen overboard while under the influence of it. Then, of +course, there are the two deductions that everyone has made already—either +suicide or murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Waldon had evidently been turning something over in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a wireless outfit aboard the houseboat,” he ventured at length. +</p> + +<p> +“What of that?” I asked, wondering why he was changing the subject so abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, only this,” he replied. “I have been reading about wireless a good deal +lately, and if the theories of some scientists are correct, the wireless age is +not without its dangers as well as its wonders. I recall reading not long ago +of a German professor who says there is no essential difference between +wireless waves and the X-rays, and we know the terrible physical effects of +X-rays. I believe he estimated that only one three hundred millionth part of +the electrical energy generated by sending a message from one station to +another near by is actually used up in transmitting the message. The rest is +dispersed in the atmosphere. There must be a good deal of such stray electrical +energy about Seaville. Isn’t it possible that it might hit some one somewhere +who was susceptible?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing. Waldon’s was at least a novel idea, whether it was +plausible or not. The only way to test it out, as far as I could determine, was +to see whether it fitted with the facts after a careful investigation of the +case itself. +</p> + +<p> +It was still early in the day and the trains were not as crowded as they would +be later. Consequently our journey was comfortable enough and we found +ourselves at last at the little vine-covered station at Seaville. +</p> + +<p> +One could almost feel that the gay summer colony was in a state of subdued +excitement. As we left the quaint station and walked down the main street to +the town wharf where we expected some one would be waiting for us, it seemed as +if the mysterious disappearance of the beautiful Mrs. Edwards had put a damper +on the life of the place. In the hotels there were knots of people evidently +discussing the affair, for as we passed we could tell by their faces that they +recognized us. One or two bowed and would have joined us, if Waldon had given +any encouragement. But he did not stop, and we kept on down the street quickly. +</p> + +<p> +I myself began to feel the spell of mystery about the case as I had not felt it +among the distractions of the city. Perhaps I imagined it, but there even +seemed to be something strange about the houseboat which we could descry at +anchor far down the bay as we approached the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +We were met, as Waldon had arranged, by a high-powered runabout, the tender to +his own yacht, a slim little craft of mahogany and brass, driven like an +automobile, and capable of perhaps twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. We +jumped in and were soon skimming over the waters of the bay like a skipping +stone. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that Waldon was much relieved at having been able to bring +assistance, in which he had as much confidence as he reposed in Kennedy. At any +rate it was something to be nearing the scene of action again. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Lucie</i> was perhaps seventy feet long and a most attractive craft, +with a hull yachty in appearance and of a type which could safely make long +runs along the coast, a stanch, seaworthy boat, of course without the speed of +the regularly designed yacht, but more than making up in comfort for those on +board what was lost in that way. Waldon pointed out with obvious pride his own +trim yacht swinging gracefully at anchor a half mile or so away. +</p> + +<p> +As we approached the houseboat I looked her over carefully. One of the first +things I noticed was that there rose from the roof the primitive inverted V +aërial of a wireless telegraph. I thought immediately of the unfinished letter +and its contents, and shaded my eyes as I took a good look at the powerful +transatlantic station on the spit of sand perhaps three or four miles distant, +with its tall steel masts of the latest inverted L type and the cluster of +little houses below, in which the operators and the plant were. +</p> + +<p> +Waldon noticed what I was looking at, and remarked, “It’s a wonderful +station—and well worth a visit, if you have the time—one of the most powerful +on the coast, I understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did the <i>Lucie</i> come to be equipped with wireless?” asked Craig +quickly. “It’s a little unusual for a private boat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Edwards had it done when she was built,” explained Waldon. “His idea was +to use it to keep in touch with the stock market on trips.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it has proved effective?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes—that is, it was all right last winter when he went on a short cruise +down in Florida. This summer he hasn’t been on the boat long enough to use it +much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who operates it?” +</p> + +<p> +“He used to hire a licensed operator, although I believe the engineer, +Pedersen, understands the thing pretty well and could use it if necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think it was Pedersen who used it for Mrs. Edwards?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“I really don’t know,” confessed Waldon. “Pedersen denies absolutely that he +has touched the thing for weeks. I want you to quiz him. I wasn’t able to get +him to admit a thing.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +THE HOUSEBOAT MYSTERY</h2> + +<p> +We had by this time swung around to the side of the houseboat. I realized as we +mounted the ladder that the marine gasoline engine had materially changed the +old-time houseboat from a mere scow or barge with a low flat house on it, +moored in a bay or river, and only with difficulty and expense towed from one +place to another. Now the houseboat was really a fair-sized yacht. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Lucie</i> was built high in order to give plenty of accommodation for +the living quarters. The staterooms, dining rooms and saloon were really rooms, +with seven or eight feet of head room, and furnished just as one would find in +a tasteful and expensive house. +</p> + +<p> +Down in the hull, of course, was the gasoline motor which drove the propeller, +so that when the owner wanted a change of scene all that was necessary was to +get up anchor, start the motor and navigate the yacht-houseboat to some other +harbor. +</p> + +<p> +Edwards himself met us on the deck. He was a tall man, with a red face, a man +of action, of outdoor life, apparently a hard worker and a hard player. It was +quite evident that he had been waiting for the return of Waldon anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“You find us considerably upset, Professor Kennedy,” he greeted Craig, as his +brother-in-law introduced us. +</p> + +<p> +Edwards turned and led the way toward the saloon. As he entered and bade us be +seated in the costly cushioned wicker chairs I noticed how sumptuously it was +furnished, and particularly its mechanical piano, its phonograph and the +splendid hardwood floor which seemed to invite one to dance in the cool breeze +that floated across from one set of open windows to the other. And yet in spite +of everything, there was that indefinable air of something lacking, as in a +house from which the woman is gone. +</p> + +<p> +“You were not here last night, I understand,” remarked Kennedy, taking in the +room at a glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately, no,” replied Edwards, “Business has kept me with my nose pretty +close to the grindstone this summer. Waldon called me up in the middle of the +night, however, and I started down in my car, which enabled me to get here +before the first train. I haven’t been able to do a thing since I got here +except just wait—wait—wait. I confess that I don’t know what else to do. Waldon +seemed to think we ought to have some one down here—and I guess he was right. +Anyhow, I’m glad to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +I watched Edwards keenly. For the first time I realized that I had neglected to +ask Waldon whether he had seen the unfinished letter. The question was +unnecessary. It was evident that he had not. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see, Waldon, if I’ve got this thing straight,” Edwards went on, pacing +restlessly up and down the saloon. “Correct me if I haven’t. Last night, as I +understand it, there was a sort of little family party here, you and Miss +Verrall and your mother from the <i>Nautilus</i>, and Mrs. Edwards and Dr. +Jermyn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Waldon with, I thought, a touch of defiance at the words “family +party.” He paused as if he would have added that the <i>Nautilus</i> would have +been more congenial, anyhow, then added, “We danced a little bit, all except +Lucie. She said she wasn’t feeling any too well.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwards had paused by the door. “If you’ll excuse me a minute,” he said, “I’ll +call Jermyn and Mrs. Edwards’ maid, Juanita. You ought to go over the whole +thing immediately, Professor Kennedy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you say anything about the letter to him?” asked Kennedy under his +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the use?” returned Waldon. “I didn’t know how he’d take it. Besides, +I wanted your advice on the whole thing. Do you want to show it to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it’s just as well,” ruminated Kennedy. “It may be possible to clear +the thing up without involving anybody’s name. At any rate, some one is coming +down the passage this way.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwards entered with Dr. Jermyn, a clean-shaven man, youthful in appearance, +yet approaching middle age. I had heard of him before. He had studied several +years abroad and had gained considerable reputation since his return to +America. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Jermyn shook hands with us cordially enough, made some passing comment on +the tragedy, and stood evidently waiting for us to disclose our hands. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been Mrs. Edwards’ physician for some time, I believe?” queried +Kennedy, fencing for an opening. +</p> + +<p> +“Only since her marriage,” replied the doctor briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“She hadn’t been feeling well for several days, had she?” ventured Kennedy +again. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Dr. Jermyn quickly. “I doubt whether I can add much to what you +already know. I suppose Mr. Waldon has told you about her illness. The fact is, +I suppose her maid Juanita will be able to tell you really more than I can.” +</p> + +<p> +I could not help feeling that Dr. Jermyn showed a great deal of reluctance in +talking. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been with her several days, though, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Four days, I think. She was complaining of feeling nervous and telegraphed me +to come down here. I came prepared to stay over night, but Mr. Edwards happened +to run down that day, too, and he asked me if I wouldn’t remain longer. My +practice in the summer is such that I can easily leave it with my assistant in +the city, so I agreed. Really, that is about all I can say. I don’t know yet +what was the matter with Mrs. Edwards, aside from the nervousness which seemed +to be of some time standing.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood facing us, thoughtfully stroking his chin, as a very pretty and petite +maid nervously entered and stood facing us in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Juanita,” encouraged Edwards. “I want you to tell these gentlemen +just what you told me about discovering that Madame had gone—and anything else +that you may recall now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was Juanita who discovered that Madame was gone, you know,” put in Waldon. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you discover it?” prompted Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“It was very hot,” replied the maid, “and often on hot nights I would come in +and fan Madame since she was so wakeful. Last night I went to the door and +knocked. There was no reply. I called to her, ‘Madame, madame.’ Still there was +no answer. The worst I supposed was that she had fainted. I continued to call.” +</p> + +<p> +“The door was locked?” inquired Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. My call aroused the others on the boat. Dr. Jermyn came and he broke +open the door with his shoulder. But the room was empty. Madame was gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about the windows?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Open. They were always open these nights. Sometimes Madame would sit by the +window when there was not much breeze.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see the room,” remarked Craig, with an inquiring glance at +Edwards. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” he answered, leading the way down a corridor. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Edwards’ room was on the starboard side, with wide windows instead of +portholes. It was furnished magnificently and there was little about it that +suggested the nautical, except the view from the window. +</p> + +<p> +“The bed had not been slept in,” Edwards remarked as we looked about curiously. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy walked over quickly to the wide series of windows before which was a +leather-cushioned window seat almost level with the window, several feet above +the level of the water. It was by this window, evidently, that Juanita meant +that Mrs. Edwards often sat. It was a delightful position, but I could readily +see that it would be comparatively easy for anyone accidentally or purposely to +fall. +</p> + +<p> +“I think myself,” Waldon remarked to Kennedy, “that it must have been from the +open window that she made her way to the outside. It seems that all agree that +the door was locked, while the window was wide open.” +</p> + +<p> +“There had been no sound—no cry to alarm you?” shot out Kennedy suddenly to +Juanita. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, nothing. I could not sleep myself, and I thought of Madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You heard nothing?” he asked of Dr. Jermyn. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing until I heard the maid call,” he replied briefly. +</p> + +<p> +Mentally I ran over again Kennedy’s first list of possibilities—taken off by +another boat, accident, drugs, suicide, murder. +</p> + +<p> +Was there, I asked myself, sufficient reason for suicide? The letter seemed to +me to show too proud a spirit for that. In fact the last sentence seemed to +show that she was contemplating the surest method of revenge, rather than +surrender. As for accident, why should a person fall overboard from a large +houseboat into a perfectly calm harbor? Then, too, there had been no outcry. +Somehow, I could not seem to fit any of the theories in with the facts. +Evidently it was like many another case, one in which we, as yet, had +insufficient data for a conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly I recalled the theory that Waldon himself had advanced regarding the +wireless, either from the boat itself or from the wireless station. For the +moment, at least, it seemed plausible that she might have been seated at the +window, that she might have been affected by escaped wireless, or by +electrolysis. I knew that some physicians had described a disease which they +attributed to wireless, a sort of anemia with a marked diminution in the number +of red corpuscles in the blood, due partly to the over etherization of the air +by reason of the alternating currents used to generate the waves. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like now to inspect the little wireless plant you have here on the +<i>Lucie</i>,” remarked Kennedy. “I noticed the mast as we were approaching a +few minutes ago.” +</p> + +<p> +I had turned at the sound of his voice in time to catch Edwards and Dr. Jermyn +eyeing each other furtively. Did they know about the letter, after all, I +wondered? Was each in doubt about just how much the other knew? +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to pursue these speculations. “Certainly,” agreed Mr. Edwards +promptly, leading the way. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy seemed keenly interested in inspecting the little wireless plant, which +was of a curious type and not exactly like any that I had seen before. +</p> + +<p> +“Wireless apparatus,” he remarked, as he looked it over, “is divided into three +parts, the source of power whether battery or dynamo, the making and sending of +wireless waves, including the key, spark, condenser and tuning coil, and the +receiving apparatus, head telephones, antennae, ground and detector.” +</p> + +<p> +Pedersen, the engineer, came in while we were looking the plant over, but +seemed uncommunicative to all Kennedy’s efforts to engage him in conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” remarked Kennedy, “that it is a very compact system with facilities +for a quick change from one wave length to another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” grunted Pedersen, as averse to talking, evidently, as others on the +<i>Lucie</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Spark gap, quenched type,” I heard Kennedy mutter almost to himself, with a +view to showing Pedersen that he knew something about it. “Break system +relay—operator can overhear any interference while transmitting—transformation +by a single throw of a six-point switch which tunes the oscillating and open +circuits to resonance. Very clever—very efficient. By the way, Pedersen, are +you the only person aboard who can operate this?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know?” he answered almost surlily. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to know, if anybody,” answered Kennedy unruffled. “I know that it +has been operated within the past few days.” +</p> + +<p> +Pedersen shrugged his shoulders. “You might ask the others aboard,” was all he +said. “Mr. Edwards pays me to operate it only for himself, when he has no other +operator.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not pursue the subject, evidently from fear of saying too much just +at present. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if there is anyone else who could have operated it,” said Waldon, as +we mounted again to the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” replied Kennedy, pausing on the way up. “You haven’t a wireless +on the <i>Nautilus</i>, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +Waldon shook his head. “Never had any particular use for it myself,” he +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“You say that Miss Verrall and her mother have gone back to the city?” pursued +Kennedy, taking care that as before the others were out of earshot. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to stay with you tonight, then,” decided Kennedy. “Might we go over +with you now? There doesn’t seem to be anything more I can do here, unless we +get some news about Mrs. Edwards.” +</p> + +<p> +Waldon seemed only too glad to agree, and no one on the <i>Lucie</i> insisted +on our staying. +</p> + +<p> +We arrived at the <i>Nautilus</i> a few minutes later, and while we were +lunching Kennedy dispatched the tender to the Marconi station with a note. +</p> + +<p> +It was early in the afternoon when the tender returned with several packages +and coils of wire. Kennedy immediately set to work on the <i>Nautilus</i> +stretching out some of the wire. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it you are planning?” asked Waldon, to whom every action of Kennedy +seemed to be a mystery of the highest interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Improvising my own wireless,” he replied, not averse to talking to the young +man to whom he seemed to have taken a fancy. “For short distances, you know, it +isn’t necessary to construct an aërial pole or even to use outside wires to +receive messages. All that is needed is to use just a few wires stretched +inside a room. The rest is just the apparatus.” +</p> + +<p> +I was quite as much interested as Waldon. “In wireless,” he went on, “the +signals are not sent in one direction, but in all, so that a person within +range of the ethereal disturbance can get them if only he has the necessary +receiving apparatus. This apparatus need not be so elaborate and expensive as +used to be thought needful if a sensitive detector is employed, and I have sent +over to the station for a new piece of apparatus which I knew they had in +almost any Marconi station. Why, I’ve got wireless signals using only twelve +feet of number eighteen copper wire stretched across a room and grounded with a +water pipe. You might even use a wire mattress on an iron bedstead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t they find out by—er, interference?” I asked, repeating the term I had so +often heard. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy laughed. “No, not for radio apparatus which merely receives radiograms +and is not equipped for sending. I am setting up only one side of a wireless +outfit here. All I want to do is to hear what is being said. I don’t care about +saying anything.” +</p> + +<p> +He unwrapped another package which had been loaned to him by the radio station +and we watched him curiously as he tested it and set it up. Some parts of it I +recognized such as the very sensitive microphone, and another part I could have +sworn was a phonograph cylinder, though Craig was so busy testing his apparatus +that now we could not ask questions. +</p> + +<p> +It was late in the afternoon when he finished, and we had just time to run up +to the dock at Seaville and stop off at the <i>Lucie</i> to see if anything had +happened in the intervening hours before dinner. There was nothing, except that +I found time to file a message to the <i>Star</i> and meet several fellow +newspaper men who had been sent down by other papers on the chance of picking +up a good story. +</p> + +<p> +We had the <i>Nautilus</i> to ourselves, and as she was a very comfortable +little craft, we really had a very congenial time, a plunge over her side, a +good dinner, and then a long talk out on deck under the stars, in which we went +over every phase of the case. As we discussed it, Waldon followed keenly, and +it was quite evident from his remarks that he had come to the conclusion that +Dr. Jermyn at least knew more than he had told about the case. +</p> + +<p> +Still, the day wore away with no solution yet of the mystery. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +THE RADIO DETECTIVE</h2> + +<p> +It was early the following morning when a launch drew up beside the +<i>Nautilus</i>. In it were Edwards and Dr. Jermyn, wildly excited. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” called out Waldon. +</p> + +<p> +“They—they have found the body,” Edwards blurted out. +</p> + +<p> +Waldon paled and clutched the rail. He had thought the world of his sister, and +not until the last moment had he given up hope that perhaps she might be found +to have disappeared in some other way than had become increasingly evident. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” cried Kennedy. “Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Over on Ten Mile Beach,” answered Edwards. “Some fishermen who had been out on +a cruise and hadn’t heard the story. They took the body to town, and there it +was recognized. They sent word out to us immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +Waldon had already spun the engine of his tender, which was about the fastest +thing afloat about Seaville, had taken Edwards over, and we were off in a cloud +of spray, the nose of the boat many inches above the surface of the water. +</p> + +<p> +In the little undertaking establishment at Seaville lay the body of the +beautiful young matron about whom so much anxiety had been felt. I could not +help thinking what an end was this for the incomparable beauty. At the very +height of her brief career the poor little woman’s life had been suddenly +snuffed out. But by what? The body had been found, but the mystery had been far +from solved. +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy bent over the body, I heard him murmur to himself, “She had +everything—everything except happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it drowning that caused her death?” asked Kennedy of the local doctor, who +also happened to be coroner and had already arrived on the scene. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “There was +congestion of the lungs—but I—I can’t say but what she might have been dead +before she fell or was thrown into the water.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Jermyn stood on one side, now and then putting in a word, but for the most +part silent unless spoken to. Kennedy, however, was making a most minute +examination. +</p> + +<p> +As he turned the beautiful head, almost reverently, he saw something that +evidently attracted his attention. I was standing next to him and, between us, +I think we cut off the view of the others. There on the back of the neck, +carefully, had been smeared something transparent, almost skin-like, which had +easily escaped the attention of the rest. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy tried to pick it off, but only succeeded in pulling off a very minute +piece to which the flesh seemed to adhere. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s queer,” he whispered to me. “Water, naturally, has no effect on it, +else it would have been washed off long before. Walter,” he added, “just slip +across the street quietly to the drug store and get me a piece of gauze soaked +with acetone.” +</p> + +<p> +As quickly and unostentatiously as I could I did so and handed him the wet +cloth, contriving at the same time to add Waldon to our barrier, for I could +see that Kennedy was anxious to be observed as little as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I whispered, as he rubbed the transparent skin-like stuff off, +and dropped the gauze into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“A sort of skin varnish,” he remarked under his breath, “waterproof and so +adhesive that it resists pulling off even with a knife without taking the +cuticle with it.” +</p> + +<p> +Beneath, as the skin varnish slowly dissolved under his gentle rubbing, he had +disclosed several very small reddish spots, like little cuts that had been made +by means of a very sharp instrument. As he did so, he gave them a hasty glance, +turned the now stony beautiful head straight again, stood up, and resumed his +talk with the coroner, who was evidently getting more and more bewildered by +the case. +</p> + +<p> +Edwards, who had completed the arrangements with the undertaker for the care of +the body as soon as the coroner released it, seemed completely unnerved. +</p> + +<p> +“Jermyn,” he said to the doctor, as he turned away and hid his eyes, “I can’t +stand this. The undertaker wants some stuff from the—er—boat,” his voice broke +over the name which had been hers. “Will you get it for me? I’m going up to a +hotel here, and I’ll wait for you there. But I can’t go out to the boat—yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think Mr. Waldon will be glad to take you out in his tender,” suggested +Kennedy. “Besides, I feel that I’d like a little fresh air as a bracer, too, +after such a shock.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were those little cuts?” I asked as Waldon and Dr. Jermyn preceded us +through the crowd outside to the pier. +</p> + +<p> +“Some one,” he answered in a low tone, “has severed the pneumogastric nerves.” +</p> + +<p> +“The pneumogastric nerves?” I repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the vagus or wandering nerve, the so-called tenth cranial nerve. Unlike +the other cranial nerves, which are concerned with the special senses or +distributed to the skin and muscles of the head and neck, the vagus, as its +name implies, strays downward into the chest and abdomen supplying branches to +the throat, lungs, heart and stomach and forms an important connecting link +between the brain and the sympathetic nervous system.” +</p> + +<p> +We had reached the pier, and a nod from Kennedy discouraged further +conversation on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later we had reached the <i>Lucie</i> and gone up over her side. +Kennedy waited until Jermyn had disappeared into the room of Mrs. Edwards to +get what the undertaker had desired. A moment and he had passed quietly into +Dr. Jermyn’s own room, followed by me. Several quick glances about told him +what not to waste time over, and at last his eye fell on a little portable case +of medicines and surgical instruments. He opened it quickly and took out a +bottle of golden yellow liquid. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy smelled it, then quickly painted some on the back of his hand. It dried +quickly, like an artificial skin. He had found a bottle of skin varnish in Dr. +Jermyn’s own medicine chest! +</p> + +<p> +We hurried back to the deck, and a few minutes later the doctor appeared with a +large package. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever hear of coating the skin by a substance which is impervious to +water, smooth and elastic?” asked Kennedy quietly as Waldon’s tender sped along +back to Seaville. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—er, yes,” he said frankly, raising his eyes and looking at Craig in +surprise. “There have been a dozen or more such substances. The best is one +which I use, made of pyroxylin, the soluble cotton of commerce, dissolved in +amyl acetate and acetone with some other substances that make it perfectly +sterile. Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because some one has used a little bit of it to cover a few slight cuts on the +back of the neck of Mrs. Edwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” he said simply, in a tone of mild surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” pursued Kennedy. “They seem to me to be subcutaneous incisions of the +neck with a very fine scalpel dividing the two great pneumogastric nerves. Of +course you know what that would mean—the victim would pass away naturally by +slow and easy stages in three or four days, and all that would appear might be +congestion of the lungs. They are delicate little punctures and elusive nerves +to locate, but after all it might be done as painlessly, as simply and as +safely as a barber might remove some dead hairs. A country coroner might easily +pass over such evidence at an autopsy—especially if it was concealed by skin +varnish.” +</p> + +<p> +I was surprised at the frankness with which Kennedy spoke, but absolutely +amazed at the coolness of Jermyn. At first he said absolutely nothing. He +seemed to be as set in his reticence as he had been when we first met. +</p> + +<p> +I watched him narrowly. Waldon, who was driving the boat, had not heard what +was said, but I had, and I could not conceive how anyone could take it so +calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Finally Jermyn turned to Kennedy and looked him squarely in the eye. “Kennedy,” +he said slowly, “this is extraordinary—most extraordinary,” then, pausing, +added, “if true.” +</p> + +<p> +“There can be no doubt of the truth,” replied Kennedy, eyeing Dr. Jermyn just +as squarely. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you propose to do about it?” asked the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Investigate,” replied Kennedy simply. “While Waldon takes these things up to +the undertaker’s, we may as well wait here in the boat. I want him to stop on +the way back for Mr. Edwards. Then we shall go out to the <i>Lucie</i>. He must +go, whether he likes it or not.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a most peculiar situation as Kennedy and I sat in the tender with +Dr. Jermyn waiting for Waldon to return with Edwards. Not a word was spoken. +</p> + +<p> +The tenseness of the situation was not relieved by the return of Waldon with +Edwards. Waldon seemed to realize without knowing just what it was, that +something was about to happen. He drove his boat back to the <i>Lucie</i> again +in record time. This was Kennedy’s turn to be reticent. Whatever it was he was +revolving in his mind, he answered in scarcely more than monosyllables whatever +questions were put to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not coming aboard?” inquired Edwards in surprise as he and Jermyn +mounted the steps of the houseboat ladder, and Kennedy remained seated in the +tender. +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” replied Craig coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“But I thought you had something to show me. Waldon told me you had.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I shall have in a short time,” returned Kennedy. “We shall be back +immediately. I’m just going to ask Waldon to run over to the <i>Nautilus</i> +for a few minutes. We’ll tow back your launch, too, in case you need it.” +</p> + +<p> +Waldon had cast off obediently. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one thing sure,” I remarked. “Jermyn can’t get away from the +<i>Lucie</i> until we return—unless he swims.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not seem to pay much attention to the remark, for his only reply +was: “I’m taking a chance by this maneuvering, but I think it will work out +that I am correct. By the way, Waldon, you needn’t put on so much speed. I’m in +no great hurry to get back. Half an hour will be time enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jermyn? What did you mean by Jermyn?” asked Waldon, as we climbed to the deck +of the <i>Nautilus</i>. +</p> + +<p> +He had evidently learned, as I had, that it was little use to try to quiz +Kennedy until he was ready to be questioned and had decided to try it on me. +</p> + +<p> +I had nothing to conceal and I told him quite fully all that I knew. Actually, +I believe if Jermyn had been there, it would have taken both Kennedy and myself +to prevent violence. As it was I had a veritable madman to deal with while +Kennedy gathered up leisurely the wireless outfit he had installed on the deck +of Waldon’s yacht. It was only by telling him that I would certainly demand +that Kennedy leave him behind if he did not control his feelings that I could +calm him before Craig had finished his work on the yacht. +</p> + +<p> +Waldon relieved himself by driving the tender back at top speed to the +<i>Lucie</i>, and now it seemed that Kennedy had no objection to traveling as +fast as the many-cylindered engine was capable of going. +</p> + +<p> +As we entered the saloon of the houseboat, I kept close watch over Waldon. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy began by slipping a record on the phonograph in the corner of the +saloon, then facing us and addressing Edwards particularly. +</p> + +<p> +“You may be interested to know, Mr. Edwards,” he said, “that your wireless +outfit here has been put to a use for which you never intended it.” +</p> + +<p> +No one said anything, but I am sure that some one in the room then for the +first time began to suspect what was coming. +</p> + +<p> +“As you know, by the use of an aërial pole, messages may be easily received +from any number of stations,” continued Craig. “Laws, rules and regulations may +be adopted to shut out interlopers and plug busybody ears, but the greater part +of whatever is transmitted by the Hertzian waves can be snatched down by other +wireless apparatus. +</p> + +<p> +“Down below, in that little room of yours,” went on Craig, “might sit an +operator with his ear-phone clamped to his head, drinking in the news conveyed +surely and swiftly to him through the wireless signals—plucking from the sky +secrets of finance and,” he added, leaning forward, “love.” +</p> + +<p> +In his usual dramatic manner Kennedy had swung his little audience completely +with him. +</p> + +<p> +“In other words,” he resumed, “it might be used for eavesdropping by a wireless +wiretapper. Now,” he concluded, “I thought that if there was any radio +detective work being done, I might as well do some, too.” +</p> + +<p> +He toyed for a moment with the phonograph record. “I have used,” he explained, +“Marconi’s radiotelephone, because in connection with his receivers Marconi +uses phonographic recorders and on them has captured wireless telegraph signals +over hundreds of miles. +</p> + +<p> +“He has found that it is possible to receive wireless signals, although +ordinary records are not loud enough, by using a small microphone on the +repeating diaphragm and connected with a loud-speaking telephone. The chief +difficulty was to get a microphone that would carry a sufficient current +without burning up. There were other difficulties, but they have been +surmounted and now wireless telegraph messages may be automatically recorded +and made audible.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy started the phonograph, running it along, stopping it, taking up the +record at a new point. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he exclaimed at length, “there’s something interesting, the WXY +call—Seaville station—from some one on the <i>Lucie</i> only a few minutes ago, +sending a message to be relayed by Seaville to the station at Beach Park. It +seems impossible, but buzzing and ticking forth is this message from some one +off this very houseboat. It reads: “Miss Valerie Fox, Beach Park. I am +suspected of the murder of Mrs. Edwards. I appeal to you to help me. You must +allow me to tell the truth about the messages I intercepted for Mrs. Edwards +which passed between yourself on the ocean and Mr. Edwards in New York via +Seaville. You rejected me and would not let me save you. Now you must save me.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy paused, then added, “The message is signed by Dr. Jermyn!” +</p> + +<p> +At once I saw it all. Jermyn had been the unsuccessful suitor for Miss Fox’s +affections. But before I could piece out the rest of the tragic story, Kennedy +had started the phonograph record at an earlier point which he had skipped for +the present. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s another record—a brief one—also to Valerie Fox from the houseboat: +‘Refuse all interviews. Deny everything. Will see you as soon as present +excitement dies down.’” +</p> + +<p> +Before Kennedy could finish, Waldon had leaped forward, unable longer to +control his feelings. If Kennedy had not seized his arm, I verily believe he +would have cast Dr. Jermyn into the bay into which his sister had fallen two +nights before in her terribly weakened condition. +</p> + +<p> +“Waldon,” cried Kennedy, “for God’s sake, man—wait! Don’t you understand? The +second message is signed Tracy Edwards.” +</p> + +<p> +It came as quite as much a shock of surprise to me as to Waldon. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you understand?” he repeated. “Your sister first learned from Dr. Jermyn +what was going on. She moved the <i>Lucie</i> down here near Seaville in order +to be near the wireless station when the ship bearing her rival, Valerie Fox, +got in touch with land. With the help of Dr. Jermyn she intercepted the +wireless messages from the <i>Kronprinz</i> to the shore—between her husband +and Valerie Fox.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was hurrying on now to his irresistible conclusion. “She found that he +was infatuated with the famous stage beauty, that he was planning to marry +another, her rival. She accused him of it, threatened to defeat his plans. He +knew she knew his unfaithfulness. Instead of being your sister’s murderer, Dr. +Jermyn was helping her get the evidence that would save both her and perhaps +win Miss Fox back to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had turned sharply on Edwards. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” he added, with a glance that crushed any lingering hope that the truth +had been concealed, “the same night that Dr. Jermyn arrived here, you visited +your wife. As she slept you severed the nerves that meant life or death to her. +Then you covered the cuts with the preparation which you knew Dr. Jermyn used. +You asked him to stay, while you went away, thinking that when death came you +would have a perfect alibi—perhaps a scapegoat. Edwards, the radio detective +convicts you!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +THE CURIO SHOP</h2> + +<p> +Edwards crumpled up as Kennedy and I faced him. There was no escape. In fact +our greatest difficulty was to protect him from Waldon. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy’s work in the case was over when we had got Edwards ashore and in the +hands of the authorities. But mine had just begun and it was late when I got my +story on the wire for the <i>Star</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I felt pretty tired and determined to make up for it by sleeping the next day. +It was no use, however. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what’s the matter, Mrs. Northrop?” I heard Kennedy ask as he opened our +door the next morning, just as I had finished dressing. +</p> + +<p> +He had admitted a young woman, who greeted us with nervous, wide-staring eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s—it’s about Archer,” she cried, sinking into the nearest chair and staring +from one to the other of us. +</p> + +<p> +She was the wife of Professor Archer Northrop, director of the archeological +department at the university. Both Craig and I had known her ever since her +marriage to Northrop, for she was one of the most attractive ladies in the +younger set of the faculty, to which Craig naturally belonged. Archer had been +of the class below us in the university. We had hazed him, and out of the mild +hazing there had, strangely enough, grown a strong friendship. +</p> + +<p> +I recollected quickly that Northrop, according to last reports, had been down +in the south of Mexico on an archeological expedition. But before I could +frame, even in my mind, the natural question in a form that would not alarm his +wife further, Kennedy had it on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“No bad news from Mitla, I hope?” he asked gently, recalling one of the main +working stations chosen by the expedition and the reported unsettled condition +of the country about it. She looked up quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you know—he—came back from Vera Cruz yesterday?” she asked slowly, then +added, speaking in a broken tone, “and—he seems—suddenly—to have disappeared. +Oh, such a terrible night of worry! No word—and I called up the museum, but +Doctor Bernardo, the curator, had gone, and no one answered. And this morning—I +couldn’t stand it any longer—so I came to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have no idea, I suppose, of anything that was weighing on his mind?” +suggested Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered promptly. +</p> + +<p> +In default of any further information, Kennedy did not pursue this line of +questioning. I could not determine from his face or manner whether he thought +the matter might involve another than Mrs. Northrop, or, perhaps, something +connected with the unsettled condition of the country from which her husband +had just arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any of the letters that Archer wrote home?” asked Craig, at length. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied eagerly, taking a little packet from her handbag. “I thought +you might ask that. I brought them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are an ideal client,” commented Craig encouragingly, taking the letters. +“Now, Mrs. Northrop, be brave. Trust me to run this thing down, and if you hear +anything let me know immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +She left us a moment later, visibly relieved. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had she gone when Craig, stuffing the letters into his pocket unread, +seized his hat, and a moment later was striding along toward the museum with +his habitual rapid, abstracted step which told me that he sensed a mystery. +</p> + +<p> +In the museum we met Doctor Bernardo, a man slightly older than Northrop, with +whom he had been very intimate. He had just arrived and was already deeply +immersed in the study of some new and beautiful colored plates from the +National Museum of Mexico City. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember seeing Northrop here yesterday afternoon?” greeted Craig, +without explaining what had happened. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered promptly. “I was here with him until very late. At least, he +was in his own room, working hard, when I left.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see him go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why—er—no,” replied Bernardo, as if that were a new idea. “I left him here—at +least, I didn’t see him go out.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy tried the door of Northrop’s room, which was at the far end, in a +corner, and communicated with the hall only through the main floor of the +museum. It was locked. A pass-key from the janitor quickly opened it. +</p> + +<p> +Such a sight as greeted us, I shall never forget. There, in his big desk-chair, +sat Northrop, absolutely rigid, the most horribly contorted look on his +features that I have ever seen—half of pain, half of fear, as if of something +nameless. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy bent over. His hands were cold. +</p> + +<p> +Northrop had been dead at least twelve hours, perhaps longer. All night the +deserted museum had guarded its terrible secret. +</p> + +<p> +As Craig peered into his face, he saw, in the fleshy part of the neck, just +below the left ear, a round red mark, with just a drop or two of now black +coagulated blood in the center. All around we could see a vast amount of +miscellaneous stuff, partly unpacked, partly just opened, and waiting to be +taken out of the wrappings by the now motionless hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you are more or less familiar with what Northrop brought back?” +asked Kennedy of Bernardo, running his eye over the material in the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, reasonably,” answered Bernardo. “Before the cases arrived from the wharf, +he told me in detail what he had managed to bring up with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish, then, that you would look it over and see if there is anything +missing,” requested Craig, already himself busy in going over the room for +other evidence. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Bernardo hastily began taking a mental inventory of the stuff. While +they worked, I tried vainly to frame some theory which would explain the +startling facts we had so suddenly discovered. +</p> + +<p> +Mitla, I knew, was south of the city of Oaxaca, and there, in its ruined +palaces, was the crowning achievement of the old Zapotec kings. No ruins in +America were more elaborately ornamented or richer in lore for the +archeologist. +</p> + +<p> +Northrop had brought up porphyry blocks with quaint grecques and much +hieroglyphic painting. Already unpacked were half a dozen copper axes, some of +the first of that particular style that had ever been brought to the United +States. Besides the sculptured stones and the mosaics were jugs, cups, vases, +little gods, sacrificial stones—enough, almost, to equip a new alcove in the +museum. +</p> + +<p> +Before Northrop was an idol, a hideous thing on which frogs and snakes squatted +and coiled. It was a fitting piece to accompany the gruesome occupant of the +little room in his long, last vigil. In fact, it almost sent a shudder over me, +and if I had been inclined to the superstitious, I should certainly have +concluded that this was retribution for having disturbed the <i>lares</i> and +<i>penates</i> of a dead race. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Bernardo was going over the material a second time. By the look on his +face, even I could guess that something was missing. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Craig, following the curator closely. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he answered slowly, “there was an inscription—we were looking at it +earlier in the day—on a small block of porphyry. I don’t see it.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and went back to his search before we could ask him further what he +thought the inscription was about. +</p> + +<p> +I thought nothing myself at the time of his reticence, for Kennedy had gone +over to a window back of Northrop and to the left. It was fully twenty feet +from the downward slope of the campus there, and, as he craned his neck out, he +noted that the copper leader of the rain pipe ran past it a few feet away. +</p> + +<p> +I, too, looked out. A thick group of trees hid the window from the avenue +beyond the campus wall, and below us, at a corner of the building, was a clump +of rhododendrons. As Craig bent over the sill, he whipped out a pocket lens. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later he silently handed the glass to me. As nearly as I could make +out, there were five marks on the dust of the sill. +</p> + +<p> +“Finger-prints!” I exclaimed. “Some one has been clinging to the edge of the +ledge.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case,” Craig observed quietly, “there would have been only four +prints.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked again, puzzled. The prints were flat and well separated. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he added, “not finger-prints—toe-prints.” +</p> + +<p> +“Toe-prints?” I echoed. +</p> + +<p> +Before he could reply, Craig had dashed out of the room, around, and under the +window. There, he was carefully going over the soft earth around the bushes +below. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking for?” I asked, joining him. +</p> + +<p> +“Some one—perhaps two—has been here,” he remarked, almost under his breath. +“One, at least, has removed his shoes. See those shoe-prints up to this point? +The print of a boot-heel in soft earth shows the position and contour of every +nail head. Bertillon has made a collection of such nails, certain types, sizes, +and shapes used in certain boots, showing often what country the shoes came +from. Even the number and pattern are significant. Some factories use a fixed +number of nails and arrange them in a particular manner. I have made my own +collection of such prints in this country. These were American shoes. Perhaps +the clue will not lead us anywhere, though, for I doubt whether it was an +American foot.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy continued to study the marks. +</p> + +<p> +“He removed his shoes—either to help in climbing or to prevent noise—ah—here’s +the foot! Strange—see how small it is—and broad, how prehensile the toes—almost +like fingers. Surely that foot could never have been encased in American shoes +all its life. I shall make plaster casts of these, to preserve later.” +</p> + +<p> +He was still scouting about on hands and knees in the dampness of the +rhododendrons. Suddenly he reached his long arm in among the shrubs and picked +up a little reed stick. On the end of it was a small cylinder of buff brown. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at it curiously, dug his nail into the soft mass, then rubbed his +nail over the tip of his tongue gingerly. +</p> + +<p> +With a wry face, as if the taste were extremely acrid, he moistened his +handkerchief and wiped off his tongue vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“Even that minute particle that was on my nail makes my tongue tingle and feel +numb,” he remarked, still rubbing. “Let us go back again. I want to see +Bernardo.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had he any visitors during the day?” queried Kennedy, as he reentered the +ghastly little room, while the curator stood outside, completely unnerved by +the tragedy which had been so close to him without his apparently knowing it. +Kennedy was squeezing out from the little wound on Northrop’s neck a few drops +of liquid on a sterilized piece of glass. +</p> + +<p> +“No; no one,” Bernardo answered, after a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see anyone in the museum who looked suspicious?” asked Kennedy, +watching Bernardo’s face keenly. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he hesitated. “There were several people wandering about among the +exhibits, of course. One, I recall, late in the afternoon, was a little +dark-skinned woman, rather good-looking.” +</p> + +<p> +“A Mexican?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I should say so. Not of Spanish descent, though. She was rather of the +Indian type. She seemed to be much interested in the various exhibits, asked me +several questions, very intelligently, too. Really, I thought she was trying +to—er—flirt with me.” +</p> + +<p> +He shot a glance at Craig, half of confession, half of embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“And—oh, yes—there was another—a man, a little man, as I recall, with shaggy +hair. He looked like a Russian to me. I remember, because he came to the door, +peered around hastily, and went away. I thought he might have got into the +wrong part of the building and went to direct him right—but before I could get +out into the hall, he was gone. I remember, too, that, as I turned, the woman +had followed me and soon was asking other questions—which, I will admit—I was +glad to answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was Northrop in his room while these people were here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; he had locked the door so that none of the students or visitors could +disturb him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Evidently the woman was diverting your attention while the man entered +Northrop’s room by the window,” ruminated Craig, as we stood for a moment in +the outside doorway. +</p> + +<p> +He had already telephoned to our old friend Doctor Leslie, the coroner, to take +charge of the case, and now was ready to leave. The news had spread, and the +janitor of the building was waiting to lock the campus door to keep back the +crowd of students and others. +</p> + +<p> +Our next duty was the painful one of breaking the news to Mrs. Northrop. I +shall pass it over. Perhaps no one could have done it more gently than Kennedy. +She did not cry. She was simply dazed. Fortunately her mother was with her, had +been, in fact, ever since Northrop had gone on the expedition. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should anyone want to steal tablets of old Mixtec inscriptions?” I asked +thoughtfully, as we walked sadly over the campus in the direction of the +chemistry building. “Have they a sufficient value, even on appreciative Fifth +Avenue, to warrant murder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he remarked, “it does seem incomprehensible. Yet people do just such +things. The psychologists tell us that there is a veritable mania for +possessing such curios. However, it is possible that there may be some deeper +significance in this case,” he added, his face puckered in thought. +</p> + +<p> +Who was the mysterious Mexican woman, who the shaggy Russian? I asked myself. +Clearly, at least, if she existed at all, she was one of the millions not of +Spanish but of Indian descent in the country south of us. As I reasoned it out, +it seemed to me as if she must have been an accomplice. She could not have got +into Northrop’s room either before or after Doctor Bernardo left. Then, too, +the toe-and shoe-prints were not hers. But, I figured, she certainly had a part +in the plot. +</p> + +<p> +While I was engaged in the vain effort to unravel the tragic affair by pure +reason, Kennedy was at work with practical science. +</p> + +<p> +He began by examining the little dark cylinder on the end of the reed. On a +piece of the stuff, broken off, he poured a dark liquid from a brown-glass +bottle. Then he placed it under a microscope. +</p> + +<p> +“Microscopically,” he said slowly, “it consists almost wholly of minute, clear +granules which give a blue reaction with iodine. They are starch. Mixed with +them are some larger starch granules, a few plant cells, fibrous matter, and +other foreign particles. And then, there is the substance that gives that +acrid, numbing taste.” He appeared to be vacantly studying the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think it is?” I asked, unable to restrain myself. +</p> + +<p> +“Aconite,” he answered slowly, “of which the active principle is the deadly +poisonous alkaloid, aconitin.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked over and pulled down a well-thumbed standard work on toxicology, +turned the pages, then began to read aloud: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Pure aconitin is probably the most actively poisonous substance with which we +are acquainted and, if administered hypodermically, the alkaloid is even more +powerfully poisonous than when taken by the mouth. +</p> + +<p> +As in the case of most of the poisonous alkaloids, aconitin does not produce +any decidedly characteristic post-mortem appearances. There is no way to +distinguish it from other alkaloids, in fact, no reliable chemical test. The +physiological effects before death are all that can be relied on. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to its exceeding toxic nature, the smallness of the dose required to +produce death, and the lack of tests for recognition, aconitin possesses rather +more interest in legal medicine than most other poisons. +</p> + +<p> +It is one of the few substances which, in the present state of toxicology, +might be criminally administered and leave no positive evidence of the crime. +If a small but fatal dose of the poison were to be given, especially if it were +administered hypodermically, the chances of its detection in the body after +death would be practically none. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +THE “PILLAR OF DEATH”</h2> + +<p> +I was looking at him fixedly as the diabolical nature of what must have +happened sank into my mind. Here was a poison that defied detection. I could +see by the look on Craig’s face that that problem, alone, was enough to absorb +his attention. He seemed fully to realize that we had to deal with a criminal +so clever that he might never be brought to justice. +</p> + +<p> +An idea flashed over me. +</p> + +<p> +“How about the letters?” I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Good, Walter!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +He untied the package which Mrs. Northrop had given him and glanced quickly +over one after another of the letters. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he exclaimed, fairly devouring one dated at Mitla. “Listen—it tells about +Northrop’s work and goes on: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“‘I have been much interested in a cavern, or <i>subterraneo</i>, here, in the +shape of a cross, each arm of which extends for some twelve feet underground. +In the center it is guarded by a block of stone popularly called “the Pillar of +Death.” There is a superstition that whoever embraces it will die before the +sun goes down. +</p> + +<p> +“‘From the <i>subterraneo</i> is said to lead a long, underground passage +across the court to another subterranean chamber which is full of Mixtec +treasure. Treasure hunters have dug all around it, and it is said that two old +Indians, only, know of the immense amount of buried gold and silver, but that +they will not reveal it.’” +</p> + +<p> +I started up. Here was the missing link which I had been waiting for. +</p> + +<p> +“There, at least, is the motive,” I blurted out. “That is why Bernardo was so +reticent. Northrop, in his innocence of heart, had showed him that +inscription.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing as he finally tied up the little packet of letters and +locked it in his safe. He was not given to hasty generalizations; neither was +he one who clung doggedly to a preconceived theory. +</p> + +<p> +It was still early in the afternoon. Craig and I decided to drop into the +museum again in order to see Doctor Bernardo. He was not there and we sat down +to wait. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the letter box in the door clicked. It was the postman on his rounds. +Kennedy walked over and picked up the letter. +</p> + +<p> +The postmark bore the words, “Mexico City,” and a date somewhat later than that +on which Northrop had left Vera Cruz. In the lower corner, underscored, were +the words, “Personal—Urgent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to know what is in that,” remarked Craig, turning it over and over. +</p> + +<p> +He appeared to be considering something, for he rose suddenly and shoved the +letter into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +I followed, and a few moments later, across the campus in his laboratory, he +was working quickly over an X-ray apparatus. He had placed the letter in it. +</p> + +<p> +“These are what are known as ‘low’ tubes,” he explained. “They give out ‘soft +rays.’” He continued to work for a few moments, then handed me the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Walter,” he said, “if you will just hurry back to the museum and replace +that letter, I think I will have something that will astonish you—though +whether it will have any bearing on the case, remains to be seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked, a few minutes later, when I had rejoined him, after +returning the letter. He was poring intently over what looked like a negative. +</p> + +<p> +“The possibility of reading the contents of documents inclosed in a sealed +envelope,” he replied, still studying the shadowgraph closely, “has already +been established by the well-known English scientist, Doctor Hall Edwards. He +has been experimenting with the method of using X-rays recently discovered by a +German scientist, by which radiographs of very thin substances, such as a sheet +of paper, a leaf, an insect’s body, may be obtained. These thin substances +through which the rays used formerly to pass without leaving an impression, can +now be radiographed.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked carefully as he traced out something on the negative. On it was easily +possible, following his guidance, to read the words inscribed on the sheet of +paper inside. So admirably defined were all the details that even the gum on +the envelope and the edges of the sheet of paper inside the envelope could be +distinguished. +</p> + +<p> +“Any letter written with ink having a mineral basis can be radiographed,” added +Craig. “Even when the sheet is folded in the usual way, it is possible by +taking a radiograph stereoscopically, to distinguish the writing, every detail +standing out in relief. Besides, it can be greatly magnified, which aids in +deciphering it if it is indistinct or jumbled up. Some of it looks like mirror +writing. Ah,” he added, “here’s something interesting!” +</p> + +<p> +Together we managed to trace out the contents of several paragraphs, of which +the significant parts were as follows: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I am expecting that my friend Señora Herreria will be in New York by the time +you receive this, and should she call on you, I know you will accord her every +courtesy. She has been in Mexico City for a few days, having just returned from +Mitla, where she met Professor Northrop. It is rumored that Professor Northrop +has succeeded in smuggling out of the country a very important stone bearing an +inscription which, I understand, is of more than ordinary interest. I do not +know anything definite about it, as Señora Herreria is very reticent on the +matter, but depend on you to find out if possible and let me know of it. +</p> + +<p> +According to the rumors and the statements of the <i>señora</i>, it seems that +Northrop has taken an unfair advantage of the situation down in Oaxaca, and I +suppose she and others who know about the inscription feel that it is really +the possession of the government. +</p> + +<p> +You will find that the <i>señora</i> is an accomplished antiquarian and +scholar. Like many others down here just now, she has a high regard for the +Japanese. As you know, there exists a natural sympathy between some Mexicans +and Japanese, owing to what is believed to be a common origin of the two races. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the assertions of many to the contrary, there is little doubt left +in the minds of students that the Indian races which have peopled Mexico were +of Mongolian stock. Many words in some dialects are easily understood by +Chinese immigrants. A secretary of the Japanese legation here was able recently +to decipher old Mixtec inscriptions found in the ruins of Mitla. +</p> + +<p> +Señora Herreria has been much interested in establishing the relationship and, +I understand, is acquainted with a Japanese curio dealer in New York who +recently visited Mexico for the same purpose. I believe that she wishes to +collaborate with him on a monograph on the subject, which is expected to have a +powerful effect on the public opinion both here and at Tokyo. +</p> + +<p> +In regard to the inscription which Northrop has taken with him, I rely on you +to keep me informed. There seems to be a great deal of mystery connected with +it, and I am simply hazarding a guess as to its nature. If it should prove to +be something which might interest either the Japanese or ourselves, you can see +how important it may be, especially in view of the forthcoming mission of +General Francisco to Tokyo. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Very sincerely yours,<br/> +D<small>R</small>. E<small>MILIO</small> S<small>ANCHEZ</small>, Director. +</p> + +<p> +“Bernardo is a Mexican,” I exclaimed, as Kennedy finished reading, “and there +can be no doubt that the woman he mentioned was this Señora Herreria.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing, but seemed to be weighing the various paragraphs in the +letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” I observed, “so far, the only one against whom we have any direct +suspicion in the case is the shaggy Russian, whoever he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“A man whom Bernardo says looked like a Russian,” corrected Craig. +</p> + +<p> +He was pacing the laboratory restlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“This is becoming quite an international affair,” he remarked finally, pausing +before me, his hat on. “Would you like to relax your mind by a little excursion +among the curio shops of the city? I know something about Japanese curios—more, +perhaps, than I do of Mexican. It may amuse us, even if it doesn’t help in +solving the mystery. Meanwhile, I shall make arrangements for shadowing +Bernardo. I want to know just how he acts after he reads that letter.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused long enough to telephone his instructions to an uptown detective +agency which could be depended on for such mere routine work, then joined me +with the significant remark: “Blood is thicker than water, anyhow, Walter. +Still, even if the Mexicans are influenced by sentiment, I hardly think that +would account for the interest of our friends from across the water in the +matter.” +</p> + +<p> +I do not know how many of the large and small curio shops of the city we +visited that afternoon. At another time, I should have enjoyed the visits +immensely, for anyone seeking articles of beauty will find the antique shops of +Fifth and Fourth Avenues and the side streets well worth visiting. +</p> + +<p> +We came, at length, to one, a small, quaint, dusty rookery, down in a basement, +entered almost directly from the street. It bore over the door a little gilt +sign which read simply, “Sato’s.” +</p> + +<p> +As we entered, I could not help being impressed by the wealth of articles in +beautiful cloisonne enamel, in mother-of-pearl, lacquer, and champleve. There +were beautiful little koros, or incense burners, vases, and teapots. There were +enamels incrusted, translucent, and painted, works of the famous Namikawa, of +Kyoto, and Namikawa, of Tokyo. Satsuma vases, splendid and rare examples of the +potter’s art, crowded gorgeously embroidered screens depicting all sorts of +brilliant scenes, among others the sacred Fujiyama rising in the stately +distance. Sato himself greeted us with a ready smile and bow. +</p> + +<p> +“I am just looking for a few things to add to my den,” explained Kennedy, +adding, “nothing in particular, but merely whatever happens to strike my +fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, then, you have come to the right shop,” greeted Sato. “If there is +anything that interests you, I shall be glad to show it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” replied Craig. “Don’t let me trouble you with your other +customers. I will call on you if I see anything.” +</p> + +<p> +For several minutes, Craig and I busied ourselves looking about, and we did not +have to feign interest, either. +</p> + +<p> +“Often things are not as represented,” he whispered to me, after a while, “but +a connoiseur can tell spurious goods. These are the real thing, mostly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not one in fifty can tell the difference,” put in the voice of Sato, at his +elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see I happen to know,” Craig replied, not the least disconcerted. +“You can’t always be too sure.” +</p> + +<p> +A laugh and a shrug was Sato’s answer. “It’s well all are not so keen,” he +said, with a frank acknowledgment that he was not above sharp practices. +</p> + +<p> +I glanced now and then at the expressionless face of the curio dealer. Was it +merely the natural blankness of his countenance that impressed me, or was +there, in fact, something deep and dark hidden in it, something of “East is +East and West is West” which I did not and could not understand? Craig was +admiring the bronzes. He had paused before one, a square metal fire-screen of +odd design, with the title on a card, “Japan Gazing at the World.” +</p> + +<p> +It represented Japan as an eagle, with beak and talons of burnished gold, +resting on a rocky island about which great waves dashed. The bird had an air +of dignity and conscious pride in its strength, as it looked out at the world, +a globe revolving in space. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suppose there is anything significant in that?” I asked, pointing to +the continent of North America, also in gold and prominently in view. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, honorable sir,” answered Sato, before Kennedy could reply, “the artist +intended by that to indicate Japan’s friendliness for America and America’s +greatness.” +</p> + +<p> +He was inscrutable. It seemed as if he were watching our every move, and yet it +was done with a polite cordiality that could not give offense. +</p> + +<p> +Behind some bronzes of the Japanese Hercules destroying the demons and other +mythical heroes was a large alcove, or <i>tokonoma</i>, decorated with peacock, +stork, and crane panels. Carvings and lacquer added to the beauty of it. A +miniature chrysanthemum garden heightened the illusion. Carved <i>hinoki</i> +wood framed the panels, and the roof was supported by columns in the old +Japanese style, the whole being a compromise between the very simple and quiet +and the polychromatic. The dark woods, the lanterns, the floor tiles of dark +red, and the cushions of rich gold and yellow were most alluring. It had the +genuine fascination of the Orient. +</p> + +<p> +“Will the gentlemen drink a little <i>sake?</i>” Sato asked politely. +</p> + +<p> +Craig thanked him and said that we would. +</p> + +<p> +“Otaka!” Sato called. +</p> + +<p> +A peculiar, almost white-skinned attendant answered, and a moment later +produced four cups and poured out the rice brandy, taking his own quietly, +apart from us. I watched him drink, curiously. He took the cup; then, with a +long piece of carved wood, he dipped into the <i>sake</i>, shaking a few drops +on the floor to the four quarters. Finally, with a deft sweep, he lifted his +heavy mustache with the piece of wood and drank off the draft almost without +taking breath. +</p> + +<p> +He was a peculiar man of middle height, with a shock of dark, tough, woolly +hair, well formed and not bad-looking, with a robust general physique, as if +his ancestors had been meat eaters. His forehead was narrow and sloped +backward; the cheekbones were prominent; nose hooked, broad and wide, with +strong nostrils; mouth large, with thick lips, and not very prominent chin. His +eyes were perhaps the most noticeable feature. They were dark gray, almost like +those of a European. +</p> + +<p> +As Otaka withdrew with the empty cups, we rose to continue our inspection of +the wonders of the shop. There were ivories of all descriptions. Here was a +two-handled sword, with a very large ivory handle, a weirdly carved scabbard, +and wonderful steel blade. By the expression of Craig’s face, Sato knew that he +had made a sale. +</p> + +<p> +Craig had been rummaging among some warlike instruments which Sato, with the +instincts of a true salesman, was now displaying, and had picked up a bow. It +was short, very strong, and made of pine wood. He held it horizontally and +twanged the string. I looked up in time to catch a pleased expression on the +face of Otaka. +</p> + +<p> +“Most people would have held it the other way,” commented Sato. +</p> + +<p> +Craig said nothing, but was examining an arrow, almost twenty inches long and +thick, made of cane, with a point of metal very sharp but badly fastened. He +fingered the deep blood groove in the scooplike head of the arrow and looked at +it carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take that,” he said, “only I wish it were one with the regular +reddish-brown lump in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but, honorable sir,” apologized Sato, “the Japanese law prohibits that, +now. There are few of those, and they are very valuable.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,” agreed Craig. “This will do, though. You have a wonderful shop +here, Sato. Some time, when I feel richer, I mean to come in again. No, thank +you, you need not send them; I’ll carry them.” +</p> + +<p> +We bowed ourselves out, promising to come again when Sato received a new +consignment from the Orient which he was expecting. +</p> + +<p> +“That other Jap is a peculiar fellow,” I observed, as we walked along uptown +again. +</p> + +<p> +“He isn’t a Jap,” remarked Craig. “He is an Ainu, one of the aborigines who +have been driven northward into the island of Yezo.” +</p> + +<p> +“An Ainu?” I repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Generally thought, now, to be a white race and nearer of kin to Europeans +than Asiatics. The Japanese have pushed them northward and are now trying to +civilize them. They are a dirty, hairy race, but when they are brought under +civilizing influences they adapt themselves to their environment and make very +good servants. Still, they are on about the lowest scale of humanity.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought Otaka was very mild,” I commented. +</p> + +<p> +“They are a most inoffensive and peaceable people usually,” he answered, +“good-natured and amenable to authority. But they become dangerous when driven +to despair by cruel treatment. The Japanese government is very considerate of +them—but not all Japanese are.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII<br/> +THE ARROW POISON</h2> + +<p> +Far into the night Craig was engaged in some very delicate and minute +microscopic work in the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +We were about to leave when there was a gentle tap on the door. Kennedy opened +it and admitted a young man, the operative of the detective agency who had been +shadowing Bernardo. His report was very brief, but, to me at least, +significant. Bernardo, on his return to the museum, had evidently read the +letter, which had agitated him very much, for a few moments later he hurriedly +left and went downtown to the Prince Henry Hotel. The operative had casually +edged up to the desk and overheard whom he asked for. It was Señora Herreria. +Once again, later in the evening, he had asked for her, but she was still out. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite early the next morning, when Kennedy had resumed his careful +microscopic work, that the telephone bell rang, and he answered it +mechanically. But a moment later a look of intense surprise crossed his face. +</p> + +<p> +“It was from Doctor Leslie,” he announced, hanging up the receiver quickly. “He +has a most peculiar case which he wants me to see—a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy called a cab, and, at a furious pace, we dashed across the city and +down to the Metropolitan Hospital, where Doctor Leslie was waiting. He met us +eagerly and conducted us to a little room where, lying motionless on a bed, was +a woman. +</p> + +<p> +She was a striking-looking woman, dark of hair and skin, and in life she must +have been sensuously attractive. But now her face was drawn and contorted—with +the same ghastly look that had been on the face of Northrop. +</p> + +<p> +“She died in a cab,” explained Doctor Leslie, “before they could get her to the +hospital. At first they suspected the cab driver. But he seems to have proved +his innocence. He picked her up last night on Fifth Avenue, reeling—thought she +was intoxicated. And, in fact, he seems to have been right. Our tests have +shown a great deal of alcohol present, but nothing like enough to have had such +a serious effect.” +</p> + +<p> +“She told nothing of herself?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“No; she was pretty far gone when the cabby answered her signal. All he could +get out of her was a word that sounded like ‘Curio-curio.’ He says she seemed +to complain of something about her mouth and head. Her face was drawn and +shrunken; her hands were cold and clammy, and then convulsions came on. He +called an ambulance, but she was past saving when it arrived. The numbness +seemed to have extended over all her body; swallowing was impossible; there was +entire loss of her voice as well as sight, and death took place by syncope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any clue to the cause of her death?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it might have been some trouble with her heart, I suppose,” remarked +Doctor Leslie tentatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she looks strong that way. No, hardly anything organic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then I thought she looked like a Mexican,” went on Doctor Leslie. “It +might be some new tropical disease. I confess I don’t know. The fact is,” he +added, lowering his voice, “I had my own theory about it until a few moments +ago. That was why I called you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Craig, evidently bent on testing his own theory by +the other’s ignorance. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Leslie made no answer immediately, but raised the sheet which covered +her body and disclosed, in the fleshy part of the upper arm, a curious little +red swollen mark with a couple of drops of darkened blood. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought at first,” he added, “that we had at last a genuine ‘poisoned +needle’ case. You see, that looked like it. But I have made all the tests for +curare and strychnin without results.” +</p> + +<p> +At the mere suggestion, a procession of hypodermic-needle and white-slavery +stories flashed before me. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” objected Kennedy, “clearly this was not a case of kidnaping. It is a +case of murder. Have you tested for the ordinary poisons?” +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Leslie shook his head. “There was no poison,” he said, “absolutely none +that any of our tests could discover.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy bent over and squeezed out a few drops of liquid from the wound on a +microscope slide, and covered them. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not identified her yet,” he added, looking up. “I think you will +find, Leslie, that there is a Señora Herreria registered at the Prince Henry +who is missing, and that this woman will agree with the description of her. +Anyhow, I wish you would look it up and let me know.” +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later, Kennedy was preparing to continue his studies with the +microscope when Doctor Bernardo entered. He seemed most solicitous to know what +progress was being made on the case, and, although Kennedy did not tell much, +still he did not discourage conversation on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +When we came in the night before, Craig had unwrapped and tossed down the +Japanese sword and the Ainu bow and arrow on a table, and it was not long +before they attracted Bernardo’s attention. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you are a collector yourself,” he ventured, picking them up. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Craig, offhand; “I picked them up yesterday at Sato’s. You know +the place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I know Sato,” answered the curator, seemingly without the slightest +hesitation. “He has been in Mexico—is quite a student.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the other man, Otaka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Other man—Otaka? You mean his wife?” +</p> + +<p> +I saw Kennedy check a motion of surprise and came to the rescue with the +natural question: “His wife—with a beard and mustache?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Bernardo’s turn to be surprised. He looked at me a moment, then saw that +I meant it, and suddenly his face lighted up. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” he exclaimed, “that must have been on account of the immigration laws or +something of the sort. Otaka is his wife. The Ainus are much sought after by +the Japanese as wives. The women, you know, have a custom of tattooing +mustaches on themselves. It is hideous, but they think it is beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” I pursued, watching Kennedy’s interest in our conversation, “but this +was not tattooed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, it must have been false,” insisted Bernardo. +</p> + +<p> +The curator chatted a few moments, during which I expected Kennedy to lead the +conversation around to Señora Herreria. But he did not, evidently fearing to +show his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you make of it?” I asked, when he had gone. “Is he trying to hide +something?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think he has simplified the case,” remarked Craig, leaning back, his hands +behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. “Hello, here’s Leslie! What did you +find, Doctor?” The coroner had entered with a look of awe on his face, as if +Kennedy had directed him by some sort of necromancy. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Señora Herreria!” he exclaimed. “She has been missing from the hotel +ever since late yesterday afternoon. What do you think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” replied Kennedy, speaking slowly and deliberately, “that it is very +much like the Northrop case. You haven’t taken that up yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only superficially. What do you make of it?” asked the coroner. +</p> + +<p> +“I had an idea that it might be aconitin poisoning,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie glanced at him keenly for a moment. “Then you’ll never prove anything in +the laboratory,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“There are more ways of catching a criminal, Leslie,” put in Craig, “than are +set down in the medico-legal text-books. I shall depend on you and Jameson to +gather together a rather cosmopolitan crowd here to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +He said it with a quiet confidence which I could not gainsay, although I did +not understand. However, mostly with the official aid of Doctor Leslie, I +followed out his instructions, and it was indeed a strange party that assembled +that night. There were Doctor Bernardo; Sato, the curio dealer; Otaka, the +Ainu, and ourselves. Mrs. Northrop, of course, could not come. +</p> + +<p> +“Mexico,” began Craig, after he had said a few words explaining why he had +brought us together, “is full of historical treasure. To all intents and +purposes, the government says, ‘Come and dig.’ But when there are finds, then +the government swoops down on them for its own national museum. The finder +scarcely gets a chance to export them. However, now seemed to be the time to +Professor Northrop to smuggle his finds out of the country. +</p> + +<p> +“But evidently it could not be done without exciting all kinds of rumors and +suspicions. Stories seem to have spread far and fast about what he had +discovered. He realized the unsettled condition of the country—perhaps wanted +to confirm his reading of a certain inscription by consultation with one +scholar whom he thought he could trust. At any rate, he came home.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy paused, making use of the silence for emphasis. “You have all read of +the wealth that Cortez found in Mexico. Where are the gold and silver of the +<i>conquistadores?</i> Gone to the melting pot, centuries ago. But is there +none left? The Indians believe so. There are persons who would stop at +nothing—even at murder of American professors, murder of their own comrades, to +get at the secret.” +</p> + +<p> +He laid his hand almost lovingly on his powerful little microscope as he +resumed on another line of evidence. +</p> + +<p> +“And while we are on the subject of murders, two very similar deaths have +occurred,” he went on. “It is of no use to try to gloss them over. Frankly, I +suspected that they might have been caused by aconite poisoning. But, in the +case of such poisoning, not only is the lethal dose very small but our chemical +methods of detection are <i>nil</i>. The dose of the active principle, aconitin +nitrate, is about one six-hundredth of a grain. There are no color tests, no +reactions, as in the case of the other organic poisons.” +</p> + +<p> +I wondered what he was driving at. Was there, indeed, no test? Had the murderer +used the safest of poisons—one that left no clue? I looked covertly at Sato’s +face. It was impassive. Doctor Bernardo was visibly uneasy as Kennedy +proceeded. Cool enough up to the time of the mention of the treasure, I +fancied, now, that he was growing more and more nervous. +</p> + +<p> +Craig laid down on the table the reed stick with the little darkened cylinder +on the end. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” he said, “is a little article which I picked up beneath Northrop’s +window yesterday. It is a piece of <i>anno-noki</i>, or <i>bushi</i>.” I +fancied I saw just a glint of satisfaction in Otaka’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Like many barbarians,” continued Craig, “the Ainus from time immemorial have +prepared virulent poisons with which they charged their weapons of the chase +and warfare. The formulas for the preparations, as in the case of other arrow +poisons of other tribes, are known only to certain members, and the secret is +passed down from generation to generation as an heirloom, as it were. But in +this case it is no longer a secret. It has now been proved that the active +principle of this poison is aconite.” +</p> + +<p> +“If that is the case,” broke in Doctor Leslie, “it is hopeless to connect +anyone directly in that way with these murders. There is no test for aconitin.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought Sato’s face was more composed and impassive than ever. Doctor +Bernardo, however, was plainly excited. +</p> + +<p> +“What—no test—<i>none?</i>” asked Kennedy, leaning forward eagerly. Then, as if +he could restrain the answer to his own question no longer, he shot out: “How +about the new starch test just discovered by Professor Reichert, of the +University of Pennsylvania? Doubtless you never dreamed that starch may be a +means of detecting the nature of a poison in obscure cases in criminology, +especially in cases where the quantity of poison necessary to cause death is so +minute that no trace of it can be found in the blood. +</p> + +<p> +“The starch method is a new and extremely inviting subject to me. The +peculiarities of the starch of any plant are quite as distinctive of the plant +as are those of the hemoglobin crystals in the blood of an animal. I have +analyzed the evidence of my microscope in this case thoroughly. When the arrow +poison is introduced subcutaneously—say, by a person shooting a poisoned dart, +which he afterward removes in order to destroy the evidence—the lethal +constituents are rapidly absorbed. +</p> + +<p> +“But the starch remains in the wound. It can be recovered and studied +microscopically and can be definitely recognized. Doctor Reichert has published +a study of twelve hundred such starches from all sorts of plants. In this case, +it not only proves to be aconitin but the starch granules themselves can be +recognized. They came from this piece of arrow poison.” +</p> + +<p> +Every eye was fixed on him now. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” he rapped out, “in the soft soil beneath the window of Professor +Northrop’s room, I found footprints. I have only to compare the impressions I +took there and those of the people in this room, to prove that, while the real +murderer stood guard below the window, he sent some one more nimble up the rain +pipe to shoot the poisoned dart at Professor Northrop, and, later, to let down +a rope by which he, the instigator, could gain the room, remove the dart, and +obtain the key to the treasure he sought.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was looking straight at Professor Bernardo. +</p> + +<p> +“A friend of mine in Mexico has written me about an inscription,” he burst out. +“I received the letter only to-day. As nearly as I can gather, there was an +impression that some of Northrop’s stuff would be valuable in proving the +alleged kinship between Mexico and Japan, perhaps to arouse hatred of the +United States.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—that is all very well,” insisted Kennedy. “But how about the treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Treasure?” repeated Bernardo, looking from one of us to another. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” pursued Craig relentlessly, “the treasure. You are an expert in reading +the hieroglyphics. By your own statement, you and Northrop had been going over +the stuff he had sent up. You know it.” +</p> + +<p> +Bernardo gave a quick glance from Kennedy to me. Evidently he saw that the +secret was out. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said huskily, in a low tone, “Northrop and I were to follow the +directions after we had plotted them out and were to share it together on the +next expedition, which I could direct as a Mexican without so much suspicion. I +should still have shared it with his widow if this unfortunate affair had not +exposed the secret.” +</p> + +<p> +Bernardo had risen earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“Kennedy,” he cried, “before God, if you will get back that stone and keep the +secret from going further than this room, I will prove what I have said by +dividing the Mixtec treasure with Mrs. Northrop and making her one of the +richest widows in the country!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I wanted to be sure of,” nodded Craig. “Bernardo, Señora +Herreria, of whom your friend wrote to you from Mexico, has been murdered in +the same way that Professor Northrop was. Otaka was sent by her husband to +murder Northrop, in order that they might obtain the so-called ‘Pillar of +Death’ and the key to the treasure. Then, when the <i>señora</i> was no doubt +under the influence of <i>sake</i> in the pretty little Oriental bower at the +curio shop, a quick jab, and Otaka had removed one who shared the secret with +them.” +</p> + +<p> +He had turned and faced the pair. +</p> + +<p> +“Sato,” he added, “you played on the patriotism of the <i>señora</i> until you +wormed from her the treasure secret. Evidently rumors of it had spread from +Mexican Indians to Japanese visitors. And then, Otaka, all jealousy over one +whom she, no doubt, justly considered a rival, completed your work by sending +her forth to die, unknown, on the street. Walter, ring up First Deputy +O’Connor. The stone is hidden somewhere in the curio shop. We can find it +without Sato’s help. The quicker such a criminal is lodged safely in jail, the +better for humanity.” +</p> + +<p> +Sato was on his feet, advancing cautiously toward Craig. I knew the dangers, +now, of <i>anno-noki</i>, as well as the wonders of <i>jujutsu</i>, and, with a +leap, I bounded past Bernardo and between Sato and Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +How it happened, I don’t know, but, an instant later, I was sprawling. +</p> + +<p> +Before I could recover myself, before even Craig had a chance to pull the +hair-trigger of his automatic, Sato had seized the Ainu arrow poison from the +table, had bitten the little cylinder in half, and had crammed the other half +into the mouth of Otaka. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +THE RADIUM ROBBER</h2> + +<p> +Kennedy simply reached for the telephone and called an ambulance. But it was +purely perfunctory. Dr. Leslie himself was the only official who could handle +Sato’s case now. +</p> + +<p> +We had planned a little vacation for ourselves, but the planning came to +naught. The next night we spent on a sleeper. That in itself is work to me. +</p> + +<p> +It all came about through a hurried message from Murray Denison, president of +the Federal Radium Corporation. Nothing would do but that he should take both +Kennedy and myself with him post-haste to Pittsburgh at the first news of what +had immediately been called “the great radium robbery.” +</p> + +<p> +Of course the newspapers were full of it. The very novelty of an ultra-modern +cracksman going off with something worth upward of a couple of hundred thousand +dollars—and all contained in a few platinum tubes which could be tucked away in +a vest pocket—had something about it powerfully appealing to the imagination. +</p> + +<p> +“Most ingenious, but, you see, the trouble with that safe is that it was built +to keep radium <i>in</i>—not cracksmen <i>out</i>,” remarked Kennedy, when +Denison had rushed us from the train to take a look at the little safe in the +works of the Corporation. +</p> + +<p> +“Breaking into such a safe as this,” added Kennedy, after a cursory +examination, “is simple enough, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +It was, however, a remarkably ingenious contrivance, about three feet in height +and of a weight of perhaps a ton and a half, and all to house something +weighing only a few grains. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” Denison hastened to explain, “we had to protect the radium not only +against burglars, but, so to speak, against itself. Radium emanations pass +through steel and experiments have shown that the best metal to contain them is +lead. So, the difficulty was solved by making a steel outer case enclosing an +inside leaden shell three inches thick.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had been toying thoughtfully with the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Then the door, too, had to be contrived so as to prevent any escape of the +emanations through joints. It is lathe turned and circular, a ‘dead fit.’ By +means of a special contrivance any slight looseness caused by wear and tear of +closing can be adjusted. And another feature. That is the appliance for +preventing the loss of emanation when the door is opened. Two valves have been +inserted into the door and before it is opened tubes with mercury are passed +through which collect and store the emanation.” +</p> + +<p> +“All very nice for the radium,” remarked Craig cheerfully. “But the fellow had +only to use an electric drill and the gram or more of radium was his.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that—now,” ruefully persisted Denison. “But the safe was designed for +us specially. The fellow got into it and got away, as far as I can see, without +leaving a clue.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except one, of course,” interrupted Kennedy quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Denison looked at him a moment keenly, then nodded and said, “Yes—you are +right. You mean one which he must bear on himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. You can’t carry a gram or more of radium bromide long with impunity. +The man to look for is one who in a few days will have somewhere on his body a +radium burn which will take months to heal. The very thing he stole is a +veritable Frankenstein’s monster bent on the destruction of the thief himself!” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had meanwhile picked up one of the Corporation’s circulars lying on a +desk. He ran his eye down the list of names. +</p> + +<p> +“So, Hartley Haughton, the broker, is one of your stockholders,” mused Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Not only one but <i>the</i> one,” replied Denison with obvious pride. +</p> + +<p> +Haughton was a young man who had come recently into his fortune, and, while no +one believed it to be large, he had cut quite a figure in Wall Street. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, I suppose,” added Denison, “that he is engaged to Felicie Woods, the +daughter of Mrs. Courtney Woods?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“A most delightful little girl,” continued Denison thoughtfully. “I have known +Mrs. Woods for some time. She wanted to invest, but I told her frankly that +this is, after all, a speculation. We may not be able to swing so big a +proposition, but, if not, no one can say we have taken a dollar of money from +widows and orphans.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see the works,” nodded Kennedy approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +“By all means.” +</p> + +<p> +The plant was a row of long low buildings of brick on the outskirts of the +city, once devoted to the making of vanadium steel. The ore, as Denison +explained, was brought to Pittsburgh because he had found here already a +factory which could readily be turned into a plant for the extraction of +radium. Huge baths and vats and crucibles for the various acids and alkalis and +other processes used in treating the ore stood at various points. +</p> + +<p> +“This must be like extracting gold from sea water,” remarked Kennedy jocosely, +impressed by the size of the plant as compared to the product. +</p> + +<p> +“Except that after we get through we have something infinitely more precious +than gold,” replied Denison, “something which warrants the trouble and outlay. +Yes, the fact is that the percentage of radium in all such ores is even less +than of gold in sea water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything seems to be most carefully guarded,” remarked Kennedy as we +concluded our tour of the well-appointed works. +</p> + +<p> +He had gone over everything in silence, and now at last we had returned to the +safe. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he repeated slowly, as if confirming his original impression, “such an +amount of radium as was stolen wouldn’t occasion immediate discomfort to the +thief, I suppose, but later no infernal machine could be more dangerous to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +I pictured to myself the series of fearful works of mischief and terror that +might follow, a curse on the thief worse than that of the weirdest curses of +the Orient, the danger to the innocent, and the fact that in the hands of a +criminal it was an instrument for committing crimes that might defy detection. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing more to do here now,” he concluded. “I can see nothing for +the present except to go back to New York. The telltale burn may not be the +only clue, but if the thief is going to profit by his spoils we shall hear +about it best in New York or by cable from London, Paris, or some other +European city.” +</p> + +<p> +Our hurried departure from New York had not given us a chance to visit the +offices of the Radium Corporation for the distribution of the salts themselves. +They were in a little old office building on William Street, near the drug +district and yet scarcely a moment’s walk from the financial district. +</p> + +<p> +“Our head bookkeeper, Miss Wallace, is ill,” remarked Denison when we arrived +at the office, “but if there is anything I can do to help you, I shall be glad +to do it. We depend on Miss Wallace a great deal. Haughton says she is the +brains of the office.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy looked about the well-appointed suite curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this another of those radium safes?” he asked, approaching one similar in +appearance to that which had been broken open already. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, only a little larger.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much is in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most of our supply. I should say about two and a half grams. Miss Wallace has +the record.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is of the same construction, I presume,” pursued Kennedy. “I wonder whether +the lead lining fits closely to the steel?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not,” considered Denison. “As I remember there was a sort of +insulating air cushion or something of the sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Denison was quite eager to show us about. In fact ever since he had hustled us +out to view the scene of the robbery, his high nervous tension had given us +scarcely a moment’s rest. For hours he had talked radium, until I felt that he, +like his metal, must have an inexhaustible emanation of words. He was one of +those nervous, active little men, a born salesman, whether of ribbons or +radium. +</p> + +<p> +“We have just gone into furnishing radium water,” he went on, bustling about +and patting a little glass tank. +</p> + +<p> +I looked closely and could see that the water glowed in the dark with a +peculiar phosphorescence. +</p> + +<p> +“The apparatus for the treatment,” he continued, “consists of two glass and +porcelain receptacles. Inside the larger receptacle is placed the smaller, +which contains a tiny quantity of radium. Into the larger receptacle is poured +about a gallon of filtered water. The emanation from that little speck of +radium is powerful enough to penetrate its porcelain holder and charge the +water with its curative properties. From a tap at the bottom of the tank the +patient draws the number of glasses of water a day prescribed. For such +purposes the emanation within a day or two of being collected is as good as +radium itself. Why, this water is five thousand times as radioactive as the +most radioactive natural spring water.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must have control of a comparatively large amount of the metal,” suggested +Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“We are, I believe, the largest holders of radium in the world,” he answered. +“I have estimated that all told there are not much more than ten grams, of +which Madame Curie has perhaps three, while Sir Ernest Cassel of London is the +holder of perhaps as much. We have nearly four grams, leaving about six or +seven for the rest of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded and continued to look about. +</p> + +<p> +“The Radium Corporation,” went on Denison, “has several large deposits of +radioactive ore in Utah in what is known as the Poor Little Rich Valley, a +valley so named because from being about the barrenest and most unproductive +mineral or agricultural hole in the hills, the sudden discovery of the +radioactive deposits has made it almost priceless.” +</p> + +<p> +He had entered a private office and was looking over some mail that had been +left on his desk during his absence. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at this,” he called, picking up a clipping from a newspaper which had +been laid there for his attention. “You see, we have them aroused.” +</p> + +<p> +We read the clipping together hastily: +</p> + +<h5>PLAN TO CORNER WORLD’S RADIUM</h5> + +<p> +L<small>ONDON</small>.—Plans are being matured to form a large corporation for +the monopoly of the existing and future supply of radium throughout the world. +The company is to be called Universal Radium, Limited, and the capital of ten +million dollars will be offered for public subscription at par simultaneously +in London, Paris and New York. +</p> + +<p> +The company’s business will be to acquire mines and deposits of radioactive +substances as well as the control of patents and processes connected with the +production of radium. The outspoken purpose of the new company is to obtain a +world-wide monopoly and maintain the price. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“Ah—a competitor,” commented Kennedy, handing back the clipping. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. You know radium salts used always to come from Europe. Now we are getting +ready to do some exporting ourselves. Say,” he added excitedly, “there’s an +idea, possibly, in that.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” queried Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, since we should be the principal competitors to the foreign mines, +couldn’t this robbery have been due to the machinations of these schemers? To +my mind, the United States, because of its supply of radium-bearing ores, will +have to be reckoned with first in cornering the market. This is the point, +Kennedy. Would those people who seem to be trying to extend their new company +all over the world stop at anything in order to cripple us at the start?” +</p> + +<p> +How much longer Denison would have rattled on in his effort to explain the +robbery, I do not know. The telephone rang and a reporter from the +<i>Record</i>, who had just read my own story in the <i>Star</i>, asked for an +interview. I knew that it would be only a question of minutes now before the +other men were wearing a path out on the stairs, and we managed to get away +before the onrush began. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” said Kennedy, as soon as we had reached the street. “I want to get in +touch with Halsey Haughton. How can it be done?” +</p> + +<p> +I could think of nothing better at that moment than to inquire at the +<i>Star’s</i> Wall Street office, which happened to be around the corner. I +knew the men down there intimately, and a few minutes later we were whisked up +in the elevator to the office. +</p> + +<p> +They were as glad to see me as I was to see them, for the story of the robbery +had interested the financial district perhaps more than any other. +</p> + +<p> +“Where can I find Halsey Haughton at this hour?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Say,” exclaimed one of the men, “what’s the matter? There have been all kinds +of rumors in the Street about him to-day. Did you know he was ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered. “Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Out at the home of his fiancee, who is the daughter of Mrs. Courtney Woods, at +Glenclair.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” I persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just it. No one seems to know. They say—well—they say he has a cancer.” +</p> + +<p> +Halsey Haughton suffering from cancer? It was such an uncommon thing to hear of +a young man that I looked up quickly in surprise. Then all at once it flashed +over me that Denison and Kennedy had discussed the matter of burns from the +stolen radium. Might not this be, instead of cancer, a radium burn? +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy, who had been standing a little apart from me while I was talking with +the boys, signaled to me with a quick glance not to say too much, and a few +minutes later we were on the street again. +</p> + +<p> +I knew without being told that he was bound by the next train to the pretty +little New Jersey suburb of Glenclair. +</p> + +<p> +It was late when we arrived, yet Kennedy had no hesitation in calling at the +quaint home of Mrs. Courtney Woods on Woodridge Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Woods, a well-set-up woman of middle age, who had retained her youth and +good looks in a remarkable manner, met us in the foyer. Briefly, Kennedy +explained that we had just come in from Pittsburgh with Mr. Denison and that it +was very important that we should see Haughton at once. +</p> + +<p> +We had hardly told her the object of our visit when a young woman of perhaps +twenty-two or three, a very pretty girl, with all the good looks of her mother +and a freshness which only youth can possess, tiptoed quietly downstairs. Her +face told plainly that she was deeply worried over the illness of her fiance. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it, mother?” she whispered from the turn in the stairs. “Some gentlemen +from the company? Hartley’s door was open when the bell rang, and he thought he +heard something said about the Pittsburgh affair.” +</p> + +<p> +Though she had whispered, it had not been for the purpose of concealing +anything from us, but rather that the keen ears of her patient might not catch +the words. She cast an inquiring glance at us. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” responded Kennedy in answer to her look, modulating his tone. “We have +just left Mr. Denison at the office. Might we see Mr. Haughton for a moment? I +am sure that nothing we can say or do will be as bad for him as our going away, +now that he knows that we are here.” +</p> + +<p> +The two women appeared to consult for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Felicie,” called a rather nervous voice from the second floor, “is it some one +from the company?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just a moment, Hartley,” she answered, then, lower to her mother, added, “I +don’t think it can do any harm, do you, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“You remember the doctor’s orders, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Again the voice called her. +</p> + +<p> +“Hang the doctor’s orders,” the girl exclaimed, with an air of almost +masculinity. “It can’t be half so bad as to have him worry. Will you promise +not to stay long? We expect Dr. Bryant in a few moments, anyway.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br/> +THE SPINTHARISCOPE</h2> + +<p> +We followed her upstairs and into Haughton’s room, where he was lying in bed, +propped up by pillows. Haughton certainly was ill. There was no mistake about +that. He was a tall, gaunt man with an air about him that showed that he found +illness very irksome. Around his neck was a bandage, and some adhesive tape at +the back showed that a plaster of some sort had been placed there. +</p> + +<p> +As we entered his eyes traveled restlessly from the face of the girl to our own +in an inquiring manner. He stretched out a nervous hand to us, while Kennedy in +a few short sentences explained how we had become associated with the case and +what we had seen already. +</p> + +<p> +“And there is not a clue?” he repeated as Craig finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing tangible yet,” reiterated Kennedy. “I suppose you have heard of this +rumor from London of a trust that is going into the radium field +internationally?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, “that is the thing you read to me in the morning papers, +you remember, Felicie. Denison and I have heard such rumors before. If it is a +fight, then we shall give them a fight. They can’t hold us up, if Denison is +right in thinking that they are at the bottom of this—this robbery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you think he may be right?” shot out Kennedy quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Haughton glanced nervously from Kennedy to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” he answered, “you see how impossible it is for me to have an opinion? +You and Denison have been over the ground. You know much more about it than I +do. I am afraid I shall have to defer to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Again we heard the bell downstairs, and a moment later a cheery voice, as Mrs. +Woods met some one down in the foyer, asked, “How is the patient to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +We could not catch the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Bryant, my physician,” put in Haughton. “Don’t go. I will assume the +responsibility for your being here. Hello, Doctor. Why, I’m much the same +to-night, thank you. At least no worse since I took your advice and went to +bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Bryant was a bluff, hearty man, with the personal magnetism which goes with +the making of a successful physician. He had mounted the stairs quietly but +rapidly, evidently prepared to see us. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you mind waiting in this little dressing room?” asked the doctor, +motioning to another, smaller room adjoining. +</p> + +<p> +He had taken from his pocket a little instrument with a dial face like a watch, +which he attached to Haughton’s wrist. “A pocket instrument to measure blood +pressure,” whispered Craig, as we entered the little room. +</p> + +<p> +While the others were gathered about Haughton, we stood in the next room, out +of earshot. Kennedy had leaned his elbow on a chiffonier. As he looked about +the little room, more from force of habit than because he thought he might +discover anything, Kennedy’s eye rested on a glass tray on the top in which lay +some pins, a collar button or two, which Haughton had apparently just taken +off, and several other little unimportant articles. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy bent over to look at the glass tray more closely, a puzzled look +crossed his face, and with a glance at the other room he gathered up the tray +and its contents. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep up a good courage,” said Dr. Bryant. “You’ll come out all right, +Haughton.” Then as he left the bedroom he added to us, “Gentlemen, I hope you +will pardon me, but if you could postpone the remainder of your visit until a +later day, I am sure you will find it more satisfactory.” +</p> + +<p> +There was an air of finality about the doctor, though nothing unpleasant in it. +We followed him down the stairs, and as we did so, Felicie, who had been +waiting in a reception room, appeared before the portieres, her earnest eyes +fixed on his kindly face. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Bryant,” she appealed, “is he—is he, really—so badly?” +</p> + +<p> +The Doctor, who had apparently known her all her life, reached down and took +one of her hands, patting it with his own in a fatherly way. “Don’t worry, +little girl,” he encouraged. “We are going to come out all right—all right.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned from him to us and, with a bright forced smile which showed the +stuff she was made of, bade us good night. +</p> + +<p> +Outside, the Doctor, apparently regretting that he had virtually forced us out, +paused before his car. “Are you going down toward the station? Yes? I am going +that far. I should be glad to drive you there.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy climbed into the front seat, leaving me in the rear where the wind +wafted me their brief conversation as we sped down Woodbridge Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +“What seems to be the trouble?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Very high blood pressure, for one thing,” replied the Doctor frankly. +</p> + +<p> +“For which the latest thing is the radium water cure, I suppose?” ventured +Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, radioactive water is one cure for hardening of the arteries. But I +didn’t say he had hardening of the arteries. Still, he is taking the water, +with good results. You are from the company?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“It was the radium water that first interested him in it. Why, we found a +pressure of 230 pounds, which is frightful, and we have brought it down to 150, +not far from normal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still that could have nothing to do with the sore on his neck,” hazarded +Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +The Doctor looked at him quickly, then ahead at the path of light which his +motor shed on the road. +</p> + +<p> +He said nothing, but I fancied that even he felt there was something strange in +his silence over the new complication. He did not give Kennedy a chance to ask +whether there were any other such sores. +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate,” he said, as he throttled down his engine with a flourish before +the pretty little Glenclair station, “that girl needn’t worry.” +</p> + +<p> +There was evidently no use in trying to extract anything further from him. He +had said all that medical ethics or detective skill could get from him. We +thanked him and turned to the ticket window to see how long we should have to +wait. +</p> + +<p> +“Either that doctor doesn’t know what he is talking about or he is concealing +something,” remarked Craig, as we paced up and down the platform. “I am +inclined to read the enigma in the latter way.” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing more passed between us during the journey back, and we hurried directly +to the laboratory, late as it was. Kennedy had evidently been revolving +something over and over in his mind, for the moment he had switched on the +light, he unlocked one of his air-and dust-proof cabinets and took from it an +instrument which he placed on a table before him. +</p> + +<p> +It was a peculiar-looking instrument, like a round glass electric battery with +a cylinder atop, smaller and sticking up like a safety valve. On that were an +arm, a dial, and a lens fixed in such a way as to read the dial. I could not +see what else the rather complicated little apparatus consisted of, but inside, +when Kennedy brought near it the pole of a static electric machine two delicate +thin leaves of gold seemed to fly wide apart when it was charged. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had brought the glass tray near the thing. Instantly the leaves +collapsed and he made a reading through the lens. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A radioscope,” he replied, still observing the scale. “Really a very sensitive +gold leaf electroscope, devised by one of the students of Madame Curie. This +method of detection is far more sensitive even than the spectroscope.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does it mean when the leaves collapse?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Radium has been near that tray,” he answered. “It is radioactive. I suspected +it first when I saw that violet color. That is what radium does to that kind of +glass. You see, if radium exists in a gram of inactive matter only to the +extent of one in ten-thousand million parts its presence can be readily +detected by this radioscope, and everything that has been rendered radioactive +is the same. Ordinarily the air between the gold leaves is insulating. Bringing +something radioactive near them renders the air a good conductor and the leaves +fall under the radiation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderful!” I exclaimed, marveling at the delicacy of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Take radium water,” he went on, “sufficiently impregnated with radium +emanations to be luminous in the dark, like that water of Denison’s. It would +do the same. In fact all mineral waters and the so-called curarive muds like +fango are slightly radioactive. There seems to be a little radium everywhere on +earth that experiments have been made, even in the interiors of buildings. It +is ubiquitous. We are surrounded and permeated by radiations—that soil out +there on the campus, the air of this room, all. But,” he added contemplatively, +“there is something different about that tray. A lot of radium has been near +that, and recently.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about that bandage about Haughton’s neck?” I asked suddenly. “Do you think +radium could have had anything to do with that?” “Well, as to burns, there is +no particular immediate effect usually, and sometimes even up to two weeks or +more, unless the exposure has been long and to a considerable quantity. Of +course radium keeps itself three or four degrees warmer than other things about +it constantly. But that isn’t what does the harm. It is continually emitting +little corpuscles, which I’ll explain some other time, traveling all the way +from twenty to one hundred and thirty thousand miles a second, and these +corpuscles blister and corrode the flesh like quick-moving missiles bombarding +it. The gravity of such lesions increases with the purity of the radium. For +instance I have known an exposure of half an hour to a comparatively small +quantity through a tube, a box and the clothes to produce a blister fifteen +days later. Curie said he wouldn’t trust himself in a room with a kilogram of +it. It would destroy his eyesight, burn off his skin and kill him eventually. +Why, even after a slight exposure your clothes are radioactive—the electroscope +will show that.” +</p> + +<p> +He was still fumbling with the glass plate and the various articles on it. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something very peculiar about all this,” he muttered, almost to +himself. +</p> + +<p> +Tired by the quick succession of events of the past two days, I left Kennedy +still experimenting in his laboratory and retired, still wondering when the +real clue was to develop. Who could it have been who bore the tell-tale burn? +Was the mark hidden by the bandage about Haughton’s neck the brand of the +stolen tubes? Or were there other marks on his body which we could not see? +</p> + +<p> +No answer came to me, and I fell asleep and woke up without a radiation of +light on the subject. Kennedy spent the greater part of the day still at work +at his laboratory, performing some very delicate experiments. Finding nothing +to do there, I went down to the <i>Star</i> office and spent my time reading +the reports that came in from the small army of reporters who had been assigned +to run down clues in the case which was the sensation of the moment. I have +always felt my own lips sealed in such cases, until the time came that the +story was complete and Kennedy released me from any further need of silence. +The weird and impossible stories which came in not only to the <i>Star</i> but +to the other papers surely did make passable copy in this instance, but with my +knowledge of the case I could see that not one of them brought us a step nearer +the truth. +</p> + +<p> +One thing which uniformly puzzled the newspapers was the illness of Haughton +and his enforced idleness at a time which was of so much importance to the +company which he had promoted and indeed very largely financed. Then, of +course, there was the romantic side of his engagement to Felicie Woods. +</p> + +<p> +Just what connection Felicie Woods had with the radium robbery if any, I was +myself unable quite to fathom. Still, that made no difference to the papers. +She was pretty and therefore they published her picture, three columns deep, +with Haughton and Denison, who were intimately concerned with the real loss in +little ovals perhaps an inch across and two inches in the opposite dimension. +</p> + +<p> +The late afternoon news editions had gone to press, and I had given up in +despair, determined to go up to the laboratory and sit around idly watching +Kennedy with his mystifying experiments, in preference to waiting for him to +summon me. +</p> + +<p> +I had scarcely arrived and settled myself to an impatient watch, when an +automobile drove up furiously, and Denison himself, very excited, jumped out +and dashed into the laboratory. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/img01.jpg" width="396" height="650" alt="[Illustration]" /> +<p class="caption">Denison himself, very excited, jumped out and dashed into +the laboratory.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” asked Kennedy, looking up from a test tube which he had +been examining, with an air for all the world expressive of “Why so hot, little +man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had a threat,” ejaculated Denison. +</p> + +<p> +He laid on one of the laboratory tables a letter, without heading and without +signature, written in a disguised hand, with an evident attempt to simulate the +cramped script of a foreign penmanship. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“I know who did the Pittsburgh job. The same party is out to ruin Federal +Radium. Remember Pittsburgh and be prepared! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“A S<small>TOCKHOLDER</small>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” demanded Kennedy, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“That can have only one meaning,” asserted Denison. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” inquired Kennedy coolly, as if to confirm his own +interpretation. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, another robbery—here in New York, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who would do it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” repeated Denison. “Some one representing that European combine, of +course. That is only part of the Trust method—ruin of competitors whom they +cannot absorb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have refused to go into the combine? You know who is backing it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—no,” admitted Denison reluctantly. “We have only signified our intent to go +it alone, as often as anyone either with or without authority has offered to +buy us out. No, I do not even know who the people are. They never act in the +open. The only hints I have ever received were through perfectly reputable +brokers acting for others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Haughton know of this note?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. As soon as I received it, I called him up.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he say?” +</p> + +<p> +“He said to disregard it. But—you know what condition he is in. I don’t know +what to do, whether to surround the office by a squad of detectives or remove +the radium to a regular safety deposit vault, even at the loss of the +emanation. Haughton has left it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the thought flashed across my mind that perhaps Haughton could act in +this uninterested fashion because he had no fear of ruin either way. Might he +not be playing a game with the combination in which he had protected himself so +that he would win, no matter what happened? +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do?” asked Denison. “It is getting late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither,” decided Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +Denison shook his head. “No,” he said, “I shall have some one watch there, +anyhow.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV<br/> +THE ASPHYXIATING SAFE</h2> + +<p> +Denison had scarcely gone to arrange for some one to watch the office that +night, when Kennedy, having gathered up his radioscope and packed into a parcel +a few other things from various cabinets, announced: “Walter, I must see that +Miss Wallace, right away. Denison has already given me her address. Call a cab +while I finish clearing up here. I don’t like the looks of this thing, even if +Haughton does neglect it.” +</p> + +<p> +We found Miss Wallace at a modest boarding-house in an old but still +respectable part of the city. She was a very pretty girl, of the slender type, +rather a business woman than one given much to amusement. She had been ill and +was still ill. That was evident from the solicitous way in which the motherly +landlady scrutinized two strange callers. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy presented a card from Denison, and she came down to the parlor to see +us. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Wallace,” began Kennedy, “I know it is almost cruel to trouble you when +you are not feeling like office work, but since the robbery of the safe at +Pittsburgh, there have been threats of a robbery of the New York office.” +</p> + +<p> +She started involuntarily, and it was evident, I thought, that she was in a +very high-strung state. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she cried, “why, the loss means ruin to Mr. Denison!” +</p> + +<p> +There were genuine tears in her eyes as she said it. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you would be willing to aid us,” pursued Kennedy sympathetically. +“Now, for one thing, I want to be perfectly sure just how much radium the +Corporation owns, or rather owned before the first robbery.” +</p> + +<p> +“The books will show it,” she said simply. +</p> + +<p> +“They will?” commented Kennedy. “Then if you will explain to me briefly just +the system you used in keeping account of it, perhaps I need not trouble you +any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go down there with you,” she answered bravely. “I’m better to-day, +anyhow, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +She had risen, but it was evident that she was not as strong as she wanted us +to think. +</p> + +<p> +“The least I can do is to make it as easy as possible by going in a car,” +remarked Kennedy, following her into the hall where there was a telephone. +</p> + +<p> +The hallway was perfectly dark, yet as she preceded us I could see that the +diamond pin which held her collar in the back sparkled as if a lighted candle +had been brought near it. I had noticed in the parlor that she wore a handsome +tortoiseshell comb set with what I thought were other brilliants, but when I +looked I saw now that there was not the same sparkle to the comb which held her +dark hair in a soft mass. I noticed these little things at the time, not +because I thought they had any importance, but merely by chance, wondering at +the sparkle of the one diamond which had caught my eye. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make of her?” I asked as Kennedy finished telephoning. +</p> + +<p> +“A very charming and capable girl,” he answered noncommittally. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you notice how that diamond in her neck sparkled?” I asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. Evidently it had attracted his attention, too. +</p> + +<p> +“What makes it?” I pursued. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know radium rays will make a diamond fluoresce in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I objected, “but how about those in the comb?” +</p> + +<p> +“Paste, probably,” he answered tersely, as we heard her foot on the landing. +“The rays won’t affect paste.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a shame to take advantage of Miss Wallace’s loyalty to Denison, +but she was so game about it that I knew only the utmost necessity on Kennedy’s +part would have prompted him to do it. She had a key to the office so that it +was not necessary to wait for Denison, if indeed we could have found him. +</p> + +<p> +Together she and Kennedy went over the records. It seemed that there were in +the safe twenty-five platinum tubes of one hundred milligrams each, and that +there had been twelve of the same amount at Pittsburgh. Little as it seemed in +weight it represented a fabulous fortune. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not the combination?” inquired Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“No. Only Mr. Denison has that. What are you going to do to protect the safe +to-night?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing especially,” evaded Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing?” she repeated in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“I have another plan,” he said, watching her intently. “Miss Wallace, it was +too much to ask you to come down here. You are ill.” +</p> + +<p> +She was indeed quite pale, as if the excitement had been an overexertion. +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed,” she persisted. Then, feeling her own weakness, she moved toward +the door of Denison’s office where there was a leather couch. “Let me rest here +a moment. I do feel queer. I—” +</p> + +<p> +She would have fallen if he had not sprung forward and caught her as she sank +to the floor, overcome by the exertion. +</p> + +<p> +Together we carried her in to the couch, and as we did so the comb from her +hair clattered to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Craig threw open the window, and bathed her face with water until there was a +faint flutter of the eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he said, as she began to revive, “I leave her to you. Keep her quiet +for a few moments. She has unintentionally given me just the opportunity I +want.” +</p> + +<p> +While she was yet hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness on the +couch, he had unwrapped the package which he had brought with him. For a moment +he held the comb which she had dropped near the radioscope. With a low +exclamation of surprise he shoved it into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Then from the package he drew a heavy piece of apparatus which looked as if it +might be the motor part of an electric fan, only in place of the fan he fitted +a long, slim, vicious-looking steel bit. A flexible wire attached the thing to +the electric light circuit and I knew that it was an electric drill. With his +coat off he tugged at the little radium safe until he had moved it out, then +dropped on his knees behind it and switched the current on in the electric +drill. +</p> + +<p> +It was a tedious process to drill through the steel of the outer casing of the +safe and it was getting late. I shut the door to the office so that Miss +Wallace could not see. +</p> + +<p> +At last by the cessation of the low hum of the boring, I knew that he had +struck the inner lead lining. Quietly I opened the door and stepped out. He was +injecting something from an hermetically sealed lead tube into the opening he +had made and allowing it to run between the two linings of lead and steel. Then +using the tube itself he sealed the opening he had made and dabbed a little +black over it. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly he shoved the safe back, then around it concealed several small coils +with wires also concealed and leading out through a window to a court. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll catch the fellow this time,” he remarked as he worked. “If you ever have +any idea, Walter, of going into the burglary business, it would be well to +ascertain if the safes have any of these little selenium cells as suggested by +my friend, Mr. Hammer, the inventor. For by them an alarm can be given miles +away the moment an intruder’s bull’s-eye falls on a hidden cell sensitive to +light.” +</p> + +<p> +While I was delegated to take Miss Wallace home, Kennedy made arrangements with +a small shopkeeper on the ground floor of a building that backed up on the +court for the use of his back room that night, and had already set up a bell +actuated by a system of relays which the weak current from the selenium cells +could operate. +</p> + +<p> +It was not until nearly midnight that he was ready to leave the laboratory +again, where he had been busily engaged in studying the tortoiseshell comb +which Miss Wallace in her weakness had forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +The little shopkeeper let us in sleepily and Kennedy deposited a large round +package on a chair in the back of the shop, as well as a long piece of rubber +tubing. Nothing had happened so far. +</p> + +<p> +As we waited the shopkeeper, now wide awake and not at all unconvinced that we +were bent on some criminal operation, hung around. Kennedy did not seem to +care. He drew from his pocket a little shiny brass instrument in a lead case, +which looked like an abbreviated microscope. +</p> + +<p> +“Look through it,” he said, handing it to me. +</p> + +<p> +I looked and could see thousands of minute sparks. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A spinthariscope. In that it is possible to watch the bombardment of the +countless little corpuscles thrown off by radium, as they strike on the zinc +blende crystal which forms the base. When radium was originally discovered, the +interest was merely in its curious properties, its power to emit invisible rays +which penetrated solid substances and rendered things fluorescent, of expending +energy without apparent loss. +</p> + +<p> +“Then came the discovery,” he went on, “of its curative powers. But the first +results were not convincing. Still, now that we know the reasons why radium may +be dangerous and how to protect ourselves against them we know we possess one +of the most wonderful of curative agencies.” +</p> + +<p> +I was thinking rather of the dangers than of the beneficence of radium just +now, but Kennedy continued. +</p> + +<p> +“It has cured many malignant growths that seemed hopeless, brought back +destroyed cells, exercised good effects in diseases of the liver and intestines +and even the baffling diseases of the arteries. The reason why harm, at first, +as well as good came, is now understood. Radium emits, as I told you before, +three kinds of rays, the alpha, beta, and gamma rays, each with different +properties. The emanation is another matter. It does not concern us in this +case, as you will see.” +</p> + +<p> +Fascinated as I was by the mystery of the case, I began to see that he was +gradually arriving at an explanation which had baffled everyone else. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, the alpha rays are the shortest,” he launched forth, “in length let us +say one inch. They exert a very destructive effect on healthy tissue. That is +the cause of injury. They are stopped by glass, aluminum and other metals, and +are really particles charged with positive electricity. The beta rays come +next, say, about an inch and a half. They stimulate cell growth. Therefore they +are dangerous in cancer, though good in other ways. They can be stopped by +lead, and are really particles charged with negative electricity. The gamma +rays are the longest, perhaps three inches long, and it is these rays which +effect cures, for they check the abnormal and stimulate the normal cells. They +penetrate lead. Lead seems to filter them out from the other rays. And at three +inches the other rays don’t reach, anyhow. The gamma rays are not charged with +electricity at all, apparently.” +</p> + +<p> +He had brought a little magnet near the spinthariscope. I looked into it. +</p> + +<p> +“A magnet,” he explained, “shows the difference between the alpha, beta, and +gamma rays. You see those weak and wobbly rays that seem to fall to one side? +Those are the alpha rays. They have a strong action, though, on tissues and +cells. Those falling in the other direction are the beta rays. The gamma rays +seem to flow straight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is the alpha rays with which we are concerned mostly now?” I queried, +looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. That is why, when radium is unprotected or insufficiently protected +and comes too near, it is destructive of healthy cells, produces burns, sores, +which are most difficult to heal. It is with the explanation of such sores that +we must deal.” +</p> + +<p> +It was growing late. We had waited patiently now for some time. Kennedy had +evidently reserved this explanation, knowing we should have to wait. Still +nothing happened. +</p> + +<p> +Added to the mystery of the violet-colored glass plate was now that of the +luminescent diamond. I was about to ask Kennedy point-blank what he thought of +them, when suddenly the little bell before us began to buzz feebly under the +influence of a current. +</p> + +<p> +I gave a start. The faithful little selenium cell burglar alarm had done the +trick. I knew that selenium was a good conductor of electricity in the light, +poor in the dark. Some one had, therefore, flashed a light on one of the cells +in the Corporation office. It was the moment for which Kennedy had prepared. +</p> + +<p> +Seizing the round package and the tubing, he dashed out on the street and +around the corner. He tried the door opening into the Radium Corporation +hallway. It was closed, but unlocked. As it yielded and we stumbled in, up the +old worn wooden stairs of the building, I knew that there must be some one +there. +</p> + +<p> +A terrific, penetrating, almost stunning odor seemed to permeate the air even +in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy paused at the door of the office, tried it, found it unlocked, but did +not open it. +</p> + +<p> +“That smell is ethyldichloracetate,” he explained. “That was what I injected +into the air cushion of that safe between the two linings. I suppose my man +here used an electric drill. He might have used thermit or an oxyacetylene +blowpipe for all I would care. These fumes would discourage a cracksman from +‘soup’ to nuts,” he laughed, thoroughly pleased at the protection modern +science had enabled him to devise. +</p> + +<p> +As we stood an instant by the door, I realized what had happened. We had +captured our man. He was asphyxiated! +</p> + +<p> +Yet how were we to get to him? Would Craig leave him in there, perhaps to die? +To go in ourselves meant to share his fate, whatever might be the effect of the +drug. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had torn the wrapping off the package. From it he drew a huge globe +with bulging windows of glass in the front and several curious arrangements on +it at other points. To it he fitted the rubber tubing and a little pump. Then +he placed the globe over his head, like a diver’s helmet, and fastened some +air-tight rubber arrangement about his neck and shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Pump, Walter!” he shouted. “This is an oxygen helmet such as is used in +entering mines filled with deadly gases.” +</p> + +<p> +Without another word he was gone into the blackness of the noxious stifle which +filled the Radium Corporation office since the cracksman had struck the +unexpected pocket of rapidly evaporating stuff. +</p> + +<p> +I pumped furiously. +</p> + +<p> +Inside I could hear him blundering around. What was he doing? +</p> + +<p> +He was coming back slowly. Was he, too, overcome? +</p> + +<p> +As he emerged into the darkness of the hallway where I myself was almost +sickened, I saw that he was dragging with him a limp form. +</p> + +<p> +A rush of outside air from the street door seemed to clear things a little. +Kennedy tore off the oxygen helmet and dropped down on his knees beside the +figure, working its arms in the most approved manner of resuscitation. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we can do it without calling on the pulmotor,” he panted. “Walter, the +fumes have cleared away enough now in the outside office. Open a window—and +keep that street door open, too.” +</p> + +<p> +I did so, found the switch and turned on the lights. +</p> + +<p> +It was Denison himself! +</p> + +<p> +For many minutes Kennedy worked over him. I bent down, loosened his collar and +shirt, and looked eagerly at his chest for the tell-tale marks of the radium +which I felt sure must be there. There was not even a discoloration. +</p> + +<p> +Not a word was said, as Kennedy brought the stupefied little man around. +</p> + +<p> +Denison, pale, shaken, was leaning back now in a big office chair, gasping and +holding his head. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy, before him, reached down into his pocket and handed him the +spinthariscope. +</p> + +<p> +“You see that?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Denison looked through the eyepiece. +</p> + +<p> +“Wh—where did you get so much of it?” he asked, a queer look on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I got that bit of radium from the base of the collar button of Hartley +Haughton,” replied Kennedy quietly, “a collar button which some one intimate +with him had substituted for his own, bringing that deadly radium with only the +minutest protection of a thin strip of metal close to the back of his neck, +near the spinal cord and the medulla oblongata which controls blood pressure. +That collar button was worse than the poisoned rings of the Borgias. And there +is more radium in the pretty gift of a tortoiseshell comb with its paste +diamonds which Miss Wallace wore in her hair. Only a fraction of an inch, not +enough to cut off the deadly alpha rays, protected the wearers of those +articles.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment, while surging through my mind came one after another the +explanations of the hitherto inexplicable. Denison seemed almost to cringe in +the chair, weak already from the fumes. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” went on Kennedy remorselessly, “when I went in there to drag you +out, I saw the safe open. I looked. There was nothing in those pretty platinum +tubes, as I suspected. European trust—bah! All the cheap devices of a faker +with a confederate in London to send a cablegram—and another in New York to +send a threatening letter.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy extended an accusing forefinger at the man cowering before him. +</p> + +<p> +“This is nothing but a get-rich-quick scheme, Denison. There never was a +milligram of radium in the Poor Little Rich Valley, not a milligram here in all +the carefully kept reports of Miss Wallace—except what was bought outside by +the Corporation with the money it collected from its dupes. Haughton has been +fleeced. Miss Wallace, blinded by her loyalty to you—you will always find such +a faithful girl in such schemes as yours—has been fooled. +</p> + +<p> +“And how did you repay it? What was cleverer, you said to yourself, than to +seem to be robbed of what you never had, to blame it on a bitter rival who +never existed? Then to make assurance doubly sure, you planned to disable, +perhaps get rid of the come-on whom you had trimmed, and the faithful girl +whose eyes you had blinded to your gigantic swindle. +</p> + +<p> +“Denison,” concluded Kennedy, as the man drew back, his very face convicting +him, “Denison, you are the radium robber—robber in another sense!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br/> +THE DEAD LINE</h2> + +<p> +Maiden Lane, no less than Wall Street, was deeply interested in the radium +case. In fact, it seemed that one case in this section of the city led to +another. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally, the <i>Star</i> and the other papers made much of the capture of +Denison. Still, I was not prepared for the host of Maiden Lane cases that +followed. Many of them were essentially trivial. But one proved to be of +extreme importance. +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Kennedy, I have just heard of your radium case, and I—I feel that I +can—trust you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a note of appeal in the hesitating voice of the tall, heavily veiled +woman whose card had been sent up to us with a nervous “Urgent” written across +its face. +</p> + +<p> +It was very early in the morning, but our visitor was evidently completely +unnerved by some news which she had just received and which had sent her +posting to see Craig. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy met her gaze directly with a look that arrested her involuntary effort +to avoid it again. She must have read in his eyes more than in his words that +she might trust him. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I have a confession to make,” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“Please sit down, Mrs. Moulton,” he said simply. “It is my business to receive +confidences—and to keep them.” +</p> + +<p> +She sank into, rather than sat down in, the deep leather rocker beside his +desk, and now for the first time raised her veil. +</p> + +<p> +Antoinette Moulton was indeed stunning, an exquisite creature with a wonderful +charm of slender youth, brightness of eye and brunette radiance. +</p> + +<p> +I knew that she had been on the musical comedy stage and had had a rapid rise +to a star part before her marriage to Lynn Moulton, the wealthy lawyer, almost +twice her age. I knew also that she had given up the stage, apparently without +a regret. Yet there was something strange about the air of secrecy of her +visit. Was there a hint in it of a disagreement between the Moultons, I +wondered, as I waited while Kennedy reassured her. +</p> + +<p> +Her distress was so unconcealed that Craig, for the moment, laid aside his +ordinary inquisitorial manner. “Tell me just as much or just as little as you +choose, Mrs. Moulton,” he added tactfully. “I will do my best.” +</p> + +<p> +A look almost of gratitude crossed her face. +</p> + +<p> +“When we were married,” she began again, “my husband gave me a beautiful +diamond necklace. Oh, it must have been worth a hundred thousand dollars +easily. It was splendid. Everyone has heard of it. You know, Lynn—er—Mr. +Moulton, has always been an enthusiastic collector of jewels.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused again and Kennedy nodded reassuringly. I knew the thought in his +mind. Moulton had collected one gem that was incomparable with all the hundred +thousand dollar necklaces in existence. +</p> + +<p> +“Several months ago.” she went on rapidly, still avoiding his eyes and forcing +the words from her reluctant lips, “I—oh, I needed money—terribly.” +</p> + +<p> +She had risen and faced him, pressing her daintily gloved hands together in a +little tremble of emotion which was none the less genuine because she had +studied the art of emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“I took the necklace to a jeweler, Herman Schloss, of Maiden Lane, a man with +whom my husband had often had dealings and whom I thought I could trust. Under +a promise of secrecy he loaned me fifty thousand dollars on it and had an exact +replica in paste made by one of his best workmen. This morning, just now, Mr. +Schloss telephoned me that his safe had been robbed last night. My necklace is +gone!” +</p> + +<p> +She threw out her hands in a wildly appealing gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“And if Lynn finds that the necklace in our wall safe is of paste—as he will +find, for he is an expert in diamonds—oh—what shall I do? Can’t you—can’t you +find my necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was following her now eagerly. “You were blackmailed out of the money?” +he queried casually, masking his question. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sudden, impulsive drooping of her mouth, an evasion and keen +wariness in her eyes. “I can’t see that that has anything to do with the +robbery,” she answered in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” corrected Kennedy quickly. “Perhaps not. I’m sorry. Force +of habit, I suppose. You don’t know anything more about the robbery?” +</p> + +<p> +“N—no, only that it seems impossible that it could have happened in a place +that has the wonderful burglar alarm protection that Mr. Schloss described to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know him pretty well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only through this transaction,” she replied hastily. “I wish to heaven I had +never heard of him.” +</p> + +<p> +The telephone rang insistently. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Moulton,” said Kennedy, as he returned the receiver to the hook, “it may +interest you to know that the burglar alarm company has just called me up about +the same case. If I had need of an added incentive, which I hope you will +believe I have not, that might furnish it. I will do my best,” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you—a thousand times,” she cried fervently, and, had I been Craig, I +think I should have needed no more thanks than the look she gave him as he +accompanied her to the door of our apartment. +</p> + +<p> +It was still early and the eager crowds were pushing their way to business +through the narrow network of downtown streets as Kennedy and I entered a large +office on lower Broadway in the heart of the jewelry trade and financial +district. +</p> + +<p> +“One of the most amazing robberies that has ever been attempted has been +reported to us this morning,” announced James McLear, manager of the Hale +Electric Protection, adding with a look half of anxiety, half of skepticism, +“that is, if it is true.” +</p> + +<p> +McLear was a stocky man, of powerful build and voice and a general appearance +of having been once well connected with the city detective force before an +attractive offer had taken him into this position of great responsibility. +</p> + +<p> +“Herman Schloss, one of the best known of Maiden Lane jewelers,” he continued, +“has been robbed of goods worth two or three hundred thousand dollars—and in +spite of every modern protection. So that you will get it clearly, let me show +you what we do here.” +</p> + +<p> +He ushered us into a large room, on the walls of which were hundreds of little +indicators. From the front they looked like rows of little square compartments, +tier on tier, about the size of ordinary post office boxes. Closer examination +showed that each was equipped with a delicate needle arranged to oscillate +backward and forward upon the very minutest interference with the electric +current. Under the boxes, each of which bore a number, was a series of drops +and buzzers numbered to correspond with the boxes. +</p> + +<p> +“In nearly every office in Maiden Lane where gems and valuable jewelry are +stored,” explained McLear, “this electrical system of ours is installed. When +the safes are closed at night and the doors swung together, a current of +electricity is constantly shooting around the safes, conducted by cleverly +concealed wires. These wires are picked up by a cable system which finds its +way to this central office. Once here, the wires are safeguarded in such manner +that foreign currents from other wires or from lightning cannot disturb the +system.” +</p> + +<p> +We looked with intense interest at this huge electrical pulse that felt every +change over so vast and rich an area. +</p> + +<p> +“Passing a big dividing board,” he went on, “they are distributed and connected +each in its place to the delicate tangent galvanometers and sensitive +indicators you see in this room. These instantly announce the most minute +change in the working of the current, and each office has a distinct separate +metallic circuit. Why, even a hole as small as a lead pencil in anything +protected would sound the alarm here.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded appreciatively. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” continued McLear, glad to be able to talk to one who followed him so +closely, “it is another evidence of science finding for us greater security in +the use of a tiny electric wire than in massive walls of steel and intricate +lock devices. But here is a case in which, it seems, every known protection has +failed. We can’t afford to pass that by. If we have fallen down we want to know +how, as well as to catch the burglar.” +</p> + +<p> +“How are the signals given?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, when the day’s business is over, for instance, Schloss would swing the +heavy safe doors together and over them place the doors of a wooden cabinet. +That signals an alarm to us here. We answer it and if the proper signal is +returned, all right. After that no one can tamper with the safe later in the +night without sounding an alarm that would bring a quick investigation.” +</p> + +<p> +“But suppose that it became necessary to open the safe before the next morning. +Might not some trusted employee return to the office, open it, give the proper +signals and loot the safe?” +</p> + +<p> +“No indeed,” he answered confidently. “The very moment anyone touches the +cabinet, the alarm is sounded. Even if the proper code signal is returned, it +is not sufficient. A couple of our trusted men from the central office hustle +around there anyhow and they don’t leave until they are satisfied that +everything is right. We have the authorized signatures on hand of those who are +supposed to open the safe and a duplicate of one of them must be given or there +is an arrest.” +</p> + +<p> +McLear considered for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“For instance, Schloss, like all the rest, was assigned a box in which was +deposited a sealed envelope containing a key to the office and his own +signature, in this case, since he alone knew the combination. Now, when an +alarm is sounded, as it was last night, and the key removed to gain entrance to +the office, a record is made and the key has to be sealed up again by Schloss. +A report is also submitted showing when the signals are received and anything +else that is worth recording. Last night our men found nothing wrong, +apparently. But this morning we learn of the robbery.” +</p> + +<p> +“The point is, then,” ruminated Kennedy, “what happened in the interval between +the ringing of the alarm and the arrival of the special officers? I think I’ll +drop around and look Schloss’ place over,” he added quietly, evidently eager to +begin at the actual scene of the crime. +</p> + +<p> +On the door of the office to which McLear took us was one of those small blue +plates which chance visitors to Maiden Lane must have seen often. To the +initiated—be he crook or jeweler—this simple sign means that the merchant is a +member of the Jewelers’ Security Alliance, enough in itself, it would seem, to +make the boldest burglar hesitate. For it is the motto of this organization to +“get” the thief at any cost and at any time. Still, it had not deterred the +burglar in this instance. +</p> + +<p> +“I know people are going to think it is a fake burglary,” exclaimed Schloss, a +stout, prosperous-looking gem broker, as we introduced ourselves. “But over two +hundred thousands dollars’ worth of stones are gone,” he half groaned. “Think +of it, man,” he added, “one of the greatest robberies since the Dead Line was +established. And if they can get away with it, why, no one down here is +protected any more. Half a billion dollars in jewels in Maiden Lane and John +Street are easy prey for the cracksmen!” +</p> + +<p> +Staggering though the loss must have been to him, he had apparently recovered +from the first shock of the discovery and had begun the fight to get back what +had been lost. +</p> + +<p> +It was, as McLear had intimated, a most amazing burglary, too. The door of +Schloss’ safe was open when Kennedy and I arrived and found the excited jeweler +nervously pacing the office. Surrounding the safe, I noticed a wooden framework +constructed in such a way as to be a part of the decorative scheme of the +office. +</p> + +<p> +Schloss banged the heavy doors shut. +</p> + +<p> +“There, that’s just how it was—shut as tight as a drum. There was absolutely no +mark of anyone tampering with the combination lock. And yet the safe was +looted!” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you discover it?” asked Craig. “I presume you carry burglary +insurance?” +</p> + +<p> +Schloss looked up quickly. “That’s what I expected as a first question. No, I +carried very little insurance. You see, I thought the safe, one of those new +chrome steel affairs, was about impregnable. I never lost a moment’s sleep over +it; didn’t think it possible for anyone to get into it. For, as you see, it is +completely wired by the Hale Electric Protection—that wooden framework about +it. No one could touch that when it was set without jangling a bell at the +central office which would send men scurrying here to protect the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they must have got past it,” suggested Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—they must have. At least this morning I received the regular Hale report. +It said that their wires registered last night as though some one was tampering +with the safe. But by the time they got around, in less than five minutes, +there was no one here, nothing seemed to be disturbed. So they set it down to +induction or electrolysis, or something the matter with the wires. I got the +report the first thing when I arrived here with my assistant, Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was on his knees, going over the safe with a fine brush and some +powder, looking now and then through a small magnifying glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a finger print,” he muttered. “The cracksman must have worn gloves. But +how did he get in? There isn’t a mark of ‘soup’ having been used to blow it up, +nor of a ‘can-opener’ to rip it open, if that were possible, nor of an electric +or any other kind of drill.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve read of those fellows who burn their way in,” said Schloss. +</p> + +<p> +“But there is no hole,” objected Kennedy, “not a trace of the use of thermit to +burn the way in or of the oxyacetylene blowpipe to cut a piece out. Most +extraordinary,” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” shrugged Schloss, “everyone will say it must have been opened by one +who knew the combination. But I am the only one. I have never written it down +or told anyone, not even Muller. You understand what I am up against?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s the touch system,” I suggested. “You remember, Craig, the old fellow +who used to file his finger tips to the quick until they were so sensitive that +he could actually feel when he had turned the combination to the right plunger? +Might not that explain the lack of finger prints also?” I added eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing like that in this case, Walter,” objected Craig positively. “This +fellow wore gloves, all right. No, this safe has been opened and looted by no +ordinarily known method. It’s the most amazing case I ever saw in that +respect—almost as if we had a cracksman in the fourth dimension to whom the +inside of a closed cube is as accessible as is the inside of a plane square to +us three dimensional creatures. It is almost incomprehensible.” +</p> + +<p> +I fancied I saw Schloss’ face brighten as Kennedy took this view. So far, +evidently, he had run across only skepticism. +</p> + +<p> +“The stones were unset?” resumed Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Mostly. Not all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would recognize some of them if you saw them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes indeed. Some could be changed only by re-cutting. Even some of those that +were set were of odd cut and size—some from a diamond necklace which belonged +to a—” +</p> + +<p> +There was something peculiar in both his tone and manner as he cut short the +words. +</p> + +<p> +“To whom?” asked Kennedy casually. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, once to a well-known woman in society,” he said carefully. “It is mine, +though, now—at least it was mine. I should prefer to mention no names. I will +give a description of the stones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Lynn Moulton, for instance?” suggested Craig quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Schloss jumped almost as if a burglar alarm had sounded under his very ears. +“How did you know? Yes—but it was a secret. I made a large loan on it, and the +time has expired.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did she need money so badly?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know?” demanded Schloss. +</p> + +<p> +Here was a deepening mystery, not to be elucidated by continuing this line of +inquiry with Schloss, it seemed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br/> +THE PASTE REPLICA</h2> + +<p> +Carefully Craig was going over the office. Outside of the safe, there had +apparently been nothing of value. The rest of the office was not even wired, +and it seemed to have been Schloss’ idea that the few thousands of burglary +insurance amply protected him against such loss. As for the safe, its own +strength and the careful wiring might well have been considered quite +sufficient under any hitherto to-be-foreseen circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +A glass door, around the bend of a partition, opened from the hallway into the +office and had apparently been designed with the object of making visible the +safe so that anyone passing might see whether an intruder was tampering with +it. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had examined the door, perhaps in the expectation of finding finger +prints there, and was passing on to other things, when a change in his position +caused his eye to catch a large oval smudge on the glass, which was visible +when the light struck it at the right angle. Quickly he dusted it over with the +powder, and brought out the detail more clearly. As I examined it, while Craig +made preparations to cut out the glass to preserve it, it seemed to contain a +number of minute points and several more or less broken parallel lines. The +edges gradually trailed off into an indistinct faintness. +</p> + +<p> +Business, naturally, was at a standstill, and as we were working near the door, +we could see that the news of Schloss’ strange robbery had leaked out and was +spreading rapidly. Scores of acquaintances in the trade stopped at the door to +inquire about the rumor. +</p> + +<p> +To each, it seemed that Morris Muller, the working jeweler employed by Schloss, +repeated the same story. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” he said, “it is a big loss—yes—but big as it is, it will not break Mr. +Schloss. And,” he would add with the tradesman’s idea of humor, “I guess he has +enough to play a game of poker—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Poker?” asked Kennedy smiling. “Is he much of a player?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Nearly every night with his friends he plays.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy made a mental note of it. Evidently Schloss trusted Muller implicitly. +He seemed like a partner, rather than an employee, even though he had not been +entrusted with the secret combination. +</p> + +<p> +Outside, we ran into city detective Lieutenant Winters, the officer who was +stationed at the Maiden Lane post, guarding that famous section of the Dead +Line established by the immortal Byrnes at Fulton Street, below which no crook +was supposed to dare even to be seen. Winters had been detailed on the case. +</p> + +<p> +“You have seen the safe in there?” asked Kennedy, as he was leaving to carry on +his investigation elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +Winters seemed to be quite as skeptical as Schloss had intimated the public +would be. “Yes,” he replied, “there’s been an epidemic of robbery with the dull +times—people who want to collect their burglary insurance, I guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” objected Kennedy, “Schloss carried so little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there was the Hale Protection. How about that?” +</p> + +<p> +Craig looked up quickly, unruffled by the patronizing air of the professional +toward the amateur detective. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your theory?” he asked. “Do you think he robbed himself?” +</p> + +<p> +Winters shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been interested in Schloss for some +time,” he said enigmatically. “He has had some pretty swell customers. I’ll +keep you wised up, if anything happens,” he added in a burst of graciousness, +walking off. +</p> + +<p> +On the way to the subway, we paused again to see McLear. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he asked, “what do you think of it, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“All most extraordinary,” ruminated Craig. “And the queerest feature of all is +that the chief loss consists of a diamond necklace that belonged once to Mrs. +Antoinette Moulton.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Lynn Moulton?” repeated McLear. +</p> + +<p> +“The same,” assured Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +McLear appeared somewhat puzzled. “Her husband is one of our old subscribers,” +he pursued. “He is a lawyer on Wall Street and quite a gem collector. Last +night his safe was tampered with, but this morning he reports no loss. Not half +an hour ago he had us on the wire congratulating us on scaring off the +burglars, if there had been any.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your opinion,” I asked. “Is there a gang operating?” +</p> + +<p> +“My belief is,” he answered, reminiscently of his days on the detective force, +“that none of the loot will be recovered until they start to ‘fence’ it. That +would be my lay—to look for the fence. Why, think of all the big robberies that +have been pulled off lately. Remember,” he went on, “the spoils of a burglary +consist generally of precious stones. They are not currency. They must be +turned into currency—or what’s the use of robbery? +</p> + +<p> +“But merely to offer them for sale at an ordinary jeweler’s would be +suspicious. Even pawnbrokers are on the watch. You see what I am driving at? I +think there is a man or a group of men whose business it is to pay cash for +stolen property and who have ways of returning gems into the regular trade +channels. In all these robberies we get a glimpse of as dark and mysterious a +criminal as has ever been recorded. He may be—anybody. About his legitimacy, I +believe, no question has ever been raised. And, I tell you, his arrest is going +to create a greater sensation than even the remarkable series of robberies that +he has planned or made possible. The question is, to my mind, who is this +fence?” +</p> + +<p> +McLear’s telephone rang and he handed the instrument to Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, this is Professor Kennedy,” answered Craig. “Oh, too bad you’ve had to +try all over to get me. I’ve been going from one place to another gathering +clues and have made good progress, considering I’ve hardly started. Why—what’s +the matter? Really?” +</p> + +<p> +An interval followed, during which McLear left to answer a personal call on +another wire. +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy hung up the receiver, his face wore a peculiar look. “It was Mrs. +Moulton,” he blurted out. “She thinks that her husband has found out that the +necklace is paste.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The paste replica is gone from her wall safe in the Deluxe.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned, startled at the information. Even Kennedy himself was perplexed at +the sudden succession of events. I had nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently, however, his rule was when in doubt play a trump, for, twenty +minutes later found us in the office of Lynn Moulton, the famous corporation +lawyer, in Wall Street. +</p> + +<p> +Moulton was a handsome man of past fifty with a youthful face against his iron +gray hair and mustache, well dressed, genial, a man who seemed keenly in love +with the good things of life. +</p> + +<p> +“It is rumored,” began Kennedy, “that an attempt was made on your safe here at +the office last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he admitted, taking off his glasses and polishing them carefully. “I +suppose there is no need of concealment, especially as I hear that a somewhat +similar attempt was made on the safe of my friend Herman Schloss in Maiden +Lane.” +</p> + +<p> +“You lost nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +Moulton put his glasses on and looked Kennedy in the face frankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, fortunately,” he said, then went on slowly. “You see, in my later +years, I have been something of a collector of precious stones myself. I don’t +wear them, but I have always taken the keenest pleasure in owning them and when +I was married it gave me a great deal more pleasure to have them set in rings, +pendants, tiaras, necklaces, and other forms for my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +He had risen, with the air of a busy man who had given the subject all the +consideration he could afford and whose work proceeded almost by schedule. +“This morning I found my safe tampered with, but, as I said, fortunately +something must have scared off the burglars.” +</p> + +<p> +He bowed us out politely. What was the explanation, I wondered. It seemed, on +the face of things, that Antoinette Moulton feared her husband. Did he know +something else already, and did she know he knew? To all appearances he took it +very calmly, if he did know. Perhaps that was what she feared, his very +calmness. +</p> + +<p> +“I must see Mrs. Moulton again,” remarked Kennedy, as we left. +</p> + +<p> +The Moultons lived, we found, in one of the largest suites of a new apartment +hotel, the Deluxe, and in spite of the fact that our arrival had been announced +some minutes before we saw Mrs. Moulton, it was evident that she had been +crying hysterically over the loss of the paste jewels and what it implied. +</p> + +<p> +“I missed it this morning, after my return from seeing you,” she replied in +answer to Craig’s inquiry, then added, wide-eyed with alarm, “What shall I do? +He must have opened the wall safe and found the replica. I don’t dare ask him +point-blank.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure he did it?” asked Kennedy, more, I felt, for its moral effect on +her than through any doubt in his own mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Not sure. But then the wall safe shows no marks, and the replica is gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might I see your jewel case?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely. I’ll get it. The wall safe is in Lynn’s room. I shall probably have to +fuss a long time with the combination.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact she could not have been very familiar with it for it took several +minutes before she returned. Meanwhile, Kennedy, who had been drumming absently +on the arms of his chair, suddenly rose and walked quietly over to a scrap +basket that stood beside an escritoire. It had evidently just been emptied, for +the rooms must have been cleaned several hours before. He bent down over it and +picked up two scraps of paper adhering to the wicker work. The rest had +evidently been thrown away. +</p> + +<p> +I bent over to read them. One was: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +—rest Nettie—<br/> +—dying to see— +</p> + +<p> +The other read: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +—cherche to-d<br/> +—love and ma<br/> +—rman. +</p> + +<p> +What did it mean? Hastily, I could fill in “Dearest Nettie,” and “I am dying to +see you.” Kennedy added, “The Recherche to-day,” that being the name of a new +apartment uptown, as well as “love and many kisses.” But “—rman”—what did that +mean? Could it be Herman—Herman Schloss? +</p> + +<p> +She was returning and we resumed our seats quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy took the jewel case from her and examined it carefully. There was not a +mark on it. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Moulton,” he said slowly, rising and handing it back to her, “have you +told me all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why—yes,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy shook his head gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid not. You must tell me everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“No—no,” she cried vehemently, “there is nothing more.” +</p> + +<p> +We left and outside the Deluxe he paused, looked about, caught sight of a +taxicab and hailed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” asked the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Across the street,” he said, “and wait. Put the window in back of you down so +I can talk. I’ll tell you where to go presently. Now, Walter, sit back as far +as you can. This may seem like an underhand thing to do, but we’ve got to get +what that woman won’t tell us or give up the case.” +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps half an hour we waited, still puzzling over the scraps of paper. +Suddenly I felt a nudge from Kennedy. Antoinette Moulton was standing in the +doorway across the street. Evidently she preferred not to ride in her own car, +for a moment later she entered a taxicab. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow that black cab,” said Kennedy to our driver. +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough, it stopped in front of the Recherche Apartments and Mrs. Moulton +stepped out and almost ran in. +</p> + +<p> +We waited a moment, then Kennedy followed. The elevator that had taken her up +had just returned to the ground floor. +</p> + +<p> +“The same floor again,” remarked Kennedy, jauntily stepping in and nodding +familiarly to the elevator boy. +</p> + +<p> +Then he paused suddenly, looked at his watch, fixed his gaze thoughtfully on me +an instant, and exclaimed. “By George—no. I can’t go up yet. I clean forgot +that engagement at the hotel. One moment, son. Let us out. We’ll be back +again.” +</p> + +<p> +Considerably mystified, I followed him to the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re entitled to an explanation,” he laughed catching my bewildered look as +he opened the cab door. “I didn’t want to go up now while she is there, but I +wanted to get on good terms with that boy. We’ll wait until she comes down, +then go up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I am going through all this elaborate preparation to find out. I +have no more idea than you have.” +</p> + +<p> +It could not have been more than twenty minutes later when Mrs. Moulton emerged +rather hurriedly, and drove away. +</p> + +<p> +While we had been waiting I had observed a man on the other side of the street +who seemed unduly interested in the Recherche, too, for he had walked up and +down the block no less than six times. Kennedy saw him, and as he made no +effort to follow Mrs. Moulton, Kennedy did not do so either. In fact a little +quick glance which she had given at our cab had raised a fear that she might +have discovered that she was being followed. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy and I paid off our cabman and sauntered into the Recherche in the most +debonair manner we could assume. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, son, we’ll go up,” he said to the boy who, remembering us, and now not at +all clear in his mind that he might not have seen us before that, whisked us to +the tenth floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see,” said Kennedy, “it’s number one hundred and—er——” +</p> + +<p> +“Three,” prompted the boy. +</p> + +<p> +He pressed the buzzer and a neatly dressed colored maid responded. +</p> + +<p> +“I had an appointment here with Mrs. Moulton this morning,” remarked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“She has just gone,” replied the maid, off her guard. +</p> + +<p> +“And was to meet Mr. Schloss here in half an hour,” he added quickly. +</p> + +<p> +It was the maid’s turn to look surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think he was to be here,” she said. “He’s had some—” +</p> + +<p> +“Trouble at the office,” supplied Kennedy. “That’s what it was about. Perhaps +he hasn’t been able to get away yet. But I had the appointment. Ah, I see a +telephone in the hall. May I?” +</p> + +<p> +He had stepped politely in, and by dint of cleverly keeping his finger on the +hook in the half light, he carried on a one-sided conversation with himself +long enough to get a good chance to look about. +</p> + +<p> +There was an air of quiet and refinement about the apartment in the Recherche. +It was darkened to give the little glowing electric bulbs in their silken +shades a full chance to simulate right. The deep velvety carpets were noiseless +to the foot, and the draperies, the pictures, the bronzes, all bespoke taste. +</p> + +<p> +But the chief objects of interest to Craig were the little square green +baize-covered tables on one of which lay neatly stacked a pile of gilt-edged +cards and a mahogany box full of ivory chips of red, white and blue. +</p> + +<p> +It was none of the old-time gambling places, like Danfield’s, with its steel +door which Craig had once cut through with an oxyacetylene blowpipe in order to +rescue a young spendthrift from himself. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy seemed perfectly well satisfied merely with a cursory view of the +place, as he hung up the receiver and thanked the maid politely for allowing +him to use it. +</p> + +<p> +“This is up-to-date gambling in cleaned-up New York,” he remarked as we waited +for the elevator to return for us. “And the worst of it all is that it gets the +women as well as the men. Once they are caught in the net, they are the most +powerful lure to men that the gamblers have yet devised.” +</p> + +<p> +We rode down in silence, and as we went down the steps to the street, I noticed +the man whom we had seen watching the place, lurking down at the lower corner. +Kennedy quickened his pace and came up behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Winters!” exclaimed Craig. “You here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I might say the same to you,” grinned the detective not displeased evidently +that our trail had crossed his. “I suppose you are looking for Schloss, too. +He’s up in the Recherche a great deal, playing poker. I understand he owns an +interest in the game up there.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I just saw one of the cappers for the place go out before you went in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Capper?” repeated Kennedy surprised. “Antoinette Moulton a steerer for a +gambling joint? What can a rich society woman have to do with a place like that +or a man like Schloss?” +</p> + +<p> +Winters smiled sardonically. “Society ladies to-day often get into scrapes of +which their husbands know nothing,” he remarked. “You didn’t know before that +Antoinette Moulton, like many of her friends in the smart set, was a +gambler—and loser—did you?” +</p> + +<p> +Craig shook his head. He had more of human than scientific interest in a case +of a woman of her caliber gone wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“But you must have read of the famous Moulton diamonds?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Craig, blankly, as if it were all news to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Schloss has them—or at least had them. The jewels she wore at the opera this +winter were paste, I understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Moulton play?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I think so—but not here, naturally. In a way, I suppose, it is his fault. They +all do it. The example of one drives on another.” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly there flashed over my mind a host of possibilities. Perhaps, after +all, Winters had been right. Schloss had taken this way to make sure of the +jewels so that she could not redeem them. Suddenly another explanation crowded +that out. Had Mrs. Moulton robbed the safe herself, or hired some one else to +do it for her, and had that person gone back on her? +</p> + +<p> +Then a horrid possibility occurred to me. Whatever Antoinette Moulton may have +been and done, some one must have her in his power. What a situation for the +woman! My sympathy went out to her in her supreme struggle. Even if it had been +a real robbery, Schloss might easily recover from it. But for her every event +spelled ruin and seemed only to be bringing that ruin closer. +</p> + +<p> +We left Winters, still watching on the trail of Schloss, and went on uptown to +the laboratory. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br/> +THE BURGLAR’S MICROPHONE</h2> + +<p> +That night I was sitting, brooding over the case, while Craig was studying a +photograph which he made of the smudge on the glass door down at Schloss’. He +paused in his scrutiny of the print to answer the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“Something has happened to Schloss,” he exclaimed seizing his hat and coat. +“Winters has been watching him. He didn’t go to the Recherche. Winters wants me +to meet him at a place several blocks below it Come on. He wouldn’t say over +the wire what it was. Hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +We met Winters in less than ten minutes at the address he had given, a bachelor +apartment in the neighborhood of the Recherche. +</p> + +<p> +“Schloss kept rooms here,” explained Winters, hurrying us quickly upstairs. “I +wanted you to see before anyone else.” +</p> + +<p> +As we entered the large and luxuriously furnished living room of the jeweler’s +suite, a gruesome sight greeted us. +</p> + +<p> +There lay Schloss on the floor, face down, in a horribly contorted position. In +one hand, clenched under him partly, the torn sleeve of a woman’s dress was +grasped convulsively. The room bore unmistakable traces of a violent struggle, +but except for the hideous object on the floor was vacant. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy bent down over him. Schloss was dead. In a corner, by the door, stood a +pile of grips, stacked up, packed, and undisturbed. +</p> + +<p> +Winters who had been studying the room while we got our bearings picked up a +queer-looking revolver from the floor. As he held it up I could see that along +the top of the barrel was a long cylinder with a ratchet or catch at the butt +end. He turned it over and over carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“By George,” he muttered, “it has been fired off.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy glanced more minutely at the body. There was not a mark on it. I stared +about vacantly at the place where Winters had picked the thing up. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” I cried, my eye catching a little hole in the baseboard of the woodwork +near it. +</p> + +<p> +“It must have fallen and exploded on the floor,” remarked Kennedy. “Let me see +it, Winters.” +</p> + +<p> +Craig held it at arm’s length and pulled the catch. Instead of an explosion, +there came a cone of light from the top of the gun. As Kennedy moved it over +the wall, I saw in the center of the circle of light a dark spot. +</p> + +<p> +“A new invention,” Craig explained. “All you need to do is to move it so that +little dark spot falls directly on an object. Pull the trigger—the bullet +strikes the dark spot. Even a nervous and unskilled marksman becomes a good +shot in the dark. He can even shoot from behind the protection of something—and +hit accurately.” +</p> + +<p> +It was too much for me. I could only stand and watch Kennedy as he deftly bent +over Schloss again and placed a piece of chemically prepared paper flat on the +forehead of the dead man. +</p> + +<p> +When he withdrew it, I could see that it bore marks of the lines on his head. +Without a word, Kennedy drew from his pocket a print of the photograph of the +smudge on Schloss’ door. +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible,” he said, half to himself, “to identify a person by means of +the arrangement of the sweat glands or pores. Poroscopy, Dr. Edmond Locard, +director of the Police Laboratory at Lyons, calls it. The shape, arrangement, +number per square centimeter, all vary in different individuals. Besides, here +we have added the lines of the forehead.” +</p> + +<p> +He was studying the two impressions intensely. When he looked up from his +examination, his face wore a peculiar expression. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not the head which was placed so close to the glass of the door of +Schloss’ office, peering through, on the night of the robbery, in order to see +before picking the lock whether the office was empty and everything ready for +the hasty attack on the safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“That disposes of my theory that Schloss robbed himself,” remarked Winters +reluctantly. “But the struggle here, the sleeve of the dress, the pistol—could +he have been shot?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I think not,” considered Kennedy. “It looks to me more like a case of +apoplexy.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall we do?” asked Winters. “Far from clearing anything up, this +complicates it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Muller?” asked Kennedy. “Does he know? Perhaps he can shed some light +on it.” +</p> + +<p> +The clang of an ambulance bell outside told that the aid summoned by Winters +had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +We left the body in charge of the surgeon and of a policeman who arrived about +the same time, and followed Winters. +</p> + +<p> +Muller lived in a cheap boarding house in a shabbily respectable street +downtown, and without announcing ourselves we climbed the stairs to his room. +He looked up surprised but not disconcerted as we entered. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Muller,” shot out Winters, “we have just found Mr. Schloss dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“D-dead!” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +The man seemed speechless with horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and with his grips packed as if to run away.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller looked dazedly from one of us to the other, but shut up like a clam. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you had better come along with us as a material witness,” burst out +Winters roughly. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing, leaving that sort of third degree work to the detective. +But he was not idle, as Winters tried to extract more than the monosyllables, +“I don’t know,” in answer to every inquiry of Muller about his employer’s life +and business. +</p> + +<p> +A low exclamation from Craig attracted my attention from Winters. In a corner +he had discovered a small box and had opened it. Inside was a dry battery and a +most peculiar instrument, something like a little flat telephone transmitter +yet attached by wires to earpieces that fitted over the head after the manner +of those of a wireless detector. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this?” asked Kennedy, dangling it before Muller. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at it phlegmatically. “A deaf instrument I have been working on,” +replied the jeweler. “My hearing is getting poor.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy looked hastily from the instrument to the man. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ll take it along with us,” he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Winters, true to his instincts, had been searching Muller in the meantime. +Besides the various assortment that a man carries in his pockets usually, +including pens, pencils, notebooks, a watch, a handkerchief, a bunch of keys, +one of which was large enough to open a castle, there was a bunch of blank and +unissued pawn-tickets bearing the name, “Stein’s One Per Cent. a Month Loans,” +and an address on the Bowery. +</p> + +<p> +Was Muller the “fence” we were seeking, or only a tool for the “fence” higher +up? Who was this Stein? +</p> + +<p> +What it all meant I could only guess. It was a far cry from the wealth of +Diamond Lane to a dingy Bowery pawnshop, even though pawnbroking at one per +cent. a month—and more, on the side—pays. I knew, too, that diamonds are +hoarded on the East Side as nowhere else in the world, outside of India. It was +no uncommon thing, I had heard, for a pawnbroker whose shop seemed dirty and +greasy to the casual visitor to have stored away in his vault gems running into +the hundreds of thousands of dollars. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Moulton must know of this,” remarked Kennedy. “Winters, you and Jameson +bring Muller along. I am going up to the Deluxe.” +</p> + +<p> +I must say that I was surprised at finding Mrs. Moulton there. Outside the +suite Winters and I waited with the unresisting Muller, while Kennedy entered. +But through the door which he left ajar I could hear what passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Moulton,” he began, “something terrible has happened—” +</p> + +<p> +He broke off, and I gathered that her pale face and agitated manner told him +that she knew already. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mr. Moulton?” he went on, changing his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Moulton is at his office,” she answered tremulously. “He telephoned while +I was out that he had to work to-night. Oh, Mr. Kennedy—he knows—he knows. I +know it. He has avoided me ever since I missed the replica from-” +</p> + +<p> +“Sh!” cautioned Craig. He had risen and gone to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Winters,” he whispered, “I want you to go down to Lynn Moulton’s office. +Meanwhile Jameson can take care of Muller. I am going over to that place of +Stein’s presently. Bring Moulton up there. You will wait here, Walter, for the +present,” he nodded. +</p> + +<p> +He returned to the room where I could hear her crying softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mrs. Moulton,” he said gently, “I’m afraid I must trouble you to go with +me. I am going over to a pawnbroker’s on the Bowery.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Bowery?” she repeated, with a genuinely surprised shudder. “Oh, no, Mr. +Kennedy. Don’t ask me to go anywhere to-night. I am—I am in no condition to go +anywhere—to do anything—I—” +</p> + +<p> +“But you must,” said Kennedy in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t. Oh—have mercy on me. I am terribly upset. You—” +</p> + +<p> +“It is your duty to go, Mrs. Moulton,” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand.” she murmured. “A pawnbroker’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” urged Kennedy, not harshly but firmly, then, as she held back, added, +playing a trump card, “We must work quickly. In his hands we found the +fragments of a torn dress. When the police—” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered a shriek. A glance had told her, if she had deceived herself +before, that Kennedy knew her secret. +</p> + +<p> +Antoinette Moulton was standing before him, talking rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Some one has told Lynn. I know it. There is nothing now that I can conceal. If +you had come half an hour later you would not have found me. He had written to +Mr. Schloss, threatening him that if he did not leave the country he would +shoot him at sight. Mr. Schloss showed me the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“It had come to this. I must either elope with Schloss, or lose his aid. The +thought of either was unendurable. I hated him—yet was dependent on him. +</p> + +<p> +“To-night I met him, in his empty apartment, alone. I knew that he had what was +left of his money with him, that everything was packed up. I went prepared. I +would not elope. My plan was no less than to make him pay the balance on the +necklace that he had lost—or to murder him. +</p> + +<p> +“I carried a new pistol in my muff, one which Lynn had just bought. I don’t +know how I did it. I was desperate. +</p> + +<p> +“He told me he loved me, that Lynn did not, never had—that Lynn had married me +only to show off his wealth and diamonds, to give him a social! position—that I +was merely a—a piece of property—a dummy. +</p> + +<p> +“He tried to kiss me. It was revolting. I struggled away from him. +</p> + +<p> +“And in the struggle, the revolver fell from my muff and exploded on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“At once he was aflame with suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +“‘So—it’s murder you want!’ he shouted. ‘Well, murder it shall be!’ +</p> + +<p> +“I saw death in his eye as he seized my arm. I was defenseless now. The old +passion came over him. Before he killed—he—would have his way with me. +</p> + +<p> +“I screamed. With a wild effort I twisted away from him. +</p> + +<p> +“He raised his hand to strike me, I saw his eyes, glassy. Then he sank +back—fell to the floor—dead of apoplexy—dead of his furious emotions. +</p> + +<p> +“I fled. +</p> + +<p> +“And now you have found me.” +</p> + +<p> +She had turned, hastily, to leave the room. Kennedy blocked the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Moulton,” he said firmly, “listen to me. What was the first question you +asked me? ‘Can I trust you?’ And I told you you could. This is no time for—for +suicide.” He shot the word out bluntly. “All may not be lost. I have sent for +your husband. Muller is outside.” +</p> + +<p> +“Muller?” she cried. “He made the replica.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. I am going to clear this thing up. Come. You <i>must</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +It was all confused to me, the dash in a car to the little pawnbroker’s on the +first floor of a five-story tenement, the quick entry into the place by one of +Muller’s keys. +</p> + +<p> +Over the safe in back was a framework like that which had covered Schloss’ +safe. Kennedy tore it away, regardless of the alarm which it must have sounded. +In a moment he was down before it on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“This is how Schloss’ safe was opened so quickly,” he muttered, working +feverishly. “Here is some of their own medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +He had placed the peculiar telephone-like transmitter close to the combination +lock and was turning the combination rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he rose, gave the bolts a twist, and the ponderous doors swung open. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“A burglar’s microphone,” he answered, hastily looking over the contents of the +safe. “The microphone is now used by burglars for picking combination locks. +When you turn the lock, a slight sound is made when the proper number comes +opposite the working point. It can be heard sometimes by a sensitive ear, +although it is imperceptible to most persons. But by using a microphone it is +an easy matter to hear the sounds which allow of opening the lock.” +</p> + +<p> +He had taken a yellow chamois bag out of the safe and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +Inside sparkled the famous Moulton diamonds. He held them up—in all their +wicked brilliancy. No one spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Then he took another yellow bag, more dirty and worn than the first. As he +opened it, Mrs. Moulton could restrain herself no longer. +</p> + +<p> +“The replica!” she cried. “The replica!” +</p> + +<p> +Without a word, Craig handed the real necklace to her. Then he slipped the +paste jewels into the newer of the bags and restored both it and the empty one +to their places, banged shut the door of the safe, and replaced the wooden +screen. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick!” he said to her, “you have still a minute to get away. +Hurry—anywhere—away—only away!” +</p> + +<p> +The look of gratitude that came over her face, as she understood the full +meaning of it was such as I had never seen before. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick!” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +It was too late. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, Kennedy,” shouted a voice at the street door, “what are you +doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +It was McLear himself. He had come with the Hale patrol, on his mettle now to +take care of the epidemic of robberies. +</p> + +<p> +Before Craig could reply a cab drew up with a rush at the curb and two men, +half fighting, half cursing, catapulted themselves into the shop. +</p> + +<p> +They were Winters and Moulton. +</p> + +<p> +Without a word, taking advantage of the first shock of surprise, Kennedy had +clapped a piece of chemical paper on the foreheads of Mrs. Moulton, then of +Moulton, and on Muller’s. Oblivious to the rest of us, he studied the +impressions in the full light of the counter. +</p> + +<p> +Moulton was facing his wife with a scornful curl of the lip. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been told of the paste replica—and I wrote Schloss that I’d shoot him +down like the dog he is, you—you traitress,” he hissed. +</p> + +<p> +She drew herself up scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“And I have been told why you married me—to show off your wicked jewels and +help you in your—” +</p> + +<p> +“You lie!” he cried fiercely. “Muller—some one—open this safe—whosever it is. +If what I have been told is true, there is in it one new bag containing the +necklace. It was stolen from Schloss to whom you sold <i>my</i> jewels. The +other old bag, stolen from me, contains the paste replica you had made to +deceive me.” +</p> + +<p> +It was all so confused that I do not know how it happened. I think it was +Muller who opened the safe. +</p> + +<p> +“There is the new yellow bag,” cried Moulton, “from Schloss’ own safe. Open +it.” +</p> + +<p> +McLear had taken it. He did so. There sparkled not the real gems, but the +replica. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” Moulton exclaimed, breaking from Winters and seizing the old bag. +</p> + +<p> +He tore it open and—it was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment,” interrupted Kennedy, looking up quietly from the counter. “Seal +that safe again, McLear. In it are the Schloss jewels and the products of half +a dozen other robberies which the dupe Muller—or Stein, as you please—pulled +off, some as a blind to conceal the real criminal. You may have shown him how +to leave no finger prints, but you yourself have left what is just as good—your +own forehead print. McLear—you were right. There’s your criminal—Lynn Moulton, +professional fence, the brains of the thing.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br/> +THE GERM LETTER</h2> + +<p> +Lynn Moulton made no fight and Kennedy did not pursue the case, for, with the +rescue of Antoinette Moulton, his interest ceased. +</p> + +<p> +Blackmail takes various forms, and the Moulton affair was only one phase of it. +It was not long before we had to meet a much stranger attempt. +</p> + +<p> +“Read the letter, Professor Kennedy. Then I will tell you the sequel.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hunter Blake lay back in the cushions of her invalid chair in the sun +parlor of the great Blake mansion on Riverside Drive, facing the Hudson with +its continuous reel of maritime life framed against the green-hilled background +of the Jersey shore. +</p> + +<p> +Her nurse, Miss Dora Sears, gently smoothed out the pillows and adjusted them +so that the invalid could more easily watch us. Mrs. Blake, wealthy, known as a +philanthropist, was not an old woman, but had been for years a great sufferer +from rheumatism. +</p> + +<p> +I watched Miss Sears eagerly. Full-bosomed, fine of face and figure, she was +something more than a nurse; she was a companion. She had bright, sparkling +black eyes and an expression about her well-cut mouth which made one want to +laugh with her. It seemed to say that the world was a huge joke and she invited +you to enjoy the joke with her. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy took the letter which Miss Sears proffered him, and as he did so I +could not help noticing her full, plump forearm on which gleamed a handsome +plain gold bracelet. He spread the letter out on a dainty wicker table in such +a way that we both could see it. +</p> + +<p> +We had been summoned over the telephone to the Blake mansion by Reginald Blake, +Mrs. Blake’s eldest son. Reginald had been very reticent over the reason, but +had seemed very anxious and insistent that Kennedy should come immediately. +</p> + +<p> +Craig read quickly and I followed him, fascinated by the letter from its very +opening paragraph. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Madam,” it began. “Having received my diploma as doctor of medicine and +bacteriology at Heidelberg in 1909, I came to the United States to study a most +serious disease which is prevalent in several of the western mountain states.” +</p> + +<p> +So far, I reflected, it looked like an ordinary appeal for aid. The next words, +however, were queer: “I have four hundred persons of wealth on my list. Your +name was—” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy turned the page. On the next leaf of the letter sheet was pasted a +strip of gelatine. The first page had adhered slightly to the gelatine. +</p> + +<p> +“Chosen by fate,” went on the sentence ominously. +</p> + +<p> +“By opening this letter,” I read, “you have liberated millions of the virulent +bacteria of this disease. Without a doubt you are infected by this time, for no +human body is impervious to them, and up to the present only one in one hundred +has fully recovered after going through all its stages.” +</p> + +<p> +I gasped. The gelatine had evidently been arranged so that when the two sheets +were pulled apart, the germs would be thrown into the air about the person +opening the letter. It was a very ingenious device. +</p> + +<p> +The letter continued, “I am happy to say, however, that I have a prophylactic +which will destroy any number of these germs if used up to the ninth day. It is +necessary only that you should place five thousand dollars in an envelope and +leave it for me to be called for at the desk of the Prince Henry Hotel. When +the messenger delivers the money to me, the prophylactic will be sent +immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“First of all, take a match and burn this letter to avoid spreading the +disease. Then change your clothes and burn the old ones. Enclosed you will find +in a germ-proof envelope an exact copy of this letter. The room should then be +thoroughly fumigated. Do not come into close contact with anyone near and dear +to you until you have used the prophylactic. Tell no one. In case you do, the +prophylactic will not be sent under any circumstances. Very truly yours, +D<small>R</small>. H<small>ANS</small> H<small>OPF</small>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blackmail!” exclaimed Kennedy, looking intently again at the gelatine on the +second page, as I involuntarily backed away and held my breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know,” responded Mrs. Blake anxiously, “but is it true?” +</p> + +<p> +There could be no doubt from the tone of her voice that she more than half +believed that it was true. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say—yet,” replied Craig, still cautiously scanning the apparently +innocent piece of gelatine on the original letter which Mrs. Blake had not +destroyed. “I shall have to keep it and examine it.” +</p> + +<p> +On the gelatine I could see a dark mass which evidently was supposed to contain +the germs. +</p> + +<p> +“I opened the letter here in this room,” she went on. “At first I thought +nothing of it. But this morning, when Buster, my prize Pekinese, who had been +with me, sitting on my lap at the time, and closer to the letter even than I +was, when Buster was taken suddenly ill, I—well, I began to worry.” +</p> + +<p> +She finished with a little nervous laugh, as people will to hide their real +feelings. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see the dog,” remarked Kennedy simply. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Sears,” asked her mistress, “will you get Buster, please?” +</p> + +<p> +The nurse left the room. No longer was there the laughing look on her face. +This was serious business. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later she reappeared, carrying gingerly a small dog basket. Mrs. +Blake lifted the lid. Inside was a beautiful little “Peke,” and it was easy to +see that Buster was indeed ill. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is your doctor?” asked Craig, considering. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Rae Wilson, a very well-known woman physician.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded recognition of the name. “What does she say?” he asked, +observing the dog narrowly. +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t told anyone, outside, of it yet,” replied Mrs. Blake. “In fact +until Buster fell sick, I thought it was a hoax.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t told anyone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only Reginald and my daughter Betty. Betty is frantic—not with fear for +herself, but with fear for me. No one can reassure her. In fact it was as much +for her sake as anyone’s that I sent for you. Reginald has tried to trace the +thing down himself, but has not succeeded.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused. The door opened and Reginald Blake entered. He was a young fellow, +self confident and no doubt very efficient at the new dances, though scarcely +fitted to rub elbows with a cold world which, outside of his own immediate +circle, knew not the name of Blake. He stood for a moment regarding us through +the smoke of his cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me just what you have done,” asked Kennedy of him as his mother +introduced him, although he had done the talking for her over the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“Done?” he drawled. “Why, as soon as mother told me of the letter, I left an +envelope up at the Prince Henry, as it directed.” +</p> + +<p> +“With the money?” put in Craig quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no—just as a decoy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. What happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I waited around a long time. It was far along in the day when a woman +appeared at the desk. I had instructed the clerk to be on the watch for anyone +who asked for mail addressed to a Dr. Hopf. The clerk slammed the register. +That was the signal. I moved up closer.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she look like?” asked Kennedy keenly. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t see her face. But she was beautifully dressed, with a long light +flowing linen duster, a veil that hid her features and on her hands and arms a +long pair of motoring doeskin gloves. By George, she was a winner—in general +looks, though. Well, something about the clerk, I suppose, must have aroused +her suspicions. For, a moment later, she was gone in the crowd. Evidently she +had thought of the danger and had picked out a time when the lobby would be +full and everybody busy. But she did not leave by the front entrance through +which she entered. I concluded that she must have left by one of the side +street carriage doors.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she got away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I found that she asked one of the boys at the door to crank up a car +standing at the curb. She slid into the seat, and was off in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing. But I knew that he was making a mighty effort to restrain +comment on the bungling amateur detective work of the son of our client. +</p> + +<p> +Reginald saw the look on his face. “Still,” he hastened, “I got the number of +the car. It was 200859 New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have looked it up?” queried Kennedy quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t need to do it. A few minutes later Dr. Rae Wilson herself came +out—storming like mad. Her car had been stolen at the very door of the hotel by +this woman with the innocent aid of the hotel employees.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was evidently keenly interested. The mention of the stolen car had +apparently at once suggested an idea to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Blake,” he said, as he rose to go, “I shall take this letter with me. +Will you see that Buster is sent up to my laboratory immediately?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. It was evident that Buster was a great pet with her and that it was +with difficulty she kept from smoothing his silky coat. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you won’t hurt Buster?” she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +“No. Trust me. More than that, if there is any possible way of untangling this +mystery, I shall do it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Blake looked rather than spoke her thanks. As we went downstairs, +accompanied by Miss Sears, we could see in the music room a very interesting +couple, chatting earnestly over the piano. +</p> + +<p> +Betty Blake, a slip of a girl in her first season, was dividing her attention +between her visitor and the door by which we were passing. +</p> + +<p> +She rose as she heard us, leaving the young man standing alone at the piano. He +was of an age perhaps a year or two older than Reginald Blake. It was evident +that, whatever Miss Betty might think, he had eyes for no one else but the +pretty debutante. He even seemed to be regarding Kennedy sullenly, as if he +were a possible rival. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you don’t think it is serious?” whispered Betty in an undertone, scarcely +waiting to be introduced. She had evidently known of our visit, but had been +unable to get away to be present upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Miss Blake,” reassured Kennedy, “I can’t say. All I can do is to +repeat what I have already said to your mother. Keep up a good heart and trust +me to work it out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she murmured, and then, impulsively extending her small hand to +Craig, she added, “Mr. Kennedy, if there is anything I can do to help you, I +beg that you will call on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not forget,” he answered, relinquishing the hand reluctantly. Then, as +she thanked him, and turned again to her guest, he added in a low tone to me, +“A remarkable girl, Walter, a girl that can be depended on.” +</p> + +<p> +We followed Miss Sears down the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that young man in the music room?” asked Kennedy, when we were out of +earshot. +</p> + +<p> +“Duncan Baldwin,” she answered. “A friend and bosom companion of Reginald.” +</p> + +<p> +“He seems to think more of Betty than of her brother,” Craig remarked dryly. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Sears smiled. “Sometimes, we think they are secretly engaged,” she +returned. We had almost reached the door. “By the way,” she asked anxiously, +“do you think there are any precautions that I should take for Mrs. Blake—and +the rest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly,” answered Kennedy, after a moment’s consideration, “as long as you +have taken none in particular already. Still, I suppose it will do no harm to +be as antiseptic as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall try,” she promised, her face showing that she considered the affair +now in a much more serious light than she had before our visit. +</p> + +<p> +“And keep me informed of anything that turns up,” added Kennedy handing her a +card with the telephone number of the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +As we left the Blake mansion, Kennedy remarked, “We must trace that car +somehow—at least we must get someone working on that.” +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later we were in a towering office building on Liberty Street, the +home of various kinds of insurance. Kennedy stopped before a door which bore +the name, “Douglas Garwood: Insurance Adjuster.” +</p> + +<p> +Briefly, Craig told the story of the stolen car, omitting the account of the +dastardly method taken to blackmail Mrs. Blake. As he proceeded a light seemed +to break on the face of Garwood, a heavyset man, whose very gaze was +inquisitorial. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the theft has been reported to us already by Dr. Wilson herself,” he +interrupted. “The car was insured in a company I represent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had hoped so,” remarked Kennedy, “Do you know the woman?” he added, watching +the insurance adjuster who had been listening intently as he told about the +fair motor car thief. +</p> + +<p> +“Know her?” repeated Garwood emphatically. “Why, man, we have been so close to +that woman that I feel almost intimate with her. The descriptions are those of +a lady, well-dressed, and with a voice and manner that would carry her through +any of the fashionable hotels, perhaps into society itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of a gang of blackmailers, then,” I hazarded. +</p> + +<p> +Garwood shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps,” he acquiesced. “It is automobile +thieving that interests me, though. Why,” he went on, rising excitedly, “the +gangs of these thieves are getting away with half a million dollars’ worth of +high-priced cars every year. The police seem to be powerless to stop it. We +appeal to them, but with no result. So, now we have taken things into our own +hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing in this case?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“What the insurance companies have to do to recover stolen automobiles,” +Garwood replied. “For, with all deference to your friend, Deputy O’Connor, it +is the insurance companies rather than the police who get stolen cars back.” +</p> + +<p> +He had pulled out a postal card from a pigeon hole in his desk, selecting it +from several apparently similar. We read: +</p> + +<h5>$250.00 REWARD</h5> + +<p> +We will pay $100.00 for car, $150.00 additional for information which will +convict the thief. When last seen, driven by a woman, name not known, who is +described as dark-haired, well-dressed, slight, apparently thirty years old. +The car is a Dixon, 1912, seven-passenger, touring, No. 193,222, license No. +200,859, New York; dark red body, mohair top, brass lamps, has no wind shield; +rear axle brake band device has extra nut on turnbuckle not painted. Car last +seen near Prince Henry Hotel, New York City, Friday, the 10th. +</p> + +<p> +Communicate by telegraph or telephone, after notifying nearest police +department, with Douglas Garwood, New York City. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“The secret of it is,” explained Garwood, as we finished reading, “that there +are innumerable people who keep their eyes open and like to earn money easily. +Thus we have several hundreds of amateur and enthusiastic detectives watching +all over the city and country for any car that looks suspicious.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy thanked him for his courtesy, and we rose to go. “I shall be glad to +keep you informed of anything that turns up,” he promised. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX<br/> +THE ARTIFICIAL KIDNEY</h2> + +<p> +In the laboratory, Kennedy quietly set to work. He began by tearing from the +germ letter the piece of gelatine and first examining it with a pocket lens. +Then, with a sterile platinum wire, he picked out several minute sections of +the black spot on the gelatine and placed them in agar, blood serum, and other +media on which they would be likely to grow. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have to wait until to-morrow to examine them properly,” he remarked. +“There are colonies of something there, all right, but I must have them more +fully developed.” +</p> + +<p> +A hurried telephone call late in the day from Miss Sears told us that Mrs. +Blake herself had begun to complain, and that Dr. Wilson had been summoned but +had been unable to give an opinion on the nature of the malady. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy quickly decided on making a visit to the doctor, who lived not far +downtown from the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Rae Wilson proved to be a nervous little woman, inclined, I felt, to be +dictatorial. I thought that secretly she felt a little piqued at our having +been taken into the Blakes’ confidence before herself, and Kennedy made every +effort to smooth that aspect over tactfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any idea what it can be?” he asked finally. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head noncommittally. “I have taken blood smears,” she answered, +“but so far haven’t been able to discover anything. I shall have to have her +under observation for a day or two before I can answer that. Still, as Mrs. +Blake is so ill, I have ordered another trained nurse to relieve Miss Sears of +the added work, a very efficient nurse, a Miss Rogers.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had risen to go. “You have had no word about your car?” he asked +casually. +</p> + +<p> +“None yet. I’m not worrying. It was insured.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this arch criminal, Dr. Hopf?” I mused as we retraced our steps to the +laboratory. “Is Mrs. Blake stricken now by the same trouble that seems to have +affected Buster?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only my examination will show,” he said. “I shall let nothing interfere with +that now. It must be the starting point for any work that I may do in the +case.” +</p> + +<p> +We arrived at Kennedy’s workshop of scientific crime and he immediately plunged +into work. Looking up he caught sight of me standing helplessly idle. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he remarked thoughtfully adjusting a microscope, “suppose you run +down and see Garwood. Perhaps he has something to report. And by the way, while +you are out, make inquiries about the Blakes, young Baldwin, Miss Sears and +this Dr. Wilson. I have heard of her before, at least by name. Perhaps you may +find something interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +Glad to have a chance to seem to be doing something whether it amounted to +anything or not, I dropped in to see Garwood. So far he had nothing to report +except the usual number of false alarms. From his office I went up to the +<i>Star</i> where fortunately I found one of the reporters who wrote society +notes. +</p> + +<p> +The Blakes, I found, as we already knew, to be well known and moving in the +highest social circles. As far as known they had no particular enemies, other +than those common to all people of great wealth. Dr. Wilson had a large +practice, built up in recent years, and was one of the best known society +physicians for women. Miss Sears was unknown, as far as I could determine. As +for Duncan Baldwin, I found that he had become acquainted with Reginald Blake +in college, that he came of no particular family and seemed to have no great +means, although he was very popular in the best circles. In fact he had had, +thanks to his friend, a rather meteoric rise in society, though it was reported +that he was somewhat involved in debt as a result. +</p> + +<p> +I returned to the laboratory to find that Craig had taken out of a cabinet a +peculiar looking arrangement. It consisted of thirty-two tubes, each about +sixteen inches long, with S-turns, like a minute radiator. It was altogether +not over a cubic foot in size, and enclosed in a glass cylinder. There were in +it, perhaps, fifty feet of tubes, a perfectly-closed tubular system which I +noticed Kennedy was keeping absolutely sterile in a germicidal solution of some +kind. +</p> + +<p> +Inside the tubes and surrounding them was a saline solution which was kept at a +uniform temperature by a special heating apparatus. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had placed the apparatus on the laboratory table and then gently took +the little dog from his basket and laid him beside it. A few minutes later the +poor little suffering Buster was mercifully under the influence of an +anesthetic. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly Craig worked. First he attached the end of one of the tubes by means of +a little cannula to the carotid artery of the dog. Then the other was attached +to the jugular vein. +</p> + +<p> +As he released the clamp which held the artery, the little dog’s feverishly +beating heart spurted the arterial blood from the carotid into the tubes +holding the normal salt solution and that pressure, in turn, pumped the salt +solution which filled the tubes into the jugular vein, thus replacing the +arterial blood that had poured into the tubes from the other end and +maintaining the normal hydrostatic conditions in the body circulation. The dog +was being kept alive, although perhaps a third of his blood was out of his +body. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” he said at length, after we had watched the process a few minutes, +“what I have here is in reality an artificial kidney. It is a system that has +been devised by several doctors at Johns Hopkins. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is any toxin in the blood of this dog, the kidneys are naturally +endeavoring to eliminate it. Perhaps it is being eliminated too slowly. In that +case this arrangement which I have here will aid them. We call it vividiffusion +and it depends for its action on the physical principle of osmosis, the passage +of substances of a certain kind through a porous membrane, such as these tubes +of celloidin. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus any substance, any poison that is dialyzable is diffused into the +surrounding salt solution and the blood is passed back into the body, with no +air in it, no infection, and without alteration. Clotting is prevented by the +injection of a harmless substance derived from leeches, known as hirudin. I +prevent the loss of anything in the blood which I want retained by placing in +the salt solution around the tubes an amount of that substance equal to that +held in solution by the blood. Of course that does not apply to the colloidal +substances in the blood which would not pass by osmosis under any +circumstances. But by such adjustments I can remove and study any desired +substance in the blood, provided it is capable of diffusion. In fact this +little apparatus has been found in practice to compare favorably with the +kidneys themselves in removing even a lethal dose of poison.” +</p> + +<p> +I watched in amazement. He was actually cleaning the blood of the dog and +putting it back again, purified, into the little body. Far from being cruel, as +perhaps it might seem, it was in reality probably the only method by which the +animal could be saved, and at the same time it was giving us a clue as to some +elusive, subtle substance used in the case. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” Kennedy went on reflectively, “this process can be kept up for +several hours without injury to the dog, though I do not think that will be +necessary to relieve the unwonted strain that has been put upon his natural +organs. Finally, at the close of the operation, serious loss of blood is +overcome by driving back the greater part of it into his body, closing up the +artery and vein, and taking good care of the animal so that he will make a +quick recovery.” +</p> + +<p> +For a long time I watched the fascinating process of seeing the life blood +coursing through the porous tubes in the salt solution, while Kennedy gave his +undivided attention to the success of the delicate experiment. It was late when +I left him, still at work over Buster, and went up to our apartment to turn in, +convinced that nothing more would happen that night. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, with characteristic energy, Craig was at work early, +examining the cultures he had made from the black spots on the gelatine. +</p> + +<p> +By the look of perplexity on his face, I knew that he had discovered something +that instead of clearing the mystery up, further deepened it. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you find?” I asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he exclaimed, laying aside the last of the slides which he had been +staining and looking at intently through the microscope, “that stuff on the +gelatine is entirely harmless. There was nothing in it except common mold.” +</p> + +<p> +For the moment I did not comprehend. “Mold?” I repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he replied, “just common, ordinary mold such as grows on the top of a +jar of fruit or preserves when it is exposed to the air.” +</p> + +<p> +I stifled an exclamation of incredulity. It seemed impossible that the deadly +germ note should be harmless, in view of the events that had followed its +receipt. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the laboratory door was flung open and Reginald Blake, pale and +excited, entered. He had every mark of having been up all night. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s about my mother,” he blurted out. “She seems to be getting worse all the +time. Miss Sears is alarmed, and Betty is almost ill herself with worry. Dr. +Wilson doesn’t seem to know what it is that affects her, and neither does the +new nurse. Can’t you <i>do</i> something?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tone of appeal in his voice that was not like the self-sufficient +Reginald of the day before. +</p> + +<p> +“Does there seem to be any immediate danger?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps not—I can’t say,” he urged. “But she is gradually getting worse +instead of better.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy thought a moment. “Has anything else happened?” he asked slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“N-no. That’s enough, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed it is,” replied Craig, trying to be reassuring. Then, recollecting +Betty, he added, “Reginald, go back and tell your sister for me that she must +positively make the greatest effort of her life to control herself. Tell her +that her mother needs her—needs her well and brave. I shall be up at the house +immediately. Do the best you can. I depend on you.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy’s words seemed to have a bracing effect on Reginald and a few moments +later he left, much calmer. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope I have given him something to do which will keep him from mussing +things up again,” remarked Kennedy, mindful of Reginald’s former excursion into +detective work. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Craig plunged furiously into his study of the substances he had +isolated from the saline solution in which he had “washed” the blood of the +little Pekinese. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no use doing anything in the dark,” he explained. “Until we know what +it is we are fighting we can’t very well fight.” +</p> + +<p> +For the moment I was overwhelmed by the impending tragedy that seemed to be +hanging over Mrs. Blake. The more I thought of it, the more inexplicable became +the discovery of the mold. +</p> + +<p> +“That is all very well about the mold on the gelatine strip in the letter,” I +insisted at length. “But, Craig, there must be something wrong somewhere. Mere +molds could not have made Buster so ill, and now the infection, or whatever it +is, has spread to Mrs. Blake herself. What have you found out by studying +Buster?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up from his close scrutiny of the material in one of the test tubes +which contained something he had recovered from the saline solution of the +diffusion apparatus. +</p> + +<p> +I could read on his face that whatever it was, it was serious. “What is it?” I +repeated almost breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I might coin a word to describe it,” he answered slowly, measuring +his phrases. “Perhaps it might be called hyper-amino-acidemia.” +</p> + +<p> +I puckered my eyes at the mouth-filling term Kennedy smiled. “It would mean,” +he explained, “a great quantity of the amino-acids, non-coagulable, nitrogenous +compounds in the blood. You know the indols, the phenols, and the amins are +produced both by putrefactive bacteria and by the process of metabolism, the +burning up of the tissues in the process of utilizing the energy that means +life. But under normal circumstances, the amins are not present in the blood in +any such quantities as I have discovered by this new method of diffusion.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment, as if in deference to my inability to follow him on such an +abstruse topic, then resumed, “As far as I am able to determine, this poison or +toxin is an amin similar to that secreted by certain cephalopods found in the +neighborhood of Naples. It is an aromatic amin. Smell it.” +</p> + +<p> +I bent over and inhaled the peculiar odor. +</p> + +<p> +“Those creatures,” he continued, “catch their prey by this highly active poison +secreted by the so-called salivary glands. Even a little bit will kill a crab +easily.” +</p> + +<p> +I was following him now with intense interest, thinking of the astuteness of a +mind capable of thinking of such a poison. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, it is surprising,” he resumed thoughtfully, “how many an innocent +substance can be changed by bacteria into a virulent poison. In fact our +poisons and our drugs are in many instances the close relations of harmless +compounds that represent the intermediate steps in the daily process of +metabolism.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” I put in, “the toxin was produced by germs, after all?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not say that,” he corrected. “It might have been. But I find no germs in +the blood of Buster. Nor did Dr. Wilson find any in the blood smears which she +took from Mrs. Blake.” +</p> + +<p> +He seemed to have thrown the whole thing back again into the limbo of the +unexplainable, and I felt nonplussed. +</p> + +<p> +“The writer of that letter,” he went on, waving the piece of sterile platinum +wire with which he had been transferring drops of liquid in his search for +germs, “was a much more skillful bacteriologist than I thought, evidently. No, +the trouble does not seem to be from germs breathed in, or from germs at all—it +is from some kind of germ-free toxin that has been injected or otherwise +introduced.” +</p> + +<p> +Vaguely now I began to appreciate the terrible significance of what he had +discovered. +</p> + +<p> +“But the letter?” I persisted mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +“The writer of that was quite as shrewd a psychologist as bacteriologist,” +pursued Craig impressively. “He calculated the moral effect of the letter, then +of Buster’s illness, and finally of reaching Mrs. Blake herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think Dr. Rae Wilson knows nothing of it yet?” I queried. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy appeared to consider his answer carefully. Then he said slowly: “Almost +any doctor with a microscope and the faintest trace of a scientific education +could recognize disease germs either naturally or feloniously implanted. But +when it comes to the detection of concentrated, filtered, germ-free toxins, +almost any scientist might be baffled. Walter,” he concluded, “this is not mere +blackmail, although perhaps the visit of that woman to the Prince Henry—a +desperate thing in itself, although she did get away by her quick +thinking—perhaps that shows that these people are ready to stop at nothing. No, +it goes deeper than blackmail.” +</p> + +<p> +I stood aghast at the discovery of this new method of scientific murder. The +astute criminal, whoever he might be, had planned to leave not even the slender +clue that might be afforded by disease germs. He was operating, not with +disease itself, but with something showing the ultimate effects, perhaps, of +disease with none of the preliminary symptoms, baffling even to the best of +physicians. +</p> + +<p> +I scarcely knew what to say. Before I realized it, however, Craig was at last +ready for the promised visit to Mrs. Blake. We went together, carrying Buster, +in his basket, not recovered, to be sure, but a very different little animal +from the dying creature that had been sent to us at the laboratory. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br/> +THE POISON BRACELET</h2> + +<p> +We reached the Blake mansion and were promptly admitted. Miss Betty, bearing up +bravely under Reginald’s reassurances, greeted us before we were fairly inside +the door, though she and her brother were not able to conceal the fact that +their mother was no better. Miss Sears was out, for an airing, and the new +nurse, Miss Rogers, was in charge of the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you feel, this morning?” inquired Kennedy as we entered the sun-parlor, +where Mrs. Blake had first received us. +</p> + +<p> +A single glance was enough to satisfy me of the seriousness of her condition. +She seemed to be in almost a stupor from which she roused herself only with +difficulty. It was as if some overpowering toxin were gradually undermining her +already weakened constitution. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded recognition, but nothing further. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had set the dog basket down near her wheel-chair and she caught sight +of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Buster?” she murmured, raising her eyes. “Is—he—all right?” +</p> + +<p> +For answer, Craig simply raised the lid of the basket. Buster already seemed to +have recognized the voice of his mistress, and, with an almost human instinct, +to realize that though he himself was still weak and ill, she needed +encouragement. +</p> + +<p> +As Mrs. Blake stretched out her slender hand, drawn with pain, to his silky +head, he gave a little yelp of delight and his little red tongue eagerly +caressed her hand. +</p> + +<p> +It was as though the two understood each other. Although Mrs. Blake, as yet, +had no more idea what had happened to her pet, she seemed to feel by some +subtle means of thought transference that the intelligent little animal was +conveying to her a message of hope. The caress, the sharp, joyous yelp, and the +happy wagging of the bushy tail seemed to brighten her up, at least for the +moment, almost as if she had received a new impetus. +</p> + +<p> +“Buster!” she exclaimed, overjoyed to get her pet back again in so much +improved condition. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t exert myself too much, Mrs. Blake,” cautioned Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Were—were there any germs in the letter?” she asked, as Reginald and Betty +stood on the other side of the chair, much encouraged, apparently, at this show +of throwing off the lethargy that had seized her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but about as harmless as those would be on a piece of cheese,” Kennedy +hastened. “But I—I feel so weak, so played out—and my head—” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice trailed off, a too evident reminder that her improvement had been +only momentary and prompted by the excitement of our arrival. +</p> + +<p> +Betty bent down solicitously and made her more comfortable as only one woman +can make another. Kennedy, meanwhile, had been talking to Miss Rogers, and I +could see that he was secretly taking her measure. +</p> + +<p> +“Has Dr. Wilson been here this morning?” I heard him ask. +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” she replied. “But we expect her soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Kennedy?” announced a servant. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” answered Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“There is someone on the telephone who wants to speak to you. He said he had +called the laboratory first and that they told him to call you here.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy hurried after the servant, while Betty and Reginald joined me, waiting, +for we seemed to feel that something was about to happen. +</p> + +<p> +“One of the unofficial detectives has unearthed a clue,” he whispered to me a +few moments later when he returned. “It was Garwood.” Then to the others he +added, “A car, repainted, and with the number changed, but otherwise answering +the description of Dr. Wilson’s has been traced to the West Side. It is +somewhere in the neighborhood of a saloon and garage where drivers of taxicabs +hang out. Reginald, I wish you would come along with us.” +</p> + +<p> +To Betty’s unspoken question Craig hastened to add, “I don’t think there is any +immediate danger. If there is any change—let me know. I shall call up soon. And +meanwhile,” he lowered his voice to impress the instruction on her, “don’t +leave your mother for a moment—not for a moment,” he emphasized. +</p> + +<p> +Reginald was ready and together we three set off to meet Garwood at a subway +station near the point where the car had been reported. We had scarcely closed +the front door, when we ran into Duncan Baldwin, coming down the street, +evidently bent on inquiring how Mrs. Blake and Betty were. +</p> + +<p> +“Much better,” reassured Kennedy. “Come on, Baldwin. We can’t have too many on +whom we can rely on an expedition like this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like what?” he asked, evidently not comprehending. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a clue, they think, to that car of Dr. Wilson’s,” hastily explained +Reginald, linking his arm into that of his friend and falling in behind us, as +Craig hurried ahead. +</p> + +<p> +It did not take long to reach the subway, and as we waited for the train, Craig +remarked: “This is a pretty good example of how the automobile is becoming one +of the most dangerous of criminal weapons. All one has to do nowadays, +apparently, after committing a crime, is to jump into a waiting car and breeze +away, safe.” +</p> + +<p> +We met Garwood and under his guidance picked our way westward from the better +known streets in the heart of the city, to a section that was anything but +prepossessing. +</p> + +<p> +The place which Garwood sought was a typical Raines Law hotel on a corner, with +a saloon on the first floor, and apparently the requisite number of rooms above +to give it a legal license. +</p> + +<p> +We had separated a little so that we would not attract undue attention. Kennedy +and I entered the swinging doors boldly, while the others continued across to +the other corner to wait with Garwood and take in the situation. It was a +strange expedition and Reginald was fidgeting while Duncan seemed nervous. +</p> + +<p> +Among the group of chauffeurs lounging at the bar and in the back room anyone +who had ever had any dealings with the gangs of New York might have recognized +the faces of men whose pictures were in the rogues’ gallery and who were +members of those various aristocratic organizations of the underworld. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy glanced about at the motley crowd. “This is a place where you need only +to be introduced properly,” he whispered to me, “to have any kind of crime +committed for you.” +</p> + +<p> +As we stood there, observing, without appearing to do so, through an open +window on the side street I could tell from the sounds that there was a garage +in the rear of the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +We were startled to hear a sudden uproar from the street. +</p> + +<p> +Garwood, impatient at our delay, had walked down past the garage to +reconnoiter. A car was being backed out hurriedly, and as it turned and swung +around the corner, his trained eye had recognized it. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly he had reasoned that it was an attempt to make a getaway, and had +raised an alarm. +</p> + +<p> +Those nearest the door piled out, keen for any excitement. We, too, dashed out +on the street. There we saw passing an automobile, swaying and lurching at the +terrific speed with which its driver, urged it up the avenue. As he flashed by +he looked like an Italian to me, perhaps a gunman. +</p> + +<p> +Garwood had impressed a passing trolley car into service and was pursuing the +automobile in it, as it swayed on its tracks as crazily as the motor did on the +roadway, running with all the power the motorman could apply. +</p> + +<p> +A mounted policeman galloped past us, blazing away at the tires. The avenue was +stirred, as seldom even in its strenuous life, with reports of shots, honking +of horns, the clang of trolley bells and the shouts of men. +</p> + +<p> +The pursuers were losing when there came a rattle and roar from the rear wheels +which told that the tires were punctured and the heavy car was riding on its +rims. A huge brewery wagon crossing a side street paused to see the fun, +effectually blocking the road. +</p> + +<p> +The car jolted to a stop. The chauffeur leaped out and a moment later dived +down into a cellar. In that congested district, pursuit was useless. +</p> + +<p> +“Only an accomplice,” commented Kennedy. “Perhaps we can get him some other way +if we can catch the man—or woman—higher up.” +</p> + +<p> +Down the street now we could see Garwood surrounded by a curious crowd but in +possession of the car. I looked about for Duncan and Reginald. They had +apparently been swallowed up in the crowds of idlers which seemed to be pouring +out of nowhere, collecting to gape at the excitement, after the manner of a New +York crowd. +</p> + +<p> +As I ran my eye over them, I caught sight of Reginald near the corner where we +had left him in an incipient fight with someone who had a fancied grievance. A +moment later we had rescued him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Duncan?” he panted. “Did anything happen to him? Garwood told us to +stay here—but we got separated.” +</p> + +<p> +Policemen had appeared on the heels of the crowd and now, except for a knot +following Garwood, things seemed to be calming down. +</p> + +<p> +The excitement over, and the people thinning out, Kennedy still could not find +any trace of Duncan. Finally he glanced in again through the swinging doors. +There was Duncan, evidently quite upset by what had occurred, fortifying +himself at the bar. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly from above came a heavy thud, as if someone had fallen on the floor +above us, followed by a suppressed shuffling of feet and a cry of help. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy sprang toward a side door which led out into the hall to the hotel room +above. It was locked. Before any of the others he ran out on the street and +into the hall that way, taking the stairs two at a time, past a little +cubby-hole of an “office” and down the upper hall to a door from which came the +cry. +</p> + +<p> +It was a peculiar room into which we burst, half bedroom, half workshop, or +rather laboratory, for on a deal table by a window stood a rack of test-tubes, +several beakers, and other paraphernalia. +</p> + +<p> +A chambermaid was shrieking over a woman who was lying lethargic on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +I looked more closely. +</p> + +<p> +It was Dora Sears. +</p> + +<p> +For the moment I could not imagine what had happened. Had the events of the +past few days worked on her mind and driven her into temporary insanity? Or had +the blackmailing gang of automobile thieves, failing in extorting money by +their original plan, seized her? +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy bent over and tried to lift her up. As he did so, the gold bracelet, +unclasped, clattered to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +He picked it up and for a moment looked at it. It was hollow, but in that part +of it where it unclasped could be seen a minute hypodermic needle and traces of +a liquid. +</p> + +<p> +“A poison bracelet,” he muttered to himself, “one in which enough of a virulent +poison could be hidden so that in an emergency death could cheat the law.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this Dr. Hopf,” exclaimed Reginald, who stood behind us looking from the +insensible girl to the bracelet and slowly comprehending what it all meant, +“she alone knows where and who he is!” +</p> + +<p> +We looked at Kennedy. What was to be done? Was the criminal higher up to escape +because one of his tools had been cornered and had taken the easiest way to get +out? +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had taken down the receiver of the wall telephone in the room. A moment +later he was calling insistently for his laboratory. One of the students in +another part of the building answered. Quickly he described the apparatus for +vividiffusion and how to handle it without rupturing any of the delicate tubes. +</p> + +<p> +“The large one,” he ordered, “with one hundred and ninety-two tubes. And +hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +Before the student appeared, came an ambulance which some one in the excitement +had summoned. Kennedy quickly commandeered both the young doctor and what +surgical material he had with him. +</p> + +<p> +Briefly he explained what he proposed to do and before the student arrived with +the apparatus, they had placed the nurse in such a position that they were +ready for the operation. +</p> + +<p> +The next room which was unoccupied had been thrown open to us and there I +waited with Reginald and Duncan, endeavoring to explain to them the mysteries +of the new process of washing the blood. +</p> + +<p> +The minutes lengthened into hours, as the blood of the poisoned girl coursed +through its artificial channel, literally being washed of the toxin from the +poisoned bracelet. +</p> + +<p> +Would it succeed? It had saved the life of Buster. But would it bring back the +unfortunate before us, long enough even for her to yield her secret and enable +us to catch the real criminal. What if she died? +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy worked, the young men with me became more and more fascinated, +watching him. The vividiffusion apparatus was now in full operation. +</p> + +<p> +In the intervals when he left the apparatus in charge of the young ambulance +surgeon Kennedy was looking over the room. In a trunk which was open he found +several bundles of papers. As he ran his eye over them quickly, he selected +some and stuffed them into his pocket, then went back to watch the working of +the apparatus. +</p> + +<p> +Reginald, who had been growing more and more nervous, at last asked if he might +call up Betty to find out how his mother was. +</p> + +<p> +He came back from the telephone, his face wrinkled. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor mother,” he remarked anxiously, “do you think she will pull through, +Professor? Betty says that Dr. Wilson has given her no idea yet about the +nature of the trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy thought a moment. “Of course,” he said, “your mother has had no such +relative amount of the poison as Buster has had. I think that undoubtedly she +will recover by purely natural means. I hope so. But if not, here is the +apparatus,” and he patted the vividiffusion tubes in their glass case, “that +will save her, too.” +</p> + +<p> +As well as I could I explained to Reginald the nature of the toxin that Kennedy +had discovered. Duncan listened, putting in a question now and then. But it was +evident that his thoughts were on something else, and now and then Reginald, +breaking into his old humor, rallied him about thinking of Betty. +</p> + +<p> +A low exclamation from both Kennedy and the surgeon attracted us. +</p> + +<p> +Dora Sears had moved. +</p> + +<p> +The operation of the apparatus was stopped, the artery and vein had been joined +up, and she was slowly coming out from under the effects of the anesthetic. +</p> + +<p> +As we gathered about her, at a little distance, we heard her cry in her +delirium, “I—I would have—done—anything—for him.” +</p> + +<p> +We strained our ears. Was she talking of the blackmailer, Dr. Hopf? +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” asked Craig, bending over close to her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I would—have done anything,” she repeated as if someone had contradicted +her. She went on, dreamily, ramblingly, “He—is—is—my brother. I—” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped through weakness. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Dr. Hopf?” asked Kennedy, trying to recall her fleeting attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Hopf? Dr. Hopf?” she repeated, then smiling to herself as people will when +they are leaving the borderline of anesthesia, she repeated the name, “Hopf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” persisted Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no Dr. Hopf,” she added. “Tell me—did—did they—” +</p> + +<p> +“No Dr. Hopf?” Kennedy insisted. +</p> + +<p> +She had lapsed again into half insensibility. +</p> + +<p> +He rose and faced us, speaking rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“New York seems to have a mysterious and uncanny attraction for odds and ends +of humanity, among them the great army of adventuresses. In fact there often +seems to be something decidedly adventurous about the nursing profession. This +is a girl of unusual education in medicine. Evidently she has traveled—her +letters show it. Many of them show that she has been in Italy. Perhaps it was +there that she heard of the drug that has been used in this case. It was she +who injected the germ-free toxin, first into the dog, then into Mrs. Blake, she +who wrote the blackmail letter which was to have explained the death.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused. Evidently she had heard dimly, was straining every effort to hear. +In her effort she caught sight of our faces. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, as if she had seen an apparition, she raised herself with almost +superhuman strength. +</p> + +<p> +“Duncan!” she cried. “Duncan! Why—didn’t you—get away—while there was +time—after you warned me?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had wheeled about and was facing us. He was holding in his hand some of +the letters he had taken from the trunk. Among others was a folded piece of +parchment that looked like a diploma. He unfolded it and we bent over to read. +</p> + +<p> +It was a diploma from the Central Western College of Nursing. As I read the +name written in, it was with a shock. It was not Dora Sears, but Dora Baldwin. +</p> + +<p> +“A very clever plot,” he ground out, taking a step nearer us. “With the aid of +your sister and a disreputable gang of chauffeurs you planned to hasten the +death of Mrs. Blake, to hasten the inheritance of the Blake fortune by your +future wife. I think your creditors will have less chance of collecting now +than ever, Duncan Baldwin.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br/> +THE DEVIL WORSHIPERS</h2> + +<p> +Tragic though the end of the young nurse, Dora Baldwin, had been, the scheme of +her brother, in which she had become fatally involved, was by no means as +diabolical as that in the case that confronted us a short time after that. +</p> + +<p> +I recall this case particularly not only because it was so weird but also +because of the unique manner in which it began. +</p> + +<p> +“I am damned—Professor Kennedy—damned!” +</p> + +<p> +The words rang out as the cry of a lost soul. A terrible look of inexpressible +anguish and fear was written on the face of Craig’s visitor, as she uttered +them and sank back, trembling, in the easy chair, mentally and physically +convulsed. +</p> + +<p> +As nearly as I had been able to follow, Mrs. Veda Blair’s story had dealt +mostly with a Professor and Madame Rapport and something she called the “Red +Lodge” of the “Temple of the Occult.” +</p> + +<p> +She was not exactly a young woman, although she was a very attractive one. She +was of an age that is, perhaps, even more interesting than youth. +</p> + +<p> +Veda Blair, I knew, had been, before her recent marriage to Seward Blair, a +Treacy, of an old, though somewhat unfortunate, family. Both the Blairs and the +Treacys had been intimate and old Seward Blair, when he died about a year +before, had left his fortune to his son on the condition that he marry Veda +Treacy. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” faltered Mrs. Blair, “it is as though I had two souls. One of them +is dispossessed of its body and the use of its organs and is frantic at the +sight of the other that has crept in.” +</p> + +<p> +She ended her rambling story, sobbing the terrible words, “Oh—I have committed +the unpardonable sin—I am anathema—I am damned—damned!” +</p> + +<p> +She said nothing of what terrible thing she had done and Kennedy, for the +present, did not try to lead the conversation. But of all the stories that I +have heard poured forth in the confessional of the detective’s office, hers, I +think, was the wildest. +</p> + +<p> +Was she insane? At least I felt that she was sincere. Still, I wondered what +sort of hallucination Craig had to deal with, as Veda Blair repeated the +incoherent tale of her spiritual vagaries. +</p> + +<p> +Almost, I had begun to fancy that this was a case for a doctor, not for a +detective, when suddenly she asked a most peculiar question. +</p> + +<p> +“Can people affect you for good or evil, merely by thinking about you?” she +queried. Then a shudder passed over her. “They may be thinking about me now!” +she murmured in terror. +</p> + +<p> +Her fear was so real and her physical distress so evident that Kennedy, who had +been listening silently for the most part, rose and hastened to reassure her. +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless you make your own fears affect yourself and so play into their +hands,” he said earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +Veda looked at him a moment, then shook her head mournfully. “I have seen Dr. +Vaughn,” she said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Gilbert Vaughn, I recollected, was a well-known alienist in the city. +</p> + +<p> +“He tried to tell me the same thing,” she resumed doubtfully. “But—oh—I know +what I know! I have felt the death thought—and he knows it!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” inquired Kennedy, leaning forward keenly. +</p> + +<p> +“The death thought,” she repeated, “a malicious psychic attack. Some one is +driving me to death by it. I thought I could fight it off. I went away to +escape it. Now I have come back—and I have not escaped. There is always that +disturbing influence—always—directed against me. I know it will—kill me!” +</p> + +<p> +I listened, startled. The death thought! What did it mean? What terrible power +was it? Was it hypnotism? What was this fearsome, cruel belief, this modern +witchcraft that could unnerve a rich and educated woman? Surely, after all, I +felt that this was not a case for a doctor alone; it called for a detective. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” she went on, heroically trying to control herself, “I have always +been interested in the mysterious, the strange, the occult. In fact my father +and my husband’s father met through their common interest. So, you see, I come +naturally by it. +</p> + +<p> +“Not long ago I heard of Professor and Madame Rapport and their new Temple of +the Occult. I went to it, and later Seward became interested, too. We have been +taken into a sort of inner circle,” she continued fearfully, as though there +were some evil power in the very words themselves, “the Red Lodge.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have told Dr. Vaughn?” shot out Kennedy suddenly, his eyes fixed on her +face to see what it would betray. +</p> + +<p> +Veda leaned forward, as if to tell a secret, then whispered in a low voice, “He +knows. Like us—he—he is a—Devil Worshiper!” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” exclaimed Kennedy in wide-eyed astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“A Devil Worshiper,” she repeated. “You haven’t heard of the Red Lodge?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded negatively. “Could you get us—initiated?” he hazarded. +</p> + +<p> +“P—perhaps,” she hesitated, in a half-frightened tone. “I—I’ll try to get you +in to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +She had risen, half dazed, as if her own temerity overwhelmed her. +</p> + +<p> +“You—poor girl,” blurted out Kennedy, his sympathies getting the upper hand for +the moment as he took the hand she extended mutely. “Trust me. I will do all in +my power, all in the power of modern science to help you fight off +this—influence.” +</p> + +<p> +There must have been something magnetic, hypnotic in his eye. +</p> + +<p> +“I will stop here for you,” she murmured, as she almost fled from the room. +</p> + +<p> +Personally, I cannot say that I liked the idea of spying. It is not usually +clean and wholesome. But I realized that occasionally it was necessary. +</p> + +<p> +“We are in for it now,” remarked Kennedy half humorously, half seriously, “to +see the Devil in the twentieth century.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” I added, “I am, I suppose, to be the reporter to Satan.” +</p> + +<p> +We said nothing more about it, but I thought much about it, and the more I +thought, the more incomprehensible the thing seemed. I had heard of Devil +Worship, but had always associated it with far-off Indian and other heathen +lands—in fact never among Caucasians in modern times, except possibly in Paris. +Was there such a cult here in my own city? I felt skeptical. +</p> + +<p> +That night, however, promptly at the appointed time, a cab called for us, and +in it was Veda Blair, nervous but determined. +</p> + +<p> +“Seward has gone ahead,” she explained. “I told him that a friend had +introduced you, that you had studied the occult abroad. I trust you to carry it +out.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy reassured her. +</p> + +<p> +The curtains were drawn and we could see nothing outside, though we must have +been driven several miles, far out into the suburbs. +</p> + +<p> +At last the cab stopped. As we left it we could see nothing of the building, +for the cab had entered a closed courtyard. +</p> + +<p> +“Who enters the Red Lodge?” challenged a sepulchral voice at the porte-cochère. +“Give the password!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Serpent’s Tooth,” Veda answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are these?” asked the voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Neophytes,” she replied, and a whispered parley followed. +</p> + +<p> +“Then enter!” announced the voice at length. +</p> + +<p> +It was a large room into which we were first ushered, to be inducted into the +rites of Satan. +</p> + +<p> +There seemed to be both men and women, perhaps half a dozen votaries. Seward +Blair was already present. As I met him, I did not like the look in his eye; it +was too stary. Dr. Vaughn was there, too, talking in a low tone to Madame +Rapport. He shot a quick look at us. His were not eyes but gimlets that tried +to bore into your very soul. Chatting with Seward Blair was a Mrs. Langhorne, a +very beautiful woman. To-night she seemed to be unnaturally excited. +</p> + +<p> +All seemed to be on most intimate terms, and, as we waited a few minutes, I +could not help recalling a sentence from Huysmans: “The worship of the Devil is +no more insane than the worship of God. The worshipers of Satan are +mystics—mystics of an unclean sort, it is true, but mystics none the less.” +</p> + +<p> +I did not agree with it, and did not repeat it, of course, but a moment later I +overheard Dr. Vaughn saying to Kennedy: “Hoffman brought the Devil into modern +life. Poe forgoes the aid of demons and works patiently and precisely by the +scientific method. But the result is the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Kennedy for the sake of appearances, “in a sense, I suppose, we +are all devil worshipers in modern society—always have been. It is fear that +rules and we fear the bad—not the good.” +</p> + +<p> +As we waited, I felt, more and more, the sense of the mysterious, the secret, +the unknown which have always exercised a powerful attraction on the human +mind. Even the aeroplane and the submarine, the X-ray and wireless have not +banished the occult. +</p> + +<p> +In it, I felt, there was fascination for the frivolous and deep appeal to the +intellectual and spiritual. The Temple of the Occult had evidently been +designed to appeal to both types. I wondered how, like Lucifer, it had fallen. +The prime requisite, I could guess already, however, was—money. Was it in its +worship of the root of all evil that it had fallen? +</p> + +<p> +We passed soon into another room, hung entirely in red, with weird, cabalistic +signs all about, on the walls. It was uncanny, creepy. +</p> + +<p> +A huge reproduction in plaster of one of the most sardonic of Notre Dame’s +gargoyles seemed to preside over everything—a terrible figure in such an +atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +As we entered, we were struck by the blinding glare of the light, in contrast +with the darkened room in which we had passed our brief novitiate, if it might +be called such. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the lights were extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +The great gargoyle shone with an infernal light of its own! +</p> + +<p> +“Phosphorescent paint,” whispered Kennedy to me. +</p> + +<p> +Still, it did not detract from the weird effect to know what caused it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a startling noise in the general hush. +</p> + +<p> +“Sata!” cried one of the devotees. +</p> + +<p> +A door opened and there appeared the veritable priest of the Devil—pale of +face, nose sharp, mouth bitter, eyes glassy. +</p> + +<p> +“That is Rapport,” Vaughn whispered to me. +</p> + +<p> +The worshipers crowded forward. +</p> + +<p> +Without a word, he raised his long, lean forefinger and began to single them +out impressively. As he did so, each spoke, as if imploring aid. +</p> + +<p> +He came to Mrs. Langhorne. +</p> + +<p> +“I have tried the charm,” she cried earnestly, “and the one whom I love still +hates me, while the one I hate loves me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Concentrate!” replied the priest, “concentrate! Think always ‘I love him. He +must love me. I want him to love me. I love him. He must love me.’ Over and +over again you must think it. Then the other side, ‘I hate him. He must leave +me. I want him to leave me. I hate him—hate him.’” +</p> + +<p> +Around the circle he went. +</p> + +<p> +At last his lean finger was outstretched at Veda. It seemed as if some imp of +the perverse were compelling her unwilling tongue to unlock its secrets. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” she cried in a low, tremulous voice, “something seems to seize me, +as if by the hand and urge me onward. I cannot flee from it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Defend yourself!” answered the priest subtly. “When you know that some one is +trying to kill you mentally, defend yourself! Work against it by every means in +your power. Discourage! Intimidate! Destroy!” +</p> + +<p> +I marveled at these cryptic utterances. They shadowed a modern Black Art, of +which I had had no conception—a recrudescence in other language of the age-old +dualism of good and evil. It was a sort of mental malpractice. +</p> + +<p> +“Over and over again,” he went on speaking to her, “the same thought is to be +repeated against an enemy. ‘You know you are going to die! You know you are +going to die!’ Do it an hour, two hours, at a time. Others can help you, all +thinking in unison the same thought.” +</p> + +<p> +What was this, I asked myself breathlessly—a new transcendental toxicology? +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, a strange mephitic vapor seemed to exhale into the room—or was it my +heightened imagination? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br/> +THE PSYCHIC CURSE</h2> + +<p> +There came a sudden noise—nameless—striking terror, low, rattling. I stood +rooted to the spot. What was it that held me? Was it an atavistic joy in the +horrible or was it merely a blasphemous curiosity? +</p> + +<p> +I scarcely dared to look. +</p> + +<p> +At last I raised my eyes. There was a live snake, upraised, his fangs striking +out viciously—a rattler! +</p> + +<p> +I would have drawn back and fled, but Craig caught my arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Caged,” he whispered monosyllabically. +</p> + +<p> +I shuddered. This, at least, was no drawing-room diablerie. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Ophis,” intoned Rapport, “the Serpent—the one active form in Nature that +cannot be ungraceful!” +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of the basilisk seemed to heighten the tension. +</p> + +<p> +At last it broke loose and then followed the most terrible blasphemies. The +disciples, now all frenzied, surrounded closer the priest, the gargoyle and the +serpent. +</p> + +<p> +They worshiped with howls and obscenities. Mad laughter mingled with pale fear +and wild scorn in turns were written on the hectic faces about me. +</p> + +<p> +They had risen—it became a dance, a reel. +</p> + +<p> +The votaries seemed to spin about on their axes, as it were, uttering a low, +moaning chant as they whirled. It was a mania, the spirit of demonism. +Something unseen seemed to urge them on. +</p> + +<p> +Disgusted and stifled at the surcharged atmosphere, I would have tried to +leave, but I seemed frozen to the spot. I could think of nothing except Poe’s +Masque of the Red Death. +</p> + +<p> +Above all the rest whirled Seward Blair himself. The laugh of the fiend, for +the moment, was in his mouth. An instant he stood—the oracle of the +Demon—devil-possessed. Around whirled the frantic devotees, howling. +</p> + +<p> +Shrilly he cried, “The Devil is in me!” +</p> + +<p> +Forward staggered the devil dancer—tall, haggard, with deep sunken eyes and +matted hair, face now smeared with dirt and blood-red with the reflection of +the strange, unearthly phosphorescence. +</p> + +<p> +He reeled slowly through the crowd, crooning a quatrain, in a low, monotonous +voice, his eyelids drooping and his head forward on his breast: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +If the Red Slayer think he slays,<br/> + Or the slain think he is slain,<br/> +They know not well the subtle ways<br/> + I keep and pass and turn again! +</p> + +<p> +Entranced the whirling crowd paused and watched. One of their number had +received the “power.” +</p> + +<p> +He was swaying slowly to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” whispered Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +His fingers twitched, his head wagged uncannily. Perspiration seemed to ooze +from every pore. His breast heaved. +</p> + +<p> +He gave a sudden yell—ear-piercing. Then followed a screech of hellish +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +The dance had ended, the dancers spellbound at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +He was whirling slowly, eyes protruding now, mouth foaming, chest rising and +falling like a bellows, muscles quivering. +</p> + +<p> +Cries, vows, imprecations, prayers, all blended in an infernal hubbub. +</p> + +<p> +With a burst of ghastly, guttural laughter, he shrieked, “I <i>am</i> the +Devil!” +</p> + +<p> +His arms waved—cutting, sawing, hacking the air. +</p> + +<p> +The votaries, trembling, scarcely moved, breathed, as he danced. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he gave a great leap into the air—then fell, motionless. They crowded +around him. The fiendish look was gone—the demoniac laughter stilled. +</p> + +<p> +It was over. +</p> + +<p> +The tension of the orgy had been too much for us. We parted, with scarcely a +word, and yet I could feel that among the rest there was a sort of unholy +companionship. +</p> + +<p> +Silently, Kennedy and I drove away in the darkened cab, this time with Seward +and Veda Blair and Mrs. Langhorne. +</p> + +<p> +For several minutes not a word was said. I was, however, much occupied in +watching the two women. It was not because of anything they said or did. That +was not necessary. But I felt that there was a feud, something that set them +against each other. +</p> + +<p> +“How would Rapport use the death thought, I wonder?” asked Craig speculatively, +breaking the silence. +</p> + +<p> +Blair answered quickly. “Suppose some one tried to break away, to renounce the +Lodge, expose its secrets. They would treat him so as to make him +harmless—perhaps insane, confused, afraid to talk, paralyzed, or even to commit +suicide or be killed in an accident. They would put the death thought on him!” +</p> + +<p> +Even in the prosaic jolting of the cab, away from the terrible mysteries of the +Red Lodge, one could feel the spell. +</p> + +<p> +The cab stopped. Seward was on his feet in a moment and handing Mrs. Langhorne +out at her home. For a moment they paused on the steps for an exchange of +words. +</p> + +<p> +In that moment I caught flitting over the face of Veda a look of hatred, more +intense, more real, more awful than any that had been induced under the +mysteries of the rites at the Lodge. +</p> + +<p> +It was gone in an instant, and as Seward rejoined us I felt that, with Mrs. +Langhorne gone, there was less restraint. I wondered whether it was she who had +inspired the fear in Veda. +</p> + +<p> +Although it was more comfortable, the rest of our journey was made in silence +and the Blairs dropped us at our apartment with many expressions of cordiality +as we left them to proceed to their own. +</p> + +<p> +“Of one thing I’m sure,” I remarked, entering the room where only a few short +hours before Mrs. Blair had related her strange tale. “Whatever the cause of +it, the devil dancers don’t sham.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not reply. He was apparently wrapped up in the consideration of the +remarkable events of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +As for myself, it was a state of affairs which, the day before, I should have +pronounced utterly beyond the wildest bounds of the imagination of the most +colorful writer. Yet here it was; I had seen it. +</p> + +<p> +I glanced up to find Kennedy standing by the light examining something he had +apparently picked up at the Red Lodge. I bent over to look at it, too. It was a +little glass tube. +</p> + +<p> +“An ampoule, I believe the technical name of such a container is,” he remarked, +holding it closer to the light. +</p> + +<p> +In it were the remains of a dried yellow substance, broken up minutely, +resembling crystals. +</p> + +<p> +“Who dropped it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Vaughn, I think,” he replied. “At least, I saw him near Blair, stooping over +him, at the end, and I imagine this is what I saw gleaming for an instant in +the light.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing more, and for my part I was thoroughly at sea and could +make nothing out of it all. +</p> + +<p> +“What object can such a man as Dr. Vaughn possibly have in frequenting such a +place?” I asked at length, adding, “And there’s that Mrs. Langhorne—she was +interesting, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy made no direct reply. “I shall have them shadowed to-morrow,” he said +briefly, “while I am at work in the laboratory over this ampoule.” +</p> + +<p> +As usual, also, Craig had begun on his scientific studies long before I was +able to shake myself loose from the nightmares that haunted me after our weird +experience of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +He had already given the order to an agency for the shadowing, and his next +move was to start me out, also, looking into the history of those concerned in +the case. As far as I was able to determine, Dr. Vaughn had an excellent +reputation, and I could find no reason whatever for his connection with +anything of the nature of the Red Lodge. The Rapports seemed to be nearly +unknown in New York, although it was reported that they had come from Paris +lately. Mrs. Langhorne was a divorcée from one of the western states, but +little was known about her, except that she always seemed to be well supplied +with money. It seemed to be well known in the circle in which Seward Blair +moved that he was friendly with her, and I had about reached the conclusion +that she was unscrupulously making use of his friendship, perhaps was not above +such a thing as blackmail. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the day passed, and we heard no word from Veda Blair, although that was +explained by the shadows, whose trails crossed in a most unexpected manner. +Their reports showed that there was a meeting at the Red Lodge during the late +afternoon, at which all had been present except Dr. Vaughn. We learned also +from them the exact location of the Lodge, in an old house just across the line +in Westchester. +</p> + +<p> +It was evidently a long and troublesome analysis that Craig was engaged in at +the laboratory, for it was some hours after dinner that night when he came into +the apartment, and even then he said nothing, but buried himself in some of the +technical works with which his library was stocked. He said little, but I +gathered that he was in great doubt about something, perhaps, as much as +anything, about how to proceed with so peculiar a case. +</p> + +<p> +It was growing late, and Kennedy was still steeped in his books, when the door +of the apartment, which we happened to have left unlocked, was suddenly thrown +open and Seward Blair burst in on us, wildly excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Veda is gone!” he cried, before either of us could ask him what was the +matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone?” repeated Kennedy. “How—where?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” Blair blurted out breathlessly. “We had been out together this +afternoon, and I returned with her. Then I went out to the club after dinner +for a while, and when I got back I missed her—not quarter of an hour ago. I +burst into her room—and there I found this note. Read it. I don’t know what to +do. No one seems to know what has become of her. I’ve called up all over and +then thought perhaps you might help me, might know some friend of hers that I +don’t know, with whom she might have gone out.” +</p> + +<p> +Blair was plainly eager for us to help him. Kennedy took the paper from him. On +it, in a trembling hand, were scrawled some words, evidently addressed to Blair +himself: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“You would forgive me and pity me if you knew what I have been through. +</p> + +<p> +“When I refused to yield my will to the will of the Lodge I suppose I aroused +the enmity of the Lodge. +</p> + +<p> +“To-night as I lay in bed, alone, I felt that my hour had come, that mental +forces that were almost irresistible were being directed against me. +</p> + +<p> +“I realized that I must fight not only for my sanity but for my life. +</p> + +<p> +“For hours I have fought that fight. +</p> + +<p> +“But during those hours, some one, I won’t say who, seemed to have developed +such psychic faculties of penetration that they were able to make their bodies +pass through the walls of my room. +</p> + +<p> +“At last I am conquered. I pray that you—” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The writing broke off abruptly, as if she had left it in wild flight. +</p> + +<p> +“What does that mean?” asked Kennedy, “the ‘will of the Lodge’?” +</p> + +<p> +Blair looked at us keenly. I fancied that there was even something accusatory +in the look. “Perhaps it was some mental reservation on her part,” he +suggested. “You do not know yourself of any reason why she should fear +anything, do you?” he asked pointedly. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not betray even by the motion of an eyelash that we knew more than +we should ostensibly. +</p> + +<p> +There was a tap at the door. I sprang to open it, thinking perhaps, after all, +it was Veda herself. +</p> + +<p> +Instead, a man, a stranger, stood there. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this Professor Kennedy?” he asked, touching his hat. +</p> + +<p> +Craig nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I am from the psychopathic ward of the City Hospital—an orderly, sir,” the man +introduced. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” encouraged Craig, “what can I do for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“A Mrs. Blair has just been brought in, sir, and we can’t find her husband. +She’s calling for you now.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy stared from the orderly to Seward Blair, startled, speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” asked Blair anxiously. “I am Mr. Blair.” +</p> + +<p> +The orderly shook his head. He had delivered his message. That was all he knew. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you suppose it is?” I asked, as we sped across town in a taxicab. “Is +it the curse that she dreaded?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing and Blair appeared to hear nothing. His face was drawn in +tense lines. +</p> + +<p> +The psychopathic ward is at once one of the most interesting and one of the +most depressing departments of a large city hospital, harboring, as it does, +all from the more or less harmless insane to violent alcoholics and wrecked +drug fiends. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Blair, we learned, had been found hatless, without money, dazed, having +fallen, after an apparently aimless wandering in the streets. +</p> + +<p> +For the moment she lay exhausted on the white bed of the ward, eyes glazed, +pupils contracted, pulse now quick, now almost evanescent, face drawn, +breathing difficult, moaning now and then in physical and mental agony. +</p> + +<p> +Until she spoke it was impossible to tell what had happened, but the ambulance +surgeon had found a little red mark on her white forearm and had pointed it +out, evidently with the idea that she was suffering from a drug. +</p> + +<p> +At the mere sight of the mark, Blair stared as though hypnotized. Leaning over +to Kennedy, so that the others could not hear, he whispered, “It is the mark of +the serpent!” +</p> + +<p> +Our arrival had been announced to the hospital physician, who entered and stood +for a moment looking at the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it is a drug—a poison,” he said meditatively. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t found out yet what it is, then?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +The physician shook his head doubtfully. “Whatever it is,” he said slowly, “it +is closely allied to the cyanide groups in its rapacious activity. I haven’t +the slightest idea of its true nature, but it seems to have a powerful affinity +for important nerve centers of respiration and muscular coordination, as well +as for disorganizing the blood. I should say that it produces death by +respiratory paralysis and convulsions. To my mind it is an exact, though +perhaps less active, counterpart of hydrocyanic acid.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had been listening intently at the start, but before the physician had +finished he had bent over and made a ligature quickly with his handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +Then he dispatched a messenger with a note. Next he cut about the minute wound +on her arm until the blood flowed, cupping it to increase the flow. Now and +then he had them administer a little stimulant. +</p> + +<p> +He had worked rapidly, while Blair watched him with a sort of fascination. +</p> + +<p> +“Get Dr. Vaughn,” ordered Craig, as soon as he had a breathing spell after his +quick work, adding, “and Professor and Madame Rapport. Walter, attend to that, +will you? I think you will find an officer outside. You’ll have to compel them +to come, if they won’t come otherwise,” he added, giving the address of the +Lodge, as we had found it. +</p> + +<p> +Blair shot a quick look at him, as though Craig in his knowledge were uncanny. +Apparently, the address had been a secret which he thought we did not know. +</p> + +<p> +I managed to find an officer and dispatch him for the Rapports. A hospital +orderly, I thought, would serve to get Dr. Vaughn. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br/> +THE SERPENT’S TOOTH</h2> + +<p> +I had scarcely returned to the ward when, suddenly, an unnatural strength +seemed to be infused into Veda. +</p> + +<p> +She had risen in bed. +</p> + +<p> +“It shall not catch me!” she cried in a new paroxysm of nameless terror. +“No—no—it is pursuing me. I am never out of its grasp. I have been thought six +feet underground—I know it. There it is again—still driving me—still driving +me! +</p> + +<p> +“Will it never stop? Will no one stop it? Save me! It—is the death thought!” +</p> + +<p> +She had risen convulsively and had drawn back in abject, cowering terror. What +was it she saw? Evidently it was very real and very awful. It pursued her +relentlessly. +</p> + +<p> +As she lay there, rolling her eyes about, she caught sight of us and recognized +us for the first time, although she had been calling for us. +</p> + +<p> +“They had the thought on you, too, Professor Kennedy,” she almost screamed. +“Hour after hour, Rapport and the rest repeated over and over again, ‘Why does +not some one kill him? Why does he not die?’ They knew you—even when I brought +you to the Red Lodge. They thought you were a spy.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned to Kennedy. He had advanced and was leaning over to catch every word. +Blair was standing behind me and she had not seen her husband yet. A quick +glance showed me that he was trembling from head to foot like a leaf, as though +he, too, were pursued by the nameless terror. +</p> + +<p> +“What did they do?” Kennedy asked in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +Fearfully, gripping the bars of the iron bed, as though they were some tangible +support for her mind, she answered: “They would get together. ‘Now, all of +you,’ they said, ‘unite yourselves in thought against our enemy, against +Kennedy, that he must leave off persecuting us. He is ripe for destruction!’” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy glanced sidewise at me, with a significant look. +</p> + +<p> +“God grant,” she implored, “that none haunt me for what I have done in my +ignorance!” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the door opened and my messenger entered, accompanied by Dr. Vaughn. +</p> + +<p> +I had turned to catch the expression on Blair’s face just in time. It was a +look of abject appeal. +</p> + +<p> +Before Dr. Vaughn could ask a question, or fairly take in the situation, +Kennedy had faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the purpose of all that elaborate mummery out at the Red Lodge?” +asked Kennedy pointblank. +</p> + +<p> +I think I looked at Craig in no less amazement than Vaughn. In spite of the +dramatic scenes through which we had passed, the spell of the occult had not +fallen on him for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“Mummery?” repeated Dr. Vaughn, bending his penetrating eyes on Kennedy, as if +he would force him to betray himself first. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” reiterated Craig. “You know as well as I do that it has been said that +it is a well-established fact that the world wants to be deceived and is +willing to pay for the privilege.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Vaughn still gazed from one to the other of us defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“You know what I mean,” persisted Kennedy, “the mumbo-jumbo—just as the Haitian +obi man sticks pins in a doll or melts a wax figure of his enemy. That is +supposed to be an outward sign. But back of this terrible power that people +believe moves in darkness and mystery is something tangible—something real.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Vaughn looked up sharply at him, I think mistaking Kennedy’s meaning. If he +did, all doubt that Kennedy attributed anything to the supernatural was removed +as he went on: “At first I had no explanation of the curious events I have just +witnessed, and the more I thought about them, the more obscure did they seem. +</p> + +<p> +“I have tried to reason the thing out,” he continued thoughtfully. “Did +auto-suggestion, self-hypnotism explain what I have seen? Has Veda Blair been +driven almost to death by her own fears only?” +</p> + +<p> +No one interrupted and he answered his own question. “Somehow the idea that it +was purely fear that had driven her on did not satisfy me. As I said, I wanted +something more tangible. I could not help thinking that it was not merely +subjective. There was something objective, some force at work, something more +than psychic in the result achieved by this criminal mental marauder, whoever +it is.” +</p> + +<p> +I was following Kennedy’s reasoning now closely. As he proceeded, the point +that he was making seemed more clear to me. +</p> + +<p> +Persons of a certain type of mind could be really mentally unbalanced by such +methods which we had heard outlined, where the mere fact of another trying to +exert power over them became known to them. They would, as a matter of fact, +unbalance themselves, thinking about and fighting off imaginary terrors. +</p> + +<p> +Such people, I could readily see, might be quickly controlled, and in the wake +of such control would follow stifled love, wrecked homes, ruined fortunes, +suicide and even death. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Vaughn leaned forward critically. “What did you conclude, then, was the +explanation of what you saw last night?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy met his question squarely, without flinching. “It looks to me,” he +replied quietly, “like a sort of hystero-epilepsy. It is well known, I believe, +to demonologists—those who have studied this sort of thing. They have +recognized the contortions, the screams, the wild, blasphemous talk, the +cataleptic rigidity. They are epileptiform.” +</p> + +<p> +Vaughn said nothing, but continued to weigh Kennedy as if in a balance. I, who +knew him, knew that it would take a greater than Vaughn to find him wanting, +once Kennedy chose to speak. As for Vaughn, was he trying to hide behind some +technicality in medical ethics? +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Vaughn,” continued Craig, as if goading him to the point of breaking down +his calm silence, “you are specialist enough to know these things as well, +better than I do. You must know that epilepsy is one of the most peculiar +diseases. +</p> + +<p> +“The victim may be in good physical condition, apparently. In fact, some hardly +know that they have it. But it is something more than merely the fits. Always +there is something wrong mentally. It is not the motor disturbance so much as +the disturbance of consciousness.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was talking slowly, deliberately, so that none could drop a link in the +reasoning. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps one in ten epileptics has insane periods, more or less,” he went on, +“and there is no more dangerous form of insanity. Self-consciousness is lost, +and in this state of automatism the worst of crimes have been committed without +the subsequent knowledge of the patient. In that state they are no more +responsible than are the actors in one’s dreams.” +</p> + +<p> +The hospital physician entered, accompanied by Craig’s messenger, breathless. +Craig almost seized the package from his hands and broke the seal. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—this is what I wanted,” he exclaimed, with an air of relief, forgetting for +the time the exposition of the case that he was engaged in. “Here I have some +anti-crotalus venine, of Drs. Flexner and Noguchi. Fortunately, in the city it +is within easy reach.” +</p> + +<p> +Quickly, with the aid of the physician he injected it into Veda’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Of all substances in nature,” he remarked, still at work over the unfortunate +woman, “none is so little known as the venom of serpents.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a startling idea which the sentence had raised in my mind. All at once I +recalled the first remark of Seward Blair, in which he had repeated the +password that had admitted us into the Red Lodge—“the Serpent’s Tooth.” Could +it have been that she had really been bitten at some of the orgies by the +serpent which they worshiped hideously hissing in its cage? I was sure that, at +least until they were compelled, none would say anything about it. Was that the +interpretation of the almost hypnotized look on Blair’s face? +</p> + +<p> +“We know next to nothing of the composition of the protein bodies in the venoms +which have such terrific, quick physiological effects,” Kennedy was saying. +“They have been studied, it is true, but we cannot really say that they are +understood—or even that there are any adequate tests by which they can be +recognized. The fact is, that snake venoms are about the safest of poisons for +the criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had scarcely propounded this startling idea when a car was heard +outside. The Rapports had arrived, with the officer I had sent after them, +protesting and threatening. +</p> + +<p> +They quieted down a bit as they entered, and after a quick glance around saw +who was present. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Rapport gave one glance at the victim lying exhausted on the bed, +then drew back, melodramatically, and cried, “The Serpent—the mark of the +serpent!” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Kennedy gazed full in the eyes of them all. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Was</i> it a snake bite?” he asked slowly, then, turning to Mrs. Blair, +after a quick glance, he went on rapidly, “The first thing to ascertain is +whether the mark consists of two isolated punctures, from the poison-conducting +teeth or fangs of the snake, which are constructed like a hypodermic needle.” +</p> + +<p> +The hospital physician had bent over her at the words, and before Kennedy could +go on interrupted: “This was not a snake bite; it was more likely from an +all-glass hypodermic syringe with a platinum-iridium needle.” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Rapport, priest of the Devil, advanced a step menacingly toward +Kennedy. “Remember,” he said in a low, angry tone, “remember—you are pledged to +keep the secrets of the Red Lodge!” +</p> + +<p> +Craig brushed aside the sophistry with a sentence. “I do not recognize any +secrets that I have to keep about the meeting this afternoon to which you +summoned the Blairs and Mrs. Langhorne, according to reports from the shadows I +had placed on Mrs. Langhorne and Dr. Vaughn.” +</p> + +<p> +If there is such a thing as the evil eye, Rapport’s must have been a pair of +them, as he realized that Kennedy had resorted to the simple devices of +shadowing the devotees. +</p> + +<p> +A cry, almost a shriek, startled us. Kennedy’s encounter with Rapport had had +an effect which none of us had considered. The step or two in advance which the +prophet had taken had brought him into the line of vision of the still +half-stupefied Veda lying back of Kennedy on the hospital cot. +</p> + +<p> +The mere sight of him, the sound of his voice and the mention of the Red Lodge +had been sufficient to penetrate that stupor. She was sitting bolt upright, a +ghastly, trembling specter. Slowly a smile seemed to creep over the cruel face +of the mystic. Was it not a recognition of his hypnotic power? +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy turned and laid a gentle hand on the quaking convulsed figure of the +woman. One could feel the electric tension in the air, the battle of two powers +for good or evil. Which would win—the old fascination of the occult or the new +power of science? +</p> + +<p> +It was a dramatic moment. Yet not so dramatic as the outcome. To my surprise, +neither won. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she caught sight of her husband. Her face changed. All the prehistoric +jealousy of which woman is capable seemed to blaze forth. +</p> + +<p> +“I will defend myself!” she cried. “I will fight back! She shall not win—she +shall not have you—no—she shall not—never!” +</p> + +<p> +I recalled the strained feeling between the two women that I had noticed in the +cab. Was it Mrs. Langhorne who had been the disturbing influence, whose power +she feared, over herself and over her husband? +</p> + +<p> +Rapport had fallen back a step, but not from the mind of Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” challenged Craig, facing the group and drawing from his pocket the +glass ampoule, “I picked this up at the Red Lodge last night.” +</p> + +<p> +He held it out in his hand before the Rapports so that they could not help but +see it. Were they merely good actors? They betrayed nothing, at least by face +or action. +</p> + +<p> +“It is crotalin,” he announced, “the venom of the rattlesnake—crotalus +horridus. It has been noticed that persons suffering from certain diseases of +which epilepsy is one, after having been bitten by a rattlesnake, if they +recover from the snake bite, are cured of the disease.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was forging straight ahead now in his exposure. “Crotalin,” he +continued, “is one of the new drugs used in the treatment of epilepsy. But it +is a powerful two-edged instrument. Some one who knew the drug, who perhaps had +used it, has tried an artificial bite of a rattler on Veda Blair, not for +epilepsy, but for another, diabolical purpose, thinking to cover up the crime, +either as the result of the so-called death thought of the Lodge or as the bite +of the real rattler at the Lodge.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had at last got under Dr. Vaughn’s guard. All his reticence was gone. +</p> + +<p> +“I joined the cult,” he confessed. “I did it in order to observe and treat one +of my patients for epilepsy. I justified myself. I said, ‘I will be the +exposer, not the accomplice, of this modern Satanism.’ I joined it and—” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no use trying to shield anyone, Vaughn,” rapped out Kennedy, scarcely +taking time to listen. “An epileptic of the most dangerous criminal type has +arranged this whole elaborate setting as a plot to get rid of the wife who +brought him his fortune and now stands in the way of his unholy love of Mrs. +Langhorne. He used you to get the poison with which you treated him. He used +the Rapports with money to play on her mysticism by their so-called death +thought, while he watched his opportunity to inject the fatal crotalin.” +</p> + +<p> +Craig faced the criminal, whose eyes now showed more plainly than words his +deranged mental condition, and in a low tone added, “The Devil <i>is</i> in +you, Seward Blair!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br/> +THE “HAPPY DUST”</h2> + +<p> +Veda Blair’s rescue from the strange use that was made of the venom came at a +time when the city was aroused as it never had been before over the nation-wide +agitation against drugs. +</p> + +<p> +Already, it will be recalled, Kennedy and I had had some recent experience with +dope fiends of various kinds, but this case I set down because it drew us more +intimately into the crusade. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve called on you, Professor Kennedy, to see if I can’t interest you in the +campaign I am planning against drugs.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Claydon Sutphen, social leader and suffragist, had scarcely more than +introduced herself when she launched earnestly into the reason for her visit to +us. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t realize it, perhaps,” she continued rapidly, “but very often a +little silver bottle of tablets is as much a necessary to some women of the +smart set as cosmetics.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve heard of such cases,” nodded Craig encouragingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see I became interested in the subject,” she added, “when I saw some +of my own friends going down. That’s how I came to plan the campaign in the +first place.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, evidently nervous. “I’ve been threatened, too,” she went on, “but +I’m not going to give up the fight. People think that drugs are a curse only to +the underworld, but they have no idea what inroads the habit has made in the +upper world, too. Oh, it is awful!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, she leaned over and whispered, “Why, there’s my own sister, Mrs. +Garrett. She began taking drugs after an operation, and now they have a +terrible hold on her. I needn’t try to conceal anything. It’s all been +published in the papers—everybody knows it. Think of it—divorced, disgraced, +all through these cursed drugs! Dr. Coleman, our family physician, has done +everything known to break up the habit, but he hasn’t succeeded.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Coleman, I knew, was a famous society physician. If he had failed, I +wondered why she thought a detective might succeed. But it was evidently +another purpose she had in mind in introducing the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“So you can understand what it all means to me, personally,” she resumed, with +a sigh. “I’ve studied the thing—I’ve been forced to study it. Why, now the +exploiters are even making drug fiends of mere—children!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Sutphen spread out a crumpled sheet of note paper before us on which was +written something in a trembling scrawl. “For instance, here’s a letter I +received only yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy glanced over it carefully. It was signed “A Friend,” and read: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“I have heard of your drug war in the newspapers and wish to help you, only I +don’t dare to do so openly. But I can assure you that if you will investigate +what I am about to tell you, you will soon be on the trail of those higher up +in this terrible drug business. There is a little center of the traffic on West +66th Street, just off Broadway. I cannot tell you more, but if you can +investigate it, you will be doing more good than you can possibly realize now. +There is one girl there, whom they call ‘Snowbird.’ If you could only get hold +of her quietly and place her in a sanitarium you might save her yet.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Craig was more than ordinarily interested. “And the children—what did you mean +by that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s literally true,” asserted Mrs. Sutphen in a horrified tone. “Some of +the victims are actually school children. Up there in 66th Street we have found +a man named Armstrong, who seems to be very friendly with this young girl whom +they call ‘Snowbird.’ Her real name, by the way, is Sawtelle, I believe. She +can’t be over eighteen, a mere child, yet she’s a slave to the stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then you have actually already acted on the hint in the letter?” asked +Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied, “I’ve had one of the agents of our Anti-Drug Society, a +social worker, investigating the neighborhood.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded for her to go on. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve even investigated myself a little, and now I want to employ some one to +break the thing up. My husband had heard of you and so here I am. Can you help +me?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a note of appeal in her voice that was irresistible to a man who had +the heart of Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me just what you have discovered so far,” he asked simply. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she replied slowly, “after my agent verified the contents of the +letter, I watched until I saw this girl—she’s a mere child, as I said—going to +a cabaret in the neighborhood. What struck me was that I saw her go in looking +like a wreck and come out a beautiful creature, with bright eyes, flushed +cheeks, almost youthful again. A most remarkable girl she is, too,” mused Mrs. +Sutphen, “who always wears a white gown, white hat, white shoes and white +stockings. It must be a mania with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Sutphen seemed to have exhausted her small store of information, and as +she rose to go Kennedy rose also. “I shall be glad to look into the case, Mrs. +Sutphen,” he promised. “I’m sure there is something that can be done—there must +be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, ever so much,” she murmured, as she paused at the door, something +still on her mind. “And perhaps, too,” she added, “you may run across my +sister, Mrs. Garrett.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” he assured her, “if there is anything I can possibly do that will +assist you personally, I shall be only too happy to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you again, ever so much,” she repeated with just a little choke in her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +For several moments Kennedy sat contemplating the anonymous letter which she +had left with him, studying both its contents and the handwriting. +</p> + +<p> +“We must go over the ground up there again,” he remarked finally. “Perhaps we +can do better than Mrs. Sutphen and her drug investigator have done.” +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later we had arrived and were sauntering along the street in +question, walking slowly up and down in the now fast-gathering dusk. It was a +typical cheap apartment block of variegated character, with people sitting idly +on the narrow front steps and children spilling out into the roadway in +imminent danger of their young lives from every passing automobile. +</p> + +<p> +On the crowded sidewalk a creation in white hurtled past us. One glance at the +tense face in the flickering arc light was enough for Kennedy. He pulled my arm +and we turned and followed at a safe distance. +</p> + +<p> +She looked like a girl who could not have been more than eighteen, if she was +as old as that. She was pretty, too, but already her face was beginning to look +old and worn from the use of drugs. It was unmistakable. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the fact that she was hurrying, it was not difficult to follow her +in the crowd, as she picked her way in and out, and finally turned into +Broadway where the white lights were welcoming the night. +</p> + +<p> +Under the glare of a huge electric sign she stopped a moment, then entered one +of the most notorious of the cabarets. +</p> + +<p> +We entered also at a discreet distance and sat down at a table. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t look around, Walter,” whispered Craig, as the waiter took our order, +“but to your right is Mrs. Sutphen.” +</p> + +<p> +If he had mentioned any other name in the world, I could not have been more +surprised. I waited impatiently until I could pick her out from the corner of +my eye. Sure enough, it was Mrs. Sutphen and another woman. What they were +doing there I could not imagine, for neither had the look of habitues of such a +place. +</p> + +<p> +I followed Kennedy’s eye and found that he was gazing furtively at a flashily +dressed young man who was sitting alone at the far end in a sort of booth +upholstered in leather. +</p> + +<p> +The girl in white, whom I was now sure was Miss Sawtelle, went over and greeted +him. It was too far to see just what happened, but the young woman after +sitting down rose and left almost immediately. As nearly as I could make out, +she had got something from him which she had dropped into her handbag and was +now hugging the handbag close to herself almost as if it were gold. +</p> + +<p> +We sat for a few minutes debating just what to do, when Mrs. Sutphen and her +friend rose. As she passed out, a quick, covert glance told us to follow. We +did so and the two turned into Broadway. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me present you to Miss McCann,” introduced Mrs. Sutphen as we caught up +with them. “Miss McCann is a social worker and trained investigator whom I’m +employing.” +</p> + +<p> +We bowed, but before we could ask a question, Mrs. Sutphen cried excitedly: “I +think I have a clue, anyway. We’ve traced the source of the drugs at least as +far as that young fellow, ‘Whitecap,’ whom you saw in there.” +</p> + +<p> +I had not recognized his face, although I had undoubtedly seen pictures of him +before. But no sooner had I heard the name than I recognized it as that of one +of the most notorious gang leaders on the West Side. +</p> + +<p> +Not only that, but Whitecap’s gang played an important part in local politics. +There was scarcely a form of crime or vice to which Whitecap and his followers +could not turn a skilled hand, whether it was swinging an election, running a +gambling club, or dispensing “dope.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” she explained, “even before I saw you, my suspicions were aroused +and I determined to obtain some of the stuff they are using up here, if +possible. I realized it would be useless for me to try to get it myself, so I +got Miss McCann from the Neighborhood House to try it. She got it and has +turned the bottle over to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I see it?” asked Craig eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Sutphen reached hastily into her handbag, drew forth a small brown glass +bottle and handed it to him. Craig retreated into one of the less dark side +streets. There he pulled out the paraffinned cork from the bottle, picked out a +piece of cotton stuffed in the neck of the bottle and poured out some flat +tablets that showed a glistening white in the palm of his hand. For an instant +he regarded them. +</p> + +<p> +“I may keep these?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied Mrs. Sutphen. “That’s what I had Miss McCann get them +for.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy dropped the bottle into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“So that was the gang leader, ‘Whitecap,’” he remarked as we turned again to +Broadway. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Mrs. Sutphen. “At certain hours, I believe he can be found at +that cabaret selling this stuff, whatever it is, to anyone who comes properly +introduced. The thing seems to be so open and notorious that it amounts to a +scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +We parted a moment later, Mrs. Sutphen and Miss McCann to go to the settlement +house, Craig and I to continue our investigations. +</p> + +<p> +“First of all, Walter,” he said as we swung aboard an uptown car, “I want to +stop at the laboratory.” +</p> + +<p> +In his den, which had been the scene of so many triumphs, Kennedy began a hasty +examination of the tablets, powdering one and testing it with one chemical +after another. +</p> + +<p> +“What are they?” I asked at length when he seemed to have found the right +reaction which gave him the clue. +</p> + +<p> +“Happy dust,” he answered briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“Happy dust?” I repeated, looking at him a moment in doubt as to whether he was +joking or serious. “What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Tenderloin name for heroin—a comparatively new derivative of morphine. It +is really morphine treated with acetic acid which renders it more powerful than +morphine alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do they take them? What’s the effect?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The person who uses heroin usually powders the tablets and snuffs the powder +up the nose,” he answered. “In a short time, perhaps only two or three weeks, +one can become a confirmed victim of ‘happy dust.’ And while one is under its +influence he is morally, physically and mentally irresponsible.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was putting away the paraphernalia he had used, meanwhile talking about +the drug. “One of the worst aspects of it, too,” he continued, “is the desire +of the user to share his experience with some one else. This passing on of the +habit, which seems to be one of the strongest desires of the drug fiend, makes +him even more dangerous to society than he would otherwise be. It makes it +harder for anyone once addicted to a drug to shake it off, for his friends will +give him no chance. The only thing to do is to get the victim out of his +environment and into an entirely new scene.” +</p> + +<p> +The laboratory table cleared again, Kennedy had dropped into a deep study. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, why was Mrs. Sutphen there?” he asked aloud. “I can’t think it was solely +through her interest for that girl they call Snowbird. She was interested in +her, but she made no attempt to interfere or to follow her. No, there must have +been another reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think she’s a dope fiend herself, do you?” I asked hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy smiled. “Hardly, Walter. If she has any obsession on the subject, it is +more likely to lead her to actual fanaticism against all stimulants and +narcotics and everything connected with them. No, you might possibly persuade +me that two and two equal five—but not seventeen. It’s not very late. I think +we might make another visit to that cabaret and see whether the same thing is +going on yet.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br/> +THE BINET TEST</h2> + +<p> +We rode downtown again and again sauntered in, this time with the theater +crowd. Our first visit had been so quiet and unostentatious that the second +attracted no attention or comment from the waiters, or anyone else. +</p> + +<p> +As we sat down we glanced over, and there in his corner still was Whitecap. +Apparently his supply of the dope was inexhaustible, for he was still +dispensing it. As we watched the tenderloin habitues come and go, I came soon +to recognize the signs by the mere look on the face—the pasty skin, the vacant +eye, the nervous quiver of the muscles as though every organ and every nerve +were crying out for more of the favorite nepenthe. Time and again I noticed the +victims as they sat at the tables, growing more and more haggard and worn, +until they could stand it no longer. Then they would retire, sometimes after a +visit across the floor to Whitecap, more often directly, for they had stocked +themselves up with the drug evidently after the first visit to him. But always +they would come back, changed in appearance, with what seemed to be a new lease +of life, but nevertheless still as recognizable as drug victims. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long, as we waited, before another woman, older than Miss Sawtelle, +but dressed in an extreme fashion, hurried into the cabaret and with scarcely a +look to right or left went directly to Whitecap’s corner. I noticed that she, +too, had the look. +</p> + +<p> +There was a surreptitious passing of a bottle in exchange for a treasury note, +and she dropped into the seat beside him. +</p> + +<p> +Before he could interfere, she had opened the bottle, crushed a tablet or two +in a napkin, and was holding it to her face as though breathing the most +exquisite perfume. With one quick inspiration of her breath after another, she +was snuffing the powder up her nose. +</p> + +<p> +Whitecap with an angry gesture pulled the napkin from her face, and one could +fancy his snarl under his breath, “Say—do you want to get me in wrong here?” +</p> + +<p> +But it was too late. Some at least of the happy dust had taken effect, at least +enough to relieve the terrible pangs she must have been suffering. +</p> + +<p> +As she rose and retired, with a hasty apology to Whitecap for her indiscretion, +Kennedy turned to me and exclaimed, “Think of it. The deadliest of all habits +is the simplest. No hypodermic; no pipe; no paraphernalia of any kind. It’s +terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +She returned to sit down and enjoy herself, careful not to obtrude herself on +Whitecap lest he might become angry at the mere sight of her and treasure his +anger up against the next time when she would need the drug. +</p> + +<p> +Already there was the most marvelous change in her. She seemed captivated by +the music, the dancing, the life which a few moments before she had totally +disregarded. +</p> + +<p> +She was seated alone, not far from us, and as she glanced about Kennedy caught +her eye. She allowed her gaze to rest on us for a moment, the signal for a mild +flirtation which ended in our exchange of tables and we found ourselves +opposite the drug fiend, who was following up the taking of the dope by a +thin-stemmed glass of a liqueur. +</p> + +<p> +I do not recall the conversation, but it was one of those inconsequential talks +that Bohemians consider so brilliant and everybody else so vapid. As we skimmed +from one subject to another, treating the big facts of life as if they were +mere incidents and the little as if they overshadowed all else, I could see +that Craig, who had a faculty of probing into the very soul of anyone, when he +chose, was gradually leading around to a subject which I knew he wanted, above +all others, to discuss. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before, as the most natural remark in the world following +something he had made her say, just as a clever prestidigitator forces a card, +he asked, “What was it I saw you snuffing over in the booth—happy dust?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not even take the trouble to deny it, but nodded a brazen “Yes.” “How +did you come to use it first?” he asked, careful not to give offense in either +tone or manner. +</p> + +<p> +“The usual way, I suppose,” she replied with a laugh that sounded harsh and +grating. “I was ill and I found out what it was the doctor was giving me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I thought I would use it only as long as it served my purpose and, when +that was over, give it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“But—?” prompted Craig hypnotically. +</p> + +<p> +“Instead, I was soon using six, eight, ten tablets of heroin a day. I found +that I needed that amount in order to live. Then it went up by leaps to twenty, +thirty, forty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you couldn’t get it, what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t get it?” she repeated with an unspeakable horror. “Once I thought I’d +try to stop. But my heart skipped beats; then it seemed to pound away, as if +trying to break through my ribs. I don’t think heroin is like other drugs. When +one has her ‘coke’—that’s cocaine—taken away, she feels like a rag. Fill her up +and she can do anything again. But, heroin—I think one might murder to get it!” +</p> + +<p> +The expression on the woman’s face was almost tragic. I verily believe that she +meant it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” she cried, “if anyone had told me a year ago that the time would ever +come when I would value some tiny white tablets above anything else in the +world, yes, and even above my immortal soul, I would have thought him a +lunatic.” +</p> + +<p> +It was getting late, and as the woman showed no disposition to leave, Kennedy +and I excused ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +Outside Craig looked at me keenly. “Can you guess who that was?” +</p> + +<p> +“Although she didn’t tell us her name,” I replied, “I am morally certain that +it was Mrs. Garrett.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” he answered, “and what a shame, too, for she must evidently once +have been a woman of great education and refinement.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head sadly. “Walter, there isn’t likely to be anything that we can +do for some hours now. I have a little experiment I’d like to make. Suppose you +publish for me a story in the <i>Star</i> about the campaign against drugs. +Tell about what we have seen to-night, mention the cabaret by indirection and +Whitecap directly. Then we can sit back and see what happens. We’ve got to +throw a scare into them somehow, if we are going to smoke out anyone higher up +than Whitecap. But you’ll have to be careful, for if they suspect us our +usefulness in the case will be over.” +</p> + +<p> +Together, Kennedy and I worked over our story far into the night down at the +<i>Star</i> office, and the following day waited to see whether anything came +of it. +</p> + +<p> +It was with a great deal of interest tempered by fear that we dropped into the +cabaret the following evening. Fortunately no one suspected us. In fact, having +been there the night before, we had established ourselves, as it were, and were +welcomed as old patrons and good spenders. +</p> + +<p> +I noticed, however, that Whitecap was not there. The story had been read by +such of the dope fiends as had not fallen too far to keep abreast of the times +and these and the waiters were busy quietly warning off a line of haggard-eyed, +disappointed patrons who came around, as usual. +</p> + +<p> +Some of them were so obviously dependent on Whitecap that I almost regretted +having written the story, for they must have been suffering the tortures of the +damned. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the midst of a reverie of this sort that a low exclamation from +Kennedy recalled my attention. There was Snowbird with a man considerably older +than herself. They had just come in and were looking about frantically for +Whitecap. But Whitecap had been too frightened by the story in the <i>Star</i> +to sell any more of the magic happy dust openly in the cabaret, at least. +</p> + +<p> +The pair, nerve-racked and exhausted, sat down mournfully in a seat near us, +and as they talked earnestly in low tones we had an excellent opportunity for +studying Armstrong for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +He was not a bad-looking man, or even a weak one. In back of the dissipation of +the drugs one fancied he could read the story of a brilliant life wrecked. But +there was little left to admire or respect. As the couple talked earnestly, the +one so old, the other so young in vice, I had to keep a tight rein on myself to +prevent my sympathy for the wretched girl getting the better of common sense +and kicking the older man out of doors. +</p> + +<p> +Finally Armstrong rose to go, with a final imploring glance from the girl. +Obviously she had persuaded him to forage about to secure the heroin, by hook +or crook, now that the accustomed source of supply was cut off so suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +It was also really our first chance to study the girl carefully under the +light, for her entrance and exit the night before had been so hurried that we +had seen comparatively little of her. Craig was watching her narrowly. Not only +were the effects of the drug plainly evident on her face, but it was apparent +that the snuffing the powdered tablets was destroying the bones in her nose, +through shrinkage of the blood vessels, as well as undermining the nervous +system and causing the brain to totter. +</p> + +<p> +I was wondering whether Armstrong knew of any depot for the secret distribution +of the drug. I could not believe that Whitecap was either the chief distributer +or the financial head of the illegal traffic. I wondered who indeed was the man +higher up. Was he an importer of the drug, or was he the representative of some +chemical company not averse to making an illegal dollar now and then by +dragging down his fellow man? +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy and I were trying to act as if we were enjoying the cabaret show and +not too much interested in the little drama that was being acted before us. I +think little Miss Sawtelle noticed, however, that we were looking often her +way. I was amazed, too, on studying her more closely to find that there was +something indefinably queer about her, aside from the marked effect of the +drugs she had been taking. What it was I was at a loss to determine, but I felt +sure from the expression on Kennedy’s face that he had noticed it also. +</p> + +<p> +I was on the point of asking him if he, too, observed anything queer in the +girl, when Armstrong hurried in and handed her a small package, then almost +without a word stalked out again, evidently as much to Snowbird’s surprise as +to our own. +</p> + +<p> +She had literally seized the package, as though she were drowning and grasping +at a life buoy. Even the surprise at his hasty departure could not prevent her, +however, from literally tearing the wrapper off, and in the sheltering shadow +of the table cloth pouring forth the little white pellets in her lap, counting +them as a miser counts his gold, +</p> + +<p> +“The old thief!” she exclaimed aloud. “He’s held out twenty-five!” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t know which it was that amazed me most, the almost childish petulance +and ungovernable temper of the girl which made her cry out in spite of her +surroundings and the circumstances, or the petty rapacity of the man who could +stoop to such a low level as to rob her in this seeming underhand manner. +</p> + +<p> +There was no time for useless repining now. The call of outraged nature for its +daily and hourly quota of poison was too imperative. She dumped the pellets +back into the bottle hastily, and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +When she came back, it was with that expression I had come to know so well. At +least for a few hours there was a respite for her from the terrific pangs she +had been suffering. She was almost happy, smiling. Even that false happiness, I +felt, was superior to Armstrong’s moral sense blunted by drugs. I had begun to +realize how lying, stealing, crimes of all sorts might be laid at the door of +this great evil. +</p> + +<p> +In her haste to get where she could snuff the heroin she had forgotten a light +wrap lying on her chair. As she returned for it, it fell to the floor. +Instantly Kennedy was on his feet, bending over to pick it up. +</p> + +<p> +She thanked him, and the smile lingered a moment on her face. It was enough. It +gave Kennedy the chance to pursue a conversation, and in the free and easy +atmosphere of the cabaret to invite her to sit over at our table. +</p> + +<p> +At least all her nervousness was gone and she chatted vivaciously. Kennedy said +little. He was too busy watching her. It was quite the opposite of the case of +Mrs. Garrett. Yet I was at a loss to define what it was that I sensed. +</p> + +<p> +Still the minutes sped past and we seemed to be getting on famously. Unlike his +action in the case of the older woman where he had been sounding the depths of +her heart and mind, in this case his idea seemed to be to allow the childish +prattle to come out and perhaps explain itself. +</p> + +<p> +However, at the end of half an hour when we seemed to be getting no further +along, Kennedy did not protest at her desire to leave us, “to keep a date,” as +she expressed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Waiter, the check, please,” ordered Kennedy leisurely. +</p> + +<p> +When he received it, he seemed to be in no great hurry to pay it, but went over +one item after another, then added up the footing again. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange how some of these waiters grow rich?” Craig remarked finally with a +gay smile. +</p> + +<p> +The idea of waiters and money quickly brought some petty reminiscences to her +mind. While she was still talking, Craig casually pulled a pencil out of his +pocket and scribbled some figures on the back of the waiter’s check. +</p> + +<p> +From where I was sitting beside him, I could see that he had written some +figures similar to the following: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +5183<br/> +47395<br/> +654726<br/> +2964375<br/> +47293815<br/> +924738651<br/> +2146073859 +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s a stunt,” he remarked, breaking into the conversation at a convenient +point. “Can you repeat these numbers after me?” +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for her to make excuse, he said quickly “5183.” “5183,” she +repeated mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +“47395,” came in rapid succession, to which she replied, perhaps a little +slower than before, +</p> + +<p> +“47395.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, 654726,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“654726,” she repeated, I thought with some hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Again, 2964375,” he shot out. +</p> + +<p> +“269,” she hesitated, “73—” she stopped. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that she had reached the limit. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy smiled, paid the check and we parted at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What was all that rigmarole?” I inquired as the white figure disappeared down +the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Part of the Binet test, seeing how many digits one can remember. An adult +ought to remember from eight to ten, in any order. But she has the mentality of +a child. That is the queer thing about her. Chronologically she may be eighteen +years or so old. Mentally she is scarcely more than eight. Mrs. Sutphen was +right. They have made a fiend out of a mere child—a defective who never had a +chance against them.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br/> +THE LIE DETECTOR</h2> + +<p> +As the horror of it all dawned on me, I hated Armstrong worse than ever, hated +Whitecap, hated the man higher up, whoever he might be, who was enriching +himself out of the defective, as well as the weakling, and the vicious—all +three typified by Snowbird, Armstrong and Whitecap. +</p> + +<p> +Having no other place to go, pending further developments of the publicity we +had given the drug war in the <i>Star</i>, Kennedy and I decided on a walk home +in the bracing night air. +</p> + +<p> +We had scarcely entered the apartment when the hall boy called to us +frantically: “Some one’s been trying to get you all over town, Professor +Kennedy. Here’s the message. I wrote it down. An attempt has been made to +poison Mrs. Sutphen. They said at the other end of the line that you’d know.” +</p> + +<p> +We faced each other aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” exclaimed Kennedy. “Has that been the effect of our story, Walter? +Instead of smoking out anyone—we’ve almost killed some one.” +</p> + +<p> +As fast as a cab could whisk us around to Mrs. Sutphen’s we hurried. +</p> + +<p> +“I warned her that if she mixed up in any such fight as this she might expect +almost anything,” remarked Mr. Sutphen nervously, as he met us in the reception +room. “She’s all right, now, I guess, but if it hadn’t been for the prompt work +of the ambulance surgeon I sent for, Dr. Coleman says she would have died in +fifteen minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did it happen?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, she usually drinks a glass of vichy and milk before retiring,” replied +Mr. Sutphen. “We don’t know yet whether it was the vichy or the milk that was +poisoned, but Dr. Coleman thinks it was chloral in one or the other, and so did +the ambulance surgeon. I tell you I was scared. I tried to get Coleman, but he +was out on a case, and I happened to think of the hospitals as probably the +quickest. Dr. Coleman came in just as the young surgeon was bringing her +around. He—oh, here he is now.” +</p> + +<p> +The famous doctor was just coming downstairs. He saw us, but, I suppose, +inasmuch as we did not belong to the Sutphen and Coleman set, ignored us. “Mrs. +Sutphen will be all right now,” he said reassuringly as he drew on his gloves. +“The nurse has arrived, and I have given her instructions what to do. And, by +the way, my dear Sutphen, I should advise you to deal firmly with her in that +matter about which her name is appearing in the papers. Women nowadays don’t +seem to realize the dangers they run in mixing in in all these reforms. I have +ordered an analysis of both the milk and vichy, but that will do little good +unless we can find out who poisoned it. And there are so many chances for +things like that, life is so complex nowadays—” +</p> + +<p> +He passed out with scarcely a nod at us. Kennedy did not attempt to question +him. He was thinking rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter, we have no time to lose,” he exclaimed, seizing a telephone that stood +on a stand near by. “This is the time for action. Hello—Police Headquarters, +First Deputy O’Connor, please.” +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy waited I tried to figure out how it could have happened. I wondered +whether it might not have been Mrs. Garrett. Would she stop at anything if she +feared the loss of her favorite drug? But then there were so many others and so +many ways of “getting” anybody who interfered with the drug traffic that it +seemed impossible to figure it out by pure deduction. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, O’Connor,” I heard Kennedy say; “you read that story in the <i>Star</i> +this morning about the drug fiends at that Broadway cabaret? Yes? Well, Jameson +and I wrote it. It’s part of the drug war that Mrs. Sutphen has been waging. +O’Connor, she’s been poisoned—oh, no—she’s all right now. But I want you to +send out and arrest Whitecap and that fellow Armstrong immediately. I’m going +to put them through a scientific third degree up in the laboratory to-night. +Thank you. No—no matter how late it is, bring them up.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Coleman had gone long since, Mr. Sutphen had absolutely no interest further +than the recovery of Mrs. Sutphen just now, and Mrs. Sutphen was resting +quietly and could not be seen. Accordingly Kennedy and I hastened up to the +laboratory to wait until O’Connor could “deliver the goods.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before one of O’Connor’s men came in with Whitecap. +</p> + +<p> +“While we’re waiting,” said Craig, “I wish you would just try this little +cut-out puzzle.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t know what Whitecap thought, but I know I looked at Craig’s invitation +to “play blocks” as a joke scarcely higher in order than the number repetition +of Snowbird. Whitecap did it, however, sullenly, and under compulsion, in, I +should say about two minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“I have Armstrong here myself,” called out the voice of our old friend +O’Connor, as he burst into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” exclaimed Kennedy. “I shall be ready for him in just a second. Have +Whitecap held here in the anteroom while you bring Armstrong into the +laboratory. By the way, Walter, that was another of the Binet tests, putting a +man at solving puzzles. It involves reflective judgment, one of the factors in +executive ability. If Whitecap had been defective, it would have taken him five +minutes to do that puzzle, if at all. So you see he is not in the class with +Miss Sawtelle. The test shows him to be shrewd. He doesn’t even touch his own +dope. Now for Armstrong.” +</p> + +<p> +I knew enough of the underworld to set Whitecap down, however, as a +“lobbygow”—an agent for some one higher up, recruiting both the gangs and the +ranks of street women. +</p> + +<p> +Before us, as O’Connor led in Armstrong, was a little machine with a big black +cylinder. By means of wires and electrodes Kennedy attached it to Armstrong’s +chest. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Armstrong,” he began in an even tone, “I want you to tell the truth—the +whole truth. You have been getting heroin tablets from Whitecap.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied the dope fiend defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“To-day you had to get them elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” persisted Kennedy, still calm, “I know. Why, Armstrong, you even +robbed that girl of twenty-five tablets.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not,” shot out the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“There were twenty-five short,” accused Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +The two faced each other. Craig repeated his remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Armstrong, “I held out the tablets, but it was not for myself, I +can get all I want. I did it because I didn’t want her to get above +seventy-five a day. I have tried every way to break her of the habit that has +got me—and failed. But seventy-five—is the limit!” +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty story!” exclaimed O’Connor. +</p> + +<p> +Craig laid his hand on his arm to check him, as he examined a record registered +on the cylinder of the machine. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, Armstrong, I want you to write me out a note that I can use to get +a hundred heroin tablets. You can write it all but the name of the place where +I can get them.” +</p> + +<p> +Armstrong was on the point of demurring, but the last sentence reassured him. +He would reveal nothing by it—yet. +</p> + +<p> +Still the man was trembling like a leaf. He wrote: +</p> + +<p> +“Give Whitecap one hundred shocks—A Victim.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Kennedy studied the note carefully. “Oh—er—I forgot, Armstrong, +but a few days ago an anonymous letter was sent to Mrs. Sutphen, signed ‘A +Friend.’ Do you know anything about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A note?” the man repeated. “Mrs. Sutphen? I don’t know anything about any +note, or Mrs. Sutphen either.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was still studying his record. “This,” he remarked slowly, “is what I +call my psychophysical test for falsehood. Lying, when it is practiced by an +expert, is not easily detected by the most careful scrutiny of the liar’s +appearance and manner. +</p> + +<p> +“However, successful means have been developed for the detection of falsehood +by the study of experimental psychology. Walter, I think you will recall the +test I used once, the psychophysical factor of the character and rapidity of +the mental process known as the association of ideas?” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he resumed, “in criminal jurisprudence, I find an even more simple and +more subjective test which has been recently devised. Professor Stoerring of +Bonn has found out that feelings of pleasure and pain produce well-defined +changes in respiration. Similar effects are produced by lying, according to the +famous Professor Benussi of Graz. +</p> + +<p> +“These effects are unerring, unequivocal. The utterance of a false statement +increases respiration; of a true statement decreases. The importance and scope +of these discoveries are obvious.” +</p> + +<p> +Craig was figuring rapidly on a piece of paper. “This is a certain and +objective criterion,” he continued as he figured, “between truth and falsehood. +Even when a clever liar endeavors to escape detection by breathing irregularly, +it is likely to fail, for Benussi has investigated and found that voluntary +changes in respiration don’t alter the result. You see, the quotient obtained +by dividing the time of inspiration by the time of expiration gives me the +result.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up suddenly. “Armstrong, you are telling the truth about some +things—downright lies about others. You are a drug fiend—but I will be lenient +with you, for one reason. Contrary to everything that I would have expected, +you are really trying to save that poor half-witted girl whom you love from the +terrible habit that has gripped you. That is why you held out the quarter of +the one hundred tablets. That is why you wrote the note to Mrs. Sutphen, hoping +that she might be treated in some institution.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy paused as a look of incredulity passed over Armstrong’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Another thing you said was true,” added Kennedy. “You can get all the heroin +you want. Armstrong, you will put the address of that place on the outside of +the note, or both you and Whitecap go to jail. Snowbird will be left to her own +devices—she can get all the ‘snow,’ as some of you fiends call it, that she +wants from those who might exploit her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please, Mr. Kennedy,” pleaded Armstrong. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” interrupted Craig, before the drug fiend could finish. “That is final. I +must have the name of that place.” +</p> + +<p> +In a shaky hand Armstrong wrote again. Hastily Craig stuffed the note into his +pocket, and ten minutes later we were mounting the steps of a big brownstone +house on a fashionable side street just around the corner from Fifth Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +As the door was opened by an obsequious colored servant, Craig handed him the +scrap of paper signed by the password, “A Victim.” +</p> + +<p> +Imitating the cough of a confirmed dope user, Craig was led into a large +waiting room. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in pretty bad shape, sah,” commented the servant. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nudged me and, taking the cue, I coughed myself red in the face. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said. “Hurry—please.” +</p> + +<p> +The servant knocked at a door, and as it was opened we caught a glimpse of Mrs. +Garrett in negligee. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Sam?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Two gentlemen for some heroin tablets, ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell them to go to the chemical works—not to my office, Sam,” growled a man’s +voice inside. +</p> + +<p> +With a quick motion, Kennedy had Mrs. Garrett by the wrist. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it,” he ground out. “It was all a fake about how you got the habit. You +wanted to get it, so you could get and hold him. And neither one of you would +stop at anything, not even the murder of your sister, to prevent the ruin of +the devilish business you have built up in manufacturing and marketing the +stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled the note from the hand of the surprised negro. “I had the right +address, the place where you sell hundreds of ounces of the stuff a week—but I +preferred to come to the doctor’s office where I could find you both.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had firmly twisted her wrist until, with a little scream of pain, she +let go the door handle. Then he gently pushed her aside, and the next instant +Craig had his hand inside the collar of Dr. Coleman, society physician, +proprietor of the Coleman Chemical Works downtown, the real leader of the drug +gang that was debauching whole sections of the metropolis. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br/> +THE FAMILY SKELETON</h2> + +<p> +Surprised though we were at the unmasking of Dr. Coleman, there was nothing to +do but to follow the thing out. In such cases we usually ran into the greatest +difficulty—organized vice. This was no exception. +</p> + +<p> +Even when cases involved only a clever individual or a prominent family, it was +the same. I recall, for example, the case of a well-known family in a New York +suburb, which was particularly difficult. It began in a rather unusual manner, +too. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Kennedy—I am ruined—ruined.” +</p> + +<p> +It was early one morning that the telephone rang and I answered it. A very +excited German, breathless and incoherent, was evidently at the other end of +the wire. +</p> + +<p> +I handed the receiver to Craig and picked up the morning paper lying on the +table. +</p> + +<p> +“Minturn—dead?” I heard Craig exclaim. “In the paper this morning? I’ll be down +to see you directly.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy almost tore the paper from me. In the next to the end column where late +news usually is dropped was a brief account of the sudden death of Owen +Minturn, one of the foremost criminal lawyers of the city, in Josephson’s Baths +downtown. +</p> + +<p> +It ended: “It is believed by the coroner that Mr. Minturn was shocked to death +and evidence is being sought to show that two hundred and forty volts of +electricity had been thrown into the attorney’s body while he was in the +electric bath. Joseph Josephson, the proprietor of the bath, who operated the +switchboard, is being held, pending the completion of the inquiry.” +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy hastily ran his eye over the paragraphs, he became more and more +excited himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he cried, as he finished, “I don’t believe that that was an accident +at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +He already had his hat on, and I knew he was going to Josephson’s +breakfastless. I followed reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” he answered, as we hustled along in the early morning crowd, “it was +only yesterday afternoon that I saw Minturn at his office and he made an +appointment with me for this very morning. He was a very secretive man, but he +did tell me this much, that he feared his life was in danger and that it was in +some way connected with that Pearcy case up in Stratfield, Connecticut, where +he has an estate. You have read of the case?” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed I had. It had seemed to me to be a particularly inexplicable affair. +Apparently a whole family had been poisoned and a few days before old Mr. +Randall Pearcy, a retired manufacturer, had died after a brief but mysterious +illness. +</p> + +<p> +Pearcy had been married a year or so ago to Annette Oakleigh, a Broadway comic +opera singer, who was his second wife. By his first marriage he had had two +children, a son, Warner, and a daughter, Isabel. +</p> + +<p> +Warner Pearcy, I had heard, had blazed a vermilion trail along the Great White +Way, but his sister was of the opposite temperament, interested in social work, +and had attracted much attention by organizing a settlement in the slums of +Stratfield for the uplift of the workers in the Pearcy and other mills. +</p> + +<p> +Broadway, as well as Stratfield, had already woven a fantastic background, for +the mystery and hints had been broadly made that Annette Oakleigh had been +indiscreetly intimate with a young physician in the town, a Dr. Gunther, a +friend, by the way, of Minturn. “There has been no trial yet,” went on Kennedy, +“but Minturn seems to have appeared before the coroner’s jury at Stratfield and +to have asserted the innocence of Mrs. Pearcy and that of Dr. Gunther so well +that, although the jury brought in a verdict of murder by poison by some one +unknown, there has been no mention of the name of anyone else. The coroner +simply adjourned the inquest so that a more careful analysis might be made of +the vital organs. And now comes this second tragedy in New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the poison?” I asked. “Have they found out yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are pretty sure, so Minturn told me, that it was lead poisoning. The fact +not generally known is,” he added in a lower tone, “that the cases were not +confined to the Pearcy house. They had even extended to Minturn’s too, although +about that he said little yesterday. The estates up there adjoin, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Owen Minturn, I recalled, had gained a formidable reputation by his successful +handling of cases from the lowest strata of society to the highest. Indeed it +was a byword that his appearance in court indicated two things—the guilt of the +accused and a verdict of acquittal. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” Craig pursued as we were jolted from station to station downtown, +“you know they say that Minturn never kept a record of a case. But written +records were as nothing compared to what that man must have carried only in his +head.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a common saying that, if Minturn should tell all he knew, he might hang +half a dozen prominent men in society. That was not strictly true, perhaps, but +it was certain that a revelation of the things confided to him by clients which +were never put down on paper would have caused a series of explosions that +would have wrecked at least some portions of the social and financial world. He +had heard much and told little, for he had been a sort of “father confessor.” +</p> + +<p> +Had Minturn, I wondered, known the name of the real criminal? +</p> + +<p> +Josephson’s was a popular bath on Forty-second Street, where many of the +“sun-dodgers” were accustomed to recuperate during the day from their arduous +pursuit of pleasure at night and prepare for the resumption of their toil +during the coming night. It was more than that, however, for it had a +reputation for being conducted really on a high plane. +</p> + +<p> +We met Josephson downstairs. He had been released under bail, though the place +was temporarily closed and watched over by the agents of the coroner and the +police. Josephson appeared to be a man of some education and quite different +from what I had imagined from hearing him over the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Kennedy,” he exclaimed, “who now will come to my baths? Last night +they were crowded, but to-day—” +</p> + +<p> +He ended with an expressive gesture of his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“One customer I have surely lost, young Mr. Pearcy,” he went on. +</p> + +<p> +“Warner Pearcy?” asked Craig. “Was he here last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly every night,” replied Josephson, now glib enough as his first +excitement subsided and his command of English returned. “He was a neighbor of +Mr. Minturn’s, I hear. Oh, what luck!” growled Josephson as the name recalled +him to his present troubles. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” remarked Kennedy with an attempt at reassurance as if to gain the +masseur’s confidence, “I know as well as you that it is often amazing what a +tremendous shock a man may receive and yet not be killed, and no less amazing +how small a shock may kill. It all depends on circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +Josephson shot a covert look at Kennedy. “Yes,” he reiterated, “but I cannot +see how it <i>could</i> be. If the lights had become short-circuited with the +bath, that might have thrown a current into the bath. But they were not. I know +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” pursued Kennedy, watching him keenly, “it is not all a question of +current. To kill, the shock must pass through a vital organ—the brain, the +heart, the upper spinal cord. So, a small shock may kill and a large one may +not. If it passes in one foot and out by the other, the current isn’t likely to +be as dangerous as if it passes in by a hand or foot and then out by a foot or +hand. In one case it passes through no vital organ; in the other it is very +likely to do so. You see, the current can flow through the body only when it +has a place of entrance and a place of exit. In all cases of accident from +electric light wires, the victim is touching some conductor—damp earth, salty +earth, water, something that gives the current an outlet and—” +</p> + +<p> +“But even if the lights had been short-circuited,” interrupted Josephson, “Mr. +Minturn would have escaped injury unless he had touched the taps of the bath. +Oh, no, sir, accidents in the medical use of electricity are rare. They don’t +happen here in my establishment,” he maintained stoutly. “The trouble was that +the coroner, without any knowledge of the physiological effects of electricity +on the body, simply jumped at once to the conclusion that it was the electric +bath that did it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it was for medical treatment that Mr. Minturn was taking the bath?” asked +Kennedy, quickly taking up the point. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course,” answered the masseur, eager to explain. “You are acquainted +with the latest treatment for lead poisoning by means of the electric bath?” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy nodded. “I know that Sir Thomas Oliver, the English authority who has +written much on dangerous trades, has tried it with marked success.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, that was why Mr. Minturn was here. He came here introduced by a Dr. +Gunther of Stratfield.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” remarked Kennedy colorlessly, though I could see that it interested +him, for evidently Minturn had said nothing of being himself a sufferer from +the poison. “May I see the bath?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” said Josephson, leading the way upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +It was an oaken tub with metal rods on the two long sides, from which depended +prismatic carbon rods. Kennedy examined it closely. +</p> + +<p> +“This is what we call a hydro-electric bath,” Josephson explained. “Those rods +on the sides are the electrodes. You see there are no metal parts in the tub +itself. The rods are attached by wiring to a wall switch out here.” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to the next room. Kennedy examined the switch with care. +</p> + +<p> +“From it,” went on Josephson, “wires lead to an accumulator battery of perhaps +thirty volts. It uses very little current. Dr. Gunther tested it and found it +all right.” +</p> + +<p> +Craig leaned over the bath, and from the carbon electrodes scraped off a white +powder in minute crystals. +</p> + +<p> +“Ordinarily,” Josephson pursued, “lead is eliminated by the skin and kidneys. +But now, as you know, it is being helped along by electrolysis. I talked to Dr. +Gunther about it. It is his opinion that it is probably eliminated as a +chloride from the tissues of the body to the electrodes in the bath in which +the patient is wholly or partly immersed. On the positive electrodes we get the +peroxide. On the negative there is a spongy metallic form of lead. But it is +only a small amount.” +</p> + +<p> +“The body has been removed?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” the masseur replied. “The coroner has ordered it kept here under +guard until he makes up his mind what disposition to have made of it.” +</p> + +<p> +We were next ushered into a little room on the same floor, at the door of which +was posted an official from the coroner. +</p> + +<p> +“First of all,” remarked Craig, as he drew back the sheet and began, a minute +examination of the earthly remains of the great lawyer, “there are to be +considered the safeguards of the human body against the passage through it of a +fatal electric current—the high electric resistance of the body itself. It is +particularly high when the current must pass through joints such as wrists, +knees, elbows, and quite high when the bones of the head are concerned. Still, +there might have been an incautious application of the current to the head, +especially when the subject is a person of advanced age or latent cerebral +disease, though I don’t know that that fits Mr. Minturn. That’s strange,” he +muttered, looking up, puzzled. “I can find no mark of a burn on the +body—absolutely no mark of anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I say,” put in Josephson, much pleased by what Kennedy said, for +he had been waiting anxiously to see what Craig discovered on his own +examination. “It’s impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all the more remarkable,” went on Craig, half to himself and ignoring +Josephson, “because burns due to electric currents are totally unlike those +produced in other ways. They occur at the point of contact, usually about the +arms and hands, or the head. Electricity is much to be feared when it involves +the cranial cavity.” He completed his examination of the head which once had +carried secrets which themselves must have been incandescent. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, too, such burns are most often something more than superficial, for +considerable heat is developed which leads to massive destruction and +carbonization of the tissues to a considerable depth. I have seen actual losses +of substance—a lump of killed flesh surrounded by healthy tissues. Besides, +such burns show an unexpected indolence when compared to the violent pains of +ordinary burns. Perhaps that is due to the destruction of the nerve endings. +How did Minturn die? Was he alone? Was he dead when he was discovered?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was alone,” replied Josephson, slowly endeavoring to tell it exactly as he +had seen it, “but that’s the strange part of it. He seemed to be suffering from +a convulsion. I think he complained at first of a feeling of tightness of his +throat and a twitching of the muscles of his hands and feet. Anyhow, he called +for help. I was up here and we rushed in. Dr. Gunther had just brought him and +then had gone away, after introducing him, and showing him the bath.” +</p> + +<p> +Josephson proceeded slowly, evidently having been warned that anything he said +might be used against him. “We carried him, when he was this way, into this +very room. But it was only for a short time. Then came a violent convulsion. It +seemed to extend rapidly all over his body. His legs were rigid, his feet bent, +his head back. Why, he was resting only on his heels and the back of his head. +You see, Mr. Kennedy, that simply could not be the electric shock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly,” commented Kennedy, looking again at the body. “It looks more like a +tetanus convulsion. Yet there does not seem to be any trace of a recent wound +that might have caused lockjaw. How did he look?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, his face finally became livid,” replied Josephson. “He had a ghastly, +grinning expression, his eyes were wide, there was foam on his mouth, and his +breathing was difficult.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not like tetanus, either,” revised Craig. “There the convulsion usually begins +with the face and progresses to the other muscles. Here it seems to have gone +the other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“That lasted a minute or so,” resumed the masseur. “Then he sank back—perfectly +limp. I thought he was dead. But he was not. A cold sweat broke out all over +him and he was as if in a deep sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do?” prompted Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know what to do. I called an ambulance. But the moment the door +opened, his body seemed to stiffen again. He had one other convulsion—and when +he grew limp he was dead.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br/> +THE LEAD POISONER</h2> + +<p> +It was a gruesome recital and I was glad to leave the baths finally with +Kennedy. Josephson was quite evidently relieved at the attitude Craig had taken +toward the coroner’s conclusion that Minturn had been shocked to death. As far +as I could see, however, it added to rather than cleared up the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +Craig went directly uptown to his laboratory, in contrast with our journey +down, in abstracted silence, which was his manner when he was trying to reason +out some particularly knotty problem. +</p> + +<p> +As Kennedy placed the white crystals which he had scraped off the electrodes of +the tub on a piece of dark paper in the laboratory, he wet the tip of his +finger and touched just the minutest grain to his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +The look on his face told me that something unexpected had happened. He held a +similar minute speck of the powder out to me. +</p> + +<p> +It was an intensely bitter taste and very persistent, for even after we had +rinsed out our mouths it seemed to remain, clinging persistently to the tongue. +</p> + +<p> +He placed some of the grains in some pure water. They dissolved only slightly, +if at all. But in a tube in which he mixed a little ether and chloroform they +dissolved fairly readily. +</p> + +<p> +Next, without a word, he poured just a drop of strong sulphuric acid on the +crystals. There was not a change in them. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly he reached up into the rack and took down a bottle labeled “Potassium +Bichromate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us see what an oxidizing agent will do,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +As he gently added the bichromate, there came a most marvelous, kaleidoscopic +change. From being almost colorless, the crystals turned instantly to a deep +blue, then rapidly to purple, lilac, red, and then the red slowly faded away +and they became colorless again. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked, fascinated. “Lead?” +</p> + +<p> +“N-no,” he replied, the lines of his forehead deepening. “No. This is sulphate +of strychnine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sulphate of strychnine?” I repeated in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he reiterated slowly. “I might have suspected that from the convulsions, +particularly when Josephson said that the noise and excitement of the arrival +of the ambulance brought on the fatal paroxysm. That is symptomatic. But I +didn’t fully realize it until I got up here and tasted the stuff. Then I +suspected, for that taste is characteristic. Even one part diluted seventy +thousand times gives that decided bitter taste.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all very well,” I remarked, recalling the intense bitterness yet on my +tongue. “But how do you suppose it was possible for anyone to administer it? It +seems to me that he would have said something, if he had swallowed even the +minutest part of it. He must have known it. Yet apparently he didn’t. At least +he said nothing about it—or else Josephson is concealing something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he swallow it—necessarily?” queried Kennedy, in a tone calculated to show +me that the chemical world, at least, was full of a number of things, and there +was much to learn. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose if it had been given hypodermically, it would have a more +violent effect,” I persisted, trying to figure out a way that the poison might +have been given. +</p> + +<p> +“Even more unlikely,” objected Craig, with a delight at discovering a new +mystery that to me seemed almost fiendish. “No, he would certainly have felt a +needle, have cried out and said something about it, if anyone had tried that. +This poisoned needle business isn’t as easy as some people seem to think +nowadays.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he might have absorbed it from the water,” I insisted, recalling a recent +case of Kennedy’s and adding, “by osmosis.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw how difficult it was to dissolve in water,” Craig rejected quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” I concluded in desperation. “How could it have been introduced?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a theory,” was all he would say, reaching for the railway guide, “but +it will take me up to Stratfield to prove it.” +</p> + +<p> +His plan gave us a little respite and we paused long enough to lunch, for which +breathing space I was duly thankful. The forenoon saw us on the train, Kennedy +carrying a large and cumbersome package which he brought down with him from the +laboratory and which we took turns in carrying, though he gave no hint of its +contents. +</p> + +<p> +We arrived in Stratfield, a very pretty little mill town, in the middle of the +afternoon, and with very little trouble were directed to the Pearcy house, +after Kennedy had checked the parcel with the station agent. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pearcy, to whom we introduced ourselves as reporters of the <i>Star</i>, +was a tall blonde. I could not help thinking that she made a particularly +dashing widow. With her at the time was Isabel Pearcy, a slender girl whose +sensitive lips and large, earnest eyes indicated a fine, high-strung nature. +</p> + +<p> +Even before we had introduced ourselves, I could not help thinking that there +was a sort of hostility between the women. Certainly it was evident that there +was as much difference in temperament as between the butterfly and the bee. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied the elder woman quickly to a request from Kennedy for an +interview, “there is nothing that I care to say to the newspapers. They have +said too much already about this—unfortunate affair.” +</p> + +<p> +Whether it was imagination or not, I fancied that there was an air of reserve +about both women. It struck me as a most peculiar household. What was it? Was +each suspicious of the other? Was each concealing something? +</p> + +<p> +I managed to steal a glance at Kennedy’s face to see whether there was anything +to confirm my own impression. He was watching Mrs. Pearcy closely as she spoke. +In fact his next few questions, inconsequential as they were, seemed addressed +to her solely for the purpose of getting her to speak. +</p> + +<p> +I followed his eyes and found that he was watching her mouth, in reality. As +she answered I noted her beautiful white teeth. Kennedy himself had trained me +to notice small things, and at the time, though I thought it was trivial, I +recall noticing on her gums, where they joined the teeth, a peculiar +bluish-black line. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had been careful to address only Mrs. Pearcy at first, and as he +continued questioning her, she seemed to realize that he was trying to lead her +along. +</p> + +<p> +“I must positively refuse to talk any more,” she repeated finally, rising. “I +am not to be tricked into saying anything.” +</p> + +<p> +She had left the room, evidently expecting that Isabel would follow. She did +not. In fact I felt that Miss Pearcy was visibly relieved by the departure of +her stepmother. She seemed anxious to ask us something and now took the first +opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” she said eagerly, “how did Mr. Minturn die? What do they really +think of it in New York?” +</p> + +<p> +“They think it is poisoning,” replied Craig, noting the look on her face. +</p> + +<p> +She betrayed nothing, as far as I could see, except a natural neighborly +interest. “Poisoning?” she repeated. “By what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lead poisoning,” he replied evasively. +</p> + +<p> +She said nothing. It was evident that, slip of a girl though she was, she was +quite the match of anyone who attempted leading questions. Kennedy changed his +method. +</p> + +<p> +“You will pardon me,” he said apologetically, “for recalling what must be +distressing. But we newspapermen often have to do things and ask questions that +are distasteful. I believe it is rumored that your father suffered from lead +poisoning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know what it was—none of us do,” she cried, almost pathetically. +“I had been living at the settlement until lately. When father grew worse, I +came home. He had such strange visions—hallucinations, I suppose you would call +them. In the daytime he would be so very morose and melancholy. Then, too, +there were terrible pains in his stomach, and his eyesight began to fail. Yes, +I believe that Dr. Gunther did say it was lead poisoning. But—they have said so +many things—so many things,” she repeated, plainly distressed at the subject of +her recent bereavement. +</p> + +<p> +“Your brother is not at home?” asked Kennedy, quickly changing the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered, then with a flash as though lifting the veil of a +confidence, added: “You know, neither Warner nor I have lived here much this +year. He has been in New York most of the time and I have been at the +settlement, as I already told you.” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated, as if wondering whether she should say more, then added quickly: +“It has been repeated often enough; there is no reason why I shouldn’t say it +to you. Neither of us exactly approved of father’s marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +She checked herself and glanced about, somewhat with the air of one who has +suddenly considered the possibility of being overheard. +</p> + +<p> +“May I have a glass of water?” asked Kennedy suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly,” she answered, going to the door, apparently eager for an +excuse to find out whether there was some one on the other side of it. +</p> + +<p> +There was not, nor any indication that there had been. +</p> + +<p> +“Evidently she does not have any suspicions of <i>that</i>,” remarked Kennedy +in an undertone, half to himself. +</p> + +<p> +I had no chance to question him, for she returned almost immediately. Instead +of drinking the water, however, he held it carefully up to the light. It was +slightly turbid. +</p> + +<p> +“You drink the water from the tap?” he asked, as he poured some of it into a +sterilized vial which he drew quickly from his vest pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” she replied, for the moment nonplussed at his strange actions. +“Everybody drinks the town water in Stratfield.” +</p> + +<p> +A few more questions, none of which were of importance, and Kennedy and I +excused ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +At the gate, instead of turning toward the town, however, Kennedy went on and +entered the grounds of the Minturn house next door. The lawyer, I had +understood, was a widower and, though he lived in Stratfield only part of the +time, still maintained his house there. +</p> + +<p> +We rang the bell and a middle-aged housekeeper answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I am from the water company,” he began politely. “We are testing the water, +perhaps will supply consumers with filters. Can you let me have a sample?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not demur, but invited us in. As she drew the water, Craig watched her +hands closely. She seemed to have difficulty in holding the glass, and as she +handed it to him, I noticed a peculiar hanging down of the wrist. Kennedy +poured the sample into a second vial, and I noticed that it was turbid, too. +With no mention of the tragedy to her employer, he excused himself, and we +walked slowly back to the road. +</p> + +<p> +Between the two houses Kennedy paused, and for several moments appeared to be +studying them. +</p> + +<p> +We walked slowly back along the road to the town. As we passed the local drug +store, Kennedy turned and sauntered in. +</p> + +<p> +He found it easy enough to get into conversation with the druggist, after +making a small purchase, and in the course of a few minutes we found ourselves +gossiping behind the partition that shut off the arcana of the prescription +counter from the rest of the store. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually Kennedy led the conversation around to the point which he wanted, and +asked, “I wish you’d let me fix up a little sulphureted hydrogen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead,” granted the druggist good-naturedly. “I guess you can do it. You +know as much about drugs as I do. I can stand the smell, if you can.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy smiled and set to work. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly he passed the gas through the samples of water he had taken from the two +houses. As he did so the gas, bubbling through, made a blackish precipitate. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked the druggist curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead sulphide,” replied Kennedy, stroking his chin. “This is an extremely +delicate test. Why, one can get a distinct brownish tinge if lead is present in +even incredibly minute quantities.” +</p> + +<p> +He continued to work over the vials ranged on the table before him. +</p> + +<p> +“The water contains, I should say, from ten to fifteen hundredths of a grain of +lead to the gallon,” he remarked finally. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did it come from?” asked the druggist, unable longer to restrain his +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“I got it up at Pearcy’s,” Kennedy replied frankly, turning to observe whether +the druggist might betray any knowledge of it. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s strange,” he replied in genuine surprise. “Our water in Stratfield is +supplied by a company to a large area, and it has always seemed to me to be of +great organic purity.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the pipes are of lead, are they not?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Y-yes,” answered the druggist, “I think in most places the service pipes are +of lead. But,” he added earnestly as he saw the implication of his admission, +“water has never to my knowledge been found to attack the pipes so as to affect +its quality injuriously.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned his own faucet and drew a glassful. “It is normally quite clear,” he +added, holding the glass up. +</p> + +<p> +It was in fact perfectly clear, and when he passed some of the gas through it +nothing happened at all. +</p> + +<p> +Just then a man lounged into the store. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Doctor,” greeted the druggist. “Here are a couple of fellows that have +been investigating the water up at Pearcy’s. They’ve found lead in it. That +ought to interest you. This is Dr. Gunther,” he introduced, turning to us. +</p> + +<p> +It was an unexpected encounter, one I imagine that Kennedy might have preferred +to take place under other circumstances. But he was equal to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve been sent up here to look into the case for the New York <i>Star</i>,” +Kennedy said quickly. “I intended to come around to see you, but you have saved +me the trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Gunther looked from one of us to the other. “Seems to me the New York +papers ought to have enough to do without sending men all over the country +making news,” he grunted. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” drawled Kennedy quietly, “there seems to be a most remarkable situation +up there at Pearcy’s and Minturn’s, too. As nearly as I can make out several +people there are suffering from unmistakable signs of lead poisoning. There are +the pains in the stomach, the colic, and then on the gums is that +characteristic line of plumbic sulphide, the distinctive mark produced by lead. +There is the wrist-drop, the eyesight affected, the partial paralysis, the +hallucinations and a condition in old Pearcy’s case almost bordering on +insanity—to enumerate the symptoms that seem to be present in varying degrees +in various persons in the two houses.” +</p> + +<p> +Gunther looked at Kennedy, as if in doubt just how to take him. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what the coroner says, too—lead poisoning,” put in the druggist, +himself as keen as anyone else for a piece of local news, and evidently not +averse to stimulating talk from Dr. Gunther, who had been Pearcy’s physician. +</p> + +<p> +“That all seems to be true enough,” replied Gunther at length guardedly. “I +recognized that some time ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you think it affects each so differently?” asked the druggist. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Gunther settled himself easily back in a chair to speak as one having +authority. “Well,” he began slowly, “Miss Pearcy, of course, hasn’t been living +there much until lately. As for the others, perhaps this gentleman here from +the <i>Star</i> knows that lead, once absorbed, may remain latent in the system +and then make itself felt. It is like arsenic, an accumulative poison, slowly +collecting in the body until the limit is reached, or until the body, becoming +weakened from some other cause, gives way to it.” +</p> + +<p> +He shifted his position slowly, and went on, as if defending the course of +action he had taken in the case. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, too, you know, there is an individual as well as family and sex +susceptibility to lead. Women are especially liable to lead poisoning, but then +perhaps in this case Mrs. Pearcy comes of a family that is very resistant. +There are many factors. Personally, I don’t think Pearcy himself was resistant. +Perhaps Minturn was not, either. At any rate, after Pearcy’s death, it was I +who advised Minturn to take the electrolysis cure in New York. I took him down +there,” added Gunther. “Confound it, I wish I had stayed with him. But I always +found Josephson perfectly reliable in hydrotherapy with other patients I sent +to him, and I understood that he had been very successful with cases sent to +him by many physicians in the city.” He paused and I waited anxiously to see +whether Kennedy would make some reference to the discovery of the strychnine +salts. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any idea how the lead poisoning could have been caused?” asked +Kennedy instead. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Gunther shook his head. “It is a puzzle to me,” he answered. “I am sure of +only one thing. It could not be from working in lead, for it is needless to say +that none of them worked.” +</p> + +<p> +“Food?” Craig suggested. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor considered. “I had thought of that. I know that many cases of lead +poisoning have been traced to the presence of the stuff in ordinary foods, +drugs and drinks. I have examined the foods, especially the bread. They don’t +use canned goods. I even went so far as to examine the kitchen ware to see if +there could be anything wrong with the glazing. They don’t drink wines and +beers, into which now and then the stuff seems to get.” +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to have a good grasp of the subject,” flattered Kennedy, as we rose +to go. “I can hardly blame you for neglecting the water, since everyone here +seems to be so sure of the purity of the supply.” +</p> + +<p> +Gunther said nothing. I was not surprised, for, at the very least, no one likes +to have an outsider come in and put his finger directly on the raw spot. What +more there might be to it, I could only conjecture. +</p> + +<p> +We left the druggist’s and Kennedy, glancing at his watch, remarked: “If you +will go down to the station, Walter, and get that package we left there, I +shall be much obliged to you. I want to make just one more stop, at the office +of the water company, and I think I shall just about have time for it. There’s +a pretty good restaurant across the street. Meet me there, and by that time I +shall know whether to carry out a little plan I have outlined or not.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br/> +THE ELECTROLYTIC MURDER</h2> + +<p> +We dined leisurely, which seemed strange to me, for it was not Kennedy’s custom +to let moments fly uselessly when he was on a case. However, I soon found out +why it was. He was waiting for darkness. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the lights began to glow in the little stores on the main street, we +sallied forth, taking the direction of the Pearcy and Minturn houses. +</p> + +<p> +On the way he dropped into the hardware store and purchased a light spade and +one of the small pocket electric flashlights, about which he wrapped a piece of +cardboard in such a way as to make a most effective dark lantern. +</p> + +<p> +We trudged along in silence, occasionally changing from carrying the heavy +package to the light spade. +</p> + +<p> +Both the Pearcy and Minturn houses were in nearly total darkness when we +arrived. They set well back from the road and were plentifully shielded by +shrubbery. Then, too, at night it was not a much frequented neighborhood. We +could easily hear the footsteps of anyone approaching on the walk, and an +occasional automobile gliding past did not worry us in the least. +</p> + +<p> +“I have calculated carefully from an examination of the water company’s map,” +said Craig, “just where the water pipe of the two houses branches off from the +main in the road.” +</p> + +<p> +After a measurement or two from some landmark, we set to work a few feet +inside, under cover of the bushes and the shadows, like two grave diggers. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had been wielding the spade vigorously for a few minutes when it +touched something metallic. There, just beneath the frost line, we came upon +the service pipe. +</p> + +<p> +He widened the hole, and carefully scraped off the damp earth that adhered to +the pipe. Next he found a valve where he shut off the water and cut out a small +piece of the pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope they don’t suspect anything like this in the houses with their water +cut off,” he remarked as he carefully split the piece open lengthwise and +examined it under the light. +</p> + +<p> +On the interior of the pipe could be seen patchy lumps of white which projected +about an eighth of an inch above the internal surface. As the pipe dried in the +warm night air, they could easily be brushed off as a white powder. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it—strychnine?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he replied, regarding it thoughtfully with some satisfaction. “That is +lead carbonate. There can be no doubt that the turbidity of the water was due +to this powder in suspension. A little dissolves in the water, while the scales +and incrustations in fine particles are carried along in the current. As a +matter of fact the amount necessary to make the water poisonous need not be +large.” +</p> + +<p> +He applied a little instrument to the cut ends of the pipe. As I bent over, I +could see the needle on its dial deflected just a bit. +</p> + +<p> +“My voltmeter,” he said, reading it, “shows that there is a current of about +1.8 volts passing through this pipe all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Electrolysis of water pipes!” I exclaimed, thinking of statements I had heard +by engineers. “That’s what they mean by stray or vagabond currents, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +He had seized the lantern and was eagerly following up and down the line of the +water pipe. At last he stopped, with a low exclamation, at a point where an +electric light wire supplying the Minturn cottage crossed overhead. Fastened +inconspicuously to the trunk of a tree which served as a support for the wire +was another wire which led down from it and was buried in the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Craig turned up the soft earth as fast as he could, until he reached the pipe +at this point. There was the buried wire wound several times around it. +</p> + +<p> +As quickly and as neatly as he could he inserted a connection between the +severed ends of the pipe to restore the flow of water to the houses, turned on +the water and covered up the holes he had dug. Then he unwrapped the package +which we had tugged about all day, and in a narrow path between the bushes +which led to the point where the wire had tapped the electric light feed he +placed in a shallow hole in the ground a peculiar apparatus. +</p> + +<p> +As nearly as I could make it out, it consisted of two flat platforms between +which, covered over and projected, was a slip of paper which moved forward, +actuated by clockwork, and pressed on by a sort of stylus. Then he covered it +over lightly with dirt so that, unless anyone had been looking for it, it would +never be noticed. +</p> + +<p> +It was late when we reached the city again, but Kennedy had one more piece of +work and that devolved on me. All the way down on the train he had been writing +and rewriting something. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he said, as the train pulled into the station, “I want that published +in to-morrow’s papers.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked over what he had written. It was one of the most sensational stories I +have ever fathered, beginning, “Latest of the victims of the unknown poisoner +of whole families in Stratfield, Connecticut, is Miss Isabel Pearcy, whose +father, Randall Pearcy, died last week.” +</p> + +<p> +I knew that it was a “plant” of some kind, for so far he had discovered no +evidence that Miss Pearcy had been affected. What his purpose was, I could not +guess, but I got the story printed. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning early Kennedy was quietly at work in the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this treatment of lead poisoning by electrolysis?” I asked, now that +there had come a lull when I might get an intelligible answer. “How does it +work?” +</p> + +<p> +“Brand new, Walter,” replied Kennedy. “It has been discovered that ions will +flow directly through the membranes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ions?” I repeated. “What are ions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Travelers,” he answered, smiling, “so named by Faraday from the Greek verb, +<i>io</i>, to go. They are little positive and negative charges of electricity +of which molecules are composed. You know some believe now that matter is +really composed of electrical energy. I think I can explain it best by a simile +I use with my classes. It is as though you had a ballroom in which the dancers +in couples represent the neutral molecules. There are a certain number of +isolated ladies and gentlemen—dissociated ions—” “Who don’t know these new +dances?” I interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“They all know this dance,” he laughed. “But, to be serious in the simile, +suppose at one end of the room there is a large mirror and at the other a +buffet with cigars and champagne. What happens to the dissociated ions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose you want me to say that the ladies gather about the mirror and +the men about the buffet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. And some of the dancing partners separate and follow the crowd. Well, +that room presents a picture of what happens in an electrolytic solution at the +moment when the electric current is passing through it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” I laughed. “That was quite adequate to my immature understanding.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy continued at work, checking up and arranging his data until the middle +of the afternoon, when he went up to Stratfield. +</p> + +<p> +Having nothing better to do, I wandered out about town in the hope of running +across some one with whom to while away the hours until Kennedy returned. I +found out that, since yesterday, Broadway had woven an entirely new background +for the mystery. Now it was rumored that the lawyer Minturn himself had been on +very intimate terms with Mrs. Pearcy. I did not pay much attention to the +rumor, for I knew that Broadway is constitutionally unable to believe that +anybody is straight. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had commissioned me to keep in touch with Josephson and I finally +managed to get around to the Baths, to find them still closed. +</p> + +<p> +As I was talking with him, a very muddy and dusty car pulled up at the door and +a young man whose face was marred by the red congested blood vessels that are +in some a mark of dissipation burst in on us. +</p> + +<p> +“What—closed up yet—Joe?” he asked. “Haven’t they taken Minturn’s body away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was sent up to Stratfield to-day,” replied the masseur, “but the +coroner seems to want to worry me all he can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too bad. I was up almost all last night, and to-day I have been out in my +car—tired to death. Thought I might get some rest here. Where are you sending +the boys—to the Longacre?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. They’ll take good care of you till I open up again. Hope to see you back +again, then, Mr. Pearcy,” he added, as the young man turned and hurried out to +his car again. “That was that young Pearcy, you know. Nice boy—but living the +life too fast. What’s Kennedy doing—anything?” +</p> + +<p> +I did not like the jaunty bravado of the masseur which now seemed to be +returning, since nothing definite had taken shape. I determined that he should +not pump me, as he evidently was trying to do. I had at least fulfilled +Kennedy’s commission and felt that the sooner I left Josephson the better for +both of us. +</p> + +<p> +I was surprised at dinner to receive a wire from Craig saying that he was +bringing down Dr. Gunther, Mrs. Pearcy and Isabel to New York and asking me to +have Warner Pearcy and Josephson at the laboratory at nine o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +By strategy I managed to persuade Pearcy to come, and as for Josephson, he +could not very well escape, though I saw that as long as nothing more had +happened, he was more interested in “fixing” the police so that he could resume +business than anything else. +</p> + +<p> +As we entered the laboratory that night, Kennedy, who had left his party at a +downtown hotel to freshen up, met us each at the door. Instead of conducting us +in front of his laboratory table, which was the natural way, he led us singly +around through the narrow space back of it. +</p> + +<p> +I recall that as I followed him, I half imagined that the floor gave way just a +bit, and there flashed over me, by a queer association of ideas, the +recollection of having visited an amusement park not long before where merely +stepping on an innocent-looking section of the flooring had resulted in a +tremendous knocking and banging beneath, much to the delight of the lovers of +slap-stick humor. This was serious business, however, and I quickly banished +the frivolous thought from my mind. +</p> + +<p> +“The discovery of poison, and its identification,” began Craig at last when we +had all arrived and were seated about him, “often involves not only the use of +chemistry but also a knowledge of the chemical effect of the poison on the +body, and the gross as well as microscopic changes which it produces in various +tissues and organs—changes, some due to mere contact, others to the actual +chemicophysiological reaction between the poison and the body.” +</p> + +<p> +His hand was resting on the poles of a large battery, as he proceeded: “Every +day the medical detective plays a more and more important part in the detection +of crime, and I might say that, except in the case of crime complicated by a +lunacy plea, his work has earned the respect of the courts and of detectives, +while in the case of insanity the discredit is the fault rather of the law +itself. The ways in which the doctor can be of use in untangling the facts in +many forms of crime have become so numerous that the profession of medical +detective may almost be called a specialty.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy repeated what he had already told me about electrolysis, then placed +between the poles of the battery a large piece of raw beef. +</p> + +<p> +He covered the negative electrode with blotting paper and soaked it in a beaker +near at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“This solution,” he explained, “is composed of potassium iodide. In this other +beaker I have a mixture of ordinary starch.” +</p> + +<p> +He soaked the positive electrode in the starch and then jammed the two against +the soft red meat. Then he applied the current. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments later he withdrew the positive electrode. Both it and the meat +under it were blue! +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” he asked. “The iodine ions have actually passed through +the beef to the positive pole and the paper on the electrode. Here we have +starch iodide.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a startling idea, this of the introduction of a substance by +electrolysis. +</p> + +<p> +“I may say,” he resumed, “that the medical view of electricity is changing, due +in large measure to the genius of the Frenchman, Dr. Leduc. The body, we know, +is composed largely of water, with salts of soda and potash. It is an excellent +electrolyte. Yet most doctors regard the introduction of substances by the +electric current as insignificant or nonexistent. But on the contrary the +introduction of drugs by electrolysis is regular and far from being +insignificant may very easily bring about death. +</p> + +<p> +“That action,” he went on, looking from one of us to another, “may be +therapeutic, as in the cure for lead poisoning by removing the lead, or it may +be toxic—as in the case of actually introducing such a poison as strychnine +into the body by the same forces that will remove the lead.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment, to enforce the point which had already been suggested. I +glanced about hastily. If anyone in his little audience was guilty, no one +betrayed it, for all were following him, fascinated. Yet in the wildly +throbbing brain of some one of them the guilty knowledge must be seared +indelibly. Would the mere accusation be enough to dissociate the truth from, +that brain or would Kennedy have to resort to other means? +</p> + +<p> +“Some one,” he went on, in a low, tense voice, leaning forward, “some one who +knew this effect placed strychnine salts on one of the electrodes of the bath +which Owen Minturn was to use.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not pause. Evidently he was planning to let the force of his exposure be +cumulative, until from its sheer momentum it carried everything before it. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he ordered quickly. “Lend me a hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Together we moved the laboratory table as he directed. +</p> + +<p> +There, in the floor, concealed by the shadow, he had placed the same apparatus +which I had seen him bury in the path between the Pearcy and Minturn estates at +Stratfield. +</p> + +<p> +We scarcely breathed. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” he explained rapidly, “is what is known as a kinograph—the invention of +Professor HeleShaw of London. It enables me to identify a person by his or her +walk. Each of you as you entered this room has passed over this apparatus and +has left a different mark on the paper which registers.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he stopped, as if gathering strength for the final assault. +</p> + +<p> +“Until late this afternoon I had this kinograph secreted at a certain place in +Stratfield. Some one had tampered with the leaden water pipes and the electric +light cable. Fearful that the lead poisoning brought on by electrolysis might +not produce its result in the intended victim, that person took advantage of +the new discoveries in electrolysis to complete that work by introducing the +deadly strychnine during the very process of cure of the lead poisoning.” +</p> + +<p> +He slapped down a copy of a newspaper. “In the news this morning I told just +enough of what I had discovered and colored it in such a way that I was sure I +would arouse apprehension. I did it because I wanted to make the criminal +revisit the real scene of the crime. There was a double motive now—to remove +the evidence and to check the spread of the poisoning.” +</p> + +<p> +He reached over, tore off the paper with a quick, decisive motion, and laid it +beside another strip, a little discolored by moisture, as though the damp earth +had touched it. +</p> + +<p> +“That person, alarmed lest something in the cleverly laid plot, might be +discovered, went to a certain spot to remove the traces of the diabolical work +which were hidden there. My kinograph shows the footsteps, shows as plainly as +if I had been present, the exact person who tried to obliterate the evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +An ashen pallor seemed to spread over the face of Miss Pearcy, as Kennedy shot +out the words. +</p> + +<p> +“That person,” he emphasized, “had planned to put out of the way one who had +brought disgrace on the Pearcy family. It was an act of private justice.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pearcy could stand the strain no longer. She had broken down and was +weeping incoherently. I strained my ears to catch what she was murmuring. It +was Minturn’s name, not Gunther’s, that was on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” cried Kennedy, raising an accusatory finger from the kinograph tracing +and pointing it like the finger of Fate itself, “but the self-appointed avenger +forgot that the leaden water pipe was common to the two houses. Old Mr. Pearcy, +the wronged, died first. Isabel has guessed the family skeleton—has tried hard +to shield you, but, Warner Pearcy, you are the murderer!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br/> +THE EUGENIC BRIDE</h2> + +<p> +Scandal, such as that which Kennedy unearthed in this Pearcy case, was never +much to his liking, yet he seemed destined, about this period of his career, to +have a good deal of it. +</p> + +<p> +We had scarcely finished with the indictment that followed the arrest of young +Pearcy, when we were confronted by a situation which was as unique as it was +intensely modern. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s absolutely no insanity in Eugenia’s family,” I heard a young man +remark to Kennedy, as my key turned in the lock of the laboratory door. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I hesitated about breaking in on a confidential conference, then +reflected that, as they had probably already heard me at the lock, I had better +go in and excuse myself. +</p> + +<p> +As I swung the door open, I saw a young man pacing up and down the laboratory +nervously, too preoccupied even to notice the slight noise I had made. +</p> + +<p> +He paused in his nervous walk and faced Kennedy, his back to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Kennedy,” he said huskily, “I wouldn’t care if there was insanity in her +family—for, my God!—the tragedy of it all now—I love her!” +</p> + +<p> +He turned, following Kennedy’s eyes in my direction, and I saw on his face the +most haggard, haunting look of anxiety that I had ever seen on a young person. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly I recognized from the pictures I had seen in the newspapers young +Quincy Atherton, the last of this famous line of the family, who had attracted +a great deal of attention several months previously by what the newspapers had +called his search through society for a “eugenics bride,” to infuse new blood +into the Atherton stock. +</p> + +<p> +“You need have no fear that Mr. Jameson will be like the other newspaper men,” +reassured Craig, as he introduced us, mindful of the prejudice which the +unpleasant notoriety of Atherton’s marriage had already engendered in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +I recalled that when I had first heard of Atherton’s “eugenic marriage,” I had +instinctively felt a prejudice against the very idea of such cold, calculating, +materialistic, scientific mating, as if one of the last fixed points were +disappearing in the chaos of the social and sex upheaval. +</p> + +<p> +Now, I saw that one great fact of life must always remain. We might ride in +hydroaeroplanes, delve into the very soul by psychanalysis, perhaps even run +our machines by the internal forces of radium—even marry according to Galton or +Mendel. But there would always be love, deep passionate love of the man for the +woman, love which all the discoveries of science might perhaps direct a little +less blindly, but the consuming flame of which not all the coldness of science +could ever quench. No tampering with the roots of human nature could ever +change the roots. +</p> + +<p> +I must say that I rather liked young Atherton. He had a frank, open face, the +most prominent feature of which was his somewhat aristocratic nose. Otherwise +he impressed one as being the victim of heredity in faults, if at all serious, +against which he was struggling heroically. +</p> + +<p> +It was a most pathetic story which he told, a story of how his family had +degenerated from the strong stock of his ancestors until he was the last of the +line. He told of his education, how he had fallen, a rather wild youth bent in +the footsteps of his father who had been a notoriously good clubfellow, under +the influence of a college professor, Dr. Crafts, a classmate of his father’s, +of how the professor had carefully and persistently fostered in him an idea +that had completely changed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Crafts always said it was a case of eugenics against euthenics,” remarked +Atherton, “of birth against environment. He would tell me over and over that +birth gave me the clay, and it wasn’t such bad clay after all, but that +environment would shape the vessel.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Atherton launched into a description of how he had striven to find a girl +who had the strong qualities his family germ plasm seemed to have lost, mainly, +I gathered, resistance to a taint much like manic depressive insanity. And as +he talked, it was borne in on me that, after all, contrary to my first +prejudice, there was nothing very romantic indeed about disregarding the plain +teachings of science on the subject of marriage and one’s children. +</p> + +<p> +In his search for a bride, Dr. Crafts, who had founded a sort of Eugenics +Bureau, had come to advise him. Others may have looked up their brides in +Bradstreet’s, or at least the Social Register. Atherton had gone higher, had +been overjoyed to find that a girl he had met in the West, Eugenia Gilman, +measured up to what his friend told him were the latest teachings of science. +He had been overjoyed because, long before Crafts had told him, he had found +out that he loved her deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” he went on, half choking with emotion, “she is apparently suffering +from just the same sort of depression as I myself might suffer from if the +recessive trait became active.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, for instance?” asked Craig. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for one thing, she has the delusion that my relatives are persecuting +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Persecuting her?” repeated Craig, stifling the remark that that was not in +itself a new thing in this or any other family. “How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, making her feel that, after all, it is Atherton family rather than Gilman +health that counts—little remarks that when our baby is born, they hope it will +resemble Quincy rather than Eugenia, and all that sort of thing, only worse and +more cutting, until the thing has begun to prey on her mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” remarked Kennedy thoughtfully. “But don’t you think this is a case for +a—a doctor, rather than a detective?” +</p> + +<p> +Atherton glanced up quickly. “Kennedy,” he answered slowly, “where millions of +dollars are involved, no one can guess to what lengths the human mind will +go—no one, except you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have suspicions of something worse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Y-yes—but nothing definite. Now, take this case. If I should die childless, +after my wife, the Atherton estate would descend to my nearest relative, +Burroughs Atherton, a cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unless you willed it to—” +</p> + +<p> +“I have already drawn a will,” he interrupted, “and in case I survive Eugenia +and die childless, the money goes to the founding of a larger Eugenics Bureau, +to prevent in the future, as much as possible, tragedies such as this of which +I find myself a part. If the case is reversed, Eugenia will get her third and +the remainder will go to the Bureau or the Foundation, as I call the new +venture. But,” and here young Atherton leaned forward and fixed his large eyes +keenly on us, “Burroughs might break the will. He might show that I was of +unsound mind, or that Eugenia was, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are there no other relatives?” +</p> + +<p> +“Burroughs is the nearest,” he replied, then added frankly, “I have a second +cousin, a young lady named Edith Atherton, with whom both Burroughs and I used +to be very friendly.” +</p> + +<p> +It was evident from the way he spoke that he had thought a great deal about +Edith Atherton, and still thought well of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Your wife thinks it is Burroughs who is persecuting her?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +Atherton shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Does she get along badly with Edith? She knows her I presume?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. The fact is that since the death of her mother, Edith has been +living with us. She is a splendid girl, and all alone in the world now, and I +had hopes that in New York she might meet some one and marry well.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy was looking squarely at Atherton, wondering whether he might ask a +question without seeming impertinent. Atherton caught the look, read it, and +answered quite frankly, “To tell the truth, I suppose I might have married +Edith, before I met Eugenia, if Professor Crafts had not dissuaded me. But it +wouldn’t have been real love—nor wise. You know,” he went on more frankly, now +that the first hesitation was over and he realized that if he were to gain +anything at all by Kennedy’s services, there must be the utmost candor between +them, “you know cousins may marry if the stocks are known to be strong. But if +there is a defect, it is almost sure to be intensified. And so I—I gave up the +idea—never had it, in fact, so strongly as to propose to her. And when I met +Eugenia all the Athertons on the family tree couldn’t have bucked up against +the combination.” +</p> + +<p> +He was deadly in earnest as he arose from the chair into which he had dropped +after I came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s terrible—this haunting fear, this obsession that I have had, that, in +spite of all I have tried to do, some one, somehow, will defeat me. Then comes +the situation, just at a time when Eugenia and I feel that we have won against +Fate, and she in particular needs all the consideration and care in the +world—and—and I am defeated.” +</p> + +<p> +Atherton was again pacing the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +“I have my car waiting outside,” he pleaded. “I wish you would go with me to +see Eugenia—now.” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible to resist him. Kennedy rose and I followed, not without a +trace of misgiving. +</p> + +<p> +The Atherton mansion was one of the old houses of the city, a somber stone +dwelling with a garden about it on a downtown square, on which business was +already encroaching. We were admitted by a servant who seemed to walk over the +polished floors with stealthy step as if there was something sacred about even +the Atherton silence. As we waited in a high-ceilinged drawing-room with +exquisite old tapestries on the walls, I could not help feeling myself the +influence of wealth and birth that seemed to cry out from every object of art +in the house. +</p> + +<p> +On the longer wall of the room, I saw a group of paintings. One, I noted +especially, must have been Atherton’s ancestor, the founder of the line. There +was the same nose in Atherton, for instance, a striking instance of heredity. I +studied the face carefully. There was every element of strength in it, and I +thought instinctively that, whatever might have been the effects of in-breeding +and bad alliances, there must still be some of that strength left in the +present descendant of the house of Atherton. The more I thought about the +house, the portrait, the whole case, the more unable was I to get out of my +head a feeling that though I had not been in such a position before, I had at +least read or heard something of which it vaguely reminded me. +</p> + +<p> +Eugenia Atherton was reclining listlessly in her room in a deep leather easy +chair, when Atherton took us up at last. She did not rise to greet us, but I +noted that she was attired in what Kennedy once called, as we strolled up the +Avenue, “the expensive sloppiness of the present styles.” In her case the +looseness with which her clothes hung was exaggerated by the lack of energy +with which she wore them. +</p> + +<p> +She had been a beautiful girl, I knew. In fact, one could see that she must +have been. Now, however, she showed marks of change. Her eyes were large, and +protruding, not with the fire of passion which is often associated with large +eyes, but dully, set in a puffy face, a trifle florid. Her hands seemed, when +she moved them, to shake with an involuntary tremor, and in spite of the fact +that one almost could feel that her heart and lungs were speeding with energy, +she had lost weight and no longer had the full, rounded figure of health. Her +manner showed severe mental disturbance, indifference, depression, a +distressing deterioration. All her attractive Western breeziness was gone. One +felt the tragedy of it only too keenly. +</p> + +<p> +“I have asked Professor Kennedy, a specialist, to call, my dear,” said Atherton +gently, without mentioning what the specialty was. +</p> + +<p> +“Another one?” she queried languorously. +</p> + +<p> +There was a colorless indifference in the tone which was almost tragic. She +said the words slowly and deliberately, as though even her mind worked that +way. +</p> + +<p> +From the first, I saw that Kennedy had been observing Eugenia Atherton keenly. +And in the role of specialist in nervous diseases he was enabled to do what +otherwise would have been difficult to accomplish. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually, from observing her mental condition of indifference which made +conversation extremely difficult as well as profitless, he began to consider +her physical condition. I knew him well enough to gather from his manner alone +as he went on that what had seemed at the start to be merely a curious case, +because it concerned the Athertons, was looming up in his mind as unusual in +itself, and was interesting him because it baffled him. +</p> + +<p> +Craig had just discovered that her pulse was abnormally high, and that +consequently she had a high temperature, and was sweating profusely. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you mind turning your head, Mrs. Atherton?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She turned slowly, half way, her eyes fixed vacantly on the floor until we +could see the once striking profile. +</p> + +<p> +“No, all the way around, if you please,” added Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +She offered no objection, not the slightest resistance. As she turned her head +as far as she could, Kennedy quickly placed his forefinger and thumb gently on +her throat, the once beautiful throat, now with skin harsh and rough. Softly he +moved his fingers just a fraction of an inch over the so-called “Adam’s apple” +and around it for a little distance. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he said. “Now around to the other side.” +</p> + +<p> +He made no other remark as he repeated the process, but I fancied I could tell +that he had had an instant suspicion of something the moment he touched her +throat. +</p> + +<p> +He rose abstractedly, bowed, and we started to leave the room, uncertain +whether she knew or cared. Quincy had fixed his eyes silently on Craig, as if +imploring him to speak, but I knew how unlikely that was until he had confirmed +his suspicion to the last slightest detail. +</p> + +<p> +We were passing through a dressing room in the suite when we met a tall young +woman, whose face I instantly recognized, not because I had ever seen it +before, but because she had the Atherton nose so prominently developed. +</p> + +<p> +“My cousin, Edith,” introduced Quincy. +</p> + +<p> +We bowed and stood for a moment chatting. There seemed to be no reason why we +should leave the suite, since Mrs. Atherton paid so little attention to us even +when we had been in the same room. Yet a slight movement in her room told me +that in spite of her lethargy she seemed to know that we were there and to +recognize who had joined us. +</p> + +<p> +Edith Atherton was a noticeable woman, a woman of temperament, not beautiful +exactly, but with a stateliness about her, an aloofness. The more I studied her +face, with its thin sensitive lips and commanding, almost imperious eyes, the +more there seemed to be something peculiar about her. She was dressed very +simply in black, but it was the simplicity that costs. One thing was quite +evident—her pride in the family of Atherton. +</p> + +<p> +And as we talked, it seemed to be that she, much more than Eugenia in her +former blooming health, was a part of the somber house. There came over me +again the impression I had received before that I had read or heard something +like this case before. +</p> + +<p> +She did not linger long, but continued her stately way into the room where +Eugenia sat. And at once it flashed over me what my impression, indefinable, +half formed, was. I could not help thinking, as I saw her pass, of the lady +Madeline in “The Fall of the House of Usher.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br/> +THE GERM PLASM</h2> + +<p> +I regarded her with utter astonishment and yet found it impossible to account +for such a feeling. I looked at Atherton, but on his face I could see nothing +but a sort of questioning fear that only increased my illusion, as if he, too, +had only a vague, haunting premonition of something terrible impending. Almost +I began to wonder whether the Atherton house might not crumble under the +fierceness of a sudden whirlwind, while the two women in this case, one +representing the wasted past, the other the blasted future, dragged Atherton +down, as the whole scene dissolved into some ghostly tarn. It was only for a +moment, and then I saw that the more practical Kennedy had been examining some +bottles on the lady’s dresser before which we had paused. +</p> + +<p> +One was a plain bottle of pellets which might have been some homeopathic +remedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever it is that is the matter with Eugenia,” remarked Atherton, “it seems +to have baffled the doctors so far.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing, but I saw that he had clumsily overturned the bottle and +absently set it up again, as though his thoughts were far away. Yet with a +cleverness that would have done credit to a professor of legerdemain he had +managed to extract two or three of the pellets. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, as he moved slowly toward the staircase in the wide hall, “most +baffling.” +</p> + +<p> +Atherton was plainly disappointed. Evidently he had expected Kennedy to arrive +at the truth and set matters right by some sudden piece of wizardry, and it was +with difficulty that he refrained from saying so. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to meet Burroughs Atherton,” he remarked as we stood in the wide +hall on the first floor of the big house. “Is he a frequent visitor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not frequent,” hastened Quincy Atherton, in a tone that showed some +satisfaction in saying it. “However, by a lucky chance he has promised to call +to-night—a mere courtesy, I believe, to Edith, since she has come to town on a +visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” exclaimed Kennedy. “Now, I leave it to you, Atherton, to make some +plausible excuse for our meeting Burroughs here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can do that easily.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be here early,” pursued Kennedy as we left. +</p> + +<p> +Back again in the laboratory to which Atherton insisted on accompanying us in +his car, Kennedy busied himself for a few minutes, crushing up one of the +tablets and trying one or two reactions with some of the powder dissolved, +while I looked on curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Craig,” I remarked contemplatively, after a while, “how about Atherton +himself? Is he really free from the—er—stigmata, I suppose you call them, of +insanity?” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean, may the whole trouble lie with him?” he asked, not looking up from +his work. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—and the effect on her be a sort of reflex, say, perhaps the effect of +having sold herself for money and position. In other words, does she, did she, +ever love him? We don’t know that. Might it not prey on her mind, until with +the kind help of his precious relatives even Nature herself could not stand the +strain—especially in the delicate condition in which she now finds herself?” +</p> + +<p> +I must admit that I felt the utmost sympathy for the poor girl whom we had just +seen such a pitiable wreck. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy closed his eyes tightly until they wrinkled at the corners. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I have found out the immediate cause of her trouble,” he said simply, +ignoring my suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t imagine how they could have failed to guess it, except that they never +would have suspected to look for anything resembling exophthalmic goiter in a +person of her stamina,” he answered, pronouncing the word slowly. “You have +heard of the thyroid gland in the neck?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” I queried, for it was a mere name to me. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a vascular organ lying under the chin with a sort of little isthmus +joining the two parts on either side of the windpipe,” he explained. “Well, +when there is any deterioration of those glands through any cause, all sorts of +complications may arise. The thyroid is one of the so-called ductless glands, +like the adrenals above the kidneys, the pineal gland and the pituitary body. +In normal activity they discharge into the blood substances which are carried +to other organs and are now known to be absolutely essential. +</p> + +<p> +“The substances which they secrete are called ‘hormones’—those chemical +messengers, as it were, by which many of the processes of the body are +regulated. In fact, no field of experimental physiology is richer in interest +than this. It seems that few ordinary drugs approach in their effects on +metabolism the hormones of the thyroid. In excess they produce such diseases as +exophthalmic goiter, and goiter is concerned with the enlargement of the glands +and surrounding tissues beyond anything like natural size. Then, too, a defect +in the glands causes the disease known as myxedema in adults and cretinism in +children. Most of all, the gland seems to tell on the germ plasm of the body, +especially in women.” +</p> + +<p> +I listened in amazement, hardly knowing what to think. Did his discovery +portend something diabolical, or was it purely a defect in nature which Dr. +Crafts of the Eugenics Bureau had overlooked? +</p> + +<p> +“One thing at a time, Walter,” cautioned Kennedy, when I put the question to +him, scarcely expecting an answer yet. +</p> + +<p> +That night in the old Atherton mansion, while we waited for Borroughs to +arrive, Kennedy, whose fertile mind had contrived to kill at least two birds +with one stone, busied himself by cutting in on the regular telephone line and +placing an extension of his own in a closet in the library. To it he attached +an ordinary telephone receiver fastened to an arrangement which was strange to +me. As nearly as I can describe it, between the diaphragm of the regular +receiver and a brownish cylinder, like that of a phonograph, and with a needle +attached, was fitted an air chamber of small size, open to the outer air by a +small hole to prevent compression. +</p> + +<p> +The work was completed expeditiously, but we had plenty of time to wait, for +Borroughs Atherton evidently did not consider that an evening had fairly begun +until nine o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +He arrived at last, however, rather tall, slight of figure, narrow-shouldered, +designed for the latest models of imported fabrics. It was evident merely by +shaking hands with Burroughs that he thought both the Athertons and the +Burroughses just the right combination. He was one of those few men against +whom I conceive an instinctive prejudice, and in this case I felt positive +that, whatever faults the Atherton germ plasm might contain, he had combined +others from the determiners of that of the other ancestors he boasted. I could +not help feeling that Eugenia Atherton was in about as unpleasant an atmosphere +of social miasma as could be imagined. +</p> + +<p> +Burroughs asked politely after Eugenia, but it was evident that the real +deference was paid to Edith Atherton and that they got along very well +together. Burroughs excused himself early, and we followed soon after. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I shall go around to this Eugenics Bureau of Dr. Crafts,” remarked +Kennedy the next day, after a night’s consideration of the case. +</p> + +<p> +The Bureau occupied a floor in a dwelling house uptown which had been remodeled +into an office building. Huge cabinets were stacked up against the walls, and +in them several women were engaged in filing blanks and card records. Another +part of the office consisted of an extensive library on eugenic subjects. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Crafts, in charge of the work, whom we found in a little office in front +partitioned off by ground glass, was an old man with an alert, vigorous mind on +whom the effects of plain living and high thinking showed plainly. He was +looking over some new blanks with a young woman who seemed to be working with +him, directing the force of clerks as well as the “field workers,” who were +gathering the vast mass of information which was being studied. As we +introduced ourselves, he introduced Dr. Maude Schofield. +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard of your eugenic marriage contests,” began Kennedy, “more +especially of what you have done for Mr. Quincy Atherton.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—not exactly a contest in that case, at least,” corrected Dr. Crafts with +an indulgent smile for a layman. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” put in Dr. Schofield, “the Eugenics Bureau isn’t a human stock farm.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” commented Kennedy, who had no such idea, anyhow. He was always lenient +with anyone who had what he often referred to as the “illusion of grandeur.” +</p> + +<p> +“We advise people sometimes regarding the desirability or the undesirability of +marriage,” mollified Dr. Crafts. “This is a sort of clearing house for +scientific race investigation and improvement.” +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate,” persisted Kennedy, “after investigation, I understand, you +advised in favor of his marriage with Miss Gilman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Eugenia Gilman seemed to measure well up to the requirements in such a +match. Her branch of the Gilmans has always been of the vigorous, pioneering +type, as well as intellectual. Her father was one of the foremost thinkers in +the West; in fact had long held ideas on the betterment of the race. You see +that in the choice of a name for his daughter—Eugenia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there were no recessive traits in her family,” asked Kennedy quickly, “of +the same sort that you find in the Athertons?” +</p> + +<p> +“None that we could discover,” answered Dr. Crafts positively. +</p> + +<p> +“No epilepsy, no insanity of any form?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Of course, you understand that almost no one is what might be called +eugenically perfect. Strictly speaking, perhaps not over two or three per cent. +of the population even approximates that standard. But it seemed to me that in +everything essential in this case, weakness latent in Atherton was mating +strength in Eugenia and the same way on her part for an entirely different set +of traits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” considered Kennedy, “there might have been something latent in her +family germ plasm back of the time through which you could trace it?” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Crafts shrugged his shoulders. “There often is, I must admit, something we +can’t discover because it lies too far back in the past.” +</p> + +<p> +“And likely to crop out after skipping generations,” put in Maude Schofield. +</p> + +<p> +She evidently did not take the same liberal view in the practical application +of the matter expressed by her chief. I set it down to the ardor of youth in a +new cause, which often becomes the saner conservatism of maturity. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, you found it much easier than usual to get at the true family +history of the Athertons,” pursued Kennedy. “It is an old family and has been +prominent for generations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally,” assented Dr. Crafts. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Burroughs Atherton on both lines of descent?” asked Kennedy, changing +the subject abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, fairly well,” answered Crafts. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, for example,” went on Craig, “how would you advise him to marry?” +</p> + +<p> +I saw at once that he was taking this subterfuge as a way of securing +information which might otherwise have been withheld if asked for directly. +Maude Schofield also saw it, I fancied, but this time said nothing. “They had a +grandfather who was a manic depressive on the Atherton side,” said Crafts +slowly. “Now, no attempt has ever been made to breed that defect out of the +family. In the case of Burroughs, it is perhaps a little worse, for the other +side of his ancestry is not free from the taint of alcoholism.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Edith Atherton?” +</p> + +<p> +“The same way. They both carry it. I won’t go into the Mendelian law on the +subject. We are clearing up much that is obscure. But as to Burroughs, he +should marry, if at all, some one without that particular taint. I believe that +in a few generations by proper mating most taints might be bred out of +families.” +</p> + +<p> +Maude Schofield evidently did not agree with Dr. Crafts on some point, and, +noticing it, he seemed to be in the position both of explaining his contention +to us and of defending it before his fair assistant. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my opinion, as far as I have gone with the data,” he added, “that there +is hope for many of those whose family history shows certain nervous taints. A +sweeping prohibition of such marriages would be futile, perhaps injurious. It +is necessary that the mating be carefully made, however, to prevent +intensifying the taint. You see, though I am a eugenist I am not an extremist.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, then resumed argumentatively: “Then there are other questions, too, +like that of genius with its close relation to manic depressive insanity. Also, +there is decrease enough in the birth rate, without adding an excuse for it. +No, that a young man like Atherton should take the subject seriously, instead +of spending his time in wild dissipation, like his father, is certainly +creditable, argues in itself that there still must exist some strength in his +stock. +</p> + +<p> +“And, of course,” he continued warmly, “when I say that weakness in a trait—not +in all traits, by any means—should marry strength and that strength may marry +weakness, I don’t mean that all matches should be like that. If we are too +strict we may prohibit practically all marriages. In Atherton’s case, as in +many another, I felt that I should interpret the rule as sanely as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strength should marry strength, and weakness should never marry,” persisted +Maude Schofield. “Nothing short of that will satisfy the true eugenist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Theoretically,” objected Crafts. “But Atherton was going to marry, anyhow. The +only thing for me to do was to lay down a rule which he might follow safely. +Besides, any other rule meant sure disaster.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the only rule with half a chance of being followed and at any rate,” +drawled Kennedy, as the eugenists wrangled, “what difference does it make in +this case? As nearly as I can make out it is Mrs. Atherton herself, not +Atherton, who is ill.” +</p> + +<p> +Maude Schofield had risen to return to supervising a clerk who needed help. She +left us, still unconvinced. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a very clever girl,” remarked Kennedy as she shut the door and he +scanned Dr. Crafts’ face dosely. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” assented the Doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“The Schofields come of good stock?” hazarded Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” assented Dr. Crafts again. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently he did not care to talk about individual cases, and I felt that the +rule was a safe one, to prevent Eugenics from becoming Gossip. Kennedy thanked +him for his courtesy, and we left apparently on the best of terms both with +Crafts and his assistant. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br/> +THE SEX CONTROL</h2> + +<p> +I did not see Kennedy again that day until late in the afternoon, when he came +into the laboratory carrying a small package. +</p> + +<p> +“Theory is one thing, practice is another,” he remarked, as he threw his hat +and coat into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means—in this case?” I prompted. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I have just seen Atherton. Of course I didn’t repeat our conversation of +this morning, and I’m glad I didn’t. He almost makes me think you are right, +Walter. He’s obsessed by the fear of Burroughs. Why, he even told me that +Burroughs had gone so far as to take a leaf out of his book, so to speak, get +in touch with the Eugenics Bureau as if to follow his footsteps, but really to +pump them about Atherton himself. Atherton says it’s all Burroughs’ plan to +break his will and that the fellow has even gone so far as to cultivate the +acquaintance of Maude Schofield, knowing that he will get no sympathy from +Crafts.” +</p> + +<p> +“First it was Edith Atherton, now it is Maude Schofield that he hitches up with +Burroughs,” I commented. “Seems to me that I have heard that one of the first +signs of insanity is belief that everyone about the victim is conspiring +against him. I haven’t any love for any of them—but I must be fair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Kennedy, unwrapping the package, “there <i>is</i> this much to it. +Atherton says Burroughs and Maude Schofield have been seen together more than +once—and not at intellectual gatherings either. Burroughs is a fascinating +fellow to a woman, if he wants to be, and the Schofields are at least the +social equals of the Burroughs. Besides,” he added, “in spite of eugenics, +feminism, and all the rest—sex, like murder, will out. There’s no use having +any false ideas about <i>that</i>. Atherton may see red—but, then, he was quite +excited.” +</p> + +<p> +“Over what?” I asked, perplexed more than ever at the turn of events. +</p> + +<p> +“He called me up in the first place. ‘Can’t you do something?’ he implored. +‘Eugenia is getting worse all the time.’ She is, too. I saw her for a moment, +and she was even more vacant than yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +The thought of the poor girl in the big house somehow brought over me again my +first impression of Poe’s story. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had unwrapped the package which proved to be the instrument he had left +in the closet at Atherton’s. It was, as I had observed, like an ordinary wax +cylinder phonograph record. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” explained Kennedy, “it is nothing more than a successful application +at last of, say, one of those phonographs you have seen in offices for taking +dictation, placed so that the feebler vibrations of the telephone affect it. +Let us see what we have here.” +</p> + +<p> +He had attached the cylinder to an ordinary phonograph, and after a number of +routine calls had been run off, he came to this, in voices which we could only +guess at but not recognize, for no names were used. +</p> + +<p> +“How is she to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much changed—perhaps not so well.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, though. That is natural. It is working well. I think you might +increase the dose, one tablet.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re sure it is all right?” (with anxiety). +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, positively—it has been done in Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so. It must be a boy—and an <i>Atherton</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +That was all. Who was it? The voices were unfamiliar to me, especially when +repeated mechanically. Besides they may have been disguised. At any rate we had +learned something. Some one was trying to control the sex of the expected +Atherton heir. But that was about all. Who it was, we knew no better, +apparently, than before. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not seem to care much, however. Quickly he got Quincy Atherton on +the wire and arranged for Atherton to have Dr. Crafts meet us at the house at +eight o’clock that night, with Maude Schofield. Then he asked that Burroughs +Atherton be there, and of course, Edith and Eugenia. +</p> + +<p> +We arrived almost as the clock was striking, Kennedy carrying the phonograph +record and another blank record, and a boy tugging along the machine itself. +Dr. Crafts was the next to appear, expressing surprise at meeting us, and I +thought a bit annoyed, for he mentioned that it had been with reluctance that +he had had to give up some work he had planned for the evening. Maude +Schofield, who came with him, looked bored. Knowing that she disapproved of the +match with Eugenia, I was not surprised. Burroughs arrived, not as late as I +had expected, but almost insultingly supercilious at finding so many strangers +at what Atherton had told him was to be a family conference, in order to get +him to come. Last of all Edith Atherton descended the staircase, the +personification of dignity, bowing to each with a studied graciousness, as if +distributing largess, but greeting Burroughs with an air that plainly showed +how much thicker was blood than water. Eugenia remained upstairs, lethargic, +almost cataleptic, as Atherton told us when we arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust you are not going to keep us long, Quincy,” yawned Burroughs, looking +ostentatiously at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Only long enough for Professor Kennedy to say a few words about Eugenia,” +replied Atherton nervously, bowing to Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy cleared his throat slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that I have much to say,” began Kennedy, still seated. “I suppose +Mr. Atherton has told you I have been much interested in the peculiar state of +health of Mrs. Atherton?” +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke, and he went on easily: “There is something I might say, however, +about the—er—what I call the chemistry of insanity. Among the present wonders +of science, as you doubtless know, none stirs the imagination so powerfully as +the doctrine that at least some forms of insanity are the result of chemical +changes in the blood. For instance, ill temper, intoxication, many things are +due to chemical changes in the blood acting on the brain. +</p> + +<p> +“Go further back. Take typhoid fever with its delirium, influenza with its +suicide mania. All due to toxins—poisons. Chemistry—chemistry—all of them +chemistry.” +</p> + +<p> +Craig had begun carefully so as to win their attention. He had it as he went +on: “Do we not brew within ourselves poisons which enter the circulation and +pervade the system? A sudden emotion upsets the chemistry of the body. Or +poisonous food. Or a drug. It affects many things. But we could never have had +this chemical theory unless we had had physiological chemistry—and some carry +it so far as to say that the brain secretes thought, just as the liver secretes +bile, that thoughts are the results of molecular changes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are, then, a materialist of the most pronounced type,” asserted Dr. +Crafts. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had been reaching over to a table, toying with the phonograph. As +Crafts spoke he moved a key, and I suspected that it was in order to catch the +words. +</p> + +<p> +“Not entirely,” he said. “No more than some eugenists.” +</p> + +<p> +“In our field,” put in Maude Schofield, “I might express the thought this +way—the sociologist has had his day; now it is the biologist, the eugenist.” +</p> + +<p> +“That expresses it,” commented Kennedy, still tinkering with the record. “Yet +it does not mean that because we have new ideas, they abolish the old. Often +they only explain, amplify, supplement. For instance,” he said, looking up at +Edith Atherton, “take heredity. Our knowledge seems new, but is it? Marriages +have always been dictated by a sort of eugenics. Society is founded on that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” she answered. “The best families have always married into the best +families. These modern notions simply recognize what the best people have +always thought—except that it seems to me,” she added with a sarcastic +flourish, “people of no ancestry are trying to force themselves in among their +betters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very true, Edith,” drawled Burroughs, “but we did not have to be brought here +by Quincy to learn that.” +</p> + +<p> +Quincy Atherton had risen during the discussion and had approached Kennedy. +Craig continued to finger the phonograph abstractedly, as he looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“About this—this insanity theory,” he whispered eagerly. “You think that the +suspicions I had have been justified?” +</p> + +<p> +I had been watching Kennedy’s hand. As soon as Atherton had started to speak, I +saw that Craig, as before, had moved the key, evidently registering what he +said, as he had in the case of the others during the discussion. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, Atherton,” he whispered in reply, “I’m coming to that. Now,” he +resumed aloud, “there is a disease, or a number of diseases, to which my +remarks about insanity a while ago might apply very well. They have been known +for some time to arise from various affections of the thyroid glands in the +neck. These glands, strange to say, if acted on in certain ways can cause +degenerations of mind and body, which are well known, but in spite of much +study are still very little understood. For example, there is a definite +interrelation between them and sex—especially in woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly he sketched what he had already told me of the thyroid and the +hormones. “These hormones,” added Kennedy, “are closely related to many +reactions in the body, such as even the mother’s secretion of milk at the +proper time and then only. That and many other functions are due to the +presence and character of these chemical secretions from the thyroid and other +ductless glands. It is a fascinating study. For we know that anything that will +upset—reduce or increase—the hormones is a matter intimately concerned with +health. Such changes,” he said earnestly, leaning forward, “might be aimed +directly at the very heart of what otherwise would be a true eugenic marriage. +It is even possible that loss of sex itself might be made to follow deep +changes of the thyroid.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped a moment. Even if he had accomplished nothing else he had struck a +note which had caused the Athertons to forget their former superciliousness. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is an oversupply of thyroid hormones,” continued Craig, “that excess +will produce many changes, for instance a condition very much like exophthalmic +goiter. And,” he said, straightening up, “I find that Eugenia Atherton has +within her blood an undue proportion of these thyroid hormones. Now, is it +overfunction of the glands, hyper-secretion—or is it something else?” +</p> + +<p> +No one moved as Kennedy skillfully led his disclosure along step by step. +</p> + +<p> +“That question,” he began again slowly, shifting his position in the chair, +“raises in my mind, at least, a question which has often occurred to me before. +Is it possible for a person, taking advantage of the scientific knowledge we +have gained, to devise and successfully execute a murder without fear of +discovery? In other words, can a person be removed with that technical nicety +of detail which will leave no clue and will be set down as something entirely +natural, though unfortunate?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a terrible idea he was framing, and he dwelt on it so that we might +accept it at its full value. “As one doctor has said,” he added, “although +toxicologists and chemists have not always possessed infallible tests for +practical use, it is at present a pretty certain observation that every poison +leaves its mark. But then on the other hand, students of criminology have said +that a skilled physician or surgeon is about the only person now capable of +carrying out a really scientific murder. +</p> + +<p> +“Which is true? It seems to me, at least in the latter case, that the very +nicety of the handiwork must often serve as a clue in itself. The trained hand +leaves the peculiar mark characteristic of its training. No matter how shrewdly +the deed is planned, the execution of it is daily becoming a more and more +difficult feat, thanks to our increasing knowledge of microbiology and +pathology.” +</p> + +<p> +He had risen, as he finished the sentence, every eye fixed on him, as if he had +been a master hypnotist. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” he said, taking off the cylinder from the phonograph and placing on +one which I knew was that which had lain in the library closet over night, +“perhaps some of the things I have said will explain or be explained by the +record on this cylinder.” +</p> + +<p> +He had started the machine. So magical was the effect on the little audience +that I am tempted to repeat what I had already heard, but had not myself yet +been able to explain: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“How is she to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much changed—perhaps not so well.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, though. That is natural. It is working well. I think you might +increase the dose one tablet.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re sure it is all right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, positively—it has been done in Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so. It must be a boy—and an <i>Atherton</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear.” +</p> + +<p> +No one moved a muscle. If there was anyone in the room guilty of playing on the +feelings and the health of an unfortunate woman, that person must have had +superb control of his own feelings. +</p> + +<p> +“As you know,” resumed Kennedy thoughtfully, “there are and have been many +theories of sex control. One of the latest, but by no means the only one, is +that it can be done by use of the extracts of various glands administered to +the mother. I do not know with what scientific authority it was stated, but I +do know that some one has recently said that adrenalin, derived from the +suprarenal glands, induces boys to develop—cholin, from the bile of the liver, +girls. It makes no difference—in this case. There may have been a show of +science. But it was to cover up a crime. Some one has been administering to +Eugenia Atherton tablets of thyroid extract—ostensibly to aid her in fulfilling +the dearest ambition of her soul—to become the mother of a new line of +Athertons which might bear the same relation to the future of the country as +the great family of the Edwards mothered by Elizabeth Tuttle.” +</p> + +<p> +He was bending over the two phonograph cylinders now, rapidly comparing the new +one which he had made and that which he had just allowed to reel off its +astounding revelation. +</p> + +<p> +“When a voice speaks into a phonograph,” he said, half to himself, “its +modulations received on the diaphragm are written by a needle point upon the +surface of a cylinder or disk in a series of fine waving or zigzag lines of +infinitely varying depth or breadth. Dr. Marage and others have been able to +distinguish vocal sounds by the naked eye on phonograph records. Mr. Edison has +studied them with the microscope in his world-wide search for the perfect +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“In fact, now it is possible to identify voices by the records they make, to +get at the precise meaning of each slightest variation of the lines with +mathematical accuracy. They can no more be falsified than handwriting can be +forged so that modern science cannot detect it or than typewriting can be +concealed and attributed to another machine. The voice is like a finger print, +a portrait parlé—unescapable.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced up, then back again. “This microscope shows me,” he said, “that the +voices on that cylinder you heard are identical with two on this record which I +have just made in this room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he said, motioning to me, “look.” +</p> + +<p> +I glanced into the eyepiece and saw a series of lines and curves, peculiar +waves lapping together and making an appearance in some spots almost like tooth +marks. Although I did not understand the details of the thing, I could readily +see that by study one might learn as much about it as about loops, whorls, and +arches on finger tips. +</p> + +<p> +“The upper and lower lines,” he explained, “with long regular waves, on that +highly magnified section of the record, are formed by the voice with no +overtones. The three lines in the middle, with rhythmic ripples, show the +overtones.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment and faced us. “Many a person,” he resumed, “is a biotype in +whom a full complement of what are called inhibitions never develops. That is +part of your eugenics. Throughout life, and in spite of the best of training, +that person reacts now and then to a certain stimulus directly. A man stands +high; once a year he falls with a lethal quantity of alcohol. A woman, +brilliant, accomplished, slips away and spends a day with a lover as unlike +herself as can be imagined. +</p> + +<p> +“The voice that interests me most on these records,” he went on, emphasizing +the words with one of the cylinders which he still held, “is that of a person +who has been working on the family pride of another. That person has persuaded +the other to administer to Eugenia an extract because ‘it must be a boy and an +Atherton.’ That person is a high-class defective, born with a criminal +instinct, reacting to it in an artful way. Thank God, the love of a man whom +theoretical eugenics condemned, roused us in—” +</p> + +<p> +A cry at the door brought us all to our feet, with hearts thumping as if they +were bursting. +</p> + +<p> +It was Eugenia Atherton, wild-eyed, erect, staring. +</p> + +<p> +I stood aghast at the vision. Was she really to be the Lady Madeline in this +fall of the House of Atherton? +</p> + +<p> +“Edith—I—I missed you. I heard voices. Is—is it true—what this man—says? Is +my—my baby—” +</p> + +<p> +Quincy Atherton leaped forward and caught her as she reeled. Quickly Craig +threw open a window for air, and as he did so leaned far out and blew shrilly +on a police whistle. +</p> + +<p> +The young man looked up from Eugenia, over whom he was bending, scarcely +heeding what else went on about him. Still, there was no trace of anger on his +face, in spite of the great wrong that had been done him. There was room for +only one great emotion—only anxiety for the poor girl who had suffered so +cruelly merely for taking his name. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy saw the unspoken question in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Eugenia is a pure normal, as Dr. Crafts told you,” he said gently. “A few +weeks, perhaps only days, of treatment—the thyroid will revert to its normal +state—and Eugenia Gilman will be the mother of a new house of Atherton which +may eclipse even the proud record of the founder of the old.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who blew the whistle?” demanded a gruff voice at the door, as a tall bluecoat +puffed past the scandalized butler. +</p> + +<p> +“Arrest that woman,” pointed Kennedy. “She is the poisoner. Either as wife of +Burroughs, whom she fascinates and controls as she does Edith, she planned to +break the will of Quincy or, in the other event, to administer the fortune as +head of the Eugenics Foundation after the death of Dr. Crafts, who would have +followed Eugenia and Quincy Atherton.” +</p> + +<p> +I followed the direction of Kennedy’s accusing finger. Maude Schofield’s face +betrayed more than even her tongue could have confessed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br/> +THE BILLIONAIRE BABY</h2> + +<p> +Coming to us directly as a result of the talk that the Atherton case provoked +was another that involved the happiness of a wealthy family to a no less +degree. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you have heard of the ‘billionaire baby,’ Morton Hazleton III?” +asked Kennedy of me one afternoon shortly afterward. +</p> + +<p> +The mere mention of the name conjured up in my mind a picture of the lusty +two-year-old heir of two fortunes, as the feature articles in the <i>Star</i> +had described that little scion of wealth—his luxurious nursery, his +magnificent toys, his own motor car, a trained nurse and a detective on guard +every hour of the day and night, every possible precaution for his health and +safety. +</p> + +<p> +“Gad, what a lucky kid!” I exclaimed involuntarily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know about that,” put in Kennedy. “The fortune may be exaggerated. +His happiness is, I’m sure.” +</p> + +<p> +He had pulled from his pocketbook a card and handed it to me. It read: “Gilbert +Butler, American representative, Lloyd’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lloyd’s?” I queried. “What has Lloyd’s to do with the billion-dollar baby?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much. The child has been insured with them for some fabulous sum against +accident, including kidnaping.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” I prompted, “sensing” a story. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there seem to have been threats of some kind, I understand. Mr. Butler +has called on me once already to-day to retain my services and is going +to—ah—there he is again now.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had answered the door buzzer himself, and Mr. Butler, a tall, +sloping-shouldered Englishman, entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Has anything new developed?” asked Kennedy, introducing me. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say,” replied Butler dubiously. “I rather think we have found +something that may have a bearing on the case. You know Miss Haversham, +Veronica Haversham?” +</p> + +<p> +“The actress and professional beauty? Yes—at least I have seen her. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“We hear that Morton Hazleton knows her, anyhow,” remarked Butler dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you don’t know the gossip?” he cut in. “She is said to be in a sanitarium +near the city. I’ll have to find that out for you. It’s a fast set she has been +traveling with lately, including not only Hazleton, but Dr. Maudsley, the +Hazleton physician, and one or two others, who if they were poorer might be +called desperate characters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Mrs. Hazleton know of—of his reputed intimacy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say that, either. I presume that she is no fool.” +</p> + +<p> +Morton Hazleton, Jr., I knew, belonged to a rather smart group of young men. He +had been mentioned in several near-scandals, but as far as I knew there had +been nothing quite as public and definite as this one. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t that account for her fears?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly,” replied Butler, shaking his head. “You see, Mrs. Hazleton is a +nervous wreck, but it’s about the baby, and caused, she says, by her fears for +its safety. It came to us only in a roundabout way, through a servant in the +house who keeps us in touch. The curious feature is that we can seem to get +nothing definite from her about her fears. They may be groundless.” +</p> + +<p> +Butler shrugged his shoulders and proceeded, “And they may be well-founded. But +we prefer to run no chances in a case of this kind. The child, you know, is +guarded in the house. In his perambulator he is doubly guarded, and when he +goes out for his airing in the automobile, two men, the chauffeur and a +detective, are always there, besides his nurse, and often his mother or +grandmother. Even in the nursery suite they have iron shutters which can be +pulled down and padlocked at night and are constructed so as to give plenty of +fresh air even to a scientific baby. Master Hazleton was the best sort of risk, +we thought. But now—we don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can protect yourselves, though,” suggested Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we have, under the policy, the right to take certain measures to protect +ourselves in addition to the precautions taken by the Hazletons. We have added +our own detective to those already on duty. But we—we don’t know what to guard +against,” he concluded, perplexed. “We’d like to know—that’s all. It’s too big +a risk.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may see Mrs. Hazleton?” mused Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Under the circumstances she can scarcely refuse to see anyone we send. +I’ve arranged already for you to meet her within an hour. Is that all right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hazleton home in winter in the city was uptown, facing the river. The large +grounds adjoining made the Hazletons quite independent of the daily infant +parade which one sees along Riverside Drive. +</p> + +<p> +As we entered the grounds we could almost feel the very atmosphere on guard. We +did not see the little subject of so much concern, but I remembered his much +heralded advent, when his grandparents had settled a cold million on him, just +as a reward for coming into the world. Evidently, Morton, Sr., had hoped that +Morton, Jr., would calm down, now that there was a third generation to +consider. It seemed that he had not. I wondered if that had really been the +occasion of the threats or whatever it was that had caused Mrs. Hazleton’s +fears, and whether Veronica Haversham or any of the fast set around her had had +anything to do with it. +</p> + +<p> +Millicent Hazleton was a very pretty little woman, in whom one saw +instinctively the artistic temperament. She had been an actress, too, when +young Morton Hazleton married her, and at first, at least, they had seemed very +devoted to each other. +</p> + +<p> +We were admitted to see her in her own library, a tastefully furnished room on +the second floor of the house, facing a garden at the side. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Hazleton,” began Butler, smoothing the way for us, “of course you realize +that we are working in your interests. Professor Kennedy, therefore, in a +sense, represents both of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite sure I shall be delighted to help you,” she said with an absent +expression, though not ungraciously. +</p> + +<p> +Butler, having introduced us, courteously withdrew. “I leave this entirely in +your hands,” he said, as he excused himself. “If you want me to do anything +more, call on me.” +</p> + +<p> +I must say that I was much surprised at the way she had received us. Was there +in it, I wondered, an element of fear lest if she refused to talk suspicion +might grow even greater? One could see anxiety plainly enough on her face, as +she waited for Kennedy to begin. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments of general conversation then followed. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what is it you fear?” he asked, after having gradually led around to the +subject. “Have there been any threatening letters?” +</p> + +<p> +“N-no,” she hesitated, “at least nothing—definite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gossip?” he hinted. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” She said it so positively that I fancied it might be taken for a plain +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what is it?” he asked, very deferentially, but firmly. +</p> + +<p> +She had been looking out at the garden. “You couldn’t understand,” she +remarked. “No detective—” she stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“You may be sure, Mrs. Hazleton, that I have not come here unnecessarily to +intrude,” he reassured her. “It is exactly as Mr. Butler put it. We—want to +help you.” +</p> + +<p> +I fancied there seemed to be something compelling about his manner. It was at +once sympathetic and persuasive. Quite evidently he was taking pains to break +down the prejudice in her mind which she had already shown toward the ordinary +detective. +</p> + +<p> +“You would think me crazy,” she remarked slowly. “But it is just a—a dream—just +dreams.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t think she had intended to say anything, for she stopped short and +looked at him quickly as if to make sure whether he could understand. As for +myself, I must say I felt a little skeptical. To my surprise, Kennedy seemed to +take the statement at its face value. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” he remarked, “an anxiety dream? You will pardon me, Mrs. Hazleton, but +before we go further let me tell you frankly that I am much more than an +ordinary detective. If you will permit me, I should rather have you think of me +as a psychologist, a specialist, one who has come to set your mind at rest +rather than to worm things from you by devious methods against which you have +to be on guard. It is just for such an unusual case as yours that Mr. Butler +has called me in. By the way, as our interview may last a few minutes, would +you mind sitting down? I think you’ll find it easier to talk if you can get +your mind perfectly at rest, and for the moment trust to the nurse and the +detectives who are guarding the garden, I am sure, perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +She had been standing by the window during the interview and was quite +evidently growing more and more nervous. With a bow Kennedy placed her at her +ease on a chaise lounge. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he continued, standing near her, but out of sight, “you must try to +remain free from all external influences and impressions. Don’t move. Avoid +every use of a muscle. Don’t let anything distract you. Just concentrate your +attention on your psychic activities. Don’t suppress one idea as unimportant, +irrelevant, or nonsensical. Simply tell me what occurs to you in connection +with the dreams—everything,” emphasized Craig. +</p> + +<p> +I could not help feeling surprised to find that she accepted Kennedy’s +deferential commands, for after all that was what they amounted to. Almost I +felt that she was turning to him for help, that he had broken down some barrier +to her confidence. He seemed to exert a sort of hypnotic influence over her. +</p> + +<p> +“I have had cases before which involved dreams,” he was saying quietly and +reassuringly. “Believe me, I do not share the world’s opinion that dreams are +nothing. Nor yet do I believe in them superstitiously. I can readily understand +how a dream can play a mighty part in shaping the feelings of a high-tensioned +woman. Might I ask exactly what it is you fear in your dreams?” +</p> + +<p> +She sank her head back in the cushions, and for a moment closed her eyes, half +in weariness, half in tacit obedience to him. “Oh, I have such horrible +dreams,” she said at length, “full of anxiety and fear for Morton and little +Morton. I can’t explain it. But they are so horrible.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy said nothing. She was talking freely at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Only last night,” she went on, “I dreamt that Morton was dead. I could see the +funeral, all the preparations, and the procession. It seemed that in the crowd +there was a woman. I could not see her face, but she had fallen down and the +crowd was around her. Then Dr. Maudsley appeared. Then all of a sudden the +dream changed. I thought I was on the sand, at the seashore, or perhaps a lake. +I was with Junior and it seemed as if he were wading in the water, his head +bobbing up and down in the waves. It was like a desert, too—the sand. I turned, +and there was a lion behind me. I did not seem to be afraid of him, although I +was so close that I could almost feel his shaggy mane. Yet I feared that he +might bite Junior. The next I knew I was running with the child in my arms. I +escaped—and—oh, the relief!” +</p> + +<p> +She sank back, half exhausted, half terrified still by the recollection. +</p> + +<p> +“In your dream when Dr. Maudsley appeared,” asked Kennedy, evidently interested +in filling in the gap, “what did he do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do?” she repeated. “In the dream? Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” he asked, shooting a quick glance at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. That part of the dream became indistinct. I’m sure he did nothing, except +shoulder through the crowd. I think he had just entered. Then that part of the +dream seemed to end and the second part began.” +</p> + +<p> +Piece by piece Kennedy went over it, putting it together as if it were a +mosaic. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, the woman. You say her face was hidden?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. “N—no. I saw it. But it was no one I knew.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy did not dwell on the contradiction, but added, “And the crowd?” +</p> + +<p> +“Strangers, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Maudsley is your family physician?” he questioned. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he call—er—yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“He calls every day to supervise the nurse who has Junior in charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could one always be true to oneself in the face of any temptation?” he asked +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bold question. Yet such had been the gradual manner of his leading up +to it that, before she knew it, she had answered quite frankly, “Yes—if one +always thought of home and her child, I cannot see how one could help +controlling herself.” +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to catch her breath, almost as though the words had escaped her +before she knew it. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything besides your dream that alarms you,” he asked, changing the +subject quickly, “any suspicion of—say the servants?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said, watching him now. “But some time ago we caught a burglar +upstairs here. He managed to escape. That has made me nervous. I didn’t think +it was possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything else?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said positively, this time on her guard. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy saw that she had made up her mind to say no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Hazleton,” he said, rising. “I can hardly thank you too much for the +manner in which you have met my questions. It will make it much easier for me +to quiet your fears. And if anything else occurs to you, you may rest assured I +shall violate no confidences in your telling me.” +</p> + +<p> +I could not help the feeling, however, that there was just a little air of +relief on her face as we left. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br/> +THE PSYCHANALYSIS</h2> + +<p> +“H-m,” mused Kennedy as we walked along after leaving the house. “There were +several ‘complexes,’ as they are called, there—the most interesting and +important being the erotic, as usual. Now, take the lion in the dream, with his +mane. That, I suspect, was Dr. Maudsley. If you are acquainted with him, you +will recall his heavy, almost tawny beard.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy seemed to be revolving something in his mind and I did not interrupt. I +had known him too long to feel that even a dream might not have its value with +him. Indeed, several times before he had given me glimpses into the fascinating +possibilities of the new psychology. +</p> + +<p> +“In spite of the work of thousands of years, little progress has been made in +the scientific understanding of dreams,” he remarked a few moments later. +“Freud, of Vienna—you recall the name?—has done most, I think in that +direction.” +</p> + +<p> +I recalled something of the theories of the Freudists, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“It is an unpleasant feature of his philosophy,” he went on, “but Freud finds +the conclusion irresistible that all humanity underneath the shell is sensuous +and sensual in nature. Practically all dreams betray some delight of the senses +and sexual dreams are a large proportion. There is, according to the theory, +always a wish hidden or expressed in a dream. The dream is one of three things, +the open, the disguised or the distorted fulfillment of a wish, sometimes +recognized, sometimes repressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Anxiety dreams are among the most interesting and important Anxiety may +originate in psycho-sexual excitement, the repressed libido, as the Freudists +call it. Neurotic fear has its origin in sexual life and corresponds to a +libido which has been turned away from its object and has not succeeded in +being applied. All so-called day dreams of women are erotic; of men they are +either ambition or love. +</p> + +<p> +“Often dreams, apparently harmless, turn out to be sinister if we take pains to +interpret them. All have the mark of the beast. For example, there was that +unknown woman who had fallen down and was surrounded by a crowd. If a woman +dreams that, it is sexual. It can mean only a fallen woman. That is the +symbolism. The crowd always denotes a secret. +</p> + +<p> +“Take also the dream of death. If there is no sorrow felt, then there is +another cause for it. But if there is sorrow, then the dreamer really desires +death or absence. I expect to have you quarrel with that. But read Freud, and +remember that in childhood death is synonymous with being away. Thus for +example, if a girl dreams that her mother is dead, perhaps it means only that +she wishes her away so that she can enjoy some pleasure that her strict parent, +by her presence, denies. +</p> + +<p> +“Then there was that dream about the baby in the water. That, I think, was a +dream of birth. You see, I asked her practically to repeat the dreams because +there were several gaps. At such points one usually finds first hesitation, +then something that shows one of the main complexes. Perhaps the subject grows +angry at the discovery. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, from the tangle of the dream thought, I find that she fears that her +husband is too intimate with another woman, and that perhaps unconsciously she +has turned to Dr. Maudsley for sympathy. Dr. Maudsley, as I said, is not only +bearded, but somewhat of a social lion. He had called on her the day before. Of +such stuff are all dream lions when there is no fear. But she shows that she +has been guilty of no wrongdoing—she escaped, and felt relieved.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” I put in. “I don’t like these scandals. On the <i>Star</i> +when I have to report them, I do it always under protest. I don’t know what +your psychanalysis is going to show in the end, but I for one have the greatest +sympathy for that poor little woman in the big house alone, surrounded by and +dependent on servants, while her husband is out collecting scandals.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which suggests our next step,” he said, turning the subject. “I hope that +Butler has found out the retreat of Veronica Haversham.” +</p> + +<p> +We discovered Miss Haversham at last at Dr. Klemm’s sanitarium, up in the hills +of Westchester County, a delightful place with a reputation for its rest cures. +Dr. Klemm was an old friend of Kennedy’s, having had some connection with the +medical school at the University. +</p> + +<p> +She had gone up there rather suddenly, it seemed, to recuperate. At least that +was what was given out, though there seemed to be much mystery about her, and +she was taking no treatment as far as was known. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is her physician?” asked Kennedy of Dr. Klemm as we sat in his luxurious +office. +</p> + +<p> +“A Dr. Maudsley of the city.” +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy glanced quickly at me in time to check an exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I could see her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course—if she is willing,” replied Dr. Klemm. +</p> + +<p> +“I will have to have some excuse,” ruminated Kennedy. “Tell her I am a +specialist in nervous troubles from the city, have been visiting one of the +other patients, anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Klemm pulled down a switch on a large oblong oak box on his desk, asked for +Miss Haversham, and waited a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A vocaphone,” replied Kennedy. “This sanitarium is quite up to date, Klemm.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor nodded and smiled. “Yes, Kennedy,” he replied. “Communicating with +every suite of rooms we have the vocaphone. I find it very convenient to have +these microphones, as I suppose you would call them, catching your words +without talking into them directly as you have to do in the telephone and then +at the other end emitting the words without the use of an earpiece, from the +box itself, as if from a megaphone horn. Miss Haversham, this is Dr. Klemm. +There is a Dr. Kennedy here visiting another patient, a specialist from New +York. He’d like very much to see you if you can spare a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him to come up.” The voice seemed to come from the vocaphone as though +she were in the room with us. +</p> + +<p> +Veronica Haversham was indeed wonderful, one of the leading figures in the +night life of New York, a statuesque brunette of striking beauty, though I had +heard of often ungovernable temper. Yet there was something strange about her +face here. It seemed perhaps a little yellow, and I am sure that her nose had a +peculiar look as if she were suffering from an incipient rhinitis. The pupils +of her eyes were as fine as pin heads, her eyebrows were slightly elevated. +Indeed, I felt that she had made no mistake in taking a rest if she would +preserve the beauty which had made her popularity so meteoric. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Haversham,” began Kennedy, “they tell me that you are suffering from +nervousness. Perhaps I can help you. At any rate it will do no harm to try. I +know Dr. Maudsley well, and if he doesn’t approve—well, you may throw the +treatment into the waste basket.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I have no reason to refuse,” she said. “What would you suggest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, first of all, there is a very simple test I’d like to try. You won’t +find that it bothers you in the least—and if I can’t help you, then no harm is +done.” +</p> + +<p> +Again I watched Kennedy as he tactfully went through the preparations for +another kind of psychanalysis, placing Miss Haversham at her ease on a +davenport in such a way that nothing would distract her attention. As she +reclined against the leather pillows in the shadow it was not difficult to +understand the lure by which she held together the little coterie of her +intimates. One beautiful white arm, bare to the elbow, hung carelessly over the +edge of the davenport, displaying a plain gold bracelet. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” began Kennedy, on whom I knew the charms of Miss Haversham produced a +negative effect, although one would never have guessed it from his manner, “as +I read off from this list of words, I wish that you would repeat the first +thing, anything,” he emphasized, “that comes into your head, no matter how +trivial it may seem. Don’t force yourself to think. Let your ideas flow +naturally. It depends altogether on your paying attention to the words and +answering as quickly as you can—remember, the first word that comes into your +mind. It is easy to do. We’ll call it a game,” he reassured. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy handed a copy of the list to me to record the answers. There must have +been some fifty words, apparently senseless, chosen at random, it seemed. They +were: +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td>head</td><td>to dance</td><td>salt</td><td>white</td><td>lie</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>green</td><td>sick</td><td>new</td><td>child</td><td>to fear</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>water</td><td>pride</td><td>to pray</td><td>sad</td><td>stork</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>to sing</td><td>ink</td><td>money</td><td>to marry</td><td>false</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>death</td><td>angry</td><td>foolish</td><td>dear</td><td>anxiety</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>long</td><td>needle</td><td>despise</td><td>to quarrel</td><td>to kiss</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>ship</td><td>voyage</td><td>finger</td><td>old</td><td>bride</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>to pay</td><td>to sin</td><td>expensive</td><td>family</td><td>pure</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>window</td><td>bread</td><td>to fall</td><td>friend</td><td>ridicule</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>cold</td><td>rich</td><td>unjust</td><td>luck</td><td>to sleep</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<p> +“The Jung association word test is part of the Freud psychanalysis, also,” he +whispered to me, “You remember we tried something based on the same idea once +before?” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded. I had heard of the thing in connection with blood-pressure tests, but +not this way. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy called out the first word, “Head,” while in his hand he held a stop +watch which registered to one-fifth of a second. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly she replied, “Ache,” with an involuntary movement of her hand toward +her beautiful forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” exclaimed Kennedy. “You seem to grasp the idea better than most of my +patients.” +</p> + +<p> +I had recorded the answer, he the time, and we found out, I recall afterward, +that the time averaged something like two and two-fifths seconds. +</p> + +<p> +I thought her reply to the second word, “green,” was curious. It came quickly, +“Envy.” +</p> + +<p> +However, I shall not attempt to give all the replies, but merely some of the +most significant. There did not seem to be any hesitation about most of the +words, but whenever Kennedy tried to question her about a word that seemed to +him interesting she made either evasive or hesitating answers, until it became +evident that in the back of her head was some idea which she was repressing and +concealing from us, something that she set off with a mental “No Thoroughfare.” +</p> + +<p> +He had finished going through the list, and Kennedy was now studying over the +answers and comparing the time records. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he said at length, running his eye over the words again, “I want to +repeat the performance. Try to remember and duplicate your first replies,” he +said. +</p> + +<p> +Again we went through what at first had seemed to me to be a solemn farce, but +which I began to see was quite important. Sometimes she would repeat the answer +exactly as before. At other times a new word would occur to her. Kennedy was +keen to note all the differences in the two lists. +</p> + +<p> +One which I recall because the incident made an impression on me had to do with +the trio, “Death—life—inevitable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why that?” he asked casually. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘One should let nothing which one can have +escape, even if a little wrong is done; no opportunity should be missed; life +is so short, death inevitable’?” +</p> + +<p> +There were several others which to Kennedy seemed more important, but long +after we had finished I pondered this answer. Was that her philosophy of life? +Undoubtedly she would never have remembered the phrase if it had not been so, +at least in a measure. +</p> + +<p> +She had begun to show signs of weariness, and Kennedy quickly brought the +conversation around to subjects of apparently a general nature, but skillfully +contrived so as to lead the way along lines her answers had indicated. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had risen to go, still chatting. Almost unintentionally he picked up +from a dressing table a bottle of white tablets, without a label, shaking it to +emphasize an entirely, and I believe purposely, irrelevant remark. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” he said, breaking off naturally, “what is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only something Dr. Maudsley had prescribed for me,” she answered quickly. +</p> + +<p> +As he replaced the bottle and went on with the thread of the conversation, I +saw that in shaking the bottle he had abstracted a couple of the tablets before +she realized it. “I can’t tell you just what to do without thinking the case +over,” he concluded, rising to go. “Yours is a peculiar case, Miss Haversham, +baffling. I’ll have to study it over, perhaps ask Dr. Maudsley If I may see you +again. Meanwhile, I am sure what he is doing is the correct thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Inasmuch as she had said nothing about what Dr. Maudsley was doing, I wondered +whether there was not just a trace of suspicion in her glance at him from under +her long dark lashes. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t see that you have done anything,” she remarked pointedly. “But then +doctors are queer—queer.” +</p> + +<p> +That parting shot also had in it, for me, something to ponder over. In fact I +began to wonder if she might not be a great deal more clever than even Kennedy +gave her credit for being, whether she might not have submitted to his tests +for pure love of pulling the wool over his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Downstairs again, Kennedy paused only long enough to speak a few words with his +friend Dr. Klemm. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you have no idea what Dr. Maudsley has prescribed for her?” he asked +carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, as far as I know, except rest and simple food.” +</p> + +<p> +He seemed to hesitate, then he said under his voice, “I suppose you know that +she is a regular dope fiend, seasons her cigarettes with opium, and all that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed as much,” remarked Kennedy, “but how does she get it here?” +</p> + +<p> +“She doesn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” remarked Craig, apparently weighing now the man before him. At length +he seemed to decide to risk something. +</p> + +<p> +“Klemm,” he said, “I wish you would do something for me. I see you have the +vocaphone here. Now if—say Hazleton—should call—will you listen in on that +vocaphone for me?” Dr. Klemm looked squarely at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Kennedy,” he said, “it’s unprofessional, but—-” +</p> + +<p> +“So it is to let her be doped up under guise of a cure.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” he asked, startled. “She’s getting the stuff now?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t say she was getting opium, or from anyone here. All the same, if +you would just keep an ear open—-” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s unprofessional, but—you’d not ask it without a good reason. I’ll try.” +</p> + +<p> +It was very late when we got back to the city and we dined at an uptown +restaurant which we had almost to ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy had placed the little whitish tablets in a small paper packet for safe +keeping. As we waited for our order he drew one from his pocket, and after +looking at it a moment crushed it to a powder in the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked curiously. “Cocaine?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, shaking his head doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +He had tried to dissolve a little of the powder in some water from the glass +before him, but it would not dissolve. +</p> + +<p> +As he continued to look at it his eye fell on the cut-glass vinegar cruet +before us. It was full of the white vinegar. +</p> + +<p> +“Really acetic acid,” he remarked, pouring out a little. +</p> + +<p> +The white powder dissolved. +</p> + +<p> +For several minutes he continued looking at the stuff. +</p> + +<p> +“That, I think,” he remarked finally, “is heroin.” +</p> + +<p> +“More ‘happy dust’?” I replied with added interest now, thinking of our +previous case. “Is the habit so extensive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he replied, “the habit is comparatively new, although in Paris, I +believe, they call the drug fiends, ‘heroinomaniacs.’ It is, as I told you +before, a derivative of morphine. Its scientific name is diacetyl-morphin. It +is New York’s newest peril, one of the most dangerous drugs yet. Thousands are +slaves to it, although its sale is supposedly restricted. It is rotting the +heart out of the Tenderloin. Did you notice Veronica Haversham’s yellowish +whiteness, her down-drawn mouth, elevated eyebrows, and contracted eyes? She +may have taken it up to escape other drugs. Some people have—and have just got +a new habit. It can be taken hypodermically, or in a tablet, or by powdering +the tablet to a white crystalline powder and snuffing up the nose. That’s the +way she takes it. It produces rhinitis of the nasal passages, which I see you +observed, but did not understand. It has a more profound effect than morphine, +and is ten times as powerful as codeine. And one of the worst features is that +so many people start with it, thinking it is as harmless as it has been +advertised. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used from seventy-five to a hundred +one-twelfth grain tablets a day. Some of them do, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Dr. Maudsley,” I asked quickly, “do you think it is through him or in +spite of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I’d like to know. About those words,” he continued, “what did you +make of the list and the answers?” +</p> + +<p> +I had made nothing and said so, rather quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Those,” he explained, “were words selected and arranged to strike almost all +the common complexes in analyzing and diagnosing. You’d think any intelligent +person could give a fluent answer to them, perhaps a misleading answer. But try +it yourself, Walter. You’ll find you can’t. You may start all right, but not +all the words will be reacted to in the same time or with the same smoothness +and ease. Yet, like the expressions of a dream, they often seem senseless. But +they have a meaning as soon as they are ‘psychanalyzed.’ All the mistakes in +answering the second time, for example, have a reason, if we can only get at +it. They are not arbitrary answers, but betray the inmost subconscious +thoughts, those things marked, split off from consciousness and repressed into +the unconscious. Associations, like dreams, never lie. You may try to conceal +the emotions and unconscious actions, but you can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +I listened, fascinated by Kennedy’s explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyone can see that that woman has something on her mind besides the heroin +habit. It may be that she is trying to shake the habit off in order to do it; +it may be that she seeks relief from her thoughts by refuge in the habit; and +it may be that some one has purposely caused her to contract this new habit in +the guise of throwing off an old. The only way by which to find out is to study +the case.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused. He had me keenly on edge, but I knew that he was not yet in a +position to answer his queries positively. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I found,” he went on, “that the religious complexes were extremely few; as +I expected the erotic were many. If you will look over the three lists you will +find something queer about every such word as, ‘child, ‘to marry,’ ‘bride,’ ‘to +lie,’ ‘stork,’ and so on. We’re on the right track. That woman does know +something about that child.” +</p> + +<p> +“My eye catches the words ‘to sin,’ ‘to fall,’ ‘pure,’ and others,” I remarked, +glancing over the list. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, there’s something there, too. I got the hint for the drug from her +hesitation over ‘needle’ and ‘white.’ But the main complex has to do with words +relating to that child and to love. In short, I think we are going to find it +to be the reverse of the rule of the French, that it will be a case of +‘cherchez l’homme.’” +</p> + +<p> +Early the next day Kennedy, after a night of studying over the case, journeyed +up to the sanitarium again. We found Dr. Klemm eager to meet us. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Kennedy, equally eager. +</p> + +<p> +“I overheard some surprising things over the vocaphone,” he hastened. “Hazleton +called. Why, there must have been some wild orgies in that precious set of +theirs, and, would you believe it, many of them seem to have been at what Dr. +Maudsley calls his ‘stable studio,’ a den he has fixed up artistically over his +garage on a side street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t get it all, but I did hear her repeating over and over to Hazleton, +‘Aren’t you all mine? Aren’t you all mine?’ There must be some vague jealousy +lurking in the heart of that ardent woman. I can’t figure it out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to see her again,” remarked Kennedy. “Will you ask her if I may?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br/> +THE ENDS OF JUSTICE</h2> + +<p> +A few minutes later we were in the sitting room of her suite. She received us +rather ungraciously, I thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you feel any better?” asked Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied curtly. “Excuse me for a moment. I wish to see that maid of +mine. Clarisse!” +</p> + +<p> +She had hardly left the room when Kennedy was on his feet. The bottle of white +tablets, nearly empty, was still on the table. I saw him take some very fine +white powder and dust it quickly over the bottle. It seemed to adhere, and from +his pocket he quickly drew a piece of what seemed to be specially prepared +paper, laid it over the bottle where the powder adhered, fitting it over the +curves. He withdrew it quickly, for outside we heard her light step, returning. +I am sure she either saw or suspected that Kennedy had been touching the bottle +of tablets, for there was a look of startled fear on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you do not feel like continuing the tests we abandoned last night?” asked +Kennedy, apparently not noticing her look. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not,” she almost snapped. “You—you are detectives. Mrs. Hazleton has +sent you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, Mrs. Hazleton has not sent us,” insisted Kennedy, never for an instant +showing his surprise at her mention of the name. +</p> + +<p> +“You are. You can tell her, you can tell everybody. I’ll tell—I’ll tell myself. +I won’t wait. That child is mine—mine—not hers. Now—go!” +</p> + +<p> +Veronica Haversham on the stage never towered in a fit of passion as she did +now in real life, as her ungovernable feelings broke forth tempestuously on us. +</p> + +<p> +I was astounded, bewildered at the revelation, the possibilities in those +simple words, “The child is mine.” For a moment I was stunned. Then as the full +meaning dawned on me I wondered in a flood of consciousness whether it was +true. Was it the product of her drug-disordered brain? Had her desperate love +for Hazleton produced a hallucination? +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy, silent, saw that the case demanded quick action. I shall never forget +the breathless ride down from the sanitarium to the Hazleton house on Riverside +Drive. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Hazleton,” he cried, as we hurried in, “you will pardon me for this +unceremonious intrusion, but it is most important. May I trouble you to place +your fingers on this paper—so?” +</p> + +<p> +He held out to her a piece of the prepared paper. She looked at him once, then +saw from his face that he was not to be questioned. Almost tremulously she did +as he said, saying not a word. I wondered whether she knew the story of +Veronica, or whether so far only hints of it had been brought to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he said quickly. “Now, if I may see Morton?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time we had seen the baby about whom the rapidly thickening +events were crowding. He was a perfect specimen of well-cared-for, scientific +infant. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy took the little chubby fingers playfully in his own. He seemed at once +to win the child’s confidence, though he may have violated scientific rules. +One by one he pressed the little fingers on the paper, until little Morton +crowed with delight as one little piggy after another “went to market.” He had +deserted thousands of dollars’ worth of toys just to play with the simple piece +of paper Kennedy had brought with him. As I looked at him, I thought of what +Kennedy had said at the start. Perhaps this innocent child was not to be envied +after all. I could hardly restrain my excitement over the astounding situation +which had suddenly developed. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” announced Kennedy finally, carelessly folding up the paper and +slipping it into his pocket. “You must excuse me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” he explained on the way to the laboratory, “that powder adheres to +fresh finger prints, taking all the gradations. Then the paper with its +paraffine and glycerine coating takes off the powder.” +</p> + +<p> +In the laboratory he buried himself in work, with microscope compasses, +calipers, while I fumed impotently at the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Walter,” he called suddenly, “get Dr. Maudsley on the telephone. Tell him to +come immediately to the laboratory.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Kennedy was busy arranging what he had discovered in logical order +and putting on it the finishing touches. +</p> + +<p> +As Dr. Maudsley entered Kennedy greeted him and began by plunging directly into +the case in answer to his rather discourteous inquiry as to why he had been so +hastily summoned. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Maudsley,” said Craig, “I have asked you to call alone because, while I am +on the verge of discovering the truth in an important case affecting Morton +Hazleton and his wife, I am frankly perplexed as to how to go ahead.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor seemed to shake with excitement as Kennedy proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Maudsley,” Craig added, dropping his voice, “is Morton III the son of +Millicent Hazleton or not? You were the physician in attendance on her at the +birth. Is he?” +</p> + +<p> +Maudsley had been watching Kennedy furtively at first, but as he rapped out the +words I thought the doctor’s eyes would pop out of his head. Perspiration in +great beads collected on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“P—professor K—Kennedy,” he muttered, frantically rubbing his face and lower +jaw as if to compose the agitation he could so ill conceal, “let me explain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes—go on,” urged Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Hazleton’s baby was born—dead. I knew how much she and the rest of the +family had longed for an heir, how much it meant. And I—substituted for the +dead child a newborn baby from the maternity hospital. It—it belonged to +Veronica Haversham—then a poor chorus girl. I did not intend that she should +ever know it. I intended that she should think her baby was dead. But in some +way she found out. Since then she has become a famous beauty, has numbered +among her friends even Hazleton himself. For nearly two years I have tried to +keep her from divulging the secret. From time to time hints of it have leaked +out. I knew that if Hazleton with his infatuation of her were to learn—-” +</p> + +<p> +“And Mrs. Hazleton, has she been told?” interrupted Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been trying to keep it from her as long as I can, but it has been +difficult to keep Veronica from telling it. Hazleton himself was so wild over +her. And she wanted her son as she—-” +</p> + +<p> +“Maudsley,” snapped out Kennedy, slapping down on the table the mass of prints +and charts which he had hurriedly collected and was studying, “you lie! Morton +is Millicent Hazleton’s son. The whole story is blackmail. I knew it when she +told me of her dreams and I suspected first some such devilish scheme as yours. +Now I know it scientifically.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned over the prints. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that study of these prints, Maudsley, will convey nothing to you. I +know that it is usually stated that there are no two sets of finger prints in +the world that are identical or that can be confused. Still, there are certain +similarities of finger prints and other characteristics, and these similarities +have recently been exhaustively studied by Bertilion, who has found that there +are clear relationships sometimes between mother and child in these respects. +If Solomon were alive, doctor, he would not now have to resort to the expedient +to which he did when the two women disputed over the right to the living child. +Modern science is now deciding by exact laboratory methods the same problem as +he solved by his unique knowledge of feminine psychology. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw how this case was tending. Not a moment too soon, I said to myself, ‘The +hand of the child will tell.’ By the very variations in unlike things, such as +finger and palm prints, as tabulated and arranged by Bertillon after study in +thousands of cases, by the very loops, whorls, arches and composites, I have +proved my case. +</p> + +<p> +“The dominancy, not the identity, of heredity through the infinite varieties of +finger markings is sometimes very striking. Unique patterns in a parent have +been repeated with marvelous accuracy in the child. I knew that negative +results might prove nothing in regard to parentage, a caution which it is +important to observe. But I was prepared to meet even that. +</p> + +<p> +“I would have gone on into other studies, such as Tammasia’s, of heredity in +the veining of the back of the hands; I would have measured the hands, compared +the relative proportion of the parts; I would have studied them under the X-ray +as they are being studied to-day; I would have tried the Reichert blood crystal +test which is being perfected now so that it will tell heredity itself. There +is no scientific stone I would have left unturned until I had delved at the +truth of this riddle. Fortunately it was not necessary. Simple finger prints +have told me enough. And best of all, it has been in time to frustrate that +devilish scheme you and Veronica Haversham have been slowly unfolding.” +</p> + +<p> +Maudsley crumpled up, as it were, at Kennedy’s denunciation. He seemed to +shrink toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried Kennedy, with extended forefinger, “you may go—for the present. +Don’t try to run away. You’re watched from this moment on.” +</p> + +<p> +Maudsley had retreated precipitately. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at Kennedy inquiringly. What to do? It was indeed a delicate +situation, requiring the utmost care to handle. If the story had been told to +Hazleton, what might he not have already done? He must be found first of all if +we were to meet the conspiracy of these two. +</p> + +<p> +Kennedy reached quickly for the telephone. “There is one stream of scandal that +can be dammed at its source,” he remarked, calling a number. “Hello. Klemm’s +Sanitarium? I’d like to speak with Miss Haversham. What—gone? Disappeared? +Escaped?” +</p> + +<p> +He hung up the receiver and looked at me blankly. I was speechless. +</p> + +<p> +A thousand ideas flew through our minds at once. Had she perceived the import +of our last visit and was she now on her way to complete her plotted slander of +Millicent Hazleton, though it pulled down on herself in the end the whole +structure? +</p> + +<p> +Hastily Kennedy called Hazleton’s home, Butler, and one after another of +Hazleton’s favorite clubs. It was not until noon that Butler himself found him +and came with him, under protest, to the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it—what have you found?” cried Butler, his lean form a-quiver with +suppressed excitement. +</p> + +<p> +Briefly, one fact after another, sparing Hazleton nothing, Kennedy poured forth +the story, how by hint and innuendo Maudsley had been working on Millicent, +undermining her, little knowing that he had attacked in her a very tower of +strength, how Veronica, infatuated by him, had infatuated him, had led him on +step by step. +</p> + +<p> +Pale and agitated, with nerves unstrung by the life he had been leading, +Hazleton listened. And as Kennedy hammered one fact after another home, he +clenched his fists until the nails dug into his very palms. +</p> + +<p> +“The scoundrels,” he ground out, as Kennedy finished by painting the picture of +the brave little broken-hearted woman fighting off she knew not what, and the +golden-haired, innocent baby stretching out his arms in glee at the very chance +to prove that he was what he was. “The scoundrels—take me to Maudsley now. I +must see Maudsley. Quick!” +</p> + +<p> +As we pulled up before the door of the reconstructed stable-studio, Kennedy +jumped out. The door was unlocked. Up the broad flight of stairs, Hazleton went +two at a time. We followed him closely. +</p> + +<p> +Lying on the divan in the room that had been the scene of so many orgies, +locked in each other’s arms, were two figures—Veronica Haversham and Dr. +Maudsley. +</p> + +<p> +She must have gone there directly after our visit to Dr. Klemm’s, must have +been waiting for him when he returned with his story of the exposure to answer +her fears of us as Mrs. Hazleton’s detectives. In a frenzy of intoxication she +must have flung her arms blindly about him in a last wild embrace. +</p> + +<p> +Hazleton looked, aghast. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned over and took her arm. Before he could frame the name, “Veronica!” he +had recoiled. +</p> + +<p> +The two were cold and rigid. +</p> + +<p> +“An overdose of heroin this time,” muttered Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +My head was in a whirl. +</p> + +<p> +Hazleton stared blankly at the two figures abjectly lying before him, as the +truth burned itself indelibly into his soul. He covered his face with his +hands. And still he saw it all. +</p> + +<p> +Craig said nothing. He was content to let what he had shown work in the man’s +mind. +</p> + +<p> +“For the sake of—that baby—would she—would she forgive?” asked Hazleton, +turning desperately toward Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +Deliberately Kennedy faced him, not as scientist and millionaire, but as man +and man. +</p> + +<p> +“From my psychanalysis,” he said slowly, “I should say that it IS within your +power, in time, to change those dreams.” +</p> + +<p> +Hazleton grasped Kennedy’s hand before he knew it. +</p> + +<p> +“Kennedy—home—quick. This is the first manful impulse I have had for two years. +And, Jameson—you’ll tone down that part of it in the newspapers that +Junior—might read—when he grows up?” +</p> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAR TERROR ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/5073-h/images/cover.jpg b/5073-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb12bf2 --- /dev/null +++ b/5073-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/5073-h/images/img01.jpg b/5073-h/images/img01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21f51f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/5073-h/images/img01.jpg |
