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diff --git a/5672-h/5672-h.htm b/5672-h/5672-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f31990 --- /dev/null +++ b/5672-h/5672-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8604 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Voice on the Wire + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: June 12, 2009 [EBook #5672] +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE VOICE ON THE WIRE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Eustace Hale Ball + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> WHEN THREE IS + A MYSTERY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + FLEETING PROMPTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + INNOCENT BYSTANDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> A + SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER + VI. </a> AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE “MOVIES” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> ENTER A BEAUTIFUL + WOMAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> WHEN + GREEK MEETS GREEK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> IN + THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. + </a> WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A TURN IN THE TRAIL + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE + HAND OF THE VOICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE + SPIDER'S WEB <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> A + PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER + XV. </a> CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE STRANGE AND + SURPRISING WARREN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> IN + WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> ON THE RISING TIDE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> AN EXPEDITION + UNDERGROUND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> A + DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. + </a> A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> + CHAPTER XXII. </a> IN THE DOUBLE TRAP <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> CAPTURED + AND THEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> CONCLUSION + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. WHEN THREE IS A MYSTERY + </h2> + <p> + “Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just step this + way, sir, and down the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey grill-room on + the lower floor of the club house. He felt that every man of the little + groups about the Flemish tables must be saying: “What's he doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back room of a + ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable,” muttered the unhappy visitor. “This + joint is too classy. But that's his game to play—” + </p> + <p> + He reached the sought-for one, however, and exclaimed eagerly: “By Jiminy, + Monty. I'm glad to find you—it would have been my luck after this + day, to get here too late.” + </p> + <p> + He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand wince, as the + other arose to smile a welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's eyes! Sit + down and confide the brand of your particular favorite poison to our + Japanese Dionysius!” + </p> + <p> + The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't tell me you + have the blues—your face isn't built that way!” + </p> + <p> + “Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club—nothing + to do for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and yarns! I'm actually a + nervous wreck because my nerves haven't had any work to do!” + </p> + <p> + “You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days in the + Civil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've some job now. It's + dolled up with all them frills you like: millions, murders and mysteries! + If this don't keep you awake, you'll have nightmares for the next six + months. Do you want it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm tickled to death. Spill it!” + </p> + <p> + “Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since I left + the police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, and I've come to + you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug it for me, won't you—just + as you've always done? If I get the credit, it'll mean a fortune to me in + the advertising alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I handled every case for you in confidence. I'm not a fly-cop, + Captain Cronin. I'm a consulting specialist, and there's no shingle hung + out. Perhaps you had better take it to some one else.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley pushed away his empty glass impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “There, Monty, I didn't mean to offend you. But there's such swells in + this and such a foxey bunch of blacklegs, that I'm as nervous as a rookie + cop on his first arrest. Don't hold a grudge against me.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley lit a cigarette and resumed his good nature: “Go on, Captain. I'm + so stale with dolce far niente, after the Black Pearl affair last month, + that I act like an amateur myself. Make it short, though, for I'm going to + the opera.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain leaned over the table, his face tense with suppressed emotion. + He was a grizzled veteran of the New York police force: a man who sought + his quarry with the ferocity of a bull-dog, when the line of search was + definitely assured. Lacking imagination and the subtler senses of + criminology, Captain Cronin had built up a reputation for success and + honesty in every assignment by bravery, persistence, and as in this case, + the ability to cover his own deductive weakness by employing the brains of + others. + </p> + <p> + Montague Shirley was as antithetical from the veteran detective as a man + could well be. A noted athlete in his university, he possessed a society + rating in New York, at Newport and Tuxedo, and on the Continent which was + the envy of many a gilded youth born to the purple. + </p> + <p> + On leaving college, despite an ample patrimony, he had curiously enough + entered the lists as a newspaper man. From the sporting page he was + graduated to police news, then the city desk, at last closing his career + as the genius who invented the weekly Sunday thriller, in many colors of + illustration and vivacious Gallic style which interpreted into heart + throbs and goose-flesh the real life romances and tragedies of the + preceding six days! He had conquered the paper-and-ink world—then + deep within there stirred the call for participation in the game itself. + </p> + <p> + So, dropping quietly into the apparently indolent routine of club + existence, he had devoted his experience and genius to analytical + criminology—a line of endeavor known only to five men in the world. + </p> + <p> + He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police card, a + fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after year, were the only + instruments of his trade ever in evidence. Shirley took assignments only + from the heads of certain agencies, by personal arrangement as informal as + this from Captain Cronin. His real clients never knew of his + participation, and his prey never understood that he had been the real + head-hunter! + </p> + <p> + His fees—Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his artistry + worthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest fortune to the detective + agency and Shirley's bills were never rendered, but always paid! + </p> + <p> + So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union, the gallant of + a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing engagements, the veteran of a + thousand drolleries and merry jousts in clubdom—unspoiled by birth, + breeding and wealth, untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boiling and the + salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession of confidential, + consulting criminal chaser. + </p> + <p> + Shirley unostentatiously signaled for an encore on the refreshments. + </p> + <p> + “You're nervous to-night, Captain. You've been doing things before you + consulted me—which is against our Rule Number One, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain gulped down his whiskey, and rubbed his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't help it, Monty. It got too busy for me, before I realized + anything unusual in the case. See what I got from a gangster before I + landed here.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his close-cropped head, as Montague Shirley leaned forward to + observe an abrasion at the base of his skull. It was dressed with a + coating of collodion. + </p> + <p> + “Brass knuckled—I see the mark of the rings. Tried for the + pneumogastric nerves, to quiet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever he tried for he nearly got. Kelly's nightstick got his pneumonia + gas jet, or whatever you call it. He's still quiet, in the station house—You + know old man Van Cleft, who owns sky-scrapers down town, don't you?—Well, + he's the center of this flying wedge of excitement. His family are fine + people, I understand. His daughter was to be married next week. Monty, + that wedding'll be postponed, and old Van Cleft won't worry over + dispossess papers for his tenants for the rest of the winter. See?” + </p> + <p> + “Killed?” + </p> + <p> + “Correct. He's done, and I had a hell of a time getting the body home, + before the coroner and the police reporters got on the trail.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley lowered his high-ball glass, with an earnest stare. + </p> + <p> + “What was the idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Robbery, of course. His son had me on the case—'phoned from the + garage where the chauffeur brought the body; after he saw the old man + unconscious. Just half an hour before he had left his office in the same + machine, after taking five thousand dollars in cash from his manager.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's getting to brass tacks. When I gets that C.Q.D. from Van + Cleft, I finds the young fellow inside the ring of rubbernecks, blubbering + over the old man, where he lies on the floor of the taxi—looking + soused.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a notorious old sport about town, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure—and I thinks, it sorter serves him right. But, that's his + funeral, not mine. Van Cleft, junior, says to me: 'There's the girl that + was with him.'” + </p> + <p> + “Where was the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “She was sitting on a stool, near the car, a little blonde chorus chicken, + shaking and twitching, while the chauffeur and the garage boss held her + up. I says, 'What's this?' and Van Cleft tells me all he knows, which + ain't nothing. Them guys in that garage was wise, for it meant a cold five + hundred apiece before I left to keep their lids closed. Van Cleft begs me + to hustle the old man home, so one of my men takes her down to my office, + still a sniffling, and acting like she had the D.T.'s. The young fellow + shook like a leaf, but we takes him over to Central Park East, to the + family mansion,—carrying him up the steps like he was drunk. We gets + him into his own bed, and keeps the sister from touching his clammy hands, + while she orders the family doctor. When he gets there on the jump, I + gives him the wink and leads him to one side. 'Doc,' I says, 'you know how + to write out a death certificate, to hush this up from your end. I've done + the rest.'” + </p> + <p> + Captain Cronin leaned forward, a queer excitement agitating him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that doctor says to me, Monty?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley shook his head. + </p> + <p> + He says; “My God, it's the third!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley's white hand gripped the edge of the table. “The Van Cleft's + doctor is one of the greatest surgeons in the country, Professor MacDonald + of the Medical College. He said that?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. I answers, 'Whadd'y mean the third?' Then he looks me straight in + the eye, and sings back, 'None of your business.'” Cronin shook his head. + “I never seen a man with a squarer look, and yet he has me guessing. I + goes back to the garage, over past Eighth Avenue, you know, where two + johns come up along side o' me. One rubs me with his elbow and the other + applies that brass knuckle,—then they gets pinched. I got dressed up + in a drug store, got the chauffeur's license number, and goes on down to + my office to see this girl. She's hysterical about his family using all + their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says, 'You won't need + their money to get to jail. That old man's dead!' Her eyes was as big as + saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van Cleft was drunk.' I tells her, 'He was + dead in that taxi, with a chorus girl, and a roll of bills gone. What you + got to say?' She staggers forward and clutches my coat, and what do you + think SHE says to me?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his cigarette slowly. + </p> + <p> + “She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a chorus girl, + and a roll of bills gone,'—just like a parrot. Then she springs this + on me: 'My God, it's the third!'” + </p> + <p> + Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance gone. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the grill-room + toward him. “A telephone call for Captain Cronin, sir; the party said + hurry or he would miss something good.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley snapped out, “When has the rule about telephone calls in this club + been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that a member or guest + are here until the name is announced.” + </p> + <p> + He turned toward the puzzled Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know what a risk + you are taking, to connect me with this case like that, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Follow me up to the telephone room.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which stood + the booths for private calls. He called to one of the operators. “Here, + let me at that switchboard.” He pushed the boy aside, and sat down in the + vacated chair. + </p> + <p> + “Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, take the + fourth booth against the wall.” + </p> + <p> + Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the transmitter + of the operator at his ear, holding the line open. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!” + </p> + <p> + A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious in its + merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully one! Ho, ho! + Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “What joke?” + </p> + <p> + “You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't kid me + back. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly good grafts. This + is the third one!” + </p> + <p> + There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle, rang off. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, manager's desk,” cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key. “What call + was that? Where did it come from?” + </p> + <p> + After a little wait, a languid voice answered: “Brooklyn, Main 6969, Party + C.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the number again—I want to speak on the wire.” + </p> + <p> + After another delay, the voice replied “The line has been discontinued.” + </p> + <p> + “I just had it! What is the name of the subscriber. Hurry, this is a + matter of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + “It's against the rules to give any further information. But our record + shows that the house burned down about two weeks ago. No one else has been + given the number. There's no instrument there!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE FLEETING PROMPTER + </h2> + <p> + Monty's puzzled smile was in no wise reciprocated by the Captain, whose + red face evidenced a growing resentment. + </p> + <p> + He began a tirade, but a wink from the club man warned him. Shirley + replaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed his place at the + switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual ability of the wealthy Mr. + Shirley to handle the bewildering maze of telephone attachments. Monty + explained, as he turned to go upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical joke on + my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again, until you send in the + party's name first.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” meekly promised the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at the end + of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first I thought this case + of stupid badger game—” + </p> + <p> + “You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of crooks which + would give you some sport rounding up, and as for money—” + </p> + <p> + “Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What interests me is + that ghostly telephone call from a house that burned down, and the + caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in this case, have no fear of + that.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley led his guest to the coat room. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and then have + a look at the body.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty with his + overcoat. The waiter from the grill-room approached. “Excuse me, sir, but + the gentleman dropped his handkerchief in his chair opposite you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Gordon,” he said, as he faced the servant for an instant. When + he turned again, toward the front hall, the Captain had passed out of view + through the front door. + </p> + <p> + Shirley received a surprise when he reached the pavement on Forty-fourth + Street, for Captain Cronin was not in sight. Two club men descended the + steps of the neighboring house. Others strolled along toward the Avenue, + but not a sign of a vehicle of any description could be seen, nor was + there anything suspicious in view. Cronin had disappeared as effectually + as though he had taken a passing Zeppelin! + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad this affair will not bore me,” murmured the criminologist, as he + evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain theories to explain the + disappearance of his companion. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some sight or + sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's residence. But, realizing + the probability of “shadow” work upon all who came from the door of the + club, after the curious message on the wire, Shirley did not propose to + expose his hand. Walking leisurely to the Avenue, he hailed a passing + hansom. He directed the driver to carry him to an address on Central Park + West. His shrewdness was not wasted, for as he stepped into the vehicle, + he espied a slinking figure crossing the street diagonally before him, to + disappear into the shadow of an adjacent doorway. This was the house of + Reginald Van Der Voor, as Shirley knew. It was closed because its master, + a social acquaintance of the club man's, was at this time touring the + Orient in his steam yacht. No man should have entered that doorway. So, as + the horse started under the flick of the long whip, Shirley peered + unobserved through the glass window at his side. + </p> + <p> + A big machine swung up behind the hansom, at some unseen hail, and the + figure came from the doorway, leaping into the car, as it followed Shirley + up the Avenue, a block or so behind. + </p> + <p> + “It is not always so easy to follow, when the leader knows his chase,” + thought Shirley. “I'm glad I'm only a simple club man.” + </p> + <p> + The automobile was unmistakably trailing him, as the hansom crossed the + Plaza, then sped through the Park drive, to the address he had given his + driver. + </p> + <p> + As Shirley had remembered, this was a large apartment house, in which one + of his bachelor friends lived. He knew the lay of the building well: next + door, with an entrance facing on the side street was another just like it, + and of equal height. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for me, here,” said Shirley. “I'll pay you now, but want to go to an + address down town in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He gave the driver a bill, then entered and told the elevator man to take + him to the ninth floor. + </p> + <p> + “There's nobody in, boss,” began the boy. But Shirley shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “My friend is expecting me for a little card game, that's why you think he + is out. Just take me up.” + </p> + <p> + He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic. + </p> + <p> + As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. “Go on down, + and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough doesn't want + company.” + </p> + <p> + As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to the iron + stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these he hurried, thence + out upon the roof. It was a matter of only four minutes before he had + crossed to the next apartment building, opened the door of the roof-entry, + found the stairs to the ninth floor, and taken this elevator to the + street. + </p> + <p> + He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park West, to + slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited the faithful + hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with the driver, and the big + automobile could be seen on the other side of the street awaiting further + developments. + </p> + <p> + “He has a long vigil there,” laughed Shirley. “Now, for the real address. + I think I lost the hounds for this time.” + </p> + <p> + Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion of the + Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick response from the + surprised son of the dead millionaire. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley—Who sent you?” + he began. + </p> + <p> + Shirley registered complete surprise. “Sent me, my dear Van Cleft? Who + should send me? For what? It just happened that I was walking up the + Avenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a little farewell supper to Hal + Bingley, class of '03, at the club You knew him in College? I thought you + might like to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Step in the library,” requested Van Cleft, weakly. “Sit down, Mr. Shirley—I'm + upset to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big heart went + out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines of horror and grief on + his usually pleasant face. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?” + </p> + <p> + “My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble—I + thought it was the Coroner, or the police—” he bit his tongue as the + last words escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with + an inspiring firmness. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and I + pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caught + Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. When the + Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a witness. It's an + ordeal—I'll tell you everything.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own knowledge. + Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any possible enemy of the + murdered man. + </p> + <p> + “There's not one I know. Dad is popular—he's been too gay, lately, + but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't harm any one. He + inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to crush the working people. + Like me, he's been endeavoring to spend it ever since he was born, but it + comes in too fast from our estates.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison offence to + deceive about murder. But you understand our position: we can't afford to + let it become gossip. I'll pay this girl anything to go to Europe or the + Antipodes!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't do that,” suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. “Let her stay. You + would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can be done without + dragging your name into it. If he has planned this, he has executed other + schemes. She certainly would not remain the machine if she were the guilty + one. Why not employ a good detective?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of the + Holland Agency. He's managed everything so far—I was too rattled + myself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to return as soon as + he visited the garage.” + </p> + <p> + As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteady + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—This is Van Cleft's residence.” + </p> + <p> + Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to understand his + sudden move, as the criminologist caught up the receiver, and placed his + palm for an instant over the mouthpiece. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to say it again—that you didn't understand.” Shirley + removed his hand, and obeyed. Shirley held the receiver to his ear, as the + young man spoke. Then he heard these curious words: “You poor simp, you'd + better get that family doctor of yours to give you some ear medicine, and + stop wasting time with the death certificate. I told you that Cronin was + over in Bellevue Hospital with a fractured skull. Unless you drop this + investigating, you'll get one, too. Ta, ta! Old top!” + </p> + <p> + The receiver was hung up quickly at the other end of the line. + </p> + <p> + Shirley gave a quick call for “Information,” and after several minutes + learned that the call came from a drug store pay-station in Jersey City! + </p> + <p> + The melodious tones were unmistakably those of the speaker who had used + the wire from faraway Brooklyn where the house had been burned down! It + was a human impossibility for any one to have covered the distance between + the two points in this brief time, except in an aeroplane! + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft wondered dumbly at his companion's excitement. Shirley caught up + the telephone again. + </p> + <p> + “Some one says that Cronin is at Bellevue Hospital, injured. I'll find + out.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. Captain Cronin was lying at point of death, the ward nurse + said, in answer to his eager query. At first the ambulance surgeon had + supposed him to be drunk, for a patrolman had pulled him out of a dark + doorway, unconscious. + </p> + <p> + “Where was the doorway? This is his son speaking, so tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute. Oh! Here is the report slip. He was taken from the corner + of Avenue A and East Eleventh Street. You'd better come down right away, + for he is apt to die tonight. He's only been here ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Has any one else telephoned to find out about him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We didn't even know his name until just as you called up, when we + found his papers and some warrants in a pocketbook. How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + But Shirley disconnected curtly, this time. He bowed his head in thought, + and then, with his usual nervous custom, fumbled for a cigarette. Here was + the Captain, whom he had left on Forty-fourth Street, near Fifth Avenue, a + short time before, discovered fully three miles away. + </p> + <p> + And the news telephoned from Jersey City, by the fleeting magic voice on + the wire. Even his iron composure was stirred by this weird complication. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder!” he murmured. He had ample reason to wonder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE INNOCENT BYSTANDER + </h2> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Shirley, your coming here was a Godsend! I don't know what to + do now. The newspapers will get this surely. I depended on Cronin: he must + have been drinking.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley shook his head, as he explained, “I know Cronin's reputation, for + I was a police reporter. He is a sterling man. There's foul work here + which extends beyond your father's case. But we are wasting time. Why + don't you introduce me to your physician? Just tell him about Cronin, and + that you have confided in me completely.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft went upstairs without a word. Unused to any worry, always able + to pay others for the execution of necessary details, this young man was a + victim of the system which had engulfed his unfortunate sire in the + maelstrom of reckless pleasure. + </p> + <p> + By his ingenuous adroitness, it may be seen, Shirley was inveigling + himself into the heart of the affair, in his favorite disguise as that of + the “innocent bystander.” His innate dramatic ability assisted him in + maintaining his friendly and almost impersonal role, with a success which + had in the past kept the secret of his system from even the evildoers + themselves. + </p> + <p> + “A little investigation of the telephone exchanges during the next day or + two will not be wasted time,” he mused. “I'll get Sam Grindle, their + assistant advertising manager to show me the way the wheels go 'round. No + man can ride a Magic Carpet of Bagdad over the skyscrapers in these days + of shattered folklore.” + </p> + <p> + Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor MacDonald. He + was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity of poise, and sharpness + of glance which bespeaks the successful scientist. His face, to-night, was + chalky and the firm, full mouth twitched with nervousness. He greeted + Shirley abstractedly. The criminologist's manner was that of friendly + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case. As an + ex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and friendships may keep the + unpleasant details from the press.” + </p> + <p> + “That is good,” sighed the doctor, with relief. “How soon will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had better use an + outside instrument. I will call up men I know on each paper, as though + this were a 'scoop,' so that knowing me, they will be confident that I + tell them the truth as a favor. Such deceit is excusable under the + circumstances. It may eventually bring the murderer to justice.” + </p> + <p> + Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van Cleft, on + sudden thought, remarking: “Howard your mother and sister may need the + comfort of your presence. I will chat with your friend until the Coroner + comes.” + </p> + <p> + The physician sank into a library chair. The criminologist quietly awaited + his cue. He lit a cigarette and the minutes drifted past with no word + between them. The doctor's gaze lowered to the vellum-bound books on the + carven table, then to the gorgeous pattern of the Kermansha at his feet. + Once more he studied the face of his companion, with the keen, + soul-gripping scrutiny of the skilled physician. As last he arrived at a + definite conclusion. He cleared his throat, and fumbled in his waistcoat + pocket for a cigar. A swiftly struck match in Monty's hand was held up so + promptly to the end of the cigar, that the doctor's lips had not closed + about it. This deftness, simple in itself, did not escape the observation + of the scientist. He smiled for the first time during their interview. + </p> + <p> + “Your reflex nerves are very wide awake for a quiet man. I believe I can + depend upon those nerves, and your quietude. May I ask what occupation you + follow, if any? Most of Howard's friends follow butterflies.” + </p> + <p> + “I am one of them, then. Some opera, more theatricals, much art gallery + touring. A little regular reading in my rooms, and there you are! My great + grandfather was too poor a trader to succeed in pelts, so he invested a + little money in rocky pastures around upper Manhattan: this has kept the + clerks of the family bankers busy ever since. I am an optimistic vagabond, + enjoying life in the observation of the rather ludicrous busyness of other + folk. In short, Doctor, I am a corpulent Hamlet, essentially modern in my + cultivation of a joy in life, debating the eternal question with myself, + but lazily leaving it to others to solve. Therein I am true to my type.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my bluntness,” observed MacDonald, watching him through partially + closed eyes. “You are not telling the truth. You are a busy man, with + definite work, but that is no affair of mine. I recognize in you a + different calibre from that of these rich young idlers in Howard's class. + I am going to take you into my confidence, for you understand the need for + secrecy, and will surely help in every way—noblesse oblige. This man + Cronin, the detective, was rather crude.” + </p> + <p> + “He is honest and dependable,” replied Shirley, loyally. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I wonder why professional detectives are so primitive. They wear + their calling cards and their business shingles on their figures and + faces. Surely the crooks must know them all personally. I read detective + stories, in rest moments, and every one of the sleuths lives in some + well-known apartment, or on a prominent street. Some day we may read of + one who is truly in secret service, but not until after his death notice. + But there, I am talking to quiet my own nerves a bit,—now we will + get to cases.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor dropped his cigar into the bronze tray on the table, leaning + forward with intense earnestness, as he continued. + </p> + <p> + “This, Mr. Shirley, is the third murder of the sort within a week. + Wellington Serral, the wealthy broker, came to a sudden death in a private + dining room last Monday, in the company of a young show girl. He was a + patient of mine, and I signed the death certificate as heart failure, to + save the honorable family name for his two orphaned daughters. + </p> + <p> + “Herbert de Cleyster, the railroad magnate, died similarly in a taxicab on + Thursday. He was also one of my patients. There, too, was concerned + another of these wretched chorus girls. To-night the fatal number of the + triad was consummated in this cycle of crime. To maintain my loyalty to my + patients I have risked my professional reputation. Have I done wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “No! The criminal shall be brought to justice,” replied Shirley in a voice + vibrant with a profound determination which was not lost upon his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Are you powerful enough to bring this about, without disgracing me or + betraying this sordid tragedy to the morbid scandal-rakers of the papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I will devote every waking hour to it. But, like you, my efforts must + remain entirely secret. I vow to find this man before I sleep again!” + </p> + <p> + “You are determined—yet it cannot be one single man. It must be an + organized gang, for all the crimes have been so strangely similar, + occurring to three men who are friends, and entrez nous, notorious for + their peccadilloes. The girls must be in the vicious circle, and ably + assisted. But there is one thing I forgot to tell you, which you forgot to + ask.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is?” + </p> + <p> + “How they died. It was by some curious method of sudden arterial stoppage. + Old as they were, some fiendish trick was employed so skilfully that the + result was actual heart failure. There was no trace of drugs in lungs or + blood. On each man's breast, beneath the sternum bone I found a dull, + barely discernible bruise mark, which I later removed by a simple massage + of the spot!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his own chest—along + the armpits—behind his ears—he seemed to be mentally + enumerating some list of nerve centers. The physician observed him + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I have it, doctor! The sen-si-yao!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The most powerful and secret of all the death-strokes of the Japanese art + of jiu-jitsu fighting. I paid two thousand dollars to learn the course + from a visiting instructor when I was in college. It was worth it for this + one occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley arose to his feet, and approached the other, touching his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Stand up, if you please. Let me ask if this was the location of the + mark?” + </p> + <p> + The physician, interested in this new professional phase, readily obeyed. + One quick movement of Shirley's muscular hand, the thumb oddly twisted and + stiffened, and a sudden jab in the doctor's abdomen made that gentleman + gasp with pain. Shirley's expression was triumphant, but the professor + regarded him with an expression of terror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Ugh!—What-did-you-do-to me?” he murmured thickly, when he was + at last able to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Merely demonstrated the beginning of the death punch which I named. That + pressure if continued for half a minute would have been fatal.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would teach me that,” was the physician's natural request, as + he nodded with a wry face. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my dear sir, for I learned it, according to the Oriental + custom under the most sacred obligations of secrecy. One must advance + through the whole course, by initiatory degrees, before learning the final + mysteries of the samurais. Now, we have a working hypothesis. The girls + could never have accomplished this. One man and one alone must have killed + the three, although doubtless with confederates. Yamashino assured me that + there were only six men in this country who knew it beside myself. We must + find an Orientalist!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley paced the floor, but his meditations were interrupted by the + arrival of the Coroner and his physician. Van Cleft hurried into the room + with them, to present the doctor, who exchanged a formal greeting with the + men he had met twice before that week. + </p> + <p> + “A sad affair, Professor,” observed the Coroner nervously, drinking in + with profound respect the magnificent surroundings which symbolized the + great wealth of which he secretly hoped to gain a tithing. “I trust that, + as usual, in such cases, I may suggest an undertaker?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—talk about that at once, sir?” asked Howard with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + The physician, familiar with the subtleties of coroners, gently placed an + arm about the young man's shoulder. He nodded, understandingly, to the + Coroner, as he turned toward Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “I must be going now,” the latter interposed. “Just a word with you, + Howard, that I may send a message to your mother and sister.” + </p> + <p> + The physician led away the two officials as Shirley continued: “I must go + to see Cronin—deserted there like a run-over mongrel on the street. + Can I leave this house by the rear, so that none shall know of my + assistance in the case, or follow me to the hospital? If you can secure an + old hat and coat, I will leave my own, with my stick, to get them some + other time.” + </p> + <p> + “I will get some from the butler, if you wait just a moment. You can leave + by the rear yard, if you don't mind climbing a high board fence.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft hurried downstairs, in a few minutes, bearing a weather-beaten + overcoat and an English cap, which Shirley drew down over his ears. With + the coat on, he looked very unlike the well-groomed club man who had + entered. Unseen by Van Cleft he shifted an automatic revolver into the + coat pocket from the discarded garment. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Shirley, come this way. Follow the rear area-way, across to the + next yard, where after another climb you find a vacant lot where the + Schuylers are preparing to erect their new city house. Will you attend to + everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything. I'll start sooner than you expect.” + </p> + <p> + Truly he did! For no sooner had he descended the second fence into the + empty lot than a stinging blow sent him at full length on the rocky + ground, where the excavations were already being started. Two men pounced + upon him in a twinkling—only his great strength, acquired through + the football years, saved him from immediate defeat. His head throbbed, + and he was dizzy as he caught the wrist of the nearest assailant with a + quick twist which resulted in a sudden, sickening crunch. The man groaned + in agony, but his companion kicked with heavy-shod feet at the prostrate + man. Shirley's left hand duplicated the vice-like grip upon the ankle of + the standing assailant, and his deftness caused another tendon strain! + Both men toppled to the ground, now, and before they realized it Shirley + had reversed the advantage. His automatic emphasized his superiority of + tactics. He understood their silence, broken only by muted groans: they + feared the police, even as did he, although for different reasons. He + “frisked” the man nearest him upon the ground, and captured deftly the + rascal's weapon: then he sprang up covering the twain. + </p> + <p> + “Get up! Youse guys is poachin' in de wrong district—dis belongs to + de Muggins gang. I'll fix youse guys fer buttin' in. Up, dere!” His hands + went into his coat pockets, but the men knew that they were still pointing + at them, the gunman's “cover” as it is called. They staggered sullenly to + their feet. He beckoned with his head, toward the front of the lot. They + followed the silent instructions, one limping while his mate wrung the + injured wrist in agony. + </p> + <p> + Directly before the lot stood a throbbing, empty automobile. Shirley + decided to take another car—he could not guard them and drive at the + same time. + </p> + <p> + “Down to Fift' Avnoo,” he ordered. “I got two guns—not a woid from + youse!” His erstwhile amiable physiognomy, now gnarled into an + unrecognizable mask of low villainy bespoke his desperate earnestness. The + men obeyed. This was apparently a gangster, of gangsters—their fear + of the dire vengeance of a rival organization of cut-throats instilled an + obedience more humble than any other threats. + </p> + <p> + Toward the Park side they advance, one leaning heavily upon the other. + Shirley, his broad shoulders hunched up; with the collar drawn high about + his neck, the murderous looking cap down over his eyes, followed them + doggedly. + </p> + <p> + A big limousine was speeding down the Avenue from some homing theater + party. Shirley hailed it with an authoritive yell which caused the + chauffeur to put on a quick brake. + </p> + <p> + “Git out dere,—no gun play. Up inter dat car!” he added, as they + approached the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what you drivin' at?” cried the driver, queruously. “Is this a + hold-up?” It was a puzzling moment, but the criminologist's calm bravado + saved the situation: as luck would have it no policemen were in sight, to + spoil the maneuver. + </p> + <p> + “No,” and he assumed a more natural voice and dialect. “I'm a detective. + These men were just house-breaking, and I got them. There's twenty-five + dollars in it for you, if you take us down to the Holland Detective + Agency, in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “He's kiddin' ye, feller,” snapped out one man. + </p> + <p> + “Don't fall fen him, yen boob!” sung out the other. + </p> + <p> + But Shirley's automatic now appeared outside the coat pocket. The + chauffeur realized that here was serious gaming. With his left hand + Shirley jerked out the ever ready police card and fire badge, which seemed + official enough to satisfy the driver. + </p> + <p> + “Quick now, or I'll run you in, too, for refusing to obey an officer. You + men climb into that back seat. Driver, beat it now to Thirty-nine West + Forty Street, if you need that twenty-five dollars. I'll sit with them. I + don't want any interference so I can come back and nab the rest of their + gang.” + </p> + <p> + His authoritative manner convinced this new ally, and he climbed into the + car, facing his prisoners, with the two weapons held down below the level + of the windows. Pedestrians and other motorists little recked what strange + cargo was borne as the car raced down the broad thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + In nine minutes they drew up before the Holland Agency, a darkened, brown + front house of ancient architecture. The chauffeur sprang out to swing + back the door. + </p> + <p> + “Go up the steps, and tell the doorman that Captain Cronin wants two men + to bring down their guns and handcuffs and get two prisoners. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + The street was not empty, even at this hour. Yet the passersby did not + realize the grim drama enacted inside the waiting machine. Hours seemed to + pass before Cronin's men returned with the driver, as much surprised by + the three strange faces within the machine, as he had been. + </p> + <p> + “You take these men upstairs and keep them locked up,” bluntly commanded + the criminologist. “They're nabbed on the new case of the Captain's which + started to-night, I'm going over to Bellevue to see him.” His voice was + still disguised, his features twisted even yet. + </p> + <p> + The men gave him a curious glance, and then obeyed. As they disappeared + behind the heavy wooden door, Shirley stepped into a dark hallway, close + by. He lit a wax match to give him light for the choosing of the right + amount, from the roll of bills which he drew forth. The chauffeur whistled + with surprise at the size of the denominations. The twenty-five were + handed over. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks very much, my friend,” and the face unsnarled itself, into the + amiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable and smooth, which + surprised the man the more. “You took me out of a ticklish situation + tonight. I don't want any mere policemen to spoil my little game. Please + oil up your forgettery with these, and then—forget!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, gov'nor,” retorted the driver, as he put the money into the band of + his leather cap. “I ain't seen so much real change since my boss got stung + on the war. I ain't so certain but what you was the gink robbin' that + house, at that. But that's them guys funeral if you beat 'em to it. + Good-night—much obliged. But I got to slip it to you, gov'nor—you + ain't none of them Central Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are a + detective, you're some fly cop!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY + </h2> + <p> + In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was just + returning to memory of himself and things that had been. Shirley arrived + at his cot-side as he was being propped up more comfortably. The older + man's face broke into game smiles, as the criminologist took the chair + provided by the pretty nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I'll have a little chat with my friend, if you don't think it + will do him any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “He is better now, sir. We feared he was fatally injured when they brought + him in. I'll be outside in the corridor if you need anything.” + </p> + <p> + She left not without an admiring look at the big chap, wondering why he + wore such disreputable superstructure with patent leather pumps and silk + hose showing below the ragged overcoat. Strange sights come to hospitals, + curiosity frequently leading to unprofitable knowledge: so she was + silently discreet. Shirley's garb was not unobserved by the detective + chief. Monty laughed reminiscently at the questioning glance. + </p> + <p> + “These are my working clothes—a fine combination. I nabbed two of + the gang. But what became of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Outside that club door, I wanted to save time for us both. I took the + first taxi in sight. Before I could even call out to you, the door slammed + on me, the shades flopped down, the car started up—the next thing I + knew this here nurse was sticking a spoon in my mouth, a-saying: 'Take + this—it's fine for what ails you!'” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if it could have been the same machine they left at Van Cleft's? + I will tell you how things progressed.” So he did, leaving out only the + confidence of Professor MacDonald. The Captain became feverishly excited, + until Shirley abjured him to beware of a relapse. “You must be calm, for + the next twenty-four hours: there will be much for you to do, even then. + Meanwhile, let me call up your agency; then you give them instructions + over this table telephone to let Howard Van Cleft interview the little + chorus girl, with his friend. I'll be the friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm going to be snowed under in this case, Monty. The finest + job I've had these dozen years. But you're square, and will do all you + can.” + </p> + <p> + “Old friend, I'll do what I can to make Van Cleft and the newspapers sure + that you are the most wonderful sleuth inside or outside the public + library. Here's your office—speak up. Let me lift you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello Pat!” called Cronin, as his superintendent came to the 'phone. “I + am detained at Bellevue, so that I can't be there when Van Cleft comes + down. Let him Third Degree that little Jane from the garage. Keep them two + men apart, too—oh, that's all right, the fellow is a friend of mine + on the 'Frisco police force. He won't butt in.” Silence for a moment, + then: “Oh, shucks, let 'em yowl! They've got more than kidnapping to worry + about for the next twenty-five years.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up the receiver, sinking back on his pillows wan from the strain. + Monty handed him a glass of water, and adjusted the bandages with a hand + as tender as a woman's. He lifted the instrument again. + </p> + <p> + “You are sterling, twenty-two carat and a yard wide, Captain! Now, get to + sleep while I find out who the ring-master is. I've sworn to keep awake + until I do. I think it well to telephone Van Cleft, and arrange for a + better get-a-way for us both.” + </p> + <p> + He was soon talking with the son of the murdered man. “Meet me down at the + Vanderbilt Hotel—ask for Mr. Hepburn's room, and send up the name of + Williams. See you in an hour. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Hanging up the receiver, he turned toward the door, after a friendly pat + on Cronin's shoulder. The bell rang, and the Captain reached for it, to + sink back exhausted upon the bed. Shirley answered, to be greeted by a + pleasant feminine voice. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Captain Cronin?” + </p> + <p> + Instantly the criminologist replied affirmatively, suiting his tones as + best he could to the gruff voice of the detective chief, with a wink at + that worthy. + </p> + <p> + “I just called up, Captain, to ask about you—Oh, you don't recognize + my voice. I'm Miss Wilberforce, private secretary to Mr. Van Cleft. Has + any one been to see you yet? I understand that you are very busy, and have + already missed two other good cases, this one being the THIRD! Well, don't + hurry, Captain. You may get the rest to come—if you live long + enough. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley looked at Cronin, startled. Another mention of the mystic number. + He called for information about the origin of the call. + </p> + <p> + “Lordee, son! Are they at it again?” asked Cronin in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—overdoing it. One thing is clear, that whoever is behind this + telephone trickery is very clever, and very conceited over that + cleverness. It may be a costly vanity. Yes, information?” + </p> + <p> + “The call was from Rector 2190-D. The American Sunday School Organization, + sir—It doesn't answer now; the office must be closed.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley put the instrument down, with a smile on his pursed lips. He waved + a good natured farewell to his friend, as he drew the cap down over his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Look a little happier, Captain. I'll send down some fruit and a special + vintage from our club which has bottled up in it the sunlight of a dozen + years in Southern France. I hope they keep the telephone wires busy—they + may tangle themselves up in their own spider-web!” + </p> + <p> + Leaving the hospital, he hurried to the hotel. One of his secret + idiosyncracies was a custom of “living around” at a number of hotels, + under aliases. Maintaining pleasant suites in each, he kept full supplies + of linen and garments, while effectively blotting out his own identity for + “doubling” work. + </p> + <p> + He was known as “Mr. Hepburn” here, and entering the side door he was + subjected to the curious gaze of only one servant, the operator of the + small elevator. Once in the shelter of his quarters he rummaged through + some scrap-books for data—he found it in a Sunday feature story + published a month before in a semi-theatrical paper. It described with + rollicking sarcasm, a gay “millionaire” party which had been given in + Rector's private dining rooms. Among the ridiculed hosts were Van Cleft, + Wellington Serral and Herbert De Cleyster! Here, in some elusive manner, + ran the skein of truth which if followed would lead to the solution of + mystery. He must carve out of this mass of pregnant clues the essentials + upon which to act, as the sculptor chisels the marble of a huge block to + expose the figure of his inspiration, encased there all the time! + </p> + <p> + “To find out the source of their golden-haired nymphs for this + merry-merry, that is the question! Some stage doorkeeper might be + persuaded to unburden what soul he has left!” + </p> + <p> + He jotted in his memorandum book the names of the other eight wealthy men + who were pilloried by the journalist. The younger men, Shirley felt sure, + were of that peculiarly Manhattanse type of hanger-on—well-groomed, + happy-go-hellward youths who danced, laughed and drank well,—so + essential to the philanderings of these rich old Harlequins and their + gilded Columbines. As he scribbled, the telephone of the room tinkled its + summons. + </p> + <p> + He started toward it: then his invaluable intuition prompted him to walk + into the adjoining room, where another instrument stood on a small table, + handy to the bed. Only two people could possibly know he was there. Van + Cleft could not have arrived, as yet. The other bell jingled impatiently, + but Shirley finally heard the voice of the switch-board girl. + </p> + <p> + “I'm trying to get you on the other wire, sir. There's a call.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't connect me,” he hurriedly ordered, “except to open the switch, so I + may listen. If I hang up without a word, tell the party I will be back in + twenty minutes.” + </p> + <p> + With a hotel telephone girl tact is more important than even the knowledge + of wire-knitting. It was the woman's voice which he had heard at the + hospital. Captain Cronin was anxious to speak to Mr. Williams, who was + calling on Mr. Hepburn! With the biggest jolt of this day of surprises + Shirley disconnected and whistled. Again he laughed—with that grim + chuckle which was so characteristic of his supreme battling mood! They had + found the trail even quicker than he had expected. Fortunate it was that + he had not mentioned his own name in telephoning from the hospital to + Howard. Not a wire was safe from these mysterious eaves-droppers now. He + hurried into a business suit, and left the hotel, to walk over + Thirty-fourth Street to the studio of his friend, Hammond Bell. Here he + was admitted, to find the portrait-painter finishing a solitary + chafing-dish supper. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, Monty! Join me in the encore on this creamed chicken and + mushrooms!” + </p> + <p> + “Too rich for my primitive blood, Hammond. I'm in a hurry to get a favor.” + </p> + <p> + “I've received enough at your hands—say the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Simply this: I want to experiment with sound waves. I remembered that + once in a while some of these wild Bohemian friends of yours warbled + post-impressionist love-songs into your phonograph. It stood the strain, + and so must be a good one. It is too late now to get one in a shop; will + you lend me the whole outfit, with the recording attachment as well, for + to-night and to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “The easiest thing you know. Let's slide it into this grip—you can + carry the horn.” + </p> + <p> + Three minutes later Shirley made his exit, and soon was shaking hands with + Van Cleft in his own room at the hotel. He sketched his idea hurriedly, as + he adjusted the instrument on the dressing-table near the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “When the call comes, be sure to say: 'Get closer, I can't hear you.' + That's the method, and it's so simple it is almost silly.” They were + barely ready when the bell warned them. At Van Cleft's reply, when the + call for “Mr. Williams” Shirley pushed the horn close to the telephone + receiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to give the best advantage, and + demanded that the speaker come closer to the 'phone. + </p> + <p> + “Can you hear me now?” asked the feminine voice. “Do you hear me now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't understand + you.” The voice was petulant and so distinct that even Shirley could hear + it, as he knelt by the side of the phonograph. Again Van Cleft insisted on + his deafness. There was the suggestion of a break in the voice which + brought to Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment of success. At + last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an instant that + now he was the sole bearer of that name. + </p> + <p> + “The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he continues + this gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough alone, and let that + little girl get out of town as soon as possible. The papers will go crazy + over a scandal like this, and some one is apt to grab Van Cleft. That's + all. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up the + receiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted in a new + address: this time in the Bronx! + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in half an + hour. That is what I call some traveling.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the phonograph + record, coating it with the preservative to make the tiny lines permanent. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this phonograph + game?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless I am + badly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares that if you give + a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My new application is that + you let him talk enough he is apt to sing his own swan song, for a + farewell perch on the electric chair at Sing Sing!” + </p> + <p> + Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE + </h2> + <p> + Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van Cleft was + unable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal fear began to + manifest itself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the guilty party—this + miserable girl in the machine. We want to hush it up and let things go at + that.” + </p> + <p> + “We're hushing it, aren't we?” demanded Shirley, as he placed the record + in the grip. “Don't you see the wisdom of knowing who may systematically + blackmail you after secrecy is obtained. This is a matter of the future, + as well as the present.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want to lose my own life—I am young, with life before + me, and I want to let well enough alone, after these threats.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that you have a yellow streak.” His lip curled as he studied + the pallid features of the heir to the Van Cleft millions. Fearless + himself, he could still understand the tremors of this care-free + butterfly: yet he knew he must crush the dangerous thoughts which were + developing. “If you mistrust me, hustle for yourself. You have the + death-certificate, the services will be over in a few days, and then you + will have enough money to live on your father's yacht or terra firma for + the rest of your life, in the China Sea, or India, as far away from + Broadway chorus girls as you want. That might be safe.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed out of the window, toward the twinkling lights far away across + the East River. His sarcasm made Van Cleft wince as though from a whip + lash. The latter mopped his forehead and tried to steady his voice, as he + replied with all humility. + </p> + <p> + “You're a brick, and I don't mean to offend you. Today has been terrible, + you know: this tornado has swept me from my moorings. I don't know where + to turn.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thoughtless,” and Shirley's warm hand grasped the flaccid fingers of + the young man. “Forgive me for letting my interest run away with my + sympathies. I'm thinking of the future, more than mere protection from + newspaper scandal. This crime is so ingenious that I believe it has a more + powerful motive than mere robbery. You are now at the head of a great + house of finance and society. You must guard your mother and your sister, + and those yet to come. A deadly snake is writhing its slimy trail + somewhere: here—there—'round about us! Who knows where it will + strike next? Who knows how far that blow may reach—even unto China, + or wherever you run?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, studying the effect upon Van Cleft, who dropped limply into + a chair, his eyes dark with terror. The psychological ruse had won. + Selfish cowardice, which temporarily threatened to ruin his campaign, now + gave way to the instinct of a fighting defense. + </p> + <p> + “There, Van Cleft, it is ghastly. You have the significance now: we must + scotch the snake. That girl is over at the Holland Agency, and we should + see her at once, to learn what she knows. Cronin has arranged for my + coming with you, so introduce me under my real name. + </p> + <p> + “Wait here fifteen minutes after I leave, so that I may get the phonograph + in readiness, for you will undoubtedly be shadowed, and that may mean + another telephone call. You were not a coward in college—I do not + believe you are one now!” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft straightened up proudly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I will fight them with all I have. But why these phonograph records: + isn't one enough?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want autographs of all the voices. I will go now. Don't hurry in + following me. Do not fear to let any shadowers see you—it will help + us along.” + </p> + <p> + Before many minutes he had been admitted to the corridor of the Holland + Agency by a sharp-nosed individual who regarded him with suspicion. The + operatives were undoubtedly expecting trouble from all quarters, for three + other large men of the “bull” type, heavy-jowled, ponderous men, + surrounded him as he presented his card. + </p> + <p> + “I am the friend of Howard Van Cleft, about whom Captain Cronin telephoned + you from Bellevue. I am to help him interview the girl: may I wait until + he arrives?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're wise to the case? Sure then, come into the reception room on + the right. What's that in your grip?” asked the apparent leader of the + men. + </p> + <p> + “Just an idea of Van Cleft's,” said Shirley, as he followed into the + adjoining compartment. “It's a phonograph. Have you received any phoney + 'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you didn't expect and couldn't + explain? Van Cleft has, and he decided to take records of them on this + machine.” + </p> + <p> + The superintendent nodded. Shirley opened the grip and drew out the + instrument, and made ready on the small table, near which was the desk + telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Let's get this in readiness then, and if you get any calls have them + switched up to this instrument, so that when you talk, you can hold the + receiver handy to the horn.” + </p> + <p> + “Young feller, I think you must know more about this business than you've + a right to. Just keep your hands above the table—I think I'll frisk + you!” + </p> + <p> + “No need,” snapped Shirley with a smile in his eyes, and the automatic + revolver was drawn and covering the detective before he could reach + forward. “But I have no designs on you. You will have to work quicker than + that with some people in this case.” + </p> + <p> + He slid the weapon across the table to the other who snatched it + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “If a call comes and you don't recognize the voice at once, please ask the + party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak louder—listen, there is + the bell now! Get it connected here at once!” + </p> + <p> + The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might miss some + good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity against his professional + prejudices. He bawled down the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk.” He caught up the instrument, as + Shirley dropped to his knees beside him, to swing the horn into place. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he shouted over the wire. “Yes, shure it is—What's + that you say?—I don't get you, cull—You want to speak to the + girl?—What girl?—Talk louder. Hire a hall!—Say, I ain't + no mind reader! Speak up.” + </p> + <p> + Over the instrument came the phrase once more: “Can you hear me now?” + </p> + <p> + It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hear you. What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I want—” + </p> + <p> + An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of the receiver. + The connection was stopped, and the superintendent turned upon him + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who her brother + was—say, who are you, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't you see? + That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, who will tell you I + am all right.” + </p> + <p> + The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious altercation could + arise. He greeted Shirley warmly and introduced him to Pat Cleary. The man + was mollified. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this guy is + the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of me. But, if you + want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His work was a little speedy + on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your eyes on this machine, for we may + get another call on this floor—This way gentlemen. Watch your step, + for the hallway's dark.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. As the + door opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in the finery of the + Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the center of the dingy room, + sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her features wan and + distorted from her paroxysms of fear and grief. Like a frightened animal, + she sprang to her feet as they entered the room, retreating to the wall, + her trembling hands spread as though to brace her from falling. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't know what + was the matter with me. But I didn't kill any one in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “There, sit down, little girl, and don't get frightened. This gentleman + and I have come to learn the truth—not to punish you for something + you didn't do. Start with the beginning and tell all you remember.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley's gentle manner was so unexpected, his voice so inspiring that she + relaxed, sinking to the floor, as Shirley caught her limp girlish form in + his arms. He placed her on the couch again, and she regained her composure + under his calm urging. Little by little she visualized the details of the + gruesome evening and narrated them under the magnetic cross-questions of + the criminologist. + </p> + <p> + She had met the elder Van Cleft in the tea-room of a Broadway hostelry, by + appointment made the evening before at Pinkie Taylor's birthday party. + After several drinks together they took a taxicab to ride uptown to a + little chop house. Did she see any one she knew in the tea-room? Of + course, several of the fellows and girls whom she couldn't remember just + now, buzzed about, for Van Cleft was a liberal entertainer around the + youngsters. She had five varieties of cocktails in succession, and she + became dizzy. In the taxicab she became dizzier and when next she + remembered anything definite she was sitting on the stool in the garage + where she had been arrested. That was all. As she reached this point there + came a knock on the door with a call for Van Cleft. + </p> + <p> + “You Van's son!” she screamed. Then she fainted, while Shirley caught her, + calling an assistant to care for her, as he followed Van Cleft downstairs + to answer the telephone. “You know your cues?” + </p> + <p> + The millionaire nodded, as with trembling fingers he caught up the + instrument and knelt on the bare floor to hold it close to the phonograph, + which Shirley was engineering, with a fresh record in place. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! Hello, there, I say. Hello!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley strained his ears, to hear this time a rough, wheezy voice which + caused the two men to exchange startled glances, as it proceeded: “Is this + you, Howard, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want? I can't hear you. The telephone is buzzing. Louder + please!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley nodded approbation, as the machine ran along merrily. + </p> + <p> + “Now, can you hear me. Ahem! Can you hear me now? Is this Howard Van + Cleft?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, go ahead, but louder still.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, can you hear me? This is your father's dearest friend, Howard,—this + is William Grimsby speaking. I am fearfully distressed and shocked to + learn of his death, my poor boy. And Howard, I am grieved to learn that + there is some little scandal about it. As your father's confidential + adviser, I urge you to hush it up at all cost. I was told at your home + just now by one of the servants that you had gone to this vulgar detective + agency.” + </p> + <p> + Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with his hand + over the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on talking until I return. Get his advice about flowers and + everything else you can think of.” + </p> + <p> + Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and down the + stoop to Fortieth Street. He looked about uncertainly, then espied across + the way a tailor shop, where the light of the late workman still burned. + Monty hurried thither and asked the use of the telephone upon the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay the gas + and the rent.” + </p> + <p> + From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number of William + Grimsby, the banker. He received an answer promptly. The servant, after + learning his name promised to call the master. A gruff voice answered + soon. Mr. Grimsby declared that he had been reading in his library for the + last two hours, undisturbed by any telephone calls. Shirley expressed a + doubt. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you doubt my word, sir. The telephone is in my reception room + where I heard it ring just now, for the first time. What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and death + matter. I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your friends, Wellington + Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met mysterious deaths during the past + week. Mr. Van Cleft died of heart failure to-night. I will be there at + nine. As you value your own life do not leave your residence or even + answer any telephone messages again until I see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be—” Shirley disconnected, before the verb was reached. + He tossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned to the waiting + room where he signaled Van Cleft to end the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Quick now, find out what wire called you up.” The answer was “William + Grimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue.” + </p> + <p> + “You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley,” said Van Cleft. “But how + could he have found out where I was, for none of the servants know about + Captain Cronin, or even my family that I was coming down here. He gave me + some good advice however. I want to pay the hush money and end it all + forever.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others in the + grip. Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of smoke before + answering. + </p> + <p> + “Van, it must be wonderful to be twins.” + </p> + <p> + “This is no night for joking,” petulantly, observed the nervous young man. + “I want the girl silenced—” + </p> + <p> + “She won't open her mouth after I tell her some things. It may entertain + you to know, Van, that while you were getting such good advice from Mr. + Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real Mr. Grimsby on his own + wire: he said I was his first caller in more than an hour. So, I gave him + some good advice, which wouldn't interest you. After this don't believe + what the telephone tells.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was I speaking with?” + </p> + <p> + “The most brilliant criminal it has ever been my pleasure to run across,” + and his eyes snapped with joy, the huntsman instinct rising to the surface + at last, “I will call him the voice until I know his better name. He is + the most scientific crook of the age.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about criminals?” was the incredulous question. + </p> + <p> + “I'll know a hundred times as much as I do now, when I know all about this + one, Van. You'd better have Cleary send an armed guard along with you, and + get home for a good rest. Get a man who can drive a car, and bring back + the empty auto three houses away from your residence: it will bear looking + into! I'm going up to have a revival meeting with that girl now, for I am + convinced that she is not a whit more implicated in the conception or + execution of this crime than you are. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft left the house, with a pitying shake of the head. He was not + quite certain that he had done wisely, after all, in bringing his + eccentric friend into the affair. He little reckoned how much more + peculiarly Montague Shirley was to act for the remainder of the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE “MOVIES” + </h2> + <p> + The cross-examination of Polly Marion resulted in little advantage. She + had known of the sudden departure of two other songbirds, well equipped + with funds for the land of Somewhere Else. Their absence had been the + subject of some quiet jesting among the dragon flies who flitted over the + pond of pleasure. A suggestion, from some unrecalled source, that their + disappearance had been connected with the deaths of the two aged suitors + was revitalized in her memory by the words of the elderly detective. + Familiar with the strange life of this jeweled half-world Shirley's + keenness brought forth nothing to convince him that the girl had been more + culpable than in the following of her class, known to the initiate as the + “gentle art of gold digging.” + </p> + <p> + “Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my honest + advice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in,' when some one is + sent to prison for this. I am in favor of hushing up this affair, and want + to ease it up for you. Are you wise?” + </p> + <p> + Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, and with a + coquettish interest in this handsome interviewer—such girls always + have an eye for future business—he returned to her theatrical + lodging house, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe and makeup box when + she was “trouping” in some spangled chorus. Of recent months she had not + been subjected to the Hurculean rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to the + gratuities of the open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remain out + of the white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wisely felt that + the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, to flutter into + certain gardens where he would fain cull rare blossoms! Pat Cleary + deputized a “shadow” to diarize her exits and entrances. + </p> + <p> + “The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them,” soliloquized Shirley, + as he went down the dark stoop. “Now for a little laboratory work on the + wherefore of the why!” + </p> + <p> + Although long after midnight, he numbered among his acquaintanceship, many + whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His steps led to the apartment + of a certain theatrical manager, whom he found engaged in a lively + tournament of the chips, jousting with two leading men, one playwright, a + composer and a merchant prince. The latter, of course, was winning. The + host, contributing both chips and bottled cheer, was far from optimistic + until the arrival of the club man. + </p> + <p> + “A live one abaft the mizzen!” exclaimed Dick Holloway, “Here's Shirley + sent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my next month's rent.” + </p> + <p> + Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he apologetically + declined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a business purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you to look at + business, except to prevent it running you down like a Fourth Avenue mail + bus.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in the interest of science,” said Shirley, drawing the manager + aside, “an experiment—” + </p> + <p> + “Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!” + </p> + <p> + “But it means money. I am willing to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Monty, money should never come between friends, and so I retract: + with three failures this season, because the public doesn't appreciate + art.” + </p> + <p> + “It's about moving pictures. I know that you have floated a syndicate for + big productions. Do you work night and day?” + </p> + <p> + “An investment? Heaven bless you! Come into my bedroom and we'll arrange + things of course, we work at night. Just this minute they are producing + the 'Bartered Bride' in six reels and eighteen thrills a foot. A + magnificently equipped studio, the public yelling for more how much have + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, Dick. It's merely some special work tonight, what you would + call trick photography. I need a photographer, some lights, a little + space, a microscopic lens and the complete developing during the night. + And, I'll pay cash, as I have done with some suspicious poker losses in + this temple of the muses on bygone evenings. Which, I may urge with gentle + sarcasm is more than I have frequently received at your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Touche!” laughed Holloway. “I'll write a note to the studio manager—he's + there now, and will do what you want. You could have your picture + completed by morning with a little financial coaxing applied in the right + place. Come to the library table. Go on with the game, boys, it will save + me a little.” + </p> + <p> + The potentate of dry goods was drawing in his winnings, as Shirley leaned + over Holloway's shoulder to dictate the missive. Suddenly a revolver shot + rang out from the window, and a bullet crashed into the wall behind + Shirley's head. + </p> + <p> + His hand, idly dropped into his overcoat pocket, intuitively closed around + his automatic revolver. A dark silhouette was outlined against the gray + luminosity cast up by the lights of Broadway, half a block from the + window. Through the opening another belching flame shot forth, to be + answered by the criminologist's weapon, barking like a miltraileuse. They + heard a stifled cry, and as Shirley ran forward, he exclaimed with + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “He's escaped down the fire-escape and through that skylight.” + </p> + <p> + He faced about to smile grimly at the curious scene within. The playwright + had taken refuge among the brass andirons of the big empty fireplace. The + matinee heroes were under chairs, and Holloway behind the mahogany buffet. + From the direction of the stairway came shrill cries from the speeding + merchant, softening in intensity as he neared the street level. + </p> + <p> + “The battle's over!” exclaimed Holloway. “I don't know whether it was my + chorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the stage-carpenters going on + a strike. But look! See the swag that Jerry left behind! What shall we do + with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Loot!” suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he dusted + off the wood ashes, and approached the table with glistening eyes. “We'll + divide share and share alike. It's the only way to win from Jerry.” + </p> + <p> + Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into position a + shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes twinkled as the + apostles of the muses hastened to divide the chips of the departed one + into five generous piles. Holloway completed the letter, albeit with a + nervous chirography, and handed him the envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to close up + shop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, in the cause of + science.” + </p> + <p> + Although his conscience was clear about the game having created five + surprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over the certainty + that the voice was aware of his personal work in the case. The + difficulties were now trebled! Before any policemen appeared Shirley had + passed Broadway on his way to the motion picture studio, on the West side + of Tenth Avenue. Whatever secret observers may have been on his tracks, + nothing untoward occurred: still, his senses were quickened into caution + by the attempt on his life. + </p> + <p> + A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter and he was + admitted to the presence of the manager, a man exhausted with the + strenuosity of night and day work. Shirley understood the antidote for his + sullenness. + </p> + <p> + “Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. I have + some unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of a well-known + expert like yourself.” The flattery, embellished by a ten-dollar bill, + opened a flood-gate of optimism. + </p> + <p> + A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some “close-up” + motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the mercury vapor lamps, + a director and company of players were busily enacting a dramatic scene, + before a studio set. They gave little heed to the newcomer: boredom is a + prime requisite of poise in the motion picture art. + </p> + <p> + “I have here three phonograph records, which I want photographed.” + </p> + <p> + “But they don't move—you want a still camera,” exclaimed the + dumfounded manager. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a microscopic lens used + in the camera in such a way that we take a motion picture of the twinings + and twistings of one little thread on the wax cylinder, as it records the + sound waves around the cylinder.” + </p> + <p> + The photographer sniffed with scorn, being familiar with eccentric + uplifters of the “movies,” but responded to the command of the manager to + adjust his delicate camera mechanism for the task. + </p> + <p> + “There is a certain phrase of words on each cylinder which I want recorded + this way. Can all three be taken parallel with each other on the same + film?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, easiest thing to do—just a triple exposure. We take it on one + edge of the film, through a little slit just a bit wider than the space of + the thread, cut in a screen. Then we rewind that film, and slide the slit + to the middle of the lens, take your second wax record, and do the same on + the right edge of the film for the third. But what's the idea?” + </p> + <p> + The camera man began to show interest: he was a skilled mechanician and he + caught the drift of a sensible purpose, at last. + </p> + <p> + Shirley did not answer. He placed the first record in the phonograph, + running it until the feminine voice could be distinguished asking: “Can + you hear me now?” He marked the beginning and end of this phrase with his + pocket knife. So with the merry masculine and the aged, disagreeable + voice, he located the same order of words: “Can you hear me now?” The + operation seems easy, in the telling, or again perhaps it appears + intensely involved and hardly worth the trouble. A motto of Shirley's was: + “Nothing is too much trouble if it's worth while.” So, with this. To the + cynical camera man its general nature was expressed in his whispered + phrase to the manager: + </p> + <p> + “You better not leave them property butcher knives on that there table, + Mr. Harrison. This gink is nuts: he thinks's he's Mike Angelo or some + other sculpture. He'll start sculpin' the crowd in a minute!” + </p> + <p> + “You take the picture and keep your opinions to yourself,” snapped Shirley + whose hearing was highly trained. + </p> + <p> + The man lapsed into silence. For two hours they fumed and perspired and + swore, under the intense heat of the low-hung mercury lamps, until at last + a test proved they had the right combination. Shirley greased the skill of + the camera man with a well-directed gratuity, and ordered speedy + development of the film. Before this was done, however, he took six other + records of voices from the folk in the studio, using the same words: “Can + you hear me now?” + </p> + <p> + The three strips of triple exposures were taken to the dark room and + developed by the camera man. They were dried on the revolving electric + drums, near a battery of fans. Shirley studied every step of the work, + with this and that question—this had been his method of acquiring a + curiously catholic knowledge of scientific methods since leaving the + university, where sporting proclivities had prompted him to slide through + courses with as little toil as possible. + </p> + <p> + A print upon “positive” film was made from each: every strip was + duplicated twenty-five times, at Shirley's suggestion. Then after two + hours of effort the material was ready to be run through the projecting + machine, for viewing upon the screen. + </p> + <p> + The manager led Shirley to the small exhibition theatre in which every + film was studied, changed and cut from twenty to fifty times before being + released for the theatres. The camera man went into the little fire-proof + booth, to operate the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Which one first, chief?” + </p> + <p> + “Take one by chance,” said Shirley, “and I will guess its number. Start + away.” + </p> + <p> + There was a flare of light upon the screen, as the operator fussed with + the lamp for better lumination. He slowly began to turn the crank, and the + criminologist watched the screen with no little excitement. The picture + thrown up resembled nothing so much as three endless snakes twisting in + the same general rhythm from top to bottom of the frame. The twenty-five + duplicates were all joined to the original, so that there was ample + opportunity to compare the movements. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gov'nor, which film was that?” asked the operator. + </p> + <p> + “Not A—it was B or C!” + </p> + <p> + “Correct. How'd you guess it? Which is this one?” + </p> + <p> + As he adjusted another roll of film in the projector, Shirley turned to + the manager sitting at his side. “Mr. Harrison, were those snakes all + exactly alike?” + </p> + <p> + “No. They all wriggled in the same direction, at the same time. But little + rough angles in some movements and queer curves in others made each + individually different.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I thought. There goes another.—That is not film A, + either!” + </p> + <p> + “Righto!” confirmed the camera man. As the detailed divergence between the + lines became more evident in the repetitions, Shirley slapped his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the finish. Try reel A.” + </p> + <p> + This time the three snakey lines moved along in almost identical + synchronism. The only difference was that the first was thin, the second + heavier, the third the darkest and most ragged of all. The relationship + was unmistakable! + </p> + <p> + “I got you gov'nor,” cried the operator. “Some dope, all right, all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is all this?” asked the manager, nonplussed. “The last three + are alike, but what good does it do?” + </p> + <p> + “It is known that the human voice in its inflections is like handwriting—with + a distinct personality. Certain words, when pronounced naturally, without + the alterations of dialect, are always in the same rhythm. The records + taken in the studio of those five words, 'Can you hear me now?' are in the + same general rhythm, but only the last three snakes show exact similarity, + to each little quaver and turn. There was only the difference in shading: + one was the voice of a women. The second of a man of perhaps forty, the + third of an old man—all three taken at different times, and I + thought from different people. But they all came from one throat, and my + work is completed along this line—Will you please lock up the films, + the phonograph, and my records in your film vault, until I send for them; + through Mr. Holloway?” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist arose and walked into the deserted studio, from whence + the company had long since departed for belated slumbers. He picked up + three bricks which lay in a corner of the big studio, and placed them + gently into his grip. The manager and the camera man observed this with + blank amazement, as he locked it and put the key into his pocket. Then he + handed each of them a large-sized bill. + </p> + <p> + “I'm very grateful, gentlemen, for your assistance. Pleasant dreams.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley abstractedly walked out of the studio, one hand comfortably in his + overcoat pocket, swinging the grip in the other. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Lou,” confided the manager, “he's the craziest guy I've ever seen in + the movies. And that's going some, after ten years of it.” + </p> + <p> + Lou treated himself to a generous bite of plug tobacco, and spat + philosophically, before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, he's crazy. Crazy, like the grandfather of all foxes!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN + </h2> + <p> + A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of the distant + elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray street, his thoughts + busy with the possibilities of applying his new certainty. + </p> + <p> + He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the elevated + pillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. The clanging bell + and the grinding motors of an early surface car drowned the sound of the + automobile in his rear. Suddenly the big machine sprang forward at highest + speed. A man leaned from the driver's seat, and snatched the grip from his + hand. + </p> + <p> + The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to barely + graze the machine with his fender as it shot across the street before him. + </p> + <p> + Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the street-car—then + he beheld the big automobile skidding in a half-circle, as it turned down + Fifth Avenue. It was too far away to distinguish the number of the singing + license tag. + </p> + <p> + “Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to build the + annex necessary up the river, when these gentry go there for a long + visit.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a little + all-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan proportions, + with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy brute, after all his + morbid line of activities! Later, at the Club, he submitted to the + amenities of the barber, whose fine Italian hand smoothed away, in a + skilful massage, the haggard lines of his long vigil. As he left the club + house for William Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh and bouyant as + though he had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep. + </p> + <p> + “You are this Montague Shirley?” was the querulous greeting from the old + gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. “You kept me in + anguish the entire night, with your silly words. The telephone bell rang + at intervals of half an hour until dawn: I may have missed some important + business deal by not replying What do you mean? Is this some blackmail + game?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however—but not for my + profit.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to take me to + my office.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mr. Grimsby, at this memorandum book,” said Shirley, holding + forward the list which he had copied from the joy-party article in the + theatrical paper. “With some friends of yours, you held merry carnival to + Venus and Bacchus at an all-night lobster palace not long ago. Have I the + right names?” + </p> + <p> + “This is rank impertinence. How dare you? Get out of my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, my dear sir, until you understand my drift. Throughout Club + circles you and Mr. Van Cleft, with these other cronies are sarcastically + referred to as the Lobster Club. Did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + Grimsby's face was purple with angry mortification, but Shirley would not + be gainsaid. “I am acting in this matter as a friend of Howard Van Cleft,” + he continued. “Your three friends have met their deaths at the hand of a + cunning conspirator. Last night, white I talked with you on the telephone, + young Van Cleft was receiving advice over another wire from a person who + pretended to be William Grimsby—advising him to hush the matter up + and drop the investigation. But—Captain Cronin the famous detective—has + received a tip that the number of victims would be increased very soon—frankly, + now: do you want to be the fourth?” + </p> + <p> + Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched Shirley's + sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this villain's + work: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company of a girl, so that + this would endeavor to hush the scandal, without reporting it to the + police. His progress is unchecked, and afterwards he would have untold + opportunity for continuing a demand for hush money on the surviving + relatives. May I count on you to help?” + </p> + <p> + “You may count on me to leave the city within the next two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this cunning + unknown will not know of it. He is watching your house now, without a + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and drew the + heavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously. + </p> + <p> + “No one is in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not unheard: he + uses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why I advised you to let + your instrument ring unanswered.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old man craves + life more than a young one. I fought through the Civil War and brought a + medal from Congress and this wounded knee out of it, Mr. Shirley. I didn't + fear anything then, but times have changed!” + </p> + <p> + “Here is my plan, then,” continued Shirley, his lips twitching with + sub-strata amusement, “I want to impersonate you, when you leave, so that + this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't interrupt, let me + finish—You will say that it is impossible to deceive any one at + close range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, like a lurid tale of a + paper back novel. But I have studied the photographs of your friends. You + and I bear the closest resemblance of any in the group. Your weight is + about the same as mine—your shoulders are a trifle stooped and you + walk with a curious drag of your left foot. Your hair is white but thick: + the contour of our faces is quite similar, and so with dry cosmetics, some + physical mimicry, and the use of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses like yours + I can make a comparatively good double. The only exposure to the sharp + eyes of your enemies will be, first, when I substitute myself for you and + take your automobile back home; second, when I go down to the theatrical + district, to visit a well-known tearoom where I learn you are a frequent + guest. There the wall tables are shrouded by decorations, and I shall keep + in the shadow and talk as little as possible. Behind those dark glasses, + and entering the place with your peculiarly spotted fur coat, I will + resemble you more than you believe. If to add to the illusion, I show + hospitable prodigality with drinks for the others, it is probable that + their observation will be less analytical. Then, third in the line of + activities, I will go to the theatre, sit in a darkened box, and let them + take me where they will in whatever automobile turns up. Thus you see my + campaign.” + </p> + <p> + “How much do I have to pay you?” + </p> + <p> + “I might have expected that,” was the laughing retort. “You are noted for + the fortunes you waste on stupid show girls, while times are hard with you + in your offices where young and old men struggle along to support honest + families. Have no fear, Mr. Grimsby, my income is enough for my simple + wants. I am entering this hunt for big game, just as I have gone to India + and East Africa, for jungle trophies. It will not cost you a nickel.” + </p> + <p> + “I had better contribute a little,” began Grimsby, embarrassed, as he drew + out a check-book. But Shirley negatived with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “How about your servants? Can you trust them with the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “They have been with me for twenty-five years or more. My wife is in + California, and the rest of the servants, except two maids and a butler, + up at my country home on the Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine: then, in two hours from now, meet me at the Hotel Astor, where I + have rooms, in the name of Madden. Bring down an extra suit of clothes, + and an extra overcoat, for I want to wear your fur one, which I see there + on the davenport. On the downward trip instruct your chauffeur to drive + your car up to your country place, as soon as he has made the return trip + from the hotel. You will be there before he gets up, on the country roads + and he will be none the wiser. Goodbye, Mr. Grimsby.” + </p> + <p> + At the club Shirley made some necessary disposition of his private + matters, for he knew this case would run longer than a day. From his rooms + he sent a note by messenger to his theatrical friend, Dick Holloway, which + read simply. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Holloway:—The experiment with the movies won the blue ribbon. + I have a new plan on foot. You can help me in this, as well. I want you to + engage for me a beautiful, clever and daring actress, afraid of nothing + under the sun or moon, and absolutely unknown on Broadway. No amateurs or + stage-struck heiresses or manicurists: you are the one impresario who can + fill my bill. I will call at your office in fifteen minutes, so have the + compact sealed by then. Who finally won the loot, last night? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your friend, Montague Shirley.” + </pre> + <p> + The manager was forced to go through the note twice, to make sure that his + senses were not leaving him. Then he turned in the chair, toward the + unusual young woman who sat in his private office, observing with mingled + amusement and curiosity the fleeting expressions upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “In view of your mission in America, this may interest you,” was his + amused comment, as he handed her the missive. “It is from the most curious + man in New York.” + </p> + <p> + He studied the downcast lashes, as she read the letter. Hers was a face + which had stirred a continent, yet he had never met her until this + memorable day. She might have been twenty-three years old—and again, + might have been three years younger or older. Rippling red-gold waves of + hair separated in the center of her smooth brow to caress with a soft wave + on either side the blooming cheeks, whose Nature-grown roses were unusual + in this world-weary vicinity of Broadway. A sweet mouth with a sensuous + smile at one corner, and a barely perceptible droop of pathos at the + other, lent an indescribable piquance to her dimpled smile. The blue orbs + which raised to his own with a Sphinxian laugh in their azure depths + thrilled him—Holloway, the blase, the hardened theatrical manager, + flattered and cajoled by hundreds of beautiful women on the quest of stage + success! + </p> + <p> + Adroitly veiled beneath the silken folds of the clinging gown, redolent + with the bizarre artistry of a Parisian atelier, was the shapely + suggestion of exquisite physical perfection which did not escape the + connoisseur glance of Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “He is a literary man: I know that from the small, yet fluent writing, and + the cross marks for periods show that he has written for newspapers and + corrected his own proofs—He is unusually definite in what he desires + and accustomed to having his imperious way about most things. In this + case, he is easily pleased—merely perfection is his desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley is generally prompt, and is apt to breeze in here any second now, + with his two hundred pounds and six feet of brawn and ginger. I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you suppose such a paragon is desired by your friend? Who is he? + What is he like, not an ordinary actor—” and the wondrous eyes + darkened with a curious thought. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady, no one has discovered the mental secrets of Montague + Shirley. He apparently wastes his life as do other popular society men + with much money and more time on their hands. Yet, somehow, I always feel + in his presence as one does when standing on the bow of an ocean liner, + with the salt breeze whizzing into your heart. He is a force of nature, + yet he explains nothing: a thorough man of the world; droll, sarcastic, + generous and I believe for democracy he is unequaled by any Tammany + politician: he knows more policemen, dopes, conductors, beggars, + chauffeurs, gangsters, bartenders, jobless actors, painters, preachers, + anarchists, and all the rest of New York's flotsam and jetsam than any one + in the world. He is always the polished gentleman, and yet they take him + man for man.” + </p> + <p> + “What does this unusual person do for a living?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but living!” + </p> + <p> + Her interest was naturally undiminshed by this perfervid tribute, and she + clapped her dainty hands together with sudden mirth. + </p> + <p> + “You know why I came here, and why to you, Mr. Holloway. You know who I + am, and although I answer none of those exorbitant terms except that I am + not known by sight along your big street Broadway, why not recommend me + for the position?” + </p> + <p> + “But you, of all people!” Holloway's face was a study in amazement. “You + can't tell what wild project he has in view. Shirley is a wild Indian, in + many things you know—just when you least expect it. I have known him + a dozen years.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to weigh the matter, and his sense of humor conquered. He roared + with mirth, which was joined in more sedately by the unknown girl. “That + settles it. You couldn't start on your campaign in a better way. You shall + be the Lady of Mystery in this story! I will not breathe a hint of your + identity to Shirley, and no one else knows, of course. What a ripping good + joke: I'm glad you came here the first hour after your landing in New + York.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I call myself? I have it—a romantic name, which will be + worth laughing over later—let me see—Helene Marigold. Is that + flowery enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley will be sure you are an actress when he hears that. Mum is the + word, may you never have stage fright and never miss a cue—Here he + comes now!” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist rushed into the office impetuously, dropping his bag on + the floor, and doffing his hat as he beheld the pretty companion of + Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “On time to the minute, as usual, Shirley. Your note came, and I followed + your instructions. Let me present to you your new star, Miss Helene + Marigold, who just disembarked on the steamer from England this morning. + You have secured a young lady who is making all Europe sit up and rub its + eyes. I believe I have at last found a match for you, Prince of the + Unexpected!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley held forth his fervent hand, and was surprised at the almost + masculine sincerity with which the delicately gloved fingers returned the + pressure. He looked into the blue eyes with a challenging scrutiny, and + received as frank an answer! + </p> + <p> + Dick Holloway indulged in an unobserved smile, as he turned to look out of + the window, lost for the nonce in mirthful speculation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK + </h2> + <p> + “Dick, you can help me further, with your dramatic knowledge. I feel in + duty bound to tell Miss Marigold that she is risking her life, if she + takes up this task.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of hesitancy, which Shirley half expected, the girl's face flushed + with quickened interest, and her eyes sparkled with enjoyment as he + unfolded the situation. At the mention of Grimsby, Holloway grunted with + disgust—it may have been a variety of professional jealousy. Who + knows? However, the problem fascinated the mysterious young woman, who + blushed, in spite of herself, when Shirley put his blunt question to her. + </p> + <p> + “And you are willing to assume for a time the character of one of these + stage moths, whom rich men of this type pursue and woo, wine, dine and + boast about? Will it interfere with your own work? Any salary arranged by + Mr. Holloway is agreeable, for this unusual task.” + </p> + <p> + “The game, not the money, is the attraction. I will be ready when you + pronounce my cue.” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid. Dick, will you assist Miss Marigold in selecting an attractive + apartment in a theatrical hotel this afternoon. I will call for her at + four-thirty, to take her to tea. She may not know me, at first glance: + that depends upon the help you give me at the Astor. I will expect you + there in an hour. I haven't acted since I left the college shows: with a + hundred chances to one against my success, even I am not bored.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried from the office, and Holloway noted the glow in the girl's + glance which followed his stalwart figure. Holloway was a good tactician: + there were reasons why he enjoyed this new role of match-maker de luxe, + yet he played his hand far more subtly than at poker. Which was well! + </p> + <p> + Ensconced in the Astor, Shirley was soon busy before the cheval glass, + from which were suspended three photographs of William Grimsby, obtained + from a photographic news syndicate. + </p> + <p> + Coat and waistcoat had been removed, as he discriminatingly applied the + dry cosmetics with skill which suggested that he had disguised himself for + daylight purposes far more than he would admit. By the time he had + powdered his thick locks with the white pulverized chalk, and donned a + pair of horn-rim glasses of amber tint, his whole personality had changed. + The similarity was startling to the prototype who was admitted to the room + a few minutes later. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I beg pardon—I have come to the wrong suite,” were Grimsby's + apologetic words, as he essayed to retreat. + </p> + <p> + “You are the first victim of the mirage. Do you like the caricature?” + </p> + <p> + “Astounding, my friend!” gasped Grimsby, sinking into the chair. Shirley + drew him to the mirror, to make a closer study of the lines of senility + and late hours. A few delicate touches of purple and blue, some retouching + of the nostrils, and he drew on the suit provided by his elder. Dick + Holloway was announced, and Shirley ordered some wine and a dinner for + one! At Grimsby's surprise, Shirley, smiled indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “I am selfish—I will have a little supper party by myself, and spare + you in nothing. I want you to eat, to drink, to pour wine, to take out + your wallet, to walk, to sit down, to laugh, to scold! You have a task, + sir: I will imitate you move by move! This is a rare experiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! Which is you?” cried Holloway who entered with the burdened + waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Neither. We're both me!” chuckled the criminologist. “But let me + introduce you to my twin—” + </p> + <p> + The two men exchanged formalities with an undercurrent of dislike. Shirley + lost no time. He compelled the old man to run through his paces, as + Holloway criticized each study in miming. Just as the capitalist would + swing his arms, limp with his left leg, shift his head ever so little, + from side to side in his walk, so Shirley copied him. A word here, an + exhortation there, and Shirley improved steadily under Holloway's + analytical direction. At last the lesson was ended, with the manager's + pronounciamento of “graduation cum lauda.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to star you, Monty,” he declared, as Shirley put on the fur + greatcoat of the old man, grasping the gold headed cane, and drooping his + shoulders in a perfect imitation of the other's attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it will be necessary. The chorus men have invaded society with + their fox-trots and maxixe steps. We club men will have to countercharge + the enemy, for self-preservation, to play heavy villains upon the stage. + Eh?” + </p> + <p> + He turned toward Grimsby, who was well wearied with the trying ordeal, and + evidencing a growing nervousness about his own escape. + </p> + <p> + “You know how to leave, according to my plan? Wrap the muffler well around + the lower part of your face, button this second overcoat closely about + your neck, and enter the private carriage which I ordered for 'Mr. Lee,' + waiting now at the Forty-fifth Street Side. Then drive leisurely to the + West Forty-second Street Ferry, where you can catch the late afternoon + train for your country place.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Mr. Shirley. I have been an old curmudgeon with you, I fear. + You have taught this old dog new tricks in several ways, young man. + Neither I nor my friends will forget your bravery. They are all out of the + city by now, according to word from my private secretary. Your field is + clear. Good luck, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley and Holloway left the rooms first. Neither addressed the other on + the lift, as it descended to the street level. Holloway casually followed + Monty as he stiffly walked to the big red limousine waiting at the + Forty-fourth Street entrance of the hostelry. The chauffeur sprang out, + opening the door with a respectful salute. The disguise was successful! + </p> + <p> + “Home!” grunted Shirley, sinking back into the car, with collar high about + his neck and the soft hat half concealing his eyes. He scrutinized the + faces of the passers-by, photographing in that receptive memory of his the + ugly features of two men, who peered into the limousine from under the + visors of their black caps. The car sped up town through the bewildering + maze of street traffic. The chauffeur helped him up the steps of the + brownstone mansion, while Grimsby's old butler swung open the glass door, + with a helping hand under the feeble arm. + </p> + <p> + Shirley puffed and grunted impatiently until he heard the door close + behind him. Then straightening up, he turned upon the startled butler. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my man. Go out and tell the chauffeur to leave for the country at + once, as Mr. Grimsby already ordered him to do.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd, sir!” exclaimed the servant, paling perceptibly. “What's come + over you, sir?—Oh, I beg pardon, sir, you're the other gentleman. + You certainly fooled me, sir—You're bloody brave, sir, to do all + this for the master. Are we in any danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit—whatever happens will be outside the house. Just keep up + the secret, as you value your master's life. Go, and tell the man. I must + kill time here in the library, reading until four o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley threw aside the greatcoat, and walked to the window of the small + reception room which faced the street, to draw aside the curtains and + watch the chauffeur, as he entered the machine to speed away. A black + automobile slowly passed the house, bearing two men on the driver's seat. + From under the visors of their black caps they scrutinized the building, + to hastily look away as they observed the face at the window. + </p> + <p> + Shirley made a note of the number of the machine. He could have sworn that + this was the same car which had passed him that morning at dawn when the + grip was snatched from his hand. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the library, where he lost himself in the rare old volumes + of Grimsby's life collection: the criminologist was a booklover and the + hours drifted by as in a happy playtime, until the butler came to tell him + the time. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! I must hurry. Call a taxi, for me. I will go to Holloway's + office to learn where Miss Marigold has been ensconced.” + </p> + <p> + He sat in the machine before the office building, as he sent the chauffeur + up to Dick's office, to inquire for a message to “Mr. Grimsby.” A note was + brought down, informing him that the girl awaited him in the Hotel + California, a few blocks above. The machine started off once more, and + Shirley laughed at the droll situation in which he found himself. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder who Helene Marigold can be? I wonder what Holloway meant + precisely when he predicted that I would meet my match. I am not seeking + one kind—and blue eyes, surrounded by red-gold hair and peaches and + cream will not shake my determination.” + </p> + <p> + But the best laid determinations of bachelor hearts gang aft agley! + </p> + <p> + Down at the Hotel California, famous for its rare collection of attractive + feminine guests and the manifold breach-of-promise suits which had + emanated from the palm bedecked entrance, Helene Marigold was indulging + herself in a delighted, albeit highly amused, inspection of sundry large + boxes which had been arriving from shops in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “As nearly as I can imagine this must look like the bower of a Broadway + Phryne. All that is missing is a family portrait in crayon of the father + who was a coal miner, the presence of a buxom financial genius for the + stage mother, and a Chinese chow-dog on a cerise velvet cushion. But who + ever attains perfection here below?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted some filmy gowns which had arrived in the latest parcel to her + chin, peering over the sheerness of the lacy cascade, into the mirror of + the dressing-table. + </p> + <p> + “If good old Jack could see me now? Poor, old, stupid, dear, silly Jack! I + must write to him at once, for he is largely responsible for my present + unusual surroundings. How pleased this would not make him, the old dear.” + </p> + <p> + With the thought, she sat down before the escritoire, dipping a pearl and + gold pen, as she paused for the words with which to begin the note. + Another knock came at the door. It could not be another gown. She had told + Holloway to keep all her personal baggage at the steamer dock until she + had finished her lark! At the portal a diminutive messenger delivered a + large white box, ornately bound in lavender ribbons. When she unwrapped + it, hidden in the folds of many reams of delicate tissue, she found a + gorgeous bunch of orchids. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful! I wonder who could have—” then she found a white + card, and read it aloud, with a mirthful peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “To Lollypop's little Bonbon Tootems—from her foolish old Da-Da!” + </p> + <p> + Helene turned toward the window, to gaze out over the mysterious, foreign + motley array of roofs and obtruding skyscrapers of this curious district. + </p> + <p> + “This mysterious man plays his part with a sense of humor. If only he will + be different and not mean the flowers, ever!” + </p> + <p> + And she forgot to finish the note which was to have gone to faraway, + stupid, dear old Jack. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later an aged gentleman entered the gorgeous foyer of the + Hotel California, impatiently presenting his card to the bell-boy, for + announcement to Miss Marigold. The lad, true to tradition, quietly + confided the name to the interested clerk, before doing so. As the visitor + was shown to the elevator, the clerk turned to his assistant with a nudge. + </p> + <p> + “There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means good trade + here, with this new peach in the crate. These old ginks are hard as + Bessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how soft the tumble for a new + shade of peroxide.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimsby” was soon sitting on the velour divan, at a comfortable + distance from possible eavesdroppers at the door. She was putting the + finishing touches to her preparation for the butterfly role. Shirley felt + an unexpected thrill at this little intimacy of their relations: the rooms + were permeated with the most delicate suggestion of a curious perfume, + which was strange to him. Somehow it fitted her personality so + effectually: for despite the physical appeal of her beauty, now + accentuated by the risque costume which she had donned, at the + professional suggestion of Dick Holloway, there was a pervasive + spirituality in the girl's face, her hands, and the tones of her soft + voice. + </p> + <p> + She turned to smile at him, her dimples playing hide and seek with the + white pearls beneath the unduly scarlet lip. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't this a ripping good situation for a novel?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, too good at present, Miss Marigold. There are too many, important + people to be affected for it ever to be given to the public, for the + identities would all be exposed ruthlessly. Besides, no one would believe + it: it seems too improbable, being real life. It will be more improbable + before we finish the adventure, I suspect. Can I trust your discretion to + keep it secret? You know, I have a deal of skepticism about the best of + women.” + </p> + <p> + Helene reddened under that keen glance, and he saw that he had offended + her. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon: I know that we shall work it out together, with + absolute mutual trust.” + </p> + <p> + Such an earnest vibrance was in his voice that somehow she was reminded of + another voice: her mind went back to the neglected letter to Jack. What + could have caused her to be so remiss? She would not let herself dwell on + the subject—instead, with a surprising deftness, she caught up + Shirley's own cue, for a staggering question of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that you have absolutely confided in me? Did you start at + the beginning, when you told the story to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” and Shirley caught the glance sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Your unusual rapidity of action, Mr. Shirley, for a mere interested + friend! It is queer how wonderfully your mind has connected this work, and + the various accidental happenings, to evolve this clever ruse in which I + am to assist. It doesn't seem so amateurish as you would make it. You seem + mysterious to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I am the voice? Here is a chance for real detective work, if + you can double the game, and capture me?” was the laughing retort. “I + don't believe you trust me.” + </p> + <p> + The girl stood up before him, and after one deep look, her eyes fell + before his. Those exquisite lashes sent a tiny flutter through the + case-hardened heart of the club man, despite his desperate determination + to be a Stoic. + </p> + <p> + “I do trust you,” the voice was impetuous, almost petulant. “You are a + real man: I merely give you credit for being better than the class of rich + young men of whom you pretend to be an absolute type. But there, I waste + words and time. Is my costume for this little opera boufe satisfactory to + you? Do you like my warpaint and battle armor?” + </p> + <p> + She stood before him, a glorious bird of paradise. The wanton display of a + maddening curve of slender ankle, through the slash of the clinging gown + imparted just the needed allurement to stamp her as a Vestal of the temple + of Madness. The cunning simplicity of the draping over her shoulders—luminous + with the iridiscent gleam of ivory skin beneath, accentuated by the + voluptuous beauty of her youthful bosom—the fleeting change of + colors and contours as she slowly turned about in this maddening soul-trap + of silk and laces—all these were not lost on the senses of Shirley. + As the depths of those blue eyes opened before his gaze, a mad, a + ridiculous aching to crush her in his arms, surprised the professional + consulting criminologist! For this swift instant, all memory of the Van + Cleft case, of every other problem, was driven from his mind, as a + blinding blast of seething desire surged about him. + </p> + <p> + Then the old resolution, the conquering will of the man of one purpose, + beat back the flames of this threatening conflagration. His eyes narrowed, + his hands dropped to his side, and he squinted at her with the frigid + dissective gaze of an artist studying the curves of a model. + </p> + <p> + “You must rouge your cheeks more, blue your eyelids and redden your lips + even yet. Then be generous with the powder—and that wonderful + perfume.” + </p> + <p> + An inscrutable smile played about the sensitive lips, as Helene turned to + her dressing-table. Shirley stood with his face to the window; he did not + observe it, nor would he have understood its menace to his own peace of + mind. Helene, however, did. She was a woman. + </p> + <p> + “May I smoke a cigarette? I am afraid I am almost a fiend, for I seem to + crave the foolish comfort that I imagine they give, in times of nervous + drain.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Lollypop's little Bonton Tootems enjoys their fragrance. Don't ever + ask me again. I have completed the mural decoration with futurist + extravagance in the color scheme. My cloak, sir!” + </p> + <p> + He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed stick. With a + final glance at his own careful make-up, he started after her for the + street. + </p> + <p> + “Some chikabiddy!” was the remark of the clerk to the head bell-boy. The + words reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her hand trembled on his arm + as they entered a waiting taxicab. She looked pathetically at him, as she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave such remarks + as these, and the other worse things they will say before long? I wouldn't + dare do this, if I were not sure that no one in America but you and Mr. + Holloway knows me. To wear this horrid stuff on my face—to dress in + these vulgar clothes—to impersonate such a girl! You know I'm not + nearly as bad as I'm painted!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was studying the + pedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was not disappointed, as the + car swung into Broadway. + </p> + <p> + “Look—those two men have been following me wherever I have gone. + They are a pair of old-fashioned pirates. Don't forget their faces!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. IN THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION + </h2> + <p> + Their destination, one of the score of tango tea-rooms which had sprung to + mushroom popularity within the year, was soon reached. Leaning heavily + upon his stick, limping like his aged model, and spluttering impatiently, + Shirley was assisted by the uniformed door man into the lobby. Helene + followed meekly. Four hat boys from the check-room made the conventional + scramble for his greatcoat, hat and stick, nearly upsetting him in their + eagerness. Then Shirley led the way into the half light of the tropical, + indoor garden, picking a way through the tables to a distant wall seat, + embowered with electric grapes and artificial vines. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, my darling child,” said the pseudo Grimsby, as he dropped into + a seat behind the table, which was protected from the lights, and furthest + away from any possible visitors. “We are early, avoiding the crush. Soon + the crowd will be here. We must have some champagne at once, to assist me + in my defensive tactics. You will have to do most of the talking. + Remember, we are going to the Winter Garden musical review when we leave + here: you may tell this to whom you will.” + </p> + <p> + Helene looked about curiously, as the big tea-room began to fill with its + usual late afternoon crowd of patrons,—young, old and indeterminate + in age. Women of maturely years, young misses from “finishing” schools, + demimondaine, social “bounders” deluded by the glitter of their own + jewelry and the thrill of their wasted money that they were climbing into + New York society—these and other curious types rubbed elbows in this + melting pot of folly. The tinkle of glasses, the increasing buzz of + conversation, the empty laughter of too many emptied cocktail glasses + mingled with the droning music of an Hawaiian string quartette in the far + corner. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with banging tampani and the crash of cymbals, rattle of + tambourines and beating of tomtoms, the barbaric Ethiopians of the dancing + orchestra began their syncopated outrages against every known law of + harmony—swinging weirdly into the bewitching, tickling, tingling + rhythm of a maxixe. + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” murmured Helene, as the waiter brought them some champagne + and indigestible pastries—the true ingredients of 'dansant the'. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, on with the dance-let joy be unrefined! The fall of the Roman Empire + was the bounce of a rubber nursery ball, compared with this New York + avalanche of luxurious satiation! Now, my child, old Da-da, is going to + become too intoxicated to talk three words to any of these gallants and + their lassies. Grimsby did not write a monologue for me, so I must + pantomime: you will have to carry the speaking part of our playlet. + Flatter them—but don't leave my side to dance!” + </p> + <p> + The first bottle of wine had been carried away by the waiter, (half + emptied it is true,) as he filled a second order. Shirley shielded his + face beneath a drooping spray of artificial blooms from the top of their + wallbower. Several young men were approaching them, and the criminologist + noted with relief that they evidenced their afternoon libations even so + early. Eyes dulled with over-stimulus were the less analytical. Chance was + favoring him. The newcomers were garbed in that debonair and “cultured” + modishness so dear to the hearts of magazine illustrators. Faces, weak + with sunken cheek lines, strong in creases of selfishness, darkened by the + brush strokes of nocturnal excesses and seared, all of them with the brand + mark of inbred rascality, identified them to Shirley as members of that + shrewd class of sycophants who feast on the follies of the more amateurish + moths of the Broadway Candles. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old pop Grimsby!” + </p> + <p> + “You're in the dark of the moon, Grimmie! I couldn't make you out but for + those horn rimmed head lights.” + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to the joy-parlor, old scout.” + </p> + <p> + The greetings of the juvenile buzzards varied only in phraseology: their + portent was identical: “Open wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr Grimsby is so ill this afternoon, but sit down and have something + with us,” volunteered Helene tremulously. + </p> + <p> + The bees gathered about the table to feast on the vinous honey, while + Shirley, mumbling a few words, maintained his partial obscurity, with one + hand to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon—my protashsh!” + </p> + <p> + Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm drew the + eyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of the weasel faces + about him. The girl's heart sickened under the brutal frankness of a dozen + calculating eyes, yet she valiantly maintained her part, while Shirley + marveled at her clever simulation of silly, giggly, semi-intoxication. One + youth deserted them to disappear through the distant dining room entrance. + The comments about the table were interesting to the keen-eared + masquerader. + </p> + <p> + “Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!”—“What show is she + with?”—“Won't Pinkie be sore?” The criminologist was not left to + wonder as to the identity of “Pinkie,” for an older man, walking behind a + red-headed girl in a luridly modern gown, approached the table with the + absent guest. The men were talking earnestly, the girl staring angrily at + Shirley's, beautiful companion. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg. Pop has passed away, but his + credit is still strong.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Pinkie—come, my dear, and join the Ladies' Aid Society and + have a lemonade,” jested another youth, making a place for the girl in the + aisle. + </p> + <p> + Pinkie's dark-haired companion sank somewhat unsteadily into a chair next + the girl. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as though to clear his mind + for needed concentration. He shook Shirley's arm, and spoke sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Look up; Grimmie. I never saw you feel your wine so early in the + afternoon. It was a lucky day for me on Wall Street, so I celebrated + myself. You are here earlier than usual. Everybody have some champagne + with me.” + </p> + <p> + As he beckoned to the waiter, the red-haired girl bestowed a murderous + look upon Helene, who was sniffing some flowers which she had drawn from + the vase on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that Jane?” she demanded, her voice-shaking with jealousy. + “Grimmie, you act as if you were doped. Introduce us to your swell friend. + Wake him, Reg Warren.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's jeweled white hand protected the safety-first dozing of her + companion, as, through the interstices of his fingers, he studied the + inscrutable difference between the face of Warren and the other youths + about them. + </p> + <p> + “Let Pop dream of a new way to make a million!” laughed one young man. + “His money grows while he sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let him dream on,” laughed Helene, with a shrill giggle. “When he + makes that extra million he can star me on Broadway, in my own show. He, + he!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to spend half of it at John the Barber's getting your voice + marceled and your face manicured,” snarled Pinkie. “Come, Reg, and dance + with me: these bounders bore me.” + </p> + <p> + “Run along, Pinkie, and fox-trot your grouch away with Shine Taylor. Here + comes the wine I ordered—What's your name, girlie? Where did you + meet Grimsby?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're old friends,” and Helene maliciously spilled a bottle over the + interrogator's waistcoat, as she reached forward to shake his hand. “My + name's Bonbon, you wouldn't believe me if I told you my real name, anyway. + Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not Neptune,” he retorted, as he mopped the bubbles with a napkin. + “You've started in badly.” Shirley mentally disagreed. His stupor still + obsessed him, but he noted with interest that Warren paid the check for + his bottle with a new one-hundred dollar bill. Warren could elicit nothing + from Helene but silly laughter, and so he arose impatiently, as Shine + Taylor returned to whisper something in his ear. “I must be getting back + to my apartment. Bring Grimsby up to it to-night: a little bromo will + bring him back to the land of the living. I'll have a jolly crowd there—top + floor of the Somerset, on Fifty-sixth Street, you know, near Sixth Avenue. + Come up after the show.” + </p> + <p> + “We're going to the Winter Garden,” suggested Helene, at a nudge from + Shirley, and Warren nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try to see you later, anyway. Goodbye!” + </p> + <p> + Losing interest in the proceedings, as the time for reckoning the bill + approached, the other gallants followed these two. Alone, again, Shirley + ordered some black coffee, and smiled at his assistant. + </p> + <p> + “He told the truth for once.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “He will try to see us later. That man is a member of the murderous clan + whom we seek. 'To-night is the night' for the exit of William Grimsby—but, + perhaps we may have a stage wait which will surprise them.” + </p> + <p> + Gradually the guests thinned out in the tea-room, but Shirley cautiously + waited until the last. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe these young men are all members of the gang?” asked the + girl. “Why do you suppose these men are all criminals? They surely look a + bad lot.” + </p> + <p> + “There are two general reasons why men go wrong. One is hard luck, aided + by tempting opportunity—they hope to make a success out of failure, + and then keep on the straight path for the rest of their lives. Such men + are the absconders, the forgers, the bank-wreckers, and even the petty + thieves. But once branded with the prison bars and stripes, they seldom + find it possible to turn against the tide in which they find themselves: + so they become habitual offenders. They are the easiest criminals to + detect. The second class are the born crooks, who are lazy, sharp-witted + and without enough will-power to battle against the problems of honesty in + work. It is easy enough to succeed if a man is clever and unscrupulous + without a shred of generosity. The hard problem is to be affectionate, + human, and conquer every-day battles by remaining actively honest, when + your rivals are not straight. The born crook is safer from prison than the + weakling of the first class.” He looked down at the coffee, and then + continued. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe all these young men are in this curious plot. They are + merely the small fry of the fishing banks: they are petty rascals, with + occasional big game. But somewhere, behind this sinister machine, is a + guiding hand on the throttle, a brain which is profound, an eye which is + all-seeing and a heart as cold as an Antartic mountain. There is the + exceptional type of criminal who is greedy—for money and its + luxurious possibilities; selfish—with regard for no other heart in + the world; crafty—with the cunning of an Apache, enjoying the thrill + of crime and cruelty; refined and vainglorious—with pride in his + skill to thwart justice and confidence in his ability to continually + broaden the scope of his work. Crime is the ruling passion of this unknown + man. And the way to catch him is by using that passion as a bait upon the + hook. I am the wriggling little angle worm who will dangle before his eyes + to-night. But I do not expect to land him—I merely purpose to learn + his identity, to draw the net of the law about him, in such a way as to + keep the Grimsby and Van Cleft names from the case.” + </p> + <p> + “And how can that be done?” + </p> + <p> + “That, young lady, is my 'fatal secret.' The subplot developing within my + mind is still nebulous with me,—you would lose all interest, as + would I, if you knew what was going to happen. But the time has passed, + and now we can go to the theatre. I bought the tickets by messenger this + afternoon. I will let you do the talking to the chauffeur and the usher.” + </p> + <p> + They left the tea-room, the last guests out. + </p> + <p> + It was a touching sight to see the elderly gentleman supported on one side + by a fat French waiter, and on the opposite, by the solicitous girl. The + old Civil War wound was unusually troublesome. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK + </h2> + <p> + At the entrance of the restaurant the starter tooted his shrill whistle, + and a driver began to crank his automobile in the waiting line of cars. + According to the rules of the taxi stands he was next in order. But, as is + frequently the custom in the hotly contested district of “good fares” + another car “cut in” from across the street. This taxi swung quickly + around and drew up before the waiting criminologist. + </p> + <p> + Grunting and mumbling, as though still deep in his cups, Monty allowed + himself to be half pushed, half lifted into the car by the attendant. + Helene followed him. “Winter Garden,” she directed, and the machine sped + away, while the thwarted driver in the rear sent a volley of anathemas + after his successful competitor. + </p> + <p> + Shirley scrutinized the interior of the machine, but there seemed nothing + to distinguish it from the thousands of other piratical craft which + pillage the public with the aid of the taximeter clock on the port beam! + Soon they were at the big Broadway playhouse, where Shirley floundered out + first, after the ungallant manner of many sere-and-yellow beaux. He swayed + unsteadily, teetering on his cane, as Helene leaped lightly to the + sidewalk beside him. The driver stood by the door of the car, leering at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Here, keep the change,” and Shirley handed him a generous bill. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I wait fer ye, gov'nor? I ain't got no call to-night. I'll be + around here all evening.” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist nodded, and the chauffeur handed Helene the carriage + number check. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let 'em steal de old gink, inside, girlie. He's strong fer de + chorus chickens.” + </p> + <p> + Helene shuddered before the hawk-like glare of his malevolent eyes, but in + her part, she shook her head with a laugh, and followed airily after her + escort. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, sir. Back again to-night, I see,” volunteered the ticket + taker, to whom William Grimsby was a familiar visitant. Shirley reeled + with steadied and studied equilibrium, into the foyer of the theatre, as + he nodded. Their seats were purposely in the rear of a side box, well + protected from the audience by the holders of the front positions. The + criminologist appeared to relapse into dreams of bygone days, while his + companion peered into the vast audience and then at the nimble limbed + chorus on the stage with piquant curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “For years I wanted to see an American stage and an American audience,” + she confided in an undertone, “and to think that when I do so, it is + acting myself, on the other side of the footlights in a stranger, more + dramatic part than any one else in the theatre. A curious world, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley breathed deeply, drinking in the maddening perfume of her glorious + hair, so perilously near his own face. The shimmer of her shoulders, the + adorable curves of that enticing scarlet mouth murmuring so near his own, + and yet so far away, in this soul-racking game of make-believe, stirred + his blood as nothing else had done in all the kalaediscopic years. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a more than curious world. How things have changed since last + evening when I planned a sleepy evening at the opera. I wonder what the + outcome will be?” + </p> + <p> + Helene looked up at him quickly, then as suddenly toward the Russian + danseuse within the golden frame of the great proscenium. The orchestra, + with its maddening Slavic music, stirred her pulses with a strange + telepathy. The evening wore along, until the final curtain. Shirley, with + cumbersome effort helped her with her cloak, dropping his hat and stick + more than once in simulated awkwardness. The electric numerals of the + carriage call soon brought the grimy-faced chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “Jack on the spot, gov'nor, that's me!” and he swung the door open. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go get some supper—no, we'll take little 'scursion in Central + Park, first,” and his voice was thick, “correct, cabbie. Drive us shru + Central Park.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to take a chance in a dark park?” Helene asked him, as they + sat within the car, while the chauffeur cranked. Shirley was sharply + observing the man. A pedestrian crossed directly in front of the machine, + brushing against the driver, as he fumbled with the lamp. If there were an + interchange of words, the criminologist could not detect it. + </p> + <p> + “Surely. The park is good. We can be free of interference from the police. + Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “No—” yet, it was a pardonably weak little voice which uttered the + valiant monosyllable. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Miss Marigold. Take this revolver. Don't use it until you have to, + but then don't hesitate a second.” + </p> + <p> + The machine started slowly up the street. Shirley groped about the sides + and bottom of the car, to make sure that no one could be concealed within + it. They were advancing up Broadway in leisurely fashion. It might have + been for the purpose of allowing some to follow. Shirley wondered, then + sniffed the air suspiciously. The girl looked at him with a silent + question. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, tear off your glove and let me have that diamond ring I noticed on + your finger, the large solitaire, not the dinner ring.” + </p> + <p> + Unquestioningly she obeyed. There was a strange Oriental odor in the car—suggestive + of an incense. The car was gliding up Central Park West, toward one of the + road entrances into the Park proper. Shirley's hand clutched the ring, + tensely. The driver, tactfully looking straight to the front, gave no heed + to the occupants of the Death Car. He was, by this time speeding too + rapidly for either of his passengers to have leaped out without injury. + Shirley understood the smoothness of the voice's system, by now. His hand + slid to the top of the glass door pane, on the right. Down the glass, + across the bottom, down from the other corner, and then over the top line, + he cut with the diamond, using a peculiar pressure. He rose to his feet, + gave the lower part of the pane a sharp tap. The glass, practically cut + loose from its case, now dropped and would have slid out to the roadway + with a crash had he not dexterously caught it, to draw it into the car. + Quickly he repeated the operation with the door pane at the left. A + nauseating, weakening something in the car sent Helene's head spinning; + she choked for breath and lay back weakly, despite her will. Shirley + turned to the small glass square in the rear. This came out more easily. + He lay the glass with the others, on the floor of the car. The good clear + air whirled through the openings, reviving the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your eyes open, and that revolver ready. Now is the time. Pretend to + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had drawn his own automatic by this time, and he realized that the + machine was slowing down. The chauffeur, as they passed a walk light, + looked back, observing that the two were apparently unconscious. He slowed + down still more, and tooted his horn three times. A large touring car + passed them, to stop some distance ahead. Then it sped on, as Shirley's + taxi followed lazily. + </p> + <p> + A figure suddenly came out of the darkness of the road. The driver stopped + the taxi, and walked around the front, as though to adjust the lamp. The + door opened slowly. A face covered with a black handkerchief obtruded. A + hand slid up the detective's knee, along his side toward the abdomen, and + a protruding thumb began a singular pressure directly below the + criminologist's heart. Shirley's analysis for Dr. MacDonald had been + correct! But jiu-jitsu is essentially a game for two. + </p> + <p> + Shirley's left hand suddenly shot forth to the neck of his assailant. His + muscular fingers closed in a deft and vice-like pinch directly below the + silk handkerchief. It was the pneumogastric nerve, which he reached: a + nerve which, when deadened by Oriental skill, paralyzes the vocal chords. + Not a sound emanated from the mysterious man, even when Shirley's right + hand shot forward, under the chin of the other, for a deft blow across the + thorax. The other tumbled backward. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong, Chief? Too much gas?” cried the chauffeur rushing to the + side of the fallen man. As the driver dropped to his knees, Shirley flung + himself like a tiger upon the rascal's back. The struggle was brief—the + same silent silencer accomplished its purpose. Before the man knew what + had happened to him, he was dragged inside the car, and another deft pinch + sent him to oblivion! + </p> + <p> + “Hit him over the forehead with the butt of the revolver if he opens his + mouth,” grunted Shirley. “This is the chauffeur, now I'll get the other + one.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a cry came from the darkness: it was a passing patrolman. + </p> + <p> + “What you doing in that auto?” + </p> + <p> + But Shirley waited for no parley-explanations, showing his hand, laying + the whole scandal before the morning edition of the newspapers, were all + out of question now. He must take up the pursuit later. He caught up, the + chauffeur's cap, sprang into the driver's seat, and the car shot forward + like a race horse as he threw forward the lever. The astonished policeman + was within twenty-five yards of the spot, when the auto disappeared in the + darkness. He pursued it vainly. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, a man with a handkerchief across his face, groaned + and then raised himself on his elbow, there in the roadway. He could not + remember where he was, nor why. Slowly he crawled on hands and knees, into + the rhododendrons by the roadside, where he again lost consciousness. + </p> + <p> + A big touring car rounded the curve of the roadway. + </p> + <p> + “Not a sign of the Chief,” said the driver. “He must have gone back to the + garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's get down there right + away.” + </p> + <p> + The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his feet. He + limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, muttering profanity + and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly as he could reason it out, he + must have been struck by another machine from the rear. + </p> + <p> + Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub grown banks + and rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley stopped his runaway + taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out on Long + Island. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine will disappear as + completely as though they had been dumped in the ocean.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly knotted + handkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about Helene's shoulders, + as he brought her to the front seat of the machine. Then he shut the doors + on the prisoner, and drove the automobile out through the Easterly + entrance of the park. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague,” said the tired voice at his side. + “I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. We will be home + soon, won't we? I'm so exhausted—my first day in a strange country, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine through the + maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East River. The touch of that + sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously nestled against his own, sent through + him a tremor which he had not experienced during the weird silent battle + in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried it?” + </p> + <p> + With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as she + looked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection of passing + street lamps. + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry,” was her dreamy + response. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the motor and + the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close sleepily. + </p> + <p> + When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the bridge Plaza + in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy head touched his shoulder; + she seemed like a child, worn out with games, trustingly asleep in the + care of a big, strong brother. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. A TURN IN THE TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the taxi before + a stately Colonial mansion seated back among the pines of a beautiful Long + Island estate. They had been driving for more than an hour. The girl + stirred languorously as he strove to awaken her. She murmured drowsily: + </p> + <p> + “No, Jack, dear. Emphatically no. Let's not talk about it any more, dear + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Who can Jack be?” and a surprising pang shot through Montague Shirley's + heart. “Jack, dear! Well, and what's it my business. She is a stranger. + She lives her life and I mine. But, at any rate, that settles some silly + things I've been thinking. I'm less awake than she is.” + </p> + <p> + This time he tried with better success, and Helene rubbed her eyes, with + hands stiffened by the brisk bite of the chill wind. She gazed at the + dimly lit house, at the big figure beside her, as Shirley sprang to the + ground—then remembered it all, and trembled despite herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, Mr. Shirley,” and she summoned up a little throaty laugh, + as she arose stiffly. “What a queer place to be in!” + </p> + <p> + “We are a long way from New York's white lights, Miss Marigold. This is + the country home of a good old friend of mine. You can remain here for the + rest of the night, as his wife's guest. To-morrow, when you are rested, he + can send you to the city in one of his cars.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the most curious man in two continents. I am bewildered. First, + you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me. Now you besiege a + friend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a foundling.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry—it's the exigency of war! We must finish what we started. + This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly hide my trail. We + must wake up Jim, but first I will have a look at our guest.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocket + flashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met by the wicked + black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes of unpronounceable hatred. + </p> + <p> + “You are still with us, little bright eyes. A pleasant trip, I trust? I + hope you found the air good—I tried to improve the ventilation for + your benefit, as well as my own.” Only a subdued gurgle answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what will they think of me—in this immodest gown, with this + paint on my face, and at this hour of night?” pleaded Helene, as he + started toward the door of the mansion. + </p> + <p> + “It would be awful at that,” and Shirley paused at the beseeching tone of + the girl. “I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim. I am afraid they + would think this was the echo of an old college escapade, and misjudge + you. Let me think—” + </p> + <p> + He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big coat + about her as he added: “It's dark here—the wind doesn't reach you, + and I'll take you back to town in five minutes. Will that do?” + </p> + <p> + As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously at the + bell. An angry head protruded from an upper story, after many encores of + the peals. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, what the dickens? Go some place else and find out!” + </p> + <p> + “Jim, Jim. It's Monty! Come down and let me in quick.” + </p> + <p> + The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a light + soon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door. + </p> + <p> + “You poor boob,” was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, “What brings + you out here? I thought it was the usual joy party which had lost its way. + They always pick me out for an information bureau. Come on in!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone. The girl in the dark summer-house + marveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim suddenly ran down the steps + to gaze into the taxicab, then nodding to Shirley. The house-holder as + promptly returned through his front door, while Shirley swiftly unmanacled + the prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward from the long + ordeal in the car. The stern grip, of his captor prompted obedience. + </p> + <p> + Friend Jim had appeared with warmer garments, carrying a lantern. At the + door of the stable Jim's stentorian yell to the groom seemed useless, but + the two men entered. Helene felt miserably weak and deserted, in the chill + night, but she was cheered by seeing the energetic Shirley reappear, + pushing open the doors of the garage, which was connected with the stable. + He hurried to the deserted taxicab, where he seemed busied for several + minutes, the glow of his pocket lamp shooting out now and then. Through + the door of the garage a long, rakish-looking racing car was being pushed + out by Jim and his sleepy groom. There was a cheery shout from the taxi, + and Helene heard a ripping sound. Shirley reappeared, carrying an oblong + box. + </p> + <p> + “I have the gas generator:—it was built in, under the seat, and + controlled by a battery wire from the front lamp, Jim. A nice little + mechanism. Well, old pal, please apologize to Mrs. Merrivale for my rude + interruption of her beauty sleep. Keep a fatherly eye on Gentleman Mike, + and the taxicab under cover. I'll communicate with you very soon. So + long.” + </p> + <p> + To Helene's amazement, Shirley cranked the racer, jumped in and seemed to + be starting away without her, down the sweep of the driveway. Could he + have forgotten her? The man must indeed be mad, as some of his actions + indicated! But her aroused indignation was turned to admiration of his + finesse, for suddenly he veered the lights of the car toward the garage + door, throwing them in the faces of Jim and his servant. He leaped out + again, walking past the place of concealment. + </p> + <p> + “Slip into the car, while I go inside with them. I'll come out on the run, + and no one will be the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + With this passing stage direction he rushed toward his accomodating + friend, with some final directions. They were apparently humorous in + content, for both the other men roared with mirth, as he walked inside the + building, with them, an arm around the shoulder of each. Helene obeyed + him, hiding as best she could in the low seat of the throbbing machine. As + Shirley returned, Jim Merrivale was still laughing blithely. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, you old maniac: you'll be the death of me. I'll take care of + the star boarder, however, and feed him champagne and mushrooms.” + </p> + <p> + With a roar, Shirley started the engines, as he bounced into the seat, and + they sped down the curving driveway, with Helene leaning forward, + unobserved. + </p> + <p> + “There, we've had a little by-play that friend Jim didn't guess. I always + enjoy a little intrigue,” he laughed, as they whizzed along toward distant + New York. “But, I had to lie, and lie, and lie—like the light that + lies in women's eyes. What a jolly game!” + </p> + <p> + He was a big boy, happy in the excitement, and bubbling with his + superabundance of vitality. Helene felt curiously drawn toward him, in + this mood: she remembered a little paragraph she had read in a book that + day: + </p> + <p> + “A woman loves a man for the boy spirit that she discovers in him: she + loves him out of pity when it dies!” Then she fearsomely changed the + current of her thoughts, to complain pathetically of the cold wind! + </p> + <p> + “There, now, I am so thoughtless,” was his apology, as he stopped the car, + to wrap the overcoat more closely about her, and tuck her comfortably in a + big fur. Through the darkened streets of the suburb they raced, entering + the silent factory districts, which presaged the nearness of the river. It + was well on toward daybreak before they rolled over the Queensboro Bridge + to Manhattan. It was his second day without sleep, but Shirley was + sustained by the bizarre nature of the exploit: he could have kept at the + steering wheel for an eternity. + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad we're getting back?” he asked. Helene shook her head, then + she answered dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember something from one of Browning's poems, that I do? It's + just silly for us, but I understand it better now.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley surprised her by quoting it, as he looked ahead into the dark + street through which they swung, his unswerving hand steady on the wheel: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind, but in degree, + The instant made eternity,— + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride?” + </pre> + <p> + A quick flush, not caused by the biting wind, suffused her cheek beneath + the remnants of the rouge. Then she laughed up at him appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “Curious how our minds ran that way, and hit the very same poem, wasn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled back, as he swung down Fifth Avenue. + </p> + <p> + “Not so curious after all!” + </p> + <p> + Soon they drew up before the ornate portal of the California Hotel, where + late arrivals were so customary as to cause no comment. He bade her + good-night, words seeming futile after their long hours together. The + drive in the car to the club was short. Paddy the door man was instructed + to send down to Shirley's own garage for a mechanic to store the car until + further orders. The criminologist had ere this rubbed off his grease + paint, so that his appearance was not unusual. Once in his rooms he + treated himself to a piping hot shower, cleaned off the powder from his + dark locks, and as he smoked a soothing cigarette, in his bathrobe, + studied the mechanism of the gas generator for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “That was made by an expert who understands infernal machines with a + malevolent genius. I must look out for him,” he mused. “Well, I promised + Professor MacDonald that I would not sleep until I had come face to face + with the voice. I have fulfilled the vow: now for forgetfulness.” + </p> + <p> + He tumbled into bed, but not to oblivion. For his dreams were disturbed by + tantalizing visions of certain sun-gold locks and blue eyes not at all in + their simple connection with the business end of the Van Cleft mystery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF THE VOICE + </h2> + <p> + It took stoicism to the Nth degree for Shirley to respond to the early + telephone call next morning, from the clerk of the club. A few minutes of + violent exercise, in the hand ball court, the plunge, a short swim in the + natatorium and a rub down from the Swedish masseur, however, brought him + around to the mood for another adventure. Sending for the racing car he + began the round-up of details. There was, first of all, Captain Cronin to + be visited in Bellevue. Here he was agreeably surprised to find the + detective chief recuperating with the abettance of his rugged Celtic + physique. The nurse told Shirley that another day's treatment would allow + the Captain to return to his own home: Shirley knew this meant the + executive office of the Holland Detective Agency. + </p> + <p> + “And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going to apply + it to them gangsters who put me to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this morning + while I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab which was left + near Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, Cleary said. There are two + gangsters where the dogs won't bite them; today they are sending out to + Jim Merrivale's house to get the third and he'll be busy with a little + private third degree. I have no evidence which would connect the man who + tried to kill me last night with the other murders, except in a + circumstantial way. What I must do is to follow up the trail, and get the + gentleman carrying out the bales, in other words, with the goods on him.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get him, Monty, if I know you. The fellow hasn't called up at all + on the telephone to-day. I think he's afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain Cronin, not that! He's up to some new game. Well, I'm off—take + care of yourself and don't eat anything the nurse doesn't bring you with + her own hands. I wouldn't put anything past this gang.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands and hurried out of the hospital, with several more errands + to complete. He looked vainly about him for the gray racing-car. It was + gone! Here was another unexpected interference with his work, and Shirley, + sotto voce, expressed himself more practically than politely. He hurried + to an ambulance driver who stood in a doorway, solacing his jangled nerves + with a corn-cob smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Neighbor, did you see any one take the gray car standing here a few + minutes ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, a feller just came out of the hospital entry, cranked her and jumped + in.” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I just returned with a suicide actor case five minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you might have seen him enter first?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Not a sign. All I seen was the way he cranked the machine, and he + didn't waste any elbow grease doin' it, either. He knew the trick. That's + what I thought when I seen him, even if he did look like a dude.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hurried to the entry once more. This was the only portal through + which visitors were admitted to the hospital for the purpose of calling on + patients. He hastened to the uniformed attendant who took down the names + of all applicants. This man, upon inquiry, was a trifle dubious. True, + there had been two Italian women and before them—yes, there had been + a young chap with a green velour hat, and white spats. He had asked about + a Captain Cronin, and when told that a visitor was already seeing the + patient, agreed to wait outside. It had been about five minutes before. + The man was indefinite about more details. Shirley hurried to the + telephone booth in the corridor. To Headquarters he reported the theft of + car “99835 N.Y.,” giving a description of its special features and its + make. This warning he knew would be telephoned to all stations within five + minutes, so that every policeman in New York would be on the lookout for + the missing machine. Satisfied, he left the hospital, to walk across the + long block to the nearest north and south avenue, where he might catch a + surface car. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he halted, to mutter in astonishment at a sight which was the + surprise of the morning: it was the missing car standing peacefully on the + next corner. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what that means?” he murmured, as he stopped to study with great + interest the window of an Italian green grocer. A sidelong glance at the + car and its surroundings revealed nothing out of the way. He retraced his + steps to the hospital, wasted ten minutes with a cigarette or two, and + still no one seemed to take an interest in the automobile. Finally he + walked up to the car, trying the lock of which he had the only key. + Apparently it had been untampered with, for the key worked perfectly. Here + was Jim Merrivale's car, a good three hundred yards away from the place + where he had locked it to prevent any moving. He felt certain that keen + eyes had him under surveillance, yet he could not observe any observers + within the range of his own vision. It was simply a stupid, quiet slum + neighborhood and at the time, unusually deserted by the customary hordes + of children and dogs! + </p> + <p> + What had been the purpose in moving it such a short distance? + </p> + <p> + Where had it been in the twenty-five minutes since he had left it at the + entrance to the hospital? + </p> + <p> + Why had it been left here, of all places, where he would naturally walk if + desirous of taking a street-car? + </p> + <p> + There seemed no immediate answer to the conundrums. So, he nonchalantly + clambered into the car, after cranking it. The mechanism seemed in perfect + order. Puzzled, he started to speed up the street, when he observed a + white envelope close by his foot, on the floor of the car. + </p> + <p> + He picked it up, and tearing it open quickly read this simple message. + </p> + <p> + “To whom it may concern: It is frequently advisable to mind your own + business—is it not? Answer: Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Huh,” grunted Shirley. “While not thrilling in originality, it is a + lasting truth which nobody can deny. I'll save this and frame it on the + walls of my rooms.” + </p> + <p> + As he drove around the corner and up the Avenue, there was suddenly a + terrific explosion, which threw him completely out of the machine! The + car, without a driver, its engines whirring madly, dashed into a helpless + corner fruit stand, scattering oranges, bananas, apples and desolation in + its wake, as it vainly endeavored to climb to the second story with + super-mechanical intelligence! Shirley, stunned and bruised, fell to the + pavement where he lay until an excited patrolman rushed to his rescue. + </p> + <p> + A little “first aid” work brought Shirley back to consciousness, and he + stiffly rose to his feet, with a head throbbing too much for any real + thinking. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with your auto?” cried the policeman. “Can't you run + it? Let's see the number.” The officer took out his notebook, to jot down + the details according to police rules. Then he turned on Shirley in + amazement. “Be gorry, it's car 99835 N.Y. I just wrote the number down + when I came on post with my squad! This car is stolen. You come with me!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had been adjusting the mechanism, and the wheels had ceased their + whirring. He tried to expostulate in a dazed way, realizing that for once + the department was working with a vengeful promptness. He was hoist by his + own petard! + </p> + <p> + “I'm the owner of the car,” he began, rubbing his aching forehead. + </p> + <p> + “What's yer name?” + </p> + <p> + “Montague Shirley!” The policeman laughed, as he caught the criminologist + by the shoulder, and blew his whistle for another man from post duty. + </p> + <p> + “You lie. This car is owned by James Merrivale. You can't put over raw + stuff like that on me. I'm no rookie—Here, Joe,” (as the other + policeman ran up through the growing, jeering crowd,) “watch this machine. + This guy's one of them auto Raffles, and I done a good job when I lands + him. I'm going to the station-house now.” + </p> + <p> + The other policeman was examining the car, when he called to his fellow + officer: “Here, Sim, did you see this car was blown up inside the seat?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley, his acuteness returned by this time, ran to the car eluding his + captor's hold. He had not observed before the jagged shattered hole torn + in the side of the leather side. It had all happened so swiftly, that his + professional instincts were slow in reasserting themselves after the + “buck” of the car. + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” he exclaimed. “There's an alarm clock and a dry battery—the + same man made this who built the gas-generator—” + </p> + <p> + “Whadd'ye mean—ain't you the feller after all?” asked the first + patrolman, beginning to get dubious about his arrest. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am no thief. But just take me to the station-house quick, and turn + in your report. Let this other man guard that car. Hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, feller, who do you think is making this arrest? You'll go to the + station-house when I get ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're ready now,” snapped the criminologist. “You'll see me + discharged very promptly, when I speak to the Commissioner over the wire.” + </p> + <p> + The officer was supercilious until the station-house was reached. He had + heard this blatant talk before. What was his surprise when Shirley + telephoned to the head of the Department and then called the Captain to + the instrument. + </p> + <p> + “Release Mr. Shirley at once,” was the crisp order. “Give him any men or + assistance he needs.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whadd'ye know about that? Not even entered on the blotter to credit + me with a good arrest!” The patrolman turned away in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want any of the reserves, sir?” The Captain was scrupulously + polite. + </p> + <p> + “Not one. I'm going to study that machine again. You might detail a plain + clothes man to walk along the other side of the street for luck. + Good-day.” + </p> + <p> + The automobile to which he returned was still the object of community + interest. Shirley took the remains of the bomb which had caused his sudden + elevation. The policeman approached him from the fruit store. + </p> + <p> + “The man wants damages for the stock you destroyed, mister. I'll fix it up + with him if you want—about twenty-five dollars will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, hand him this five-dollar bill and see if that won't dry some of + the imported tears,” retorted Shirley with a laugh. In a few minutes he + was bowling along on a surface car, to the club. There was no longer any + use in trying to hide his identity or address, for the conspirators knew + at least of his interest and assistance in the case: although in this as + all others he was not known to be a professional sleuth. + </p> + <p> + In the quiet of his room he drew out magnifying glasses and other + instruments for a thorough analysis of the remains of the infernal + machine. He compared this with the mechanism of the gas-generator which + had been placed in the seat of the Death taxi. There was evidence that it + had come from the same source. Shirley sniffed at the generator and the + peculiar odor still clinging to it was familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think I will have a little surprise for Mr. Voice, the next time + we grapple, which will be an encore of his own tune, with a new verse!” + </p> + <p> + He went to a cabinet, took out a small glass vial, filled with a limpid + liquid and placed it within his own pocket. Then he prepared for a new + line of activities for the day. His first duty was a call on Pat Cleary, + superintendent of the Holland Agency. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain is progressing splendidly,” was his answer to the anxious + query. “He will be back in the harness again to-morrow. How are the + prisoners?” + </p> + <p> + “They have tried to break out twice and gave my doorman a black eye. But + they got four in return: Nick is no mollycoddle, you know. I can't quite + get the number of these fellows, for they are not registered down at + Headquarters, in the Rogue's Gallery. Their finger-prints are new ones in + this district, too. They look like imported birds, Mr. Shirley. What do + you think?” + </p> + <p> + Cleary's opinion of the club man had been gaining in ascendency. + </p> + <p> + “They may be visitors from another city, but I think the state will keep + them here as guests for a nice long time, Cleary. They say New York is + inhospitable to strangers, but we occasionally pay for board and room from + the funds of the taxpayers without a kick. We saved the day for the Van + Clefts, all right. The paper told of a beautiful but quiet funeral + ceremony, while the daughter has postponed her marriage for six months.” + </p> + <p> + Then he recounted the adventure of the exploding car. Cleary lit his + malodorous pipe, and shook his head thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Young man, you know your own affairs best. But with all your money, you'd + better take to the tall pines yourself, like these old guys in the + 'Lobster Club.' That's the advice of a man who's in the business for money + not glory. This is a bum game. They'll get me some day, some of these + yeggs or bunk artists that I've sent away for recuperation, as the doctors + call it. But I'm doing it for bread and beefsteak, while it lasts. You run + along and play—a good way from the fire, or you'll get more than + your fingers burnt. Take their hint and beat it while the beating's good.” + </p> + <p> + A glint of steel shone from the eyes of the criminologist as he lit + another cigarette and took up his walking-stick. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Cleary, this is what I call real sport. Why go hunting polar bears + and tigers when we've got all this human game around the Gold Coast of + Manhattan? I'm tired of furs: I want a few scalps. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + As Cleary went up the stairway to renew the ginger of the Third Degree for + the two prisoners, he smiled to himself, and muttered: + </p> + <p> + “The guy ain't such a boob as he looks: he's just a high-class nut. I'd + enjoy it myself if it wasn't my regular work.” + </p> + <p> + At Dick Holloway's office Shirley was greeted with an eager demand for his + report of the former evening's activities. An envious look was on the face + of the theatrical manager. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, Monty! It's a shame that all this sport is private stock, and + can't be bottled up and peddled to the public, for they're just crazy + about gangster melodrama. They're paying opera prices for the old time + ten-twent-and-thirt-melodrama, right on Broadway. Hurry up and get the man + and I'll have him dramatized while the craze is rampant.” + </p> + <p> + “Not while I own the copyright,” retorted Shirley, “this is one of the + chapters of my life that isn't going to be typewritten, much less the + subject of gate-receipts.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so certain of that,” and Holloway's smile was quizzical. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Who is this Helene Marigold? I have a right to know in + a case like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Good intuition, as far as you go. But you're guessing wrong, for she has + nothing to do with my little joke. But why worry about her?” laughed + Holloway. His friend had leaned forward, intensely, clutching his cane, + with an unusually serious look on his face. Holloway had never seen + Shirley take such an interest in any woman before. He arose from his + desk-chair and walked to the broad window, which overlooked the thronging + sidewalks of Broadway. + </p> + <p> + “Down there is the biggest, busiest street in the world filled with women + of all hues and shades. This is the first time you ever looked so anxious + about any combination of lace, curls, silks and gew-gaws before. You have + been the bright and shining example of indifferent bachelor freedom which + has made me—thrice divorced—so envious of your unalloyed, + unalimonied joy. Don't betray the feet of clay which have supported my + idol!” + </p> + <p> + The baffling smile of the debonair club man returned to Shirley's face, as + he twitted back: “Purely an altruistic inquiry, Dick. I feared that you + might be risking your own heart and the modicum of freedom which you still + possess. But I'll wager a supper-party for four that I'll find out who she + is, without either you or she telling me.” + </p> + <p> + “Taken. At last I'm to have a free banquet, after years of business + entertaining. You have met a girl who will match your wits—I expect + the sparks to fly. Well, she's worth while—I might do worse—but + in perfect fairness she ought to do better. How about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with Jack,” and Shirley tapped the walking stick on the floor with + an emphatic thump, while Holloway regarded him in startled surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “You see—I am learning already. But, you and I are drifting from my + task. I wish that you would take me to call on Miss Marigold, in my + present lack of disguise. I do not care for that ancient garb any longer. + It was stretching the chances rather far, but thanks to the darkness, the + champagne, and good fortune, I succeeded in impersonating our aged friend + without detection. I will not return to Grimsby's house, but propose now + to get down to brass tacks with Mr. Voice, even though the tacks be hard + to sit upon. I wish to use her as a bait, by taking her out to tea and + getting a first-hand speaking acquaintance with these convivial + assassins.” + </p> + <p> + “Monty, you are wasting your talents outside the pages of a play + manuscript, but we will make that call instanter.” + </p> + <p> + In leisure, they promenaded up the crowded Gay Wide Way, through the + noontime crowd of theatrical folk who dot the thoroughfare in this part of + the city. His adversaries were to have every opportunity to observe his + movements and draw their own conclusions. At the Hotel California new + comment buzzed between the garrulous clerk and the switchboard person, at + sight of the well-known manager and his prosperous-looking companion. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that come on?” asked the clerk of the bellboy. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, dat's Montague Shirley, one of dem rich ginks from de College Club + on Forty-fourth Street, where I used to woik in de check room. If I had + dat guy's money I'd buy a hotel like dis.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I see where Holloway, with that blonde dame upstairs, will be + putting on a new musical show, with a new angel. It's a great business, + Miss Gwendolyn—no wonder they call it art.” And the clerk removed a + silk handkerchief from his coat cuff, to dust the register wistfully. “Why + didn't I devote my talents to the drama instead of room-keys and + due-bills?” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Gwendolyn was too busy talking to the Milwaukee drummer in Room + 72 to formulate a logical reason. Shirley and Holloway improved the time + by taking the elevator to the top floor where Helene greeted them at the + door of her pretty apartment. She welcomed them happily, declaring it had + been a lonesome morning. + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you resting from that long thrill of last night, in which you + starred?” asked Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “It was too thrilling for me to sleep: I know I look a perfect frump, this + morning. I tossed on the pillow, watching the dawn over your towering New + York roofs, so nervous and almost miserable. But, with company, it's all + right again.” + </p> + <p> + Holloway laughed inwardly at the warmth of the glance which she bestowed + upon Shirley. From the angle of an audience, he was beginning to observe a + phase of this double play of personalities which was unseen by either of + the participants. Two sleepless nights, after such a first evening + together, and what then? He imagined the denouement, with a growing + enjoyment of his vantage-point as the game advanced. + </p> + <p> + “To-day, I am reversing the usual progress of history,” said Shirley, as + he sat down in the window-seat. “From second juvenility I am returning to + the first. In other words, I wish to become your adoring suitor in the + role of Montague Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” and her eyes widened in wonder, not without an + accompanying blush which did not escape Holloway. + </p> + <p> + “No longer a lamb in sheep's clothing, I want to entertain you, without + the halo of William Grimsby's millions. I want to take tea with these + gentle-voiced cut-throats, who after my warning to-day, are directing + their attention to me.” He narrated the narrow escape from death in the + racing-car. Helene's eyes darkened with an uncertainty which he had hardly + expected. Perhaps she would refuse to carry out their compact along these + dangerous lines. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel it wise to place yourself beneath this new menace?” + </p> + <p> + “The sword of Damocles is over me now, I know. To run would be a + confession of weakness and open the field for his further activities, with + the rear-guard continuously exposed. There is nothing like the personal + equation. I will call at five this afternoon, if you are willing, Miss + Marigold?” + </p> + <p> + “I will fight it out to the end,” and she placed her warm hand firmly + within his own. The two friends departed, Shirley retracing his steps to + the club where many things were to be studied and planned. His system of + debit and credit records of facts known and needed, was one which brought + finite results. As he smoked and pondered at his ease, a tapping on the + study door aroused him from his vagrant speculations. At his call, a + respectful Japanese servant presented a note, just left by a + messenger-boy. He tore the envelope and read it. + </p> + <p> + “Montague Shirley:—The third time is finis. As a friend you + accomplished the purpose you sought. There is no grudge against you. Why + seek one? It is fatal for you to remain in the city. Leave while you have + time.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. The chirography was the same as that upon the note of the + racing-car episode. Shirley locked up the missive in his cabinet, and + smiled at the increasing tenseness of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “The writer of these two notes may have an opportunity to leave town + himself before long, to rest his nerves in the quiet valley of the Hudson, + at Ossining. My friend the enemy will soon be realizing a deficit in his + rolling-stock and gentlemanly assistants. Two automobiles and three + prisoners to date. There should be additional results before midnight. I + wonder where he gardens into fruition these flowers of crime?” + </p> + <p> + And even as he pondered, a curious scene was being enacted within a dozen + city blocks of the commodious club house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE SPIDER'S WEB + </h2> + <p> + The setting was a bleak and musty cellar, beneath an old stable of dingy, + brick construction. The building had been modernized to the extent of one + single decoration on the street front, an electric sign: “Garage.” On the + floor, level with the sidewalk, stood half a dozen automobiles of varied + manufacture and age. Near the wide swinging doors of oak, stood a big, + black limousine. Two taxicabs of the usual appearance occupied the space + next to this, while a handsome machine faced them on the opposite side of + the room. Two ancient machines were backed against the wall, in the rear. + </p> + <p> + In the basement beneath, several men were grouped in the front + compartment, which was separated by a thick wooden partition from the rear + of the cellar. Three dusty incandescents illuminated this space. In the + back a curious arrangement of two large automobile headlights set on deal + tables directed glaring rays toward the one door of the partition. In the + center of the rear room was another table, standing behind a screen of + wire gauze, at the bottom of which was cut a small semicircle, large + enough for the protrusion of a white, tense hand, whose fingers were even + now spasmodically clenching in nervous indication of fury. Behind either + lamp was a heavy black screen, which effectually shut off ingress to that + portion of the room. + </p> + <p> + The man standing between the table and the closed door of the partition, + full in the light of the lamps, watched the hand as though fascinated. He + could see nothing else, for behind the gauze all was darkness. Absolutely + invisible, sat the possessor of the hand, observing the face of his + interviewer, on the brighter side of the gauze. + </p> + <p> + “So, there's no word from the Monk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, chief. De bloke's disappeared. Either he got so much swag offen dis + old Grimsby guy, after youse got de bumps, or he had cold feet and beat it + wid de machine.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a crooked game on me.” rasped the voice behind the screen. “I'll + send him up for this. You know how far my lines go out. What about Dutch + Jake and Ben the Bite?” + </p> + <p> + The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment There + was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. + </p> + <p> + “Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for dis. I'm + doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you sends 'em to + shadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not paying you to calculate. I've trusted you and lost six thousand + dollars' worth of automobiles for my pains. You can just calculate this, + that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben and the Monk by this time + tomorrow, I'll send some news down to Police headquarters on Lafayette + Street that will make you wish you had never been born.” + </p> + <p> + For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a galvanic + effect on the bewildered one. His hands trembled as he raised them + imploringly to the screen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gov'nor, wot have I done? Ain't I been on de level wid yez? Say, I + ain't never even seen yez for de fourteen months I've been yer gobetween. + I've been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to de workhouse 'cause I + wouldn't squeal, and now ye t'reatens me. Did I ever fall down on a trick + ontil dis week? You'se ain't goin' ter welch on me, are you'se? I ain't no + welcher meself, an' ye knows it.” + </p> + <p> + The other snapped out curtly: “Very well, cut out the sob stuff. It's up + to you to prove that there hasn't been a leak somewhere or a double cross. + Send in those rummies,—I want to give them the once over again. + There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, and I'm no abolitionist! Quick + now. Get a wiggle on.” + </p> + <p> + The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenant advanced + into the front compartment of the cellar. He beckoned meaningly to the + others to follow him. They obeyed with a slinking walk, which showed that + they were obsessed by some great dread, in that unseen presence, in the + heart of the spider-web! + </p> + <p> + “Which one of you is the stool pigeon,” came the harsh query. + </p> + <p> + “W'y, gov'nor, none of us. You'se knows us,” whined one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing or + Danamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to.” + </p> + <p> + The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, blinking in + the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the unseen but certain + malignancy of the power behind that mysterious wall. + </p> + <p> + “I brought you here to New York,” continued the master, “you are making + more money with less work and risk than ever before. But you're playing + false with me, and I know some one is slipping information where it + oughtn't to go. I'm going to skin alive the one who I catch. There's one + eye that never sleeps, don't forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?” advanced the most forward of them. + “We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat's all. We ain't never even + seen ya, and don't know even wot de whole game is. Don't queer us, + gov'nor!” + </p> + <p> + “Go out front again, and shut off this blab. I warn you that's all-Now, + Phil, give this to the men. Tell them to keep off the cocaine—they're + getting to be a lot of bone heads lately. Too much dope will spoil the + best crook in the world.” + </p> + <p> + The white hand passed out a roll of crisp, new currency to the lieutenant + of the gang, who gingerly reached for it, as though he expected the + tapering fingers to claw him. + </p> + <p> + “Fifty dollars to each man. No holding out. Remember, every one of them is + spying on the other to me. I'm not a Rip Van Winkle. Now, I want you to + keep this fellow Montague Shirley covered but don't put him away until I + give you the word. Send the bunch upstairs, for I don't want to be + disturbed the next two hours. And just keep off the coke yourself. You're + scratching your face a good deal these days—I know the signs.” + </p> + <p> + Phil expostulated nervously. “Oh, gov'nor, I ain't no fiend—just + once and a while I gets a little rummy, and brightens up. It takes too + much money to git it now, anyway. Goodbye, chief.” + </p> + <p> + As he closed the wooden door to pay the gangsters, there was a slight + grating noise, which followed a double click. A bar of wood automatically + slid down into position behind the door, blocking a possible opening from + the front of the cellar. The lights suddenly were darkened. The sound of + shuffling feet would have indicated to a listener that the owner of the + nervous hand was retreating to the rear of the darkened den. A noise + resembling that of the turn of a rusty hinge might have then been heard: + there was a metallic clang, the rattle of a sliding chain and the rear + room was as empty as it was black! + </p> + <p> + In the front room, after payment from the red-headed ruffian, Phil, the + men clambered in single file up a wooden ladder to the street level. A + trap-door was put into place and closed. Then the men began to shoot + “craps” for a readjustment of the spoils, with the result that Red Phil, + as his henchmen called him, was the smiling possessor of most of the + money, without the erstwhile necessity of “holding out.” + </p> + <p> + Then the gangsters scattered to the nearby gin-shops to while away the + time before darkness should call for their evil activities. It was a + cheerful little assortment of desperadoes, yet in appearance they did not + differ from most of the habitues of New York garages, those cesspools of + urban criminality. + </p> + <p> + From his club, Shirley telephoned Jim Merrivale in his downtown office, + purposely giving another name, as he addressed his friend—a + pseudonym upon which they had agreed during the night call. Shirley was + suspicious of all telephones, by this time, and his guarded inquiry gave + no possible clue to a wiretapping eavesdropper. + </p> + <p> + “How is the new bull-dog?” was the question, after the first guarded + greeting. “Is he still muzzled?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Smith,” responded Merrivale, “and the meanest specimen I have + ever seen outside a Zoo! When I sent the groom out to feed him this + morning, he snarled and tried to claw him. He's on a hunger strike. I + looked up the license number on his collar but he's not registered in this + state.” (This, Shirley knew, meant the automobile tag under the machine + which had been captured.) + </p> + <p> + “When are you apt to send for him—I don't think I'll keep him any + longer than I can help.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send out from the dog store, with a letter signed by me. Feed him a + little croton oil to cure his disposition. Good-bye, for now, Jim. I'll + write you, this day.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hung up, and smiled with satisfaction at the news. The man would + be glad to get bread and water, before long, he felt assured. However, he + despatched a note to Cleary, of the Holland Agency, enclosing a written + order to Merrivale to deliver over the prisoner, for safer keeping in the + city. + </p> + <p> + This disposed of the started out from the club house for his afternoon of + dissipation. As he left the doorway, he noticed the two men with the black + caps standing not far away. They were engrossed in the rolling of + cigarettes, but the swift glance which they shot at him did not escape + Monty. + </p> + <p> + “Like the poor and the bill collectors, they are always with us,” was his + thought, as he calmly strolled over to the Hotel California. He determined + to place them in a quiet, sheltered retreat at the earliest opportunity. + He found Helene more attractive than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put on this wretched rouge again to-day,” was the plaintive + question, after the first greeting. “I hate it so—and yet, will do + whatever you order.” + </p> + <p> + “Your role calls for it, my dear girl. Perhaps we may close the dramatic + engagement sooner than we expect. To-night should be an eventful one, for + I will accept every lead which Reginald Warren offers. I would like to + have a record of his voice, and that of some of his friends. There is a + difference between the telephone voice and that heard face to face,—you + would be a good witness if I could persuade him to sing or speak for me + into a record. You can straighten out the difficulties of this case, if + you will, in a thoroughly feminine manner.” + </p> + <p> + “And what, sir, is that, I pray you?” + </p> + <p> + “Give him the opportunity—to fall in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's cheeks flushed a stronger carmine than the rouge which she was + administering, as she looked up in quick embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want him to love me. I want no man to love me,” was the petulant + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless you have reason to be satisfied as things are,” replied + Shirley, puffing a cigarette, “but the softness of cerebral conditions + increases in direct ratio with the mushiness of the affections. If it is + important to us—and you are my partner in this fascinating business + venture—will you not sacrifice your emotions to that extent: merely + to let him lead himself on, as most men do?” He paused for a critical + observation of her, and then added: “You are even more beautiful to-day + than you were yesterday. He cannot help loving you if he is given the + chance!” + </p> + <p> + Helene's white fingers crushed the orchid which she was pinning to the + bosom of her gown. Her intent gaze met the mask of Shirley's ingenuous + smile, reading in his telltale eyes a message which needed no court + interpreter! Quickly she turned to her mirror to put the finishing touches + to her coiffure, the golden curls so alluringly wilful. + </p> + <p> + “Your flattery, sir, is very cruel. Beware! I may take it seriously. What + would happen if my verdant heart were to fall a victim to the cunning + wiles of the voice? Remember, I have only met two men, since I came to + America, yesterday. And they are both pronounced woman-haters. I will take + you at your word, about Mr. Reginald Warren, and loosen my blandishments + to the best of my rustic ability.” + </p> + <p> + A wayward twinkle in her eyes should have warned Shirley that she was + planning a little mischief. But, he was too preoccupied in finding the + real front of her baffling street cloak to observe it. They left for the + tearoom, while Helene still laughed to herself over certain subtle + possibilities which she saw in the situation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. A PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY + </h2> + <p> + Rather early, again, for the usual throng, they were able to choose their + position to their liking: to-day, it was in the center of the big room, + close by the space cleared for the dancing. Gradually the tables were + occupied, apparently by the identical people of the afternoon before, so + marked is the peculiar character of the dance-mad individuality. To-day he + varied his menu with a mild order of cocktails—for now he was not + emulating the Epicurean record of the bibulous Grimsby. They observed with + amusement the weird contortions, seldom graced by a vestige of rhythm or + beauty, with which the intent dancers spun and zigzagged. + </p> + <p> + “Considering how much money they pay to learn these steps from + dancing-masters, there is unusually small value in the market, Miss + Marigold. I resigned myself to the approach of the sunset years, and + became a voluntary exile in the garden of the wallflowers, when society + dancing became mathematical.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Once it was possible to chat, to smile, to woo or to silently enjoy the + music and the measures of the dance in company with a sympathetic partner. + Now, however, since the triumph of the 'New Mode,' one must count + 'one-two-three,' and one's partner is more captious than a schoolmarm! + What puzzles me is the need for new steps, to be learned from expensive + teachers, when it's so easy to slide down hill in this part of New York. + But here endeth the sermon, for I recognize the amiable Pinkie at that + other table, where she is studying your face with the malevolence of a + cobra.” + </p> + <p> + Helene slowly turned her eyes toward the other girl, who now advanced with + forced effusiveness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, and you're back again today. But where is dear old Grimmie; + he is a nice old soul, though a trifle near-sighted. He wasn't half seas + over last night—he was a war-zone submarine, out for a long-distance + record!” + </p> + <p> + She impudently seated herself at the table with them, sending a + questioning glance at the handsome companion of her quondam rival. Helene + instinctively drew back, but a warning glance from Shirley plunged her + into her assumed character, and she greeted the other girl with the + quasi-comradeship of their class. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, dear. Grimsby was a little poisoned by the salad or something + like that: he was actually disagreeable with me, of all people in the + world. But, I have so many friends that Grimsby does not give me any + worry. He means nothing in my life. You seemed quite worried over him, + though—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, girlie,” was Pinkie's effort to parry. “I was upset—not + because he was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age. His + taste has deteriorated so much since he started wearing glasses. But why + don't you introduce me to your gentleman friend?” + </p> + <p> + Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward the modest + Shirley with a bow of condescension. “This is Pinkie, one of old Grimsby's + sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like her.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you Montague Shirley?” demanded the auburn-haired coquette with + sudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand with an ardent + glance, ogling him impressively, as she continued: “I've heard a lot of + you. I'm just that pleased to meet you!” + </p> + <p> + An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this creature of + the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such a wholesome, + superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was irritating, and the + overacted kittenishness of the girl made her sick at heart, although she + betrayed no sign of her feeling. Helene could not understand that despite + its mammoth size, New York is relatively provincial in the club and + theatrical community, his acquaintanceship numbering into the thousands. + Town Topics, the social gossipers of the newspapers and talkative club men + bandied names about in such wise that it was easy for members of Pinkie's + profession to satisfy their hopeful curiosity—prompted by visions of + eventual social conquest on the one hand and a professional desire to + memorize street numbers on the Wealth Highway for ultimate financial + manipulations. As one of the richest members of the exclusive bachelor + set, Montague Shirley, even unknown to himself, occupied reserved niches + in the ambitions of a hundred and one fair plotters! + </p> + <p> + “You will honor us by taking a drink, Miss Pinkie?” was the + criminologist's courteous overture. + </p> + <p> + “Pinkie Marlowe, if you want to know the rest of my name. Yes, I need a + little absinthe to wake me up, for I just finished breakfast. We had a + large party last night at Reg Warren's. Why don't you dance with me?” + </p> + <p> + “The old adage about fat men never being loved applies especially to those + who brave the terrors of the fox-trot. I weigh two hundred, so I wisely + sit under the trees and laugh at the others.” + </p> + <p> + “You two hundred?” and admiration flashed from Pinkie's emotional eyes, “I + don't believe it. Why, you're just right! I could dance with a man like + you all night!” + </p> + <p> + Helene's helplessness only fanned the flames of her inward fury at the + brazen intent of the girl. She forgot about Jack and even her plans about + Reginald Warren. But Shirley's purpose was now rewarded, for Pinkie acted + as the magnet to draw over several of the gilded youths whom they had met + the day before. More introductions followed, and additional refreshments + were soon gracing the table. Shine Taylor was the next to join the party, + and erelong the waited-for visitor was approaching them. His eyes were + upon Shirley from the instant that he entered the room: he advanced + directly toward their table with a certainty which proved to Monty that + method was in every move. + </p> + <p> + “What a pleasant surprise, little Bonbon!” exclaimed this gentleman as he + drew up to their table. “I'm so glad. I was afraid you wouldn't get home + safely with Grimsby; he was so absolutely overcome last night. He promised + to bring you to my little entertainment but didn't show up. What became of + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Join us in a drink and forget him,” suggested Helene, as she took his + hand with an innocently stupid smile. “This is Mr. Shirley, Mr.—Mr.—I + had so much champagne last night I forgot your name.” + </p> + <p> + “Warren, that's simple enough. Glad to see you, Mr. Sherwood, oh, Shirley! + It seems as though I had heard your name—aren't you an actor, or an + artist? A musician, or something like that? My memory is so miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm just a 'something like that,' not even an actor,” was the answer, as + the tiniest of nudges registered Helene's appreciation. “What is your + favorite poison?” + </p> + <p> + Warren gave him a startled look, and then laughed: “Oh, you mean to drink? + Now you must join me for I am the intruder.” He drew out a roll of money; + more nice, new hundred dollar bills. Shirley remembered that old Van Cleft + had drawn several thousand dollars from his office the night of the + murder. Even his trained stoicism rebelled at thought of drinking a + cocktail bought with this bloody currency! + </p> + <p> + “You didn't tell me about Grimsby?” persisted Warren, turning to Helene, + with an admiring scrutiny of the girl's charms. “I'm rather interested.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to ask him, not me. After we took a taxi from the + Winter-Garden we had a ride in the Park. So stupid, I thought, at this + time of the year. When I woke up, Grimmie was helping me into the entrance + of the hotel. He was very cross with the chauffeur and with me, too. Then + he took the taxi and went home, still angry.” + </p> + <p> + “So!” after a moment's silence, Warren continued, a puzzled look on his + face. “What was the trouble? I don't see how any one could be cross with a + nice little girl like you. But to-night, I'm to have another little party + up at my house. Bring some one up, who won't be cross. You come, Mr. + Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + Helene hesitated, but Monty acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “That would be splendid. What time?” + </p> + <p> + “About eleven. I'll expect you—I must run along now, as I'm ordering + some fancy dishes.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene. + </p> + <p> + “We must be leaving, too. I'll accept your invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll be there, too, Mr. Shirley,” put in Pinkie Marlowe. “I'll teach + you some new steps. Reggie has a wonderful phonograph for dancing, with + all the new tunes. See you later, girlie.” + </p> + <p> + They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren. At the check-room, + Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took out his green velour + hat. His feet were adorned with white spats. After the door of their taxi + had slammed he confided to Helene that he had located the gentleman who + had caused his wreck that morning. Still, however, the clues were too weak + for action. The car went first to the club, where Shirley sent in for any + possible letters or messages. The servant brought out a note. It was + another surprise. He gave an address to the driver and as the car turned + up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missive with knit brows. + </p> + <p> + “A new worry?” asked Helene. “May I help you?” + </p> + <p> + He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous handwriting. It was + short. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mr. Shirley: Just received a threatening note demanding money. Can + you come up at once? Howard V. C.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished. + </p> + <p> + “As I thought it would turn out. Baffled in their game of robbing old men + who have all left the city, they have begun to work the chance for + blackmail. I will advise Van Cleft to pay them, and then we will follow + the money. Here is the mansion and I will be out in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He soon disappeared behind the bronze door. True to his promise, in five + minutes he had returned. He looked up and down the Avenue amazed. Not a + trace of the taxicab, nor of Helene Marigold could be seen! + </p> + <p> + Shirley's impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the chimera. He knew + she was armed, and would use the weapon if only to call for help. For the + first time in his career the chill of terror crept into his heart—not + for himself, but an irresistible dread of some impending danger for this + unfathomable woman who had shared his dangers so uncomplainingly during + this last wonderful day. He racked his mind vainly for some plausible + reason. “She knows I need her. Yet at the supreme moment of the game she + disappears. Can she be like other women, when she is most necessary?” + </p> + <p> + And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring to solve + this sudden abortion of his best laid plans. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE + </h2> + <p> + Shirley endured a miserable three hours, in his attempts to locate the + girl. She had not returned to the Hotel California, and he returned to the + club in moody reflection. It was beginning to snow, and the ground was + soon covered with a thin coat of white, through which he noticed his + footprints stenciled against the black of the wet pavement. He wasted a + dozen matches in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. He + stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its shelter. As + he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped into two men, wearing + black caps! One of them grunted a curt apology, as he stepped on. + </p> + <p> + “They are after me as usual,” he thought. “Why not reverse operations and + find out where they belong?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at disadvantage with + the odd number of the “move.” Theirs was the chance to observe, and an + open attempt to follow them would be ridiculous. Then, the footprints gave + him an idea. + </p> + <p> + Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his pace, + turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew that traffic + would be light, and his footprints the best evidence of his progress. The + men unwittingly caught his plan, and dropped almost out of sight. At the + intersection of Madison Avenue, they quickened their steps, and caught up + with him again. Across corners, down quiet streets, and by purposed + diagonals he led them: still they dogged his footprints. So adroit were + they that only one experienced in the art could have realized their + watchfulness. + </p> + <p> + Shirley now turned a corner quickly, into an unusually deserted + thoroughfare, running with short steps, so as not to betray his speed by + the tracks. Before they had time to round the corner he ran up the thinly + blanketed steps of a private residence. Then he backed, as swiftly down + the stoop, and thus crablike, walked across the street, down a dozen + houses and backward still, up the steps of another private dwelling. + Inside the vestibule he hid himself. The entry had strong wooden outside + doors, and he tried the strength of the hinges: they satisfied him. A dim + light burned behind the glass of the inner portal. He quietly clambered up + the door, and balanced himself on the wood which gallantly stood the + strain. Fortunately it did not come within four feet of the high ceiling + of the old fashioned house. + </p> + <p> + He suffered a good ten minutes' wait before his ruse was rewarded. Being + on the “fence” was a pastime compared to this precarious test of his + muscles. The two men who had followed the first footprints tired of + waiting before the house. One of them determined to investigate the other + steps, which led into the house of their vigilance, from the other + dwelling. And so he followed on, to the vestibule where he rang the bell. + Shirley could have touched his head, so near he was, but the darkness of + the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” was the angry question of an indignant old caretaker + who answered the bell tardily. “You woke me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?” began the man, gingerly. + </p> + <p> + “You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the police. No one + by that name ain't here. Now, you get!” + </p> + <p> + She slammed the door in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get Chuck to watch de udder joint,” muttered the man, in a tone + audible to Shirley. “Den I'll go back and git orders from Phil.” + </p> + <p> + This habit of thinking aloud was expensive. Shirley stiffly but + noiselessly slid down the steps, as he disappeared in the thickening + snowfall. The criminologist slowly crossed the street, and sheltered + himself in a basement entrance, from which he reversed the shadowing + process. The twain hesitated before the first house, then one came up the + sidewalk, as the other stood his ground. This man passed within a few feet + of Shirley, who followed him over to Madison Avenue, then north to + Fifty-fifth Street. Here he turned west, and turned into one of the old + stables, formerly used by the gentry of the exclusive section for their + blooded steeds. Into one building, which announced its identity as + “Garage” with its glittering electric sign, the man disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Shirley paused, looked about him, and chuckled. For he knew that through + the block on Fifty-sixth Street was the tall apartment building, known as + the Somerset—the address given him by Reginald Warren. + </p> + <p> + “If I only had some word from Helene Marigold I could go ahead before they + realized my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Even as this thought crossed his mind, he turned back into Sixth Avenue. A + hatless, breathless young person, running down the snowy street collided + with him. As he began to apologize, he awoke to the startling fact that it + was his assistant. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! What are you doing here? Where have you been all this time?” + </p> + <p> + The girl caught his arm unsteadily, but there was a triumph in her voice, + as she cried: “Oh, this wonderful chance meeting. I was running down to my + hotel but you have saved the day. I will tell you later. Quick, take this + book.” + </p> + <p> + She drew forth a volume, flexibly bound, like a small loose-leaf ledger. + Shirley stuck it into his overcoat pocket, which he was already slipping + about the girl's shivering shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Take me back at once, for there is more for me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Where, my dear girl? You are indeed the lady of mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “To the basement of Warren's apartment house. I came down the dumb-waiter, + when they left me. I left the little door ajar—Can you pull me up + again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long pull—Oh, if we can + only make it before they return.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran once more, + Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the snowstorm protected + them from too-curious observation, as the streets seemed deserted by + pedestrians who feared the growing blizzard. She led him to the + tradesman's entrance of the Somerset, into the dark corridor through which + she had emerged. + </p> + <p> + “Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be seen.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley obeyed,—at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter shaft. + </p> + <p> + “How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft—it + is no small task?” and his tone was admiring. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a weakling—tennis, boating, swimming were all in my + education; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those floors, and + lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little elevator car goes, then go + away and come to his party to look for me. Do not be surprised at my + actions. My role has really developed into that of an emotional heavy.” + </p> + <p> + She patted his hand with a relaxation of tenderness, as he began to draw + on the long rope. The girl was by no means a light weight, but at last the + dumb-waiter came to a stop. Shirley heard the opening and closing of a + door above. Then, still wondering at it all, he returned to the street as + unobserved as they had entered. There was at least an hour to wait. He + walked over to the Athletic Club, of which he was a remiss member, + attending seldom during the recent months when his exercise had been more + tragic than gymnastic work. In the library of the club house he sat down + to study the volume which Helene had thrust into his hands at their + startling meeting. + </p> + <p> + He gave a low whistle of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Some little book!” he muttered, “and Helene Marigold has shown me that I + must fight hard to equal her in the race for laurels!” + </p> + <p> + Then he proceeded to rack his brains with a new and knottier problem than + any which he had yet encountered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE STRANGE AND SURPRISING WARREN + </h2> + <p> + The volume was a loose-leaf diary, with each page dated, and of letter + size. It covered more than the current year, however, running back for + nearly eighteen months. It was as scrupulously edited as a lawyer's + engagement book, and curiously enough it was entirely written in + typewriting! + </p> + <p> + Most surprising of all, however, was the curious code in which the entire + matter was transcribed,—the most unusual one which Shirley had ever + read. + </p> + <p> + Here was the first page to which he opened, letter for letter and symbol + for symbol: + </p> + <p> + “THURSDAY: JANUARY SEVENTH, 1915. + ;rstmrfagtp,ansmlafrav;rudyrtaftreadocayjpi + dsmfaoma,ptmomha,pmlassdohmrfaypayscoae + ptlagptayrsadjomrasddohmrfagocahrmrsypta + ,sthoragsotgscafsyraeoyjafrav;rudyrtasyagobra + djomrasmfalprajse;ruavobrtomhas,rakslras + smffanrmasddohmrfan;svlavstagpta,raqsofaqj o;apmrajimftrfavpbrtomhadqrvos; + aeptlakpn agomodjrfatobrtdofraftobrasyarohjyoayjotfad ocadjstqafrqpdoyr + famohjyasmfaffuagpitayjpi dsmfadsgrafrqpdoyagogyrrmajimftrfa; rmyaf + p;;ua,stopmayepajimfrtgptaftrddagptaqstyua + eoyjabsmv;rgyamrcyasgyrtmppmasfbsmvrfad jomrapmrayjpidsm + daypavpbrtapqyopmapga usvjyadimnrs, aqsofaypantplrtayjsyamohjyapt + frfaqtpbodop,dayr;rqjpmragptausvjyayepa,p myjabtiodra, + pmlasddohmrdagptkpnamrcyafs uasfbs mvrfadjomragojimftrfapmasvvpimyae + ptlapmaer;;omhypmadrtts;a,syyrtatrqsitdan; svla,svjomra” + </p> + <p> + and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache! + </p> + <p> + Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx of + letters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the puzzle. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he mused. “Thursday, January seventh, was the date upon + which Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor MacDonald. Any + man who will maintain a record of the days in such a difficult code as + this must not only be extremely methodical, but is certain to have much to + put upon that record worth the trouble. Here may lay the secret of the + entire case.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no more proximity + to solution than at the inception of his effort. It was almost half-past + eleven, and he knew that it was time to go to Warren's apartment. He sent + a messenger with the book, carefully wrapped up, to his rooms at the club + on Forty-fourth Street. It was too interesting a document to risk taking + up to that apartment again, after Helene's exertions in obtaining it. + </p> + <p> + The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly embellished + dwellings of the sort which abound in the region of the Park, causing + out-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the source of the vast sums of + money with which to pay the enormous rentals of them all. + </p> + <p> + The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for Warren's + apartment. “You-all can go right up, boss. He's holdin' forth for another + of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night. Dat gemman alluz has too many + callin' to bother with the telephone when he has a party. You don't need + no announcin'.” + </p> + <p> + The man directed him to the door on the left. Closed as it was the sounds + of merrymaking emanated into the corridor. Shirley's pressure on the bell + was answered by Shine Taylor's startled face. Warren stood behind him. The + surprise of the pair amused Shirley, but their composure bespoke trained + self-control. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to be late,” was the criminologist's greeting. “But I came up + to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold. We missed + connections somewhere, and I couldn't find her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so pleased to have you with us anyway. We'll try to get along + without her—” but Warren was interrupted to his discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him. Helene Marigold waved a + champagne glass at Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “There's my tardy escort now. I'm here, Shirley old top! Te, he! You see I + played a little joke on you this afternoon and eloped with a handsomer man + than you.” She leaned unsteadily against the door post and waved a white + hand at him as she coaxed. “Come on in, old dear, and don't be cross now + with your little Bonbon Tootems!” + </p> + <p> + Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected sally. But + they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as they assisted Shirley in + removing his overcoat, and hanging his hat with those of the other guests. + He placed his cane against the hall tree, and followed his host into the + jollified apartment. He did not overlook the swift glide of Shine's hand + into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval. Here was a + skilful “dip”—Shirley, however, had taken care that the pickpocket + would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat. + </p> + <p> + Warren's establishment was a gorgeous one. To Shirley it was hard to + harmonize the character of the man as he had already deduced it with the + evident passion for the beautiful. That such a connoisseur of art objects + could harbor in so broad and cultured a mind the machinations of such + infamy seemed almost incredible. The riddle was not new with Reginald + Warren's case: for morals and “culture” have shown their sociological, + economic and even diplomatic independence of each other from the time when + the memory of man runneth not! + </p> + <p> + Shirley's admiration was shrewdly sensed by his host. So after a tactful + introduction to the self-absorbed merrymakers, now in all stages of + stimulated exuberance, he conducted his guest on a tour of inspection + about his rooms. + </p> + <p> + “So, you like etchings? I want you to see my five Whistlers. Here is my + Fritz Thaulow, and there is my Corot. This crayon by Von Lenbach is a + favorite of mine.” His black eyes sparkled with pride as he pointed out + one gem after another in this veritable storehouse of artistic surprises. + Few of the jolly throng gave evidence of appreciating them: the man was + curiously superior to his associations in education as well as the patent + evidence which Shirley now observed of being to the manor born. Helene + Marigold, ensconced in a big library chair, her feet curled under her, + pink fingers supporting the oval chin, dreamily watched Shirley's + absorption. She seemed almost asleep, but her mind drank in each mood that + fired the criminologist's face, as he thoroughly relaxed from his usual + bland superiority of mien, to revel in the treasures. + </p> + <p> + Ivory masterpieces, Hindu carvings, bronzes, landscapes, rare wood-cuts, + water colors—such a harmonious variety he had seldom seen in any + private collection. The library was another thesaurus: rich bindings + encased volumes worthy of their garb. The books, furthermore, showed the + mellowing evidence of frequent use; here was no patron of the instalment + editions-de-luxe! + </p> + <p> + “You like my things,” and Warren's voice purred almost happily. There was + a softening change in his attitude, which Shirley understood. The + appreciation of a fellow worshiper warmed his heart. “My books—all + bound privately, you know, for I hate shop bindings. Most of them from + second-hand stalls, redolent with the personalities of half a hundred + readers. Books are so much more worth reading when they have been read and + read again. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I see your tastes run to the modern school. Individualism, even + morbidity: Spencer, Nietsche, Schopenhauer, Tolstoi, Kropotkin, Gorky—They + express your thoughts collectively?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not radically enough. My entire intellectual life has driven me + forward—I am a disciple of the absolute freedom, the divinity of + self, and—but there I invited you to a joy party, not a university + seminar.” + </p> + <p> + “But the party will grow riper with age,” and Shirley was prone to + continue the autopsy. “You are a university man. Where did you study?” + </p> + <p> + “Sipping here and there,” and a forgivable vanity lightened Warren's face. + “Gottingen, Warsaw, Jena, Oxford, Milan, The Sorbonne and even at + Heidelberg, the jolly old place. You see my scar?” He pulled back a lock + of his wavy black hair from the left temple to show a cut from a student + duelist's sword. “But you Americans—I mean, we Americans—we + have such opportunities to pick up the best things from the rest of the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Warren,” and Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the slight break + which indicated that his host was a foreigner, despite the quick change. + “I have been to busy wasting time to collect anything but fleeting + memories. Too much polo, swimming, yachting, golfing—I have fallen + into evil ways. I think your example may reform me. You must dine with me + at my club some day, and give me some hints about making such wonderful + purchases.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the most wonderful antique shop,” Warren began, and just then was + interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person with whom he maxixed + through the Hindu draperies, each deftly balancing a champagne glass. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!” Shine's companion + held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were fixed in a fascinated + stare upon Montague Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal automobile + ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinkly crash. + Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks, but Monty + knew that they must by this time be aware of his command to the girl to + abstain from gay associations. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink into a + chair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another masculine butterfly + pressed more champagne upon her, and in a few moments she had forgotten to + worry about anything more important than the laws of gravity. Warren had + been rudely dragged away from his intellectual kinship with his guest. His + manner changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood. He looked at + Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the big chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of condolence to + Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a trip on his yacht, and it + was my last chance to say good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he going?” was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of news. + </p> + <p> + “Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice chap. Too bad + about his father's sudden death from heart failure, wasn't it? He told me + they were putting in supplies for a two months' cruise and would not be + able to sail before three in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know Van Cleft,” was Warren's guarded reply. “Of course, I read + of his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he can wipe out his grief with + a change of scene and part of the inheritance. It's being done in society, + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Van Cleft! He's besieged by blackmailers, who threaten to lay bare + his father's extravagant innuendos, unless he pays fifty thousand dollars. + He can afford it, but as he says, it's war times and money is scarce as + brunette chorus girls. He has put the matter before the District Attorney + and is going to sail for Far Cathay until they round up the gang. These + criminals are so clumsy nowadays, I imagine it will be an easy task, don't + you, Warren?” + </p> + <p> + The other man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he studied the childlike + expression of Shirley's face. He wondered if there could be a covert + threat in this innocent confidence. He answered laconically: “Oh, I + suppose so. We read about crooks in the magazines and then see their + capers in the motion picture thrillers, but down in real life, we find + them a sordid, unimaginative lot of rogues.” + </p> + <p> + He proffered Shirley a cigarette from his jeweled case. As he leaned + toward the table to draw a match from the small bronze holder, Helene + observed Shirley deftly substitute it for one of his own, secreting the + first. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Shirley, “the criminal who is caught generally loses his + game because he is mechanical and ungifted with talent. But think of the + criminals who have yet to be captured—the brilliant, the inspired + ones, the chess-players of wickedness who love their game and play it with + the finesse of experts.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smoothed away the ripple of suspicion which he had mischievously + aroused with, “So, that is why fellows like us would not bother with the + life. The same physical and intellectual effort expended by a criminal + genius would bring him money and power with no clutching legal hand to + fear. But there, we're getting morbid. What I really want to do is to + satisfy my vanity. Where did Miss Marigold disappear?” + </p> + <p> + “Talking about me?” and Helene opened her eyes languorously. “I was so + tired waiting for you that when Mr. Warren came along in his wonderful new + car I yielded to his invitation, so we enjoyed that tea-room trip which + you had promised. Such a lark! Then we came up here where I had the most + wonderful dinner with him and three girls. I was tired and sleepy, so I + dozed away on that library davenport until the party began—and there + you are and here I are, and so, forgive me, Monty?” + </p> + <p> + She slipped nimbly to the floor, with a maddening display of a silken + ankle, advancing to the criminologist with a wistful playfulness which + brought a flush of sudden feeling, to the face of Reginald Warren. Helene + was carrying out his directions to the letter, Shirley observed. + </p> + <p> + They lingered at Warren's festivities until a wee sma' hour, Helene + pretending to share the conviviality, while actually maintaining a + hawk-like watch upon the two conspirators as she now felt them to be. She + was amused by the frequency with which Shine Taylor and Reginald Warren + plied their guest with cigarettes: Shirley's legerdemain in substituting + them was worthy of the vaudeville stage. + </p> + <p> + “The wine and my smoking have made me drowsy,” he told her, with no effort + at concealment. “We must get home or I'll fall asleep myself.” + </p> + <p> + A covert smile flitted across Warren's pale face, as Shirley + unconventionally indulged in several semi-polite yawns, nodding a bit, as + well. Helene accepted glass after glass of wine, thoughtfully poured out + by her host. And as thoughtfully, did she pour it into the flower vases + when his back was turned: she matched the other girls' acute transports of + vinous joy without an error. Shirley walked to the window, asking if he + might open it for a little fresh air. Warren nodded smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You are well on the way to heaven in this altitude of eight stories,” + volunteered Shirley, with a sleepy laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The eighth and top floor. A burglar could make a good haul of my + collection, except that I have the window to the fire escape barred from + the inside, around the corner facing to the north. Here, I am safe from + molestation.” + </p> + <p> + “A great view of the Park—what a fine library for real reading; and + I see you have a typewriter—the same make I used to thump, when I + did newspaper work—a Remwood. Let me see some of your literary work, + sometime—” + </p> + <p> + Warren waved a deprecating hand. “Very little—editors do not like + it. I do better with an adding machine down on Wall Street than a + typewriter. But let us join the others.” There was a noticeable reluctance + about dwelling upon the typewriter subject. Warren hurried into the + drawing-room, as Shirley followed with a perceptible stagger. + </p> + <p> + Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another cigarette. + As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the others danced and + chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the hall door. After a few + minutes he returned to grimace slightly at Warren. Shirley roused himself + from his stupor. + </p> + <p> + “Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody.” + </p> + <p> + He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, with + Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine seemed + satisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade good-night. The + elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate Pinkie and a colorless + youth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just left the + most wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad: I hope for better luck next time.” + </p> + <p> + “The elevator is waiting,” and Helene's gaze was scornful. Shirley + restrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the redhaired charmer. + Then he asked maliciously: “Isn't she interesting? Too bad she associates + with her inferiors.” + </p> + <p> + “You put it mildly.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, boy, call a taxicab,” he ordered the attendant, as they reached the + lower level. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of night. I'm + the only one in the place jest now.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro returned in + a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him to telephone the + nearest hacking-stand. Then followed another delay, without result. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it seems to + have been planned we should.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?” + </p> + <p> + For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had so + carefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was heavier than a + policeman's nightstick. As he retook it, she observed the straightening + line of his lips. + </p> + <p> + “As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see.' Please walk a little + behind me, so that my right arm may be free.” + </p> + <p> + It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an arc-light + on the corner when he had entered the building—now it was + extinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into Sixth Avenue, his + eyes covered by a dark cap. + </p> + <p> + “Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef stew? I got + three pennies an' two more'll fix me.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, gent, have a heart!” The man was persistent, drawing closer, as + Shirley walked an with his companion, into the increasing darkness, away + from the corner. Another figure appeared from a dark doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I'm broke too, Mister. Kin yer help a poor war refugee on a night like + this?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley slipped his left hand inside his coat pocket and drew out a + handkerchief to the surprise of the men. He suddenly drew Helene back + against the wall, and stood between her and the two men. + </p> + <p> + “What do you thugs want?” snapped the criminologist, as he clenched the + cane tightly and held the handkerchief in his left hand. There was no + reply. The men realized that he knew their purpose—one dropped to a + knee position as the other sprang forward. The famous football toe shot + forward with more at stake than ever in the days when the grandstands + screeched for a field goal. At the same instant he swung the loaded cane + upon the shoulders of the upright man, missing his head. + </p> + <p> + The second man swung a blackjack. + </p> + <p> + The first, with a bleeding face staggered to his feet. + </p> + <p> + The handkerchief went up to the mouth of the active assailant, and to + Helene's astonishment, he sank back with a moan. Shirley pounced upon his + mate, and after a slight tussle, applied the handkerchief with the same + benumbing effect. Then he rolled it up and tossed it far from him. + </p> + <p> + He took a police whistle from his pocket and blew it three times. His + assailants lay quietly on the ground, so that when the officer arrived he + found an immaculately garbed gentleman dusting off his coat shoulder, and + looking at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, sir?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of drunks attacked me, after I wouldn't give them a handout. + Then they passed away. You won't need my complaint—look at them—” + </p> + <p> + The policeman shook the men, but they seemed helpless except to groan and + hold their heads in mute agony, dull and apparently unaware of what was + going on about them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't want to press the charge of assault?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I may have it looked up by my attorney. Tonight I do not care to take + my wife to the stationhouse with me. They ought to get thirty days, at + that.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley took Helene's arm, and the officer nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I'll send for the wagon, sir. They're some pickled. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + As they walked up to the nearest car crossing, Helene turned to him with + her surprise unabated. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do to them, Mr. Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + “Merely crushed a small vial of Amyl nitrite which I thoughtfully put in + my handkerchief this afternoon. It is a chemical whose fumes are used for + restoring people afflicted with heart failure: with men like these, and + the amount of the liquid which I gave them for perfume, the result was the + same as complete unconsciousness from drunkenness.—Science is a + glorious thing, Miss Helene.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF + </h2> + <p> + They reached the hotel without untoward adventure. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we might find a little corner in that dining-room I saw this + afternoon, with an obliging waiter to bring us something to eat. Shall we + try? I need a lot of coffee, for I am going down to the dock of the Yacht + Club to await developments.” + </p> + <p> + “You big silly boy,” she cautioned, with a maternal note in her voice + which was very sweet to bachelor ears from such a maiden mouth, “you must + not let Nature snap. You have a wonderful physique but you must go home to + bed.” + </p> + <p> + “It can't be done—I want to hear about your little visit to the + apartment, and the story of the diary. I'll ask the clerk.” + </p> + <p> + A bill glided across the register of the hotel desk, and the greeter + promised to attend to the club sandwiches himself. He led them to a cosey + table, in the deserted room, and started out to send the bell-boy to a + nearby lunchroom. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute please,—if any one calls up Miss Marigold, don't let + them know she has returned. I have something important to say, without + interruption: you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I get you, sir,” and the droll part was that with a familiarity + generated of the hotel arts he did understand even better than Shirley or + Helene. He had seen many other young millionaires and golden-haired + actresses. Shirley looked across the table into the astral blue of those + gorgeous eyes. Certain unbidden, foolish words strove to liberate + themselves from his stubborn lips. + </p> + <p> + “I am a consummate idiot!” was all that escaped, and Helene looked her + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, have you made a mistake?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake.” + </p> + <p> + She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's house, + when a big machine drew up alongside. Warren greeted her with a smiling + invitation to leave Shirley guessing. Her willingness to go, she felt, + would disarm his suspicions. The little dinner in the apartment with + Shine, Warren and three girls had been in good taste enough: pretending, + however, to be overcome with weariness she persuaded them to let her + cuddle up on the couch, where she feigned sleep. Warren had tossed an + overcoat over her and left the apartment with the others, promising to + return in a few minutes. He had said to Shine, “She'll be quiet until we + return—it may be a good alibi to have her here.” Then he had + disappeared, wearing only a soft hat, with no other overcoat. Listening at + the closed hall door, she heard him direct the elevator man, “Second off, + Joe.” The door was locked from the outside. The servant's entrance was + locked, all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock above the + ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime before to + buy groceries and wine for the later party. + </p> + <p> + “But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the electric + chair.” Monty Shirley was lighting one of the cigarettes handed him by his + host. He sniffed at it and crushed out the embers at the end. “This + cigarette would have sent me to dreamland for a day at least—Warren + understands as much chemistry as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and then + noticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment with the others + on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, instead of a woman, of + course things needed dusting. But where these three books were it had been + rubbed off! I took out the books, reached behind and found the little + leather volume. It was simple. I went to his typewriter when I saw that + the pages were all typed, and took out some note-paper, from the bronze + rack.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, Miss Sleuth?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborative + evidence,' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect that + typewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. Here + it is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an expert.” + </p> + <p> + “You wonderful girl!” he murmured simply. She protested, “Don't tease me. + I have watched you and am learning some of your simple but complete + methods of working. I understand you better than you think.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with your story,” and Shirley was uncomfortable, although he knew + not why. + </p> + <p> + “That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I took + advantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's fortunate that + waiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid confessions to make. I never + saw such an interminable shaft; it seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower. + See how I blistered my hands on the rope, letting myself down.” + </p> + <p> + She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse strands. + Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within Shirley's for a + brief instant. She quickly drew them away, sensing a blush beneath the + cosmetics, glad that he could not detect it. That gentle contact thrilled + Shirley again, even as the dear memory of the tired cheek against his + shoulder, during the automobile trip of the previous night. + </p> + <p> + “After finding you so accidentally and returning with your aid, on the + little elevator, I threw myself back into the original pose on the big + couch. It was just in time, for Warren returned. His cook came in shortly + afterward. I imagine that he allows no one in that apartment, ordinarily, + when he is not there himself. But what, sir, do you think I discovered + upon the shoulder of his coat?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley shook his head. “A beautiful crimson hair,” he asked gravely, + “from the sun-kissed forehead of the delectable Pinkie? Or was it white, + from the tail of the snowy charger which tradition informs us always lurks + in the vicinity of auburn-haired enchantresses?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so romantic. Just cobwebs! He saw me looking at them, and brushed + them off very quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “The man thinks he is a wine bottle of rare vintage!” observed Shirley. + But the jest was only in his words. He looked at her seriously and then + rapt in thought, closed his eyes the better to aid his mental calculation. + “He got off at the second floor—He wore no overcoat—A black + silk handkerchief—cobwebs—and that garage on the other street, + through the block! Miss Helene, you are a splendid ally!” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you tell me what you mean about the garage? Who were those men who + attacked you? What happened since I deserted you?” + </p> + <p> + But Shirley provokingly shook his head, as he drew out his watch. + </p> + <p> + “It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth Street and + the East River, at the yacht club mooring, before three. Tomorrow I will + give you my version in some quiet restaurant, far from the gadding crowd + of the White Light district.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator together. The + clerk beckoned politely. + </p> + <p> + “A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet, Miss + Marigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “It was very kind of you. Thank you so much,” and Helene's smile was the + cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase clerk. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie,” confided the clerk to the bell-boy. + “She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the right track, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Her + temper'ment ain't mean enough!” responded this Solomon in brass buttons. + “I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!” + </p> + <p> + Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early morning air. A + new inspiration seemed to fire him, altogether dissimilar to the glow + which he was wont to feel when plunging into a dangerous phase of a + professional case. He slowly drew from his pocket the typed note-paper + which had nestled in such enviable intimacy with that courageous heart. + The faint fragrance of her exquisite flesh clung to it still. He held it + to his lips and kissed it. Then he stopped, to turn about and look upward + at the tall hostelry behind him. High up below the renaissance cornice he + beheld the lights glow forth in the rooms which he knew were Helene's. + </p> + <p> + As he hurried to the club, he muttered angrily to himself: “I have made + one discovery, at least, in this unusual exploit. I find that I have lost + what common sense I possessed when I became a Freshman at college!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE RISING TIDE + </h2> + <p> + A hurried message to the Holland Agency brought four plain clothes men + from the private reserve, under the leadership of superintendent Cleary. + Monty met them at the doorway of the club house, wearing a rough and + tumble suit. + </p> + <p> + They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on the seat + where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth Street, near the docks, + they dismounted and Shirley gave his directions to the detectives. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves separately + down the water front until you are opposite the yacht club landing. I will + work on an independent line. You must get busy when I shoot, yell or + whistle,—I can't tell which. As the popular song goes, 'You're here + and I'm here, so what do we care?' This is a chance for the Holland Agency + to get a great story in the papers for saving young Van Cleft from the + kidnappers.” + </p> + <p> + He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement, began to + stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the world like a + longshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian celebration from some + nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type of pedestrian in this + neighborhood at this time of the morning. + </p> + <p> + “That guy's a cool one, Mike,” said Cleary to one of his men. “These + college ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know 'em with their + dress-suits off.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a reg'lar feller, that's all,” was Mike's philosophical response. + “Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im.” + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the Van Clefts', + the “White Swan.” Lights on the deck and a few glowing portholes showed + unusual activity aboard. Shirley's hint to Warren about the contemplated + trip to southern climes was the exact truth. Naked truth, he had found, + was ofttimes a more valuable artifice than Munchausen artistry of the most + consummate craft! The longshoreman, apparently befuddled in his bearings, + wandered toward the dock, which protruded into the river, a part of the + club property. He staggered, tumbled and lay prostrate on the snowy + planks. + </p> + <p> + Then he crawled awkwardly toward one of the big spiles at the side of the + structure, where he passed into a profound slumber. This, too, was a + conventional procedure for the neighborhood! A man walked across the + street, from the darkness of a deserted hallway: he gave the somnolent one + a kick. The longshoreman grunted, rolled over, and continued to snore + obliviously. + </p> + <p> + An automobile honk-honked up Twenty-third Street, and then swung around in + a swift curve toward the dock. The investigating kicker slunk away, down + the street. The limousine drew up at the entrance to the tender gangway. + Accompanied by a portly servant, a young man in a fur coat, stepped from + the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Give them another call with your horn, Sam,” he directed. “The boat will + be in for me, then.” + </p> + <p> + This was done. A scraping noise came from the hanging stairway of the + dock, and a voice called up from the darkness: “Here we are, sir!” Howard + Van Cleft leaned over the edge and looked down, somewhat nervously. A + reassuring word came up from the boat, rocking against the spiles. + </p> + <p> + “You was a bit late, sir. You said three, Mr. Van Cleft, and now it's ten + after. So the captain sent us in to wait for you. Everything's shipshape, + sir, steam up, and all the supplies aboard. Climb right down the ladder, + sir. Steady now, lads!” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to presage good. Van Cleft turned to his butler. + </p> + <p> + “Take down the luggage, Edward. Goodbye, Sam. Keep an eye on the machines. + The folks will attend to everything for you while I am away. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + The butler had delivered the baggage and now returned up the ladder, + puffing with his exertions. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, sir,” and his voice was more emotional than usual. “Watch + yourself, sir, if you please, sir. You're the last Van Cleft, and we need + you, sir.” The old man touched his hat, and climbed into the automobile, + as Van Cleft climbed down the ladder. The machine sped away under the + skilful guidance of Sam. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, sir, steady—There, we have you now, sir,—Quick, men! + Up the river with the tide. Row like hell!—Keep your oars muffled—here + comes the other boat.” + </p> + <p> + All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of Van + Cleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman suddenly arose to + his feet and blew a shrill police whistle. Next instant the flash of his + pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat below him. A volley of curses greeted + this untoward action! A revolver barked from the hand of a big man in the + stern. Young Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatly gagged and + bound. As the light still flickered over the surprised oarsmen, an + answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back of the bobbing + vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body of the pinioned + millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the side of the boat, to glide + into the unfathomable darkness, with skilful strokes. + </p> + <p> + “Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!” + </p> + <p> + As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was dashing across + the open space to the end of the dock. + </p> + <p> + “Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!” was the additional + order, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form of another bullet + which splintered the gunwale of the boat. Looking as they were, into the + dazzling eye of the bulb light, the men were uncertain of the number of + their assailants: surrender was natural. Cleary's men made quick work of + them. The boat from the yacht now hove to by this time, filled with + excited and profane sailormen. The skipper of the “White Swan,” revolver + drawn, stood in its bow as it bumped against the stairway. Howard Van + Cleft was unbound: dazed but happy he tried to talk. + </p> + <p> + “What—why—who?” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Pat Cleary, from the Holland Detective Agency,” was Shirley's response. + “There, handcuff these men quick. Two cops are coming. We want the credit + of this job before the rookies beat us to it.” + </p> + <p> + Van Cleft recognized the speaker, and caught his hand fervently. Shirley, + though, was too busy for gratitude. He gave another quick direction. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry on board your yacht tender and get underway. Your life isn't worth + a penny if you stay in town another hour. These men will be attended to. + Good luck and goodbye.” + </p> + <p> + The young man rapidly transferred his luggage to his own boat. They were + soon out of view on their way to the larger vessel. Shirley turned toward + Cleary. + </p> + <p> + “I'll file the charge against these two men. They tried to rob me and make + their getaway in this boat. You were down here as a bodyguard for Van + Cleft, who, of course, knew nothing about the matter as he left for his + cruise. So his name can be kept out of it entirely. And the fact that you + helped to save him from paying fifty thousand dollars in blackmail, will + not injure the size of Captain Cronin's bill. Get me?” + </p> + <p> + “It's got!” laughed Cleary. + </p> + <p> + Two patrolmen were dumfounded when they reached the spot to find four men + in handcuffs in charge of six armed guardians. The superintendent + explained the situation as laid out by Shirley. The cavalcade took its way + to the East Twenty-first Street Police Station, where the complaint was + filed. Sullen and perplexed about their failure, the men were all locked + in their cells, after their leader had his shoulder dressed by an interne + summoned from the nearby Bellevue Hospital. + </p> + <p> + Shirley and Cleary returned with the others to the waiting automobile, + after these formalities. The prisoners had been given the customary + opportunity to telephone to friends, but strangely enough did not avail + themselves of it. + </p> + <p> + “We're cutting down the ranks of the enemy, Cleary,” observed the + detective as he lit a cigarette. “But I wonder who it was that escaped in + the water?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be next in the net. But say, Mr. Shirley, what percentage do you + get for all this work, I'm awondering?” was the answering query. The + criminologist laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my dear man, simply thanks. That's a rare thing for a well-to-do + man to get since the I.W.W. proved to the world that it's a crime for a + man to own more than ten dollars, or even to earn it! But I wish you would + drop me off about half a block from the Somerset Apartments, on + Fifty-sixth Street. I want to watch for a late arrival.” + </p> + <p> + He waited in the shadows of the houses on the opposite side of the street. + After half an hour he was rewarded by the sight of Mr. Shine Taylor + dismounting from a taxicab. The young gentleman wore a heavy overcoat over + a bedraggled suit. One of his snowy spats was missing; his hat was + dripping, still, from its early immersion. He entered the building, after + a cautious survey of the deserted street, with a stiff and exhausted gait. + </p> + <p> + Shirley was satisfied with this new knot in the string. He returned to his + rooms at the club, to gain fresh strength for the trailing on the morrow. + And this time, he felt that he deserved his rest! + </p> + <p> + Next morning, after his usual plunge and rub-down, he ordered breakfast in + his rooms. He instructed the clerk to send up a Remwood typewriter, and + began his experiments with the code of the diary. + </p> + <p> + From an old note-book, in which were tabulated the order of letter + recurrences according to their frequency in ordinary English words, he + freshened his memory. This was the natural sequence, in direct ratio to + the use of the letters: “E: T: A: O: N: I: S: B: M, etc.” The use of “E” + was double that of any other. Yet on the pages of the book he found that + the most frequently recurring symbol was “R” which was, ordinarily, one of + the least used in the alphabet. “T,” which would have been second in + popularity, naturally, was seen only a few times in proportion. “Y,” also + seldom used, appeared very often. The symbol “A” was used with surprising + frequency. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he mused. “This code is strictly typewritten. It must be + arranged on some mechanical twist of the typing method. A is used so many + times that it might be safe to assume that it is used for a space, as all + the words in this code run together. If A is used that way, what takes its + place? S would by rights be seventh on the list, but the average I have + made shows that it is about third or fourth.” + </p> + <p> + Carefully he jotted down in separate columns on a piece of paper the + individual repetitions of letters on the page of “January 7, 1915.” He + arrived at the conclusion, then, that “R” was used for “E,” that “S” took + the place of “A” and that “Y” alternated in this cipher for “T” which was + second on his little list. + </p> + <p> + Fur the benefit of the reader who may be interested enough to work out + this little problem, along the lines of Shirley's deductions the + arrangement of the so-called “Standard” keyboard is here shown, as it was + on the “Number Four” machine of Warren's Remwood, and the duplicate + machine which Shirley was using. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Q W E R T Y U I O P + + A S D F G H J K L; + + Z X C V B N M,. + + Shift SPACE BAR Shift + Key Key +</pre> + <p> + This diagram represents the “lower case” or small letters, capitals being + made by holding down one of the shift keys on either side, and striking + the other letter at the same time, there being two symbols on each metal + type key. As only small letters were used through the code Shirley did not + bother about the capitals. He realized at last, that if his theory of + substitution were correct the writer had struck the key to the right of + the three frequent letters. He had the inception of the scheme. + </p> + <p> + Starting with the first line of the sentences so jumbled on the page for + January 7, 1915, he began to reverse the operation, copying it off, + hitting on the typewriter the keyboard letter to the left of the one + indicated in the order of the cipher. + </p> + <p> + The result was gratifying. He continued for several lines, having trouble + only with the letter “P.” At last he realized that the only substitution for + that could be “Q.” In other words, “A” had been used for the space letter + throughout, and for all the other symbols the one on the right had been + struck, except “P” which being at the end of the line had been merely + swung to the first letter on the other end of it! + </p> + <p> + No wonder Warren had been so confident of its baffling simplicity! Many of + the well-known rules for reading codes would not work with this one, and + had it not been for Shirley's suspicion, aroused in the library of the + arch-schemer the night before, he would hardly have given the typewriter, + as a mechanical aide, a second thought. Warren's desire to drop the + subject of machines had planted a dangerous seed. + </p> + <p> + Laboriously Shirley typed off the material of the entire page for the + fatal Thursday, and his elation knew no bounds as he realized that here + was a key to many of the activities of his enemy. He donned his hat and + coat and hurried over to the Hotel California to show his discovery to + Helene. She invited him up to her suite at once, where he wasted no words + but exhibited the triumphant result of his efforts. He handed her his own + transcription, and this is what she read: + </p> + <p> + “January 7, 1915, Thursday. + </p> + <p> + “learned from bank de cleyster drew six thousand in morning monk assigned + to taxi work for tea shine assigned to fix generator margie fairfax date + with de cleyster at five, shine and joe hawley covering game jake and ben + assigned black car for me paid phil one hundred covering special work job + finished riverside drive at eighty third sharp deposited night and day + four thousand safe deposit fifteen hundred lent dolly marion two hundred + for dress for party with van cleft next afternoon advanced shine one + thousand to cover option of yacht sunbeam paid to broker that night + ordered provisions telephone for yacht two month cruise monk assigned for + job next day advanced shine five hundred on account work on wellington + serral matter repairs black machine fifty party apartment same night + champagne one hundred fifty caterer one hundred tips fifty five to janitor + taxis twelve must stir phil up on work for grimsby matter memorandum + arrange for yacht mooring on east river instead of north after wednesday + eighth job finis memorandum settle telephone exchange proceeds not later + than monday paid electrician special wiring two hundred in full + settlement.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Miss Helene, how do you like my little game of letter building?” + </p> + <p> + There was a boyish gleam of triumph in his smile as he turned toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You are a wizard, but how did you work it all out?” There was no smile in + her face, only a mingled horror at the revelations of this calculating + monster in his businesslike murder work, and an unfeigned admiration for + Shirley's keenness. + </p> + <p> + “A very old method, but one which would have availed for naught without + your help. The letter paper which you used and the unmistakable identity + of Warren's machine are two more bars of iron with which to imprison him. + The paper of that note is the same on which they wrote to Van Ceft for + money, and their threats to me. This shows from a microscopic examination + of its texture. I will give the whole book to a trustworthy stenographer: + more than six months of these little confessions are tabulated here. + Warren was evidently so used to this code that he could write in it as + easily as I do with the straight alphabet. His training in German + universities developed a thoroughness, a methodical recording of every + thing, which is apt to cost him dearly. And his undoubted vanity prompted + him to have a little volume of his own in that library to which he could + turn occasionally for the retrospection of his own cleverness. Now, I must + investigate this clever telephone system. I think I have the clue + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + He intrusted the book to Helene for the morning, promising to return in an + hour or two with new information, drolly refusing to tell her his + destination. + </p> + <p> + “You're a bad, bold boy, and should be spanked, for not letting some one + know where to look for you in case you get into difficulties,” she pouted. + “Perhaps I will do some equally foolish thing myself.” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew how you frightened me yesterday!” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Did you really worry and really care?” But Shirley had slipped out of the + door, leaving her to wonder, and then begin that long delayed letter to + Jack. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. AN EXPEDITION UNDERGROUND + </h2> + <p> + The criminologist picked his way through the swarming vehicles which swung + up and down Broadway, across to Seventh Avenue, where he turned into a + plumber's shop. This fellow had handled small jobs on Shirley's extensive + real estate holdings, and he was naturally delighted to do a favor in the + hope of obtaining new work. + </p> + <p> + “Mike, I want to borrow an old pair of overalls, a jumper and one of those + blue caps hanging up on your wall. And I need some plumbers' tools, as + well, for a little joke I am to play on one of my friends.” + </p> + <p> + The workman was astounded at such a request from his rich client, but + nodded willingly. The dirtiest of the clothes answered Shirley's + requirements and with soot rubbed over his face and hands, his hair + disarranged, he satisfied his artistic craving for detail. He was + transformed into a typical leadpipe brigand. Hanging his own garments in + the closet, after transferring his automatic revolver into the pocket of + the jeans, he started out, carrying the furnace pot, and looking like a + union-label article. + </p> + <p> + He reached the Somerset by a roundabout walk, passing more than one of his + acquaintances with inward amusement at their failure to recognize him. He + had arranged for Helene to invite Shine Taylor and Reginald Warren down to + call on her at the apartment in the California at this particular time. So + thus he felt that the coast was clear. At the tradesmen's entrance, where + he had gone before to hoist on the dumbwaiter, he entered the building. An + investigation of the basement showed him that in the rear of the building + were one large and two small courts or air shafts. Then he ascended the + iron stairway to the street level of the vestibule. + </p> + <p> + “Say, bo, I come to fix de pipes on de second floor,” was his + self-introduction to the haughty negro attendant. “Dey're leakin' an' me + boss tells me to git on de job in a hustle.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one? I ain't heard o' no leaks. It must be in de empty apartment in + de rear, kase dat old maid in de front would been kickin' my fool head off + ef she's had any trouble. She's always grouchy.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, dingy, it's de empty one in de rear. Lemme in an' I'll fix it.” + </p> + <p> + “You-all better see de superintendent. People is apt to be lookin' at dat + apartment to-day to rent it, an' he mightn't want no plumber mussin' + round. I'll go hunt 'im fer you-all.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, you jest lemme in now. I'm paid by de hour. You knows what plumber + bills is, an' your superintendent'll fire you if he has to pay ten + dollars' overtime 'cause you hold me up.” + </p> + <p> + This was superior logic. The negro took him up and opened the door. + Shirley entered, and peered out of the court window in the rear. Helene's + suggestion about the dust was applicable here, for he found all the + windows coated except the one opening upon the areaway. Below he observed + a stone paving with a cracked surface. It was semidark, but his electric + pocket-light enabled him to observe one piece of the rock which seemed + entirely detached. Shirley investigated the closets of the empty + apartment. In one of them he discovered the object of his search. It was a + knotted rope. He first observed the exact way in which it had been folded + in order to replace it without suspicion being aroused. Then he took it to + the small window of the air shafts hanging it on a hook which was half + concealed behind the ledge. Down this he lowered himself, hand over hand. + The stone was quickly lifted—it was hinged on the under surface. In + the dark hole which was before him there was an iron ladder. Down he went, + into the utter blackness. His outstretched hands apprised him that he was + at the beginning of a walled tunnel, through which he groped in a + half-upright position. He reached an iron door, and remembering his + direction calculated that this must be at the rear entrance of the old + garage on West Fifty-fifth Street. It opened, as he swung a heavy iron + bar, fitted with a curious mechanism resembling the front of a safe. + Softly he entered, carrying his heavy boots in his hand. All was still + within, and he shot the glow ray of his little lamp about him. As the + reader may guess, it was the rear room of Warren's private spider-web! The + table, facing the screen was surmounted by an ingenious telephone + switchboard. + </p> + <p> + Shirley examined this closely. The various plugs were labelled: “Rector,” + “Flatbush,” “Jersey City,” “Main,” “Morningside,” and other names which + Shirley recognized as “central” stations of the telephone company. Here + was the partial solution of the mysterious calls. He determined to test + the service! + </p> + <p> + He took up the telephone receiver and sent the plug into the orifice under + the label, “Co.” wondering what that might be. Soon there was an answer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Chief. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “How's everything?” was Shirley's hoarse remark. “I find connections bad + in the Bronx? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send one of the outside men up there to see, Chief. There's a new + exchange manager there, and he may be having the wires inspected. But my + tap is on the cable behind the building. I don't see how he could get + wise.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled at this inadvertent betrayal of the system: wire tapping + with science. He was able to trap the confederate with his own mesh of + copper now. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see you right away. Some cash for you. I'm sick with a cold in + the throat so don't keep me waiting. Go up town and stand in the doorway + at 192 West Forty-first Street. Don't let anybody see you while you wait + there, so keep back out of sight. How soon can you be there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in half an hour if I hurry. Any trouble? You certainly have a bum + voice, Chief. But how will I know it's you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll just say, 'Telephone,' and then you come right along with me, to a + place I have in mind. Don't be late, now! Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley drew out the connection and tried the exchange labelled “Rector.” + Instantly a pleasant girl's voice inquired the number desired. + </p> + <p> + “Bryant 4802-R.” + </p> + <p> + This was the Hotel California. + </p> + <p> + The operator on the switchboard of the hostelry replied. + </p> + <p> + “Give me Miss Marigold's apartment, please.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's voice was soon on the wire. Shirley asked for Warren in a gruff + tone. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” was that gentleman's musical inquiry, in the tones + which were already so familiar to the criminologist. + </p> + <p> + “Chief, dis is de Rat. I wants to meet you down at de Blue Goose on Water + Street in half an hour. Kin you'se come? It's important.” + </p> + <p> + The other was evidently mystified. + </p> + <p> + “The Rat? What do you mean? I don't know you. Ring off!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley heard the other receiver click. He held the wire, reasoning out + the method of the intriguer. Soon there was a buzz in his ear, and + Warren's voice came to him. It was droll, this reversal of the original + method, which had been so puzzling. + </p> + <p> + “What number is this?” + </p> + <p> + “Rector 4471, sir,” answered the criminologist in the best falsetto tone + he could muster. Then he disconnected with a smile. This was turning the + tables with a vengeance. But he knew that he must be getting away from the + den before the possible investigation by Warren or his lieutenant. There + were many things he would have liked to study about the place. But his + curiosity about the telephone had made it impossible for him to remain. It + was a costly mistake, as events were destined to prove! + </p> + <p> + He hurried out of the compartment, into the tunnel, up the rope and + through the window. He replaced the knotted rope, exactly as it had been + before. He put a few drippings of molten lead from the bubbling pot, under + the wash-stand of the bathroom, to carry out the illusion of his work as + plumber. Then he departed from the building, as he had entered. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes he was changing his garments in Mike's plumbing shop, with + a fabulous story of the excruciating joke he had played upon a sick + friend. Then he walked rapidly to the doorway at 192 West Forty-first + Street. + </p> + <p> + Back against the wall of this empty store entry, lounged a + pleasant-looking young man who puffed at a perfecto. Shirley stepped in, + and in a low tone, said: “Telephone.” The other started visibly, and + scrutinized the well-groomed club man from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Chief, you're a surprise. I never thought you looked like that. + Where will we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around the corner. + There we can talk in quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray his + enjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with sidelong glances of + unabated astonishment. They were soon going up the steps of the Holland + Agency, which looked for all the world, with its closed shutters, and + quiet front, like a retreat for the worshipers of Dame Fortune. Cronin + fortunately did not believe in signs. So the young man was not suspicious, + even when Shirley gave three knocks upon the door, to be admitted by the + sharp-nosed guardian of the portal. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Cleary to come downstairs, Nick,” said the criminologist. “I want + him to meet a friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + The superintendent was soon speeding two steps at a time. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain is back, Mr. Shirley,” he exclaimed. “He's in the private + office on a couch.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, then we'll take my friend right to him.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger was beginning to evidence uneasiness, and he turned + questioningly to his conductor, with a growing frown. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what are you leading me into, Chief?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley said nothing but strode to the rear of the floor, through the door + of Captain Cronin's sanctum. The old detective was covered with a steamer + shawl, as he stretched out on a davenport. The young man observed the + photographs around the room,—an enormous collection of + double-portraits of profile and front face views—the advertized + crooks for whom Cronin had his nets spread in a dozen cases. The handcuffs + on the desk, the measuring stand, the Bertillon instruments on the table, + all these aroused his suspicions instantly. + </p> + <p> + He whirled about, angrily. + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled in his face. Then he addressed the surprised Captain + Cronin. + </p> + <p> + “Here is our little telephone expert who arranged the wires for Warren and + his gang, Captain. You are welcome to add him to your growing collection + of prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + For answer the young man whipped out a revolver and fired point-blank at + the criminologist. His was a ready trigger finger. But he was no swifter + than the convalescent detective on the couch, who had swung a six shooter + from a mysterious fold of the steamer blanket, and planted a bullet into + the man's shoulder from the rear. + </p> + <p> + As the smoke cleared away, Shirley straightened up from the crouching + position on the floor which had saved him from the assassin, and dragged + the wounded criminal to his feet. The handcuffs clicked about his wrists + before the young man had grasped the entire situation. Cleary and three + others of the private force were in the room. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to hurry along now, Captain. Just let him know that his Chief is + captured and the sooner he turns State's evidence the better it will be + for him. The District Attorney might make it lighter, if he helps. I'll be + back this evening if I can.” And Shirley hurried away, leaving much + surprise and bewilderment in every mind. + </p> + <p> + Cronin was equal to the task of picking up the threads, and under his + sarcasm, and Cleary's rough arguments, the prisoner admitted some + interesting matters about the mysterious employer whose face he had never + seen. But Shirley's task was far from completed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + Shirley walked up to the Hotel California, at the door of which he met + Warren and Taylor just leaving. They looked somewhat embarrassed but his + manner was cordiality itself. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry you are going. I was just stepping up to see Miss Marigold. Won't + you come back?” + </p> + <p> + His invitation was refused. Then Shirley urged Warren to be his guest at + the club for dinner that evening. This was accepted with a surprising + alacrity. So, he left them, and was soon talking with Helene. + </p> + <p> + “You missed a curious little sociable party,” she assured him. “They tried + to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same purpose—no + results on either side. But, Warren had an unusual telephone call, which + disturbed him so much that he hurried away, sooner than he had planned.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with the explanation + of Reginald's disturbance. It was certain now that the leader of the + assassins had something to cause uneasiness,—enough to take his mind + off the campaign of murder and blackmail. + </p> + <p> + “But he will try to get you out of the way,” was her anxious answer. “You + are multiplying needless dangers. Why don't you have him arrested now—the + phonograph records will identify his voice, will they not? The diary will + show his career, and everything seems complete in the case.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying. + </p> + <p> + “It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps. I am foolish enough to believe + that I can trap him on some crime which will give him the complete + punishment he deserves without dragging in the names of these unfortunate + old society men. All our trouble would be for nothing, just now, if the + story came out. The phonograph records helped me—but I prefer to + keep that method to myself, as a matter of interest and selfishness. + Somewhere, in that beautiful apartment of his there must be clues which + will send him to the electric chair on former crimes: Warren is an artist + who has handled other brushes than the ones he used on this masterpiece. + He is not a beginner. So, I must ransack his apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and locks.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see. Meanwhile, I'll spin the yarn of the last thirty-six hours. + I'm sure your curiosity is whetted: my own is by no means satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made. Helene brought forth + a number of typewritten pages which she had transcribed from the diary, + proudly exhibiting a machine which she had ordered sent up from the hotel + office. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to an extent. + I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery case in Paris, during + August of last year. What can you do to investigate that lead?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley jotted down the name, and answered: “A cable to the prefecture of + Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin will bring details. That + should be an added link in the chain, within the next twenty-four hours. I + am going to leave you for the while, as I wish to investigate a certain + yacht which is moored in the East River. That yacht is there for a purpose—you + remember his reference to the payment of supplies for a two-month cruise. + My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I can capture him just at the + crucial moment when he thinks he is successful in his escape from + pursuit.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the childishness of the masculine mind,” retorted Helene. “You + say we women are illogical, but we are essentially practical in the small + things. I would advise closing the doors before the horse escapes, rather + than a chase from behind!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” answered Monty, “but the uncertainty does allure me. I always + enjoyed skating on thin ice, from the days of college when I loved to get + through a course of lectures on as little work as possible. The + satisfaction of 'getting away with it' against odds was so exhilarating. I + will return after my little dinner with Warren at the Club. Where will you + dine?” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend Dick Holloway is taking me to some restaurant where singing + and music may alter my refusal to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your refusal?” and Shirley shot a quick glance at the girl. Her dimples + appeared as she added: “Yes—he wants me to star in a little play for + the coming spring, but I have had such fun playing in real-life drama that + I said him nay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” was all the criminologist said, but as he left, Helene's laugh + interpretated a little feminine satisfaction. Monty's mind was just + disturbed enough about the attitude of Dick Holloway to keep him from + worrying over the Warren case until he had reached the East River, near + the yacht club mooring. + </p> + <p> + There was the white yacht which had been mentioned in the purloined book. + It was a trim, speedy craft. The criminologist walked down a few blocks to + the office of a boat contractor with whom he had dealt on bygone + occasions. + </p> + <p> + “I want to engage a fast motor-boat, Mr. Manby,” was his request. “The + speediest thing you've got. Keep it down at your dock, at Twenty-first + Street, with plenty of gasoline and a man on duty all the time, starting + with six o'clock to-night. I may need it at a minute's notice.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a hydroplane which I'll sell this spring to some yachtsman,” + said Manby. “It's a bargain—you can do forty miles an hour in it, + without getting a drop of spray. Shall I show it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and the two men who you will have alternating on duty, so they will + know me when I come for it. I'll pay for every minute it is reserved.” + </p> + <p> + They soon came to terms; the men were introduced and Shirley was well + satisfied with the racing craft, which was moored according to his + directions, handy for a quick embarkation. + </p> + <p> + Then he went up to the Holland Agency. Cronin was disappointed in his + results with the telephone confederate. All of Warren's men were + close-mouthed, as though through some biting fear of swift and unerring + vengeance for “squealing.” Even the prisoners in the station-house had not + volunteered to communicate with friends, as they were allowed to do by + law. They were “standing pat,” as the old detective declared in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “That proves one thing,” remarked the criminologist. “They are not local + products, or they would have friends other than their chief on whom to + call for bail or aid. Their whole work centers on him. I think I will send + a code message to this man Phil this afternoon or evening. He may be able + to read it, and if he does, it may assist us. I wish you would have a man + call on Miss Marigold at the California Hotel, so that she may know his + face. Then keep him covering her for they are apt to get suspicious of her + and try to quiet her. She is a game and fearless girl, but she is no match + for this gang.” + </p> + <p> + Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took up a note + of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the need for his + watch. + </p> + <p> + Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner guest. He was + thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine with him. There was more + to this assumed friendliness than the mere desire to talk to him. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain reason?” + pondered the club man. “Helene is protected now by a silent watcher. The + members of the Lobster Club are all out of the city. Van Cleft is safe on + the ocean. They must be laying a trap. I wonder where that trap would be?” + </p> + <p> + As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important pieces of + evidence were locked up in his chests and the small safe. His bedroom, in + the uppermost floor of the club building, was in a quiet and less + frequented part of the house. Shirley summoned one of the shrewd Japanese + valets who worked on the dormitory floors of the building. + </p> + <p> + “Chen,” he began. “Are you a good fighter?” + </p> + <p> + The Mongolian grinned characteristically. Shirley took out a bill, and + handed it to the little fellow. + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, while I + am busy downstairs. How would you like to lock yourself on the inside of + my clothes closet, and wait? The air is not very good, but with this ten + dollars you could take a nice ride in the country to-morrow, and get lots + of good oxygen in your lungs to make up for it.” + </p> + <p> + Chen was a willing little self-jailer. Shirley handed him his own + revolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the opportunity for + some excitement. Americans may carp at the curious manners and alleged + shortcomings of the Oriental, but personal fear does not seem to be in the + category of their faults. So, with this little valet, who improved his + time, as Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses in Columbia + University's scientific department. The criminologist had used him on more + than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent lack of guile had + accomplished the impossible! + </p> + <p> + The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs. At the desk of + the, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police authorities of Paris. + The message was simple + </p> + <p> + “Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man in + Montfleury case, August, 1914. Do you want him?................. Cronin, + Captain.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger who had + been summoned, and made his exit through the front doorway just as the + affable Reginald Warren entered it: another instance of “ships that pass + in the night,” was the thought of the host who advanced courteously. + </p> + <p> + “You are on time to the minute: German training, I see. Let the boy have + your hat and coat, Mr. Warren.” + </p> + <p> + These little amenities completed, they sauntered about the beautiful + building, Shirley pointing out the many interesting photographs of + athletic teams, trophies, club posters, portraits of famous graduates, and + the like, which seem part and parcel of collegiate atmosphere. Warren was + profoundly interested, yet there was an abstraction in his conversation + which was not unobserved by his entertainer. As they passed a tall, + colonial clock in the broad hallway, Shirley caught him glancing uneasily + at it. This was the second time he had looked at its silvered face since + they came into the range of it. Purposely the club man took him down the + length of the big dining-hall, to exhibit the trophies of the hunt, from + jungles and polar regions, contributed by the sportsmen members of past + classes. Here Shirley chatted about this and that boar's head, yonder + elephant hide, the other tiger skin, until he had consumed additional + time. As they passed into the lounging room Shirley led his guest past + another small mahogany clock. Again the sharp, anxious glance at the + progress of the minutes. He was convinced by now that some deviltry was + being perfected on schedule time. He began to worry over his little + assistant on the floor high above: perhaps he would not be able to cope + with the plotters, after all. Yet, Chen was wiry, cunning, and needed no + diagrams as to the purpose for which he was to guard the rooms. + </p> + <p> + At last Shirley led Warren to the grill-room where they ordered their + dinner: the supreme test of a gentleman is his taste in the menu for a + discriminating guest. Warren sensed this, as the delicious viands and rare + old wines were brought out in a combination which would have warmed the + heart cockles of the fussiest old gourmon from Goutville! + </p> + <p> + “Ah, a feast fit for the gods,” were his admiring words, as the two men + smiled across this strange board of hospitality. In the midst of the meal, + their chat of student days was interrupted by a page who approached + Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a note which was left here by + messenger for a gentleman named Mr. R. Warren; your guest, I believe, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + Warren's face flushed, and his surprise was indubitable. He snatched the + envelope from the boy, who had reached it toward Shirley. The + criminologist was no less in the dark. Warren, with a scant apology, tore + open the missive. It was typewritten! He read it, and his brows came + together with an angry scowl. + </p> + <p> + He arose from his seat swiftly, turning toward Shirley with a nervous + twitching of the erstwhile firm lips. + </p> + <p> + “Would you pardon me if I ran? A Wall Street client of mine has suddenly + been stricken with apoplexy. We have deals together, dependent upon + gentlemen's agreements, without a word of writing. It may mean a fortune + to get to him before he loses all power of speech. It is a shame to spoil, + at this time, such a wonderful dinner as I had promised myself with you. + Can you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + The man was visibly panic-stricken, although his superb nerve was fighting + hard to cover his terror. Shirley wondered what news could have fallen + into his hand this way. He watched the envelope, hoping that he would + inadvertently drop it. But no such luck! Warren carefully folded it and + put it with the letter into the breast pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, business before indigestion, always! I am sorry to have + you go, but we will try again. I will go upstairs with you. Shall I call a + taxicab for you?” + </p> + <p> + Warren expostulated, but the host followed him to the check room. Unseen + by Warren, Shirley inserted a handkerchief from his own pocket into the + overcoat pocket of the other with a sleight-of-hand substitution, in the + withdrawal of the guest's small linen square! + </p> + <p> + Warren rushed to the door. He sprang into the first taxicab that came + along, and disappeared. Shirley watched the car as it raced away and + noticed its number. He turned to the door man. + </p> + <p> + “Whose machine was that? On the regular club stand here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. A man named Perkins drives it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it return here as soon as the fare is taken to the end of the trip?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, they have orders for that. They belong to a gent who supplies + cars for our club exclusively, sir. They are not allowed to take outside + passengers.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good! You send for me, in my rooms, as soon as the driver of the car + shows up. I want to find out where he went.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley hurried up in the lift to his own floor. He went to the door of + his room, and tried to open it with his key. It was bolted from inside! + There came a muffled report from within. Then he heard a cry, which he + recognized as the voice of Chen, the Jap. He dropped to the floor, + listening at the crack—a scuffle was in progress within! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE + </h2> + <p> + Shirley rose, and once more applied that gridiron-trained boot of his: + this time to the lock of the door. Two doses resulted in a complete cure + for its obstinacy. As he rushed into the room, he saw a figure swing out + of the window on a dangling rope. He hesitated—the desire to chase + this intruder to the roof of the club struggled with his duty to the + unfortunate Jap, who lay on the floor, where he was being garroted by a + burly ruffian in a chauffeur's habiliments. He sprang toward his little + assistant, and made quick work of the big man. + </p> + <p> + As he threw the other, with one of his “silencer” twists of the neck + cords, the Jap sprang up. A demoniac anger twisted that usually smiling + countenance, and it took all of Shirley's strength, to wrest away the + automatic revolver from the maddened valet, to prevent swift revenge. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Chen. He's caught. Don't shoot him now!” + </p> + <p> + Chen, with a voluble stream of Nagasaki profanity, spluttered in rage, and + strove like a bantam rooster to get at his antagonist. The necessity for + quieting him to prevent bloodshed was fatal to the pursuit of the other + man, as Shirley realized bitterly. The servants were running to the room + by this time. The club steward opened the battered door, and Shirley + turned to explain. + </p> + <p> + “You have a brave little man, here, Cushman. Chen heard this burglar in my + room, and tried to capture him at the risk of his own life. He deserves + promotion and a raise in salary. Go downstairs and call the police. We'll + have this fellow locked up!” + </p> + <p> + The man glared at Shirley, and rubbed his throat which throbbed from the + vice-like grip of the jiu-jitsu. Chen still breathed hard and his almond + eyes rolled nervously. At last he was quiet again, although the slender + fingers twitched hungrily for a clawing of that dirty neck. Shirley patted + him on the back. Judgment had come to another of the gangsters, and the + criminologist was pleased at the diminution in the ranks of his opponent. + </p> + <p> + An examination of his cabinet and dresser drawers showed that the + pillaging had barely begun when Chen popped out of his hiding-place. It + was no wonder that Warren had been so solicitous as to the speeding time: + intuition had once more intervened to interrupt these well-laid schemes. + </p> + <p> + The little Jap could tell barely more of his adventure than that he had + opened the door when he heard men walking and talking in the room. Then + the struggle had ensued, with the result already described. + </p> + <p> + Now, indeed, was Shirley more puzzled than ever at Warren's sudden + departure. It had upset the plans of the conspirators: it was an unwelcome + surprise to their Chief. And furthermore it had interfered with a little + scheme of the criminologist by which he had expected to craftily imprison + his guest for the remainder of the night. + </p> + <p> + The room was put in order—not much was there to rearrange, for the + tussle had come so promptly. With a final look at his belongings, Shirley + left Chen in charge, not forgetting to slip to him another reward for his + courage. + </p> + <p> + Then he went downstairs and hurried over to the Hotel California to hold a + conference of war with Helene Marigold. + </p> + <p> + She was nervous, as she greeted him. Yet a subtle smile on her face showed + that she was not surprised by the visit. Shirley quickly outlined the + occurrences of the dinner hour. When he asked her opinion, for he had + learned to place a growing trust in her quick grasp of things, she walked + silently to her typewriter. + </p> + <p> + “Here, sir, is a little note which may amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + She handed him a piece of paper. It read: + </p> + <p> + “Chief: The Monk has turned up at the Blue Goose on Water Street. He is + drunk and telling all he knows. Come down at once to help us quiet him. + Hurry or every thing will be known. You know who.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley looked at the message, and then with tilted eyebrows at his fair + companion. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about the Blue Goose?” he asked. “And the Monk? For I + presume that you wrote this out?” + </p> + <p> + “Your presumption is correct. I remembered hearing Warren ask Taylor this + afternoon after that telephone call from you, where the Blue Goose saloon + could be. Taylor told him it was a sailor's dive on Water Street. The + night they thought me dreaming on his library couch, I heard Taylor ask + Warren if they had heard from the Monk. So, it seemed to me that the two + questions might interest Mr. Reginald Warren if presented in a language + that he understood.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was that language?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a code message, which I typed out on this Remwood machine here, by + the system you told me. It was slow work, but I finished it and sent it + over to the club, knowing Warren would be with you. I really don't know + what good the message would do. But being an illogical woman, and a + descendant of Pandora, I thought it would be amusing to open the Pandora's + box and let all the little devils loose, just to see the glitter of their + wings!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley caught her hands delightedly. + </p> + <p> + “You bully girl! Nothing could have happened better. I'll improve my time + now, by visiting Mr. Warren's apartment, impolite as it is without an + invitation. And then I think I will go calling in that little cave of the + winds in the rear of his art collection, on the other street.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Monty—I Mean, Mr. Shirley,” and a rosy embarrassment overcame + her, “you will put your head into the lion's mouth once too often. Why not + wait until you get him under lock and key?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl, we will telephone my club and talk to the door man. I think + that he may be under lock and key by this time, in a manner you little + suspect. Let me have the number.” + </p> + <p> + He went to the instrument on her dressing-table. The club was soon + reached, and Dan the door man was answering his eager question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, the taxi has come back, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Send the chauffeur to the wire. I want to talk to him,” said Shirley. The + man was soon speaking. “What address did you take that gentleman to, my + man?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, I started out for the Battery, but sir, a terrible thing + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman was overcome with an ep'leptic stroke or somethin' like + that. He pounded on the winder behind me, and when I stopped me car, and + looked in he was down an' out. I was on Thirty-third Street and Fift' + Avenue at the time, so I calls a cop, and he orders me to run 'im over to + Bellevue. He's there now, sir. He ain't hardly breathin', sir. It's + terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad, I must go and call, to see if I can help him!” was Shirley's + remark as he hung up the receiver. He repeated the news to Helene. Her + eyes sparkled, as she said: “Ah, those symptoms resemble the ones you told + me which came from that amo-amas-amat-citron, or whatever it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite such a loving lemon, Miss Marigold,” he chuckled. “Amyl + nitrite. The same soothing syrup which quieted our would-be robbers on + Sixth Avenue, that night when we left his apartment. It will wear off in + about three hours. I had a little glass container folded in my own + handkerchief, which I put in his overcoat pocket as a parting souvenir, + crushing it as I did so. I reasoned that undue anxiety which he displayed + might cause him to mop his brow, close to that student-duel scar. One + smell of the chemical on that handkerchief, in the quantity which I gave, + was enough to quiet his worries. Now for the Somerset Apartment.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “It is eight fifteen. I want you to telephone up to Warren's apartment + exactly at ten o'clock. Tell them—there should be a them, that I + have been overcome in your apartment, and that they are the only people + who can help you, or who know you. I believe that the idea of finding me + unconscious, and getting me away will bring any and all of his friends who + may be there. If Taylor is there with others, he will hardly leave them in + the place when he goes. What I want is to be sure that the coast is + cleared of people at that hour. Then I will make an investigation into his + papers and other matters of interest. Can I count on you?” + </p> + <p> + A reproachful pouting of the scarlet lips was the only answer. Shirley + left, this time hurrying uptown to a certain engine-house, whose fire + captain he had known quite well in the old reportorial days. + </p> + <p> + It was beginning to snow once more. And as Shirley slipped out of the + engine-house, carrying a scaling ladder which he had borrowed after much + persuasion from his good-natured friend, he thanked his luck for this + natural veiling of the night, to baffle eyes too curious about the + campaign he had planned. He knew the posts of the policemen on this + street, and sedulously avoided them. + </p> + <p> + The Warren apartment faced the Eastern side of the structure, and when he + reached the front of the Somerset, he sought for a way in which to use his + implement. A scaling ladder, it may be explained to the uninitiated, is + about eight feet long—a single fire-proof bar, on which are short + cross-pieces. At one end is a curiously curving serrated hook, which is + used for grappling on the sills of windows or ledges above. It is the most + useful weapon for the city fire-fighter, enabling him to climb diagonally + across the face of a threatened structure, or even to swing horizontally + from one window to a far one, where ladders and hose-streams might not + reach. + </p> + <p> + A hundred feet to the West of the Somerset he found the excavations for a + new apartment house. No watchman was in sight, in the mist of falling + flakes, so the criminologist disappeared over the fence which separated + the plot of ground from the sidewalk. Advancing with many a stumble + through the blasted rock and shale, he obtained ingress to an alleyway in + the rear. Following this brought him to the back of the Somerset. Shirley + had an obstinate grandfather, and heredity was strong upon him. It seemed + a foolhardy attempt to scale the big structure, but he raised the ladder + to the window-sill of the second story, climbing cautiously up to that + ledge. + </p> + <p> + On the second sill he rested, then stretched his scaler diagonally forward + to the left. As he put his feet upon this, he swung like a pendulum across + the space. It was a severe grueling of nerves, but his judgment of + placement was good. When the ladder stopped swinging he clambered up + another story, as he had learned to do on truant afternoons wasted at the + firemen's training school, during the privileged days of journalistic + work. + </p> + <p> + Floor after floor he ascended, until he reached the eighth, on which was + Shirley's great goal. Here he exerted the utmost prudence, refraining from + the natural impulse to look down at the great crevasse beneath him. His + footing was slippery, but the thickening snowfall was a boon in white + disguise, for it protected him from almost certain observation from the + street below. Slowly he raised his eyes to a level with the illuminated + window, and peered in. + </p> + <p> + A strange sight greeted him. + </p> + <p> + Shine Taylor was busily engaged in the 'twisting of coils of wire, about + shiny brass cylinders, with an array of small and large clocks, electric + batteries and mysterious bottles on the carved library table. He was + intent upon the manufacture of another of his diabolical engines of death! + </p> + <p> + Even as he watched, the door opened and who should stagger into the room + but Reginald Warren! + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott, Reg! What hit you?” was Taylor's ejaculation, as the other + stumbled forward, with a hand to his purple face, to sink into an + easy-chair, groaning. The man outside the window could not distinguish the + words, but the current of thought was well expressed in pantomime. + </p> + <p> + “I've been drugged!” moaned Warren. “That devil put something on my + handkerchief which knocked me out. I came to in Bellevue and I had a time + getting away to come back here. What about the Monk? Did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + Taylor had run to his side. It seemed as though Warren's eyes would pop + from his head. The veins were swollen on his pallid brow, and he gasped + for air. + </p> + <p> + “Open the window!” he murmured, and his confederate rushed to the very + portal through which the criminologist was watching this unusual scene, + with bated breath. His heart sank, as he lowered himself with a suddenness + which vibrated the loosely-attached scaler. For the first time his eyes + turned toward the terrifying distance from which he had ascended. + </p> + <p> + There was a squeak and he heard the window slide in its frame. He felt + that all was over. It would be impossible for Shine Taylor not to observe + the hooked prong of the ladder, with its curving metal a few inches from + his hands. In this ghastly minute of suspense, Shiley's thoughts, + strangely enough turned back to one thing. He did not dash through the + gamut of his life experiences nor regret all past peccadilloes, as + novelists inform us is generally the ultimate thought in the supreme + moment before a dash into eternity! He felt only a maddening, itchingly + bewitching desire to reach up to his coat pocket and draw out that + scent-laden page of typed note-paper which had been glorified by its + caress of the warm, bare bosom of the wonderful woman who had so + mysteriously drifted into the current of his life. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard a voice through the open window so close to his ears: it was + Shine Taylor's nasal whine. + </p> + <p> + “It's snowing, Reg. The air will do you good. What a gorgeous night for a + murder. Tell me now, what was the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + And Shirley swung, and swung and swung! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. IN THE DOUBLE TRAP + </h2> + <p> + Eternity had passed, the Judgment Day had been overlooked and new aeons + had gone their way, it seemed to the criminologist, when the voice was + audible again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. I just drew it down from the top. Tell me about your + doping. Who was the devil?” + </p> + <p> + He had been unobserved. By the grace of the fates, Warren's sudden + appearance had given him a better chance to hear their secrets, and + Taylor's own abstraction had dissipated any interest in the world beyond + the window. Again he lifted himself to the level of the sill, sure that + the creamy curtains upon which the light from the big electrolier was + beaming, would shield him from their view. Warren called for some brandy. + Taylor served him, but it was three minutes or more before the other could + collect himself. Then he began furiously, as the pain in his forehead + diminished. + </p> + <p> + “This Shirley: he's a clever dog. He put something on my handkerchief, and + when I got that message of yours it got me, right in the taxicab, as I was + on my way to the Blue Goose to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “To meet me?” and Taylor's turn came to be startled. “I don't know why you + should meet me at the Blue Goose!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, didn't you send me this note in code?” demanded Warren, drawing out + the typewritten sheet. Taylor shook his head, with a blanched face. + </p> + <p> + The other looked at him with the first evidence of fear which Shirley had + ever seen on the confident face. Warren caught his assistant's hand, and + drew his face down toward the note. + </p> + <p> + “Look, it is in our code. Phil can read it but he is the only one beside + you. He is locked up in jail, and couldn't reach a typewriter. I got a + message from him this afternoon that he wouldn't squeal. You know how he + smuggled it out to me. Tell me how could any one know about the Monk and + write this so?” + </p> + <p> + Taylor shook his head, speechless. As he turned his face toward the window + Shirley observed the great drawn shadows under his squinting eyes. The + sudden shock was telling on that weasel face. Taylor walked unsteadily + toward the infernal machine, and he looked blankly toward Warren again. + The other's blazing orbs were full upon him now. There was a frightful + menace in their glittering depths as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Taylor, if I thought you had sold out I'd skin you alive right now!” + </p> + <p> + “Reg—Reg—you are my best friend. Don't say a thing like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you selling me for some purpose. Are you soft on that chicken? Has + she blarneyed you into this?” demanded his chief, rising, unsteadily, but + fierce in his suspicious tensity. + </p> + <p> + Taylor cowered, with imploring hands stretched out. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Reg, no one ever did for me what you've done. I'd die rather than + sell you out, and there ain't a dame in the world that could make me soft + on a real game like this.” + </p> + <p> + As Warren studied his white face there came a tinkle on the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Who's that?” Warren turned and ran toward the instrument, + still studying the face of his companion. It was evident that a seed of + distrust was planted in his bosom. He answered nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! What do you want? Who's speaking?” + </p> + <p> + Then he listened, and a wise expression came over his face. It broke into + a smile for the first time since he entered the room. He winked at Taylor + who drew near him. Shirley strained his ears to catch the words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, why, my dear Miss Bonbon. Surely, I'll be glad to come down—To + help take care of Mr. Shirley—Of course, I will come in my machine + and bring him uptown to a hospital—That's what you want?—Yes, + indeed, nothing would give me greater pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + He rang off, and turned toward Taylor. + </p> + <p> + “That smooth devil has sniffed some of his own dope as sure as you live, + Shine. We'll get him. Call up and have the machine sent around. You and I + will be a committee of two, and we'll end this tonight. Bring what you + need.” + </p> + <p> + Warren drank another full glass of brandy, while Taylor gave a quick order + over the telephone. Then the latter snatched up a small black satchel + which was standing on a side table. The assistant came to the window, and + Shirley dropped down out of sight, for another moment of suspense. But the + sash was quickly closed and bolted. + </p> + <p> + The light was turned out, and he waited another five minutes, stiffening + in the cold wind which had sprung up to send the big flakes in eddies + against his numbed fingers. With difficulty he fished out a long, thin + wire from his pocket, with which he had frequently turned the safety catch + of windows on other such occasions. Again it served its purpose, and he + drew himself up to the sash of the opened window. He brushed off the snow, + so as to leave no telltale puddles of drippings. He went to the door of + the library, and then to that of the vestibule. + </p> + <p> + It was locked from the outside, even as they had done when Helene was the + drowsy prisoner. + </p> + <p> + He had little time, he knew, for his search, but he first thought of the + girl's predicament. He must cover the tracks there. He took up the + receiver, and in a minute was talking to her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm in. Leave word downstairs (and pay the clerk and bell-boy a good + bribe) that you have gone to a hospital with a sick friend. Tell them to + swear to that, and better still leave the hotel at once, hunt up Dick + Holloway—you'll find him at the Thespis Club to-night. Send in the + chauffeur to ask for him and have him stay with you in the machine. I am + going to visit the other place when I finish here. I'll be down there, at + the Thespis Club, by eleven again. Good-bye—use your wits.” + </p> + <p> + Then he began a hurried ransacking of the apartment. He picked up a + note-book here, sheets of memoranda there, letters and documents which he + thought would be convenient. Warren's bedrooms were locked, but a small + “jimmie” sufficed to force them open. He found in one drawer a dozen or + more bank books, with as many different financial houses, and under many + names. This he shoved into his pockets. At last, satisfied that he could + gain no more, he retreated to the window. He shut this and was once more + on the windowsill. Here he looked down, and a new inspiration came to him. + He would have difficulty in getting admission to the apartment entrance, + at this time of night. The attendant would remember him and warn Warren + upon the latter's return. It was but one more climb, a single story, to + the roof. So, up he went, deserting the faithful scaling ladder on the + roof, for the time being. + </p> + <p> + He sought around for several minutes on the snowy, slippery surface before + he found the entrance to the iron stairway close by the elevator shaft. + Then he went softly down. + </p> + <p> + Past Warren's apartment, on his way without a noise, his boots off, he + continued until he reached the second floor. Here he was baffled again. + Why had he not taken some impression of the pass-key of the negro + attendant when let in before? Yet now he remembered that the man had never + relinquished his hold upon that open sesame. He remembered the “jimmy”—yet + this would betray him, by the broken lock! + </p> + <p> + There was the servant's entrance, however, in the rear of the hallway. To + this he slipped, even as the elevator passed up bearing Warren and Shine + Taylor, muttering angrily. Shirley found the rear door to the rooms, and + there he worked quickly, forcing the lock. He was soon inside, and hid + himself in the pantry of the darkened apartment. He had not long to wait. + </p> + <p> + There was a clicking noise which reverberated through the empty room, as + the other two entered by the front portal. He heard them talking in + whispers, then the creaking of a window, and all was silent again. + </p> + <p> + Shirley went to the same small window through which he had descended + before. With his boots tied together by their laces, and suspended from + his neck, on either side, he went down the rope noiselessly. He found the + iron door partially opened, as he reached the end of the corridor. A block + of wood held it back from the jamb. + </p> + <p> + “He is prepared for a quick retreat. So shall I be,” thought Shirley, as + he noiselessly crept into the chamber, after having drawn away the wooden + block. He let the door come gently to its frame, stopping it within an + inch of its lock. As he turned slightly forward he caught two curious + silhouettes: Warren at his table, with Shine at his side, their outlines + clear and black against the brightness of the headlights. On, the other + side of the transparent screen stood a man, with one eye blackened, his + face badly bruised and wicked in its battered condensation of evil + determination with rage and fright, so oddly mixed. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't my fault, Chief! There are only six of the boys left. I tried me + best but this little Chinyman he soaks me one on the lamp, with a gun + butt. Me pal was nabbed in the room when I sneaks out on the rope. I finds + out afterward that Jimmie's watch must-a been about twenty minutes slow. + That's how we misses.” + </p> + <p> + “But you didn't get him, and I'm going to break you for this!” + </p> + <p> + “But gov'nor, listen—we leaves the machine all right. That'll git + 'im anyway. What'll I do?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the addresses of the other men here in my pocket. You tell them to + stick right in their rooms for the next twenty-four hours. If they don't + hear anything from me, tell them to go to Frisco by roundabout ways and + I'll forward their money, care of Kelso. Now get out.” + </p> + <p> + The man disappeared and there was a double click as the door to the front + compartment closed. Warren turned toward Taylor, While Shirley flattened + himself against the rear wall, and crouched down slowly, without a + betraying sound. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand that girl not being there. Some one's closing in on + us. I'm going to break that girl's spirit before I'm through. She'll be on + the yacht tonight, for everything's ready now. What sort of a machine did + you arrange for his room?” + </p> + <p> + “The old telephone one we worked in Oakland. It is under his bed. I told + the men to do that first before they went through his things. Then it + would look like plain robbery, and when he goes to take the receiver off + the hook it's 'good-night, nursey!' That little popper will blow the roof + off that club house!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley's blood might have run cold at the calm pride of this degenerate + fiend, had it not been boiling at the reference to Helene. He crept nearer + to them, along the wall. He lay down on the floor, below the level of the + first bullet paths. Then he drew his automatic and the bulb light, ready + for his surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I'll call up Kick Brown at the telephone company. He's on duty until + twelve. That's an hour yet.” + </p> + <p> + He placed the plug in position but there came no answer over his private + wire. Warren cursed: this time in a dialect unknown to Shirley. The man + was asserting his most primitive nature now. + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean? He knows that it's important to-night. I wonder if + some one has squealed. You know what I said upstairs, Shine?” Warren's + voice was ominous. “I don't like the looks of things. And you're the only + one who has ever known the inside working of my system. I've even told you + the key to my code—Phil knows it in part, but there is nothing I've + kept from you.” + </p> + <p> + Here Shirley's dramatic instinct asserted itself. In a sepulchral voice, + he spoke: “One key to the right, in writing. One to the left to read. + Hands up, Warren, you're wanted in Paris, and we have the goods on you!” + </p> + <p> + Placing the bulb light far to his left, he twisted the little catch which + kept it glowing permanently. The light fell full on the face of Warren and + Taylor as they sprang up back to back! + </p> + <p> + “Drop that revolver. It's all up now. You go to the chair for these + murders.” + </p> + <p> + Warren shot for the body he supposed to be above the little light. As he + did so Shirley sent a bullet into the arch criminal's right wrist. The + weapon dropped from his hand to the table. Shine Taylor, terror-stricken, + staggered against his companion, groping for support. Warren misunderstood + it: he thought his assistant was trying to hold him. The swift + interpretation gave new fuel to the flame of mistrust which had sprung up + in his heart. He knew not how many men were about him—he merely + realized that his crafty plans had been set at naught,—there could + be only this one explanation. He struck at Taylor, who moaned in pain. + </p> + <p> + “You cur, you've squealed on me!” With his uninjured left hand he caught + the other in his Oriental death grip, with all his consummate skill. + Astonished at the sudden move, Shirley rose to his feet. But he hesitated + too long. + </p> + <p> + With a faint gurgle, Shine Taylor, pickpocket, mechanical artist and + criminal genius sank to the mouldy ground of the cellar—lifeless! + </p> + <p> + Shirley snatched up the light, instinctively throwing its rays upon the + face of the dead man. It was horrible to see this ghastly ending of the + miserable life, so suddenly conceived and grewsomely executed! Here was + Warren's opportunity. He caught up his weapon from the table with the left + hand, and sent a shot at the intruder, leaping at the same time toward the + rear entrance. Monty swung the light about, but the other threw on an + electric switch. He stood by the iron portal a fiendish smirk on his + distorted features. + </p> + <p> + “So, my luck is good after all: I've got you where I most want you!” His + weapon covered Shirley's. “I shoot as well with my left hand as with my + right. But, no, I won't shoot you. I'll put you away without a trace left. + That is always the clever way. I told you that the average criminal was + too careless about little things. Good-bye, Mr. Montague Shirley, I wish + you a pleasant journey!” + </p> + <p> + His hand, bleeding from the bullet wound, was pushing the iron door, + behind him as he faced Shirley. Suddenly a frightful sound broke the + stillness: it was the final exhalation of air from the dead man's lungs. + It sent a creeping chill through Shirley's blood. Warren's right hand + dropped, nervously for an instant, despite his resolution. In that second + Shirley had brought his own weapon up to a level with the other's eyes. + </p> + <p> + The door closed with a clang! + </p> + <p> + Warren's face lost its sneering smile. He was locked in from the rear! + </p> + <p> + “Now, let's see you get out the front way,” retorted the criminologist. He + had one hand behind him. He felt a metal contrivance, With three buttons + on it. He thought perhaps it were the controlling switch for the lights. + He would take his chances in the dark. He pressed all three quickly. + </p> + <p> + There was a clang from the front, as some mechanism whirred for an + instant. A gong sounded above, and scurrying feet could be heard—then + were audible no more. It was the warning alarm for the gangsters: they had + fled. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly to Shirley's straining ears came the tick-ticking of an alarm + clock, from the corner of the room to his right. He dare not look at it. + Warren's eyes grew black with the Great Fear! + </p> + <p> + “You fool, you've locked all the entrances, and sent the men away. That + clock will ring in exactly five minutes. When it does, this place will go + up from a load of lyddite. You've dug your own grave!” + </p> + <p> + Warren's voice was hoarse, and his bright eyes radiated venomously, as he + kept his weapon pointed, like Shirley's, at the face opposite. They were + both prisoners in the death cellar, with the advantage in favor of + neither! + </p> + <p> + And the ticking clock, with its maddening, mechanical death chant seemed + to Shirley to cry, with each beat, like the reminiscence of some nightmare + barbershop: “Next! Next! Next!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTURED AND THEN + </h2> + <p> + Warren's white lips were moving in perfect synchronism, as he counted the + seconds and ticks of the clock. Shirley, never so acute, cudgeled his mind + for some devise by which he might overcame the other. It was hopeless. At + last, just as he knew the inevitable second was almost completed, a faint + rustling came from the other side of the iron door. Warren's face + brightened with hope. With a nerve-racking rasp, the iron bar on the other + side was raised: it was a torturing delay as the two waited! + </p> + <p> + The door slowly opened. After a harrowing pause a revolver muzzle slid + gently through the crack, and a woman's voice murmured softly: “Drop the + gun!” + </p> + <p> + It was Helene Marigold! + </p> + <p> + Warren's ashen face changed to purple hue, his hand trembled just enough + to incite Shirley to a desperate chance. As the criminal drew the trigger + with a spasmodic jerk, Shirley was dropping to the floor, whence he pushed + himself forward with a froglike leap, as he straightened out the great + muscles. + </p> + <p> + Together they rolled in a frenzied struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Run back, Helene. The clock will explode!” cried Shirley, desperately. + Instead, she sprang into the bright room, espied the diabolical + arrangement in the corner, and ran to pick it up. She saw the wire, and + her deft fingers reached behind the clock to turn back its hands. Had she + torn the wire, as a man would have done, the dreaded explosion would have + ended it all. + </p> + <p> + “We're coming!” + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Pat Cleary from the passageway. He rushed through the + subterranean passage, followed by several men, with Dick Holloway + excitedly in their train. After a titanic struggle, with the man baffled + in this maddening moment of ruined triumph, they handcuffed him. + </p> + <p> + Shirley led Helene into the front compartment before she could observe the + horror stamped upon the face of the murdered rogue. + </p> + <p> + The girl turned her glorious eyes to his, reached forth her hands, and + then the eternal feminine conquered as she trembled unsteadily and sank + into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Break down the doors, Cleary. Out here, to the street. Pull off the hands + of that clock—it's a lyddite bomb!” cried Shirley, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + One of the men used the table with clattering effect. The iron door of the + front room gave way, and Shirley carried Helene up the ladder, to the main + floor of the old garage. She seemed a sleeping lily—so pale, so + fragile, so fragrant in her colorless beauty. He had never seen her so + before! For an instant a great terror pierced him: she seemed not to + breathe. But as he placed his face close to her mouth, her eyes opened for + one divine look, then drooped again. A white hand and arm curled, with + childish confidence, about his shoulder. He bore her thus to the big car + from the Agency, which stood outside. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, down to the Hotel California,” he called to the chauffeur, “Pat + Cleary can handle matters there.” + </p> + <p> + As they sped toward her apartment the roses took their wonted place in her + cheeks. She sat up to smile in his face. Then she lowered her glance, with + carmine mounting hotly to her brow. Helene said no word—nor did + Shirley. She simply leaned toward him, to bury her face upon the broad + shoulder, as neither heeded the possible curiosity of the driver on the + seat in front. + </p> + <p> + At least, they understood completely. There was nothing else to say! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + As Shirley left her at the door of the apartment, he turned into the + elevator, his mind whirling with the strange imprisonment into which he + had let his unwilling heart drift. The clerk stopped him at the lower + floor. + </p> + <p> + “There's a call for you, sir. It's rush, the gentleman said!” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! What now?” he ran to the instrument, and he heard Captain + Cronin's excited voice. + </p> + <p> + “Shirley. The man's escaped again! They just came into the place. He threw + some sort of bottle at the front of the patrol wagon which blew it all to + pieces. He got away in the mix-up—three policemen were injured!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get him, Captain, if it's the last act of my life.” + </p> + <p> + To the surprise of the blase clerk, the well-known club man ran out of the + hotel, dropping his hat in his excitement. He shouted to the driver who + still waited in the agency machine. + </p> + <p> + “The sky's the limit, now, son. Race for Twenty-first Street and the East + River. Let me off at the end of the dock. Then go back to get some men + from the agency, as I'll have a prisoner, then, or they'll get my body!” + </p> + <p> + The machine raced down the street, regardless of the warnings of + policemen. Shirley was confident that his was not the only car on such a + mission. He reached the dock of Manby, where was waiting the expert + engineer of the hydroplane. He had not planned in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen an auto go past here before mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I was smoking me pipe, and settin' on the rail of the dock, + when one shoots up toward the Twenty-third Street Ferry, with a cop on a + motor-cycle chasin' it behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, quick, into the boat.” + </p> + <p> + They clambered down the wet ladder, and after an aggravating delay, the + whirring engines of the racing craft were started. Shirley took off his + coat, and lashed a long rope about his waist. He tied the other end of it + securely to a thwart in the boat. + </p> + <p> + “What's your idee, Cap?” asked the engineer, as he waited the signal. + </p> + <p> + “There's a man trying to catch that white yacht out in the river. I want + to get him, that's all. If I fall out of this boat, keep right on going, + for I'm tied up now. Where's the boat hook?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, sir. Are you ready? Just give me your directions. All right, sir, + we're off.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley grunted and the hydroplane sped out onto the river, in a big + curve, as he directed. Like a white ghost on the river was the trim yacht, + which even now could be seen speeding down the stream, all steam up. There + were two toots on the whistle and Shirley feared that his man had boarded + her. But the hydroplane, ploughing through the cold waves, whizzed toward + the yacht, as he climbed out to the small flat stern. A small boat had + swung close to the yacht now. A ladder had been lowered from a spar, while + a man standing in the little craft missed it. The yacht was gliding past + the boat, when another rope ladder was deftly swung over the stern. + </p> + <p> + The hydroplane was close up now, and Shirley saw his prey dangling at the + end of the ladder, now in the water, struggling with the rungs of the + ladder, and now being drawn up. + </p> + <p> + His engineer, with a skilful hand on the helm, swung in close to the + yacht, as keen for the capture as his patron. They whizzed past at almost + railroad speed, and Shirley, sprang toward the ladder. His arms closed + about the body of Reginald Warren in a grip which he braced by a curious + finger-lock he had learned in wrestling practice. + </p> + <p> + Two revolvers barked over the taffrail of the yacht, as the hydroplane + raced onward, dragging Shirley and his prisoner at the end of the rope, + through the water. Again the shots rang out, but they were out of range, + on the dark waters so quickly, that before the police boat had set out + from shore to investigate the firing from the pleasure vessel, the + criminologist's struggle with his wounded antagonist was over. + </p> + <p> + Half drowned, himself, with Warren completely past consciousness, Shirley + was pulled into his own boat as the engines were slowed down. They + returned rapidly to the dock. + </p> + <p> + “Help me work him—that was a pretty rough yank. He's been shot in + the hand already.” + </p> + <p> + They rolled Warren on a barrel, “pumped” his arms, and by the time the + Cronin automobile had returned with the other detectives, Warren was + restored to understanding again. Shirley forced some liquor between his + teeth, to be greeted with a torrent of strange oaths. + </p> + <p> + “The jig is up, Warren,” said the criminologist. “As a chess-player in the + little game, you are a wonder. But, I think I may at last call + 'Checkmate.'” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not dead yet, Shirley,” hissed Warren. “I gave you your chance to + keep out of this. But you wouldn't take it. I'll settle the score with you + before I'm finished. There's one man in the world who knows how to get + away from bars. I'm that man.” + </p> + <p> + Then his teeth snapped together with a click. He said nothing more that + night, even during the operation for probing Shirley's bullet, and the + painful dressing. At the station-house, and his arraignment before the + magistrate at Night Court, where he saw some other familiar faces of his + fellow gangsters—now rounded up on the same charges—he still + maintained that feline silence. + </p> + <p> + And his eyes never left the face of Montague Shirley, as long as that calm + young man was in sight! + </p> + <p> + Shirley merely presented his charge of murder—for the strangling of + Shine Taylor. The names of the aged millionaires were not brought into the + matter—there was no need. He had done his work well. + </p> + <p> + At Cronin's agency, late that night, there came a cablegram from the + greatest detective bureau of France. + </p> + <p> + “The Montfleury case” was the most daring robbery and sale of state war + secrets ever perpetrated in Paris. It had been successful, despite the + capture, and conviction of the criminal, Laschlas Rozi, a Hungarian + adventurer who had killed three men to carry his point. The scoundrel had + escaped after murdering his prison guard, and wearing his clothes out of + the gaol. A reward of 100,000 francs had been offered for his capture, by + the Department of Justice. + </p> + <p> + “Monty, who gets all the credit for this little deal—that's what's + bothering me?” asked Captain Cronin, as they sipped a toast of rare old + port, in his rear office. + </p> + <p> + Shirley lit the ubiquitous cigarette, and tilted back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Captain: why ask foolish questions? This case ought to buy you five or + six of those big farms you've been planning about—and leave you + fifty thousand dollars with which to pay the damages for being a gentleman + farmer.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Monty? You know you never have to present a bill with me. What + will you do with your pin money?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going down on Fifth Avenue tomorrow and invest it in a solitaire + ring, for a very small finger.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION + </h2> + <p> + Shirley made some investigations in a private reading room of the Public + Library: there was much good treasure there, not salable over the counter + of a grocery store, mayhap, but unusually valuable in the high grade work + which was his specialty. In an old volume enumerating the noble families + of Austro-Hungary he found two distinguished lines, “Laschlas” and “Rozi.” + </p> + <p> + From the library he went to a cable office where he sent a message to the + chief of police of Budapesth inquiring about the remaining members of the + families. The old volume in the library was thirty-four years behind the + times: it was the only record obtainable in America. + </p> + <p> + After a couple of hours, which he devote to some personal matters, he + received a response to his inquiry. When translated from the Hungarian it + read thus: + </p> + <p> + “Professor Montague Shirley, College Club, N.Y., U.S.A. + </p> + <p> + Families extinct except Countess Laschlas, and son Count Rozi Laschlas, + reported killed in Albanian revolution. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Csherkini, Minister of Justice.” + </pre> + <p> + The criminologist was happy. Here was a weapon which he had not yet used. + Now he turned his steps towards the Tombs, for an interview with the + prisoner. + </p> + <p> + After some parley with the warden, he was admitted for a visit to Reginald + Warren. That gentleman's fury was rekindled at the sight of the club man + who had been so instrumental in his downfall. But a cunning smile played + over the features of the criminal. + </p> + <p> + “So, you have come to gloat over your work, Shirley? Well, it is a game + two can play.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? I am always interested in sport. I came to see if there was anything + I could do for you in your confinement,” was the unruffled reply. + </p> + <p> + “You will be busy with your own affairs,” retorted Warren. “I have been + busy writing my confession. Here is the manuscript. I will baffle all your + efforts to hush up the affairs of the 'Lobster Club.' Furthermore, my + confession,” (and he exultantly waved a mass of manuscript at his + visitor,) “will send young Van Cleft to prison for perjury on the + certificate of his father's death. Captain Cronin, that prince of + blockheads, will share the same fate. Professor MacDonald, who I know very + well signed the death certificates, will be disgraced and driven from + professional standing. You will be implicated in this plot to thwart + justice. With the German university thoroughness to which you so + sarcastically referred, I have written down the facts as carefully as + though I were preparing a thesis for a doctor's degree!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed maliciously, studying the effect of his words. He was + disappointed. Shirley's bland manner changed not a whit. Instead the + criminologist offered him a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “You might as well smoke now—as later!” and there was a wealth of + innuendo in the emphasis. “Is that all you are going to do, to square your + accounts?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means! As my trump card, I have implicated Miss Helene Marigold in + the various exploits which have been so successful now. She is unknown in + New York—I investigated that matter. She will have a fine task in + proving an alibi, after the careful preparation I have made. In fact, I + accuse her of being the mistress of my dead con'federate—” + </p> + <p> + Shirley sprang to his feet, and the rage which was shown in his strong + features brought a leer to the face of the other. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me,” continued the tormentor. “All I have to do is to call the + guard. I have been busy thinking since they locked me up here. There is + nothing more to do to me than the electric chair—but, I am not + finished yet.” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist controlled himself with difficulty. He realized that an + altercation with the prisoner would shatter his whole case, like a house + of cards blown down by a vagrant breeze. He sat down again, the mask of + calm indifference playing over his features. + </p> + <p> + “And what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not that sufficient to interest you? It will be another month before + my trial, and my literary work has just begun. The newspapers are filled + with war news, which have ceased to be a nine days' wonder. I shall + provide them with material which will be the story of the age! Another + month, and then?” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and stretched back + in the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of his victim. + </p> + <p> + “But, a month—let me see? That would enable me to do some + corresponding myself, wouldn't it?” and Shirley took out a memorandum + book. “You have degraded a splendid intellect, a gallant spirit and + brought disgrace upon yourself, for this miserable ending. You have + ruthlessly murdered others, caring naught for the misery and wretchedness + of those left behind. Has it been worth it all, Warren?” + </p> + <p> + The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded. + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have not affected. + It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanian revolution,—then + you would have been on record as a hero instead of the vilest scoundrel in + Christendom.” + </p> + <p> + Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned upon + Warren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang up. His pallid + face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark eyes opened in galvanized + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Albanian—what do you mean? I never saw Albania!” + </p> + <p> + “You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth again, either,” + was the menacing continuation of the criminologist's methodical speech. + “But a very old lady, the Countess Laschlas, will see the accounts of her + son's wretched death, in the New York papers which will be sent to her, in + care of the American consul!” + </p> + <p> + It was merely a deductive guess: but the shot struck the center of the + bull's-eye. Warren, alias Count Laschlas, staggered back, and his nervous + fingers touched the chilling surface of the stone wall. He dropped his + eyes, and then strove to regain his nonchalance. It was a pitiable + failure. + </p> + <p> + “Just as you have dealt to the children of others, so will you deal with + your own mother, the last of a distinguished line of aristocrats. I swear, + by the memory of my own dead parents, that I will avenge the misery you + have given to the innocent. The good Book says, the sins of the fathers + shall be visited upon the children even unto the third and the fourth + generation. But life to-day has taught me that the sins of the children + are visited upon the fathers and the mothers—especially, the sweet, + loving, trusting mothers! As I value my honor, Reginald Warren, or Count + Rozi, I will see to it that your mother shall know every detail of the + whole miserable career of her son. That is my answer to your alleged + confession. If there is a hereafter, from which you may observe that which + follows your death, you will be able to see through eternity the earthly + punishment which has been visited upon the one person whom you love and + respect.” + </p> + <p> + The criminal's ashen face was buried in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Great sobs emanated from his white lips, as his shoulders heaved in a + paroxysm. + </p> + <p> + Shirley had struck the Achilles tendon—the hardest wretch in the + world had one, as he knew! + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh—” he moaned, “the poor little mutter. She has forgiven + so much, suffered so much. You can't do it. You won't do it!” He fell to + his knees, clawing at the criminologist's garments with his trembling + hands, the tears streaming down his face. + </p> + <p> + “What about those who have seen no compassion from you?” cried Shirley in + a terrible voice. “Your vanity, your self-worship! Do they not comfort you + now? This is only the suffering of another which you contemplate! Why all + these hysterics?” + </p> + <p> + Warren, groveling on the floor of the reception-room, was a picture of + abject, horrid soul-torture. At last, through the subtlety of this + unconventional sleuth, along methods which were never dreamed of in the + ordinary police category, he had been broken on the wheel which he had + himself so cunningly constructed! + </p> + <p> + “And if that mother dies, cursing your memory with her last breath, + cursing the love of the father, of her husband, of the ancestors, all + responsible for your being in the world today, what will you think, when + you watch from the other side of that great unseen wall?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Shirley! I can't. See—I'll destroy this stuff. I'll keep silent + about the others. I mean it. Here: I tear it up now and give you the + pieces to burn!” + </p> + <p> + Warren, maddened by his fears, nervously tore the sheets into bits and + pressed the remnants into the criminologist's hands. + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise to keep my identity a secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not send word to Budapesth. You have a bad record in Paris, and + other parts of the world. But, if you play fair on the confidential nature + of this case, saving the innocent from disgrace and shame, I will see that + the story never reaches your mother. There is no need to ask this on your + honor—that does not count.” + </p> + <p> + Warren winced at this final thrust. He turned toward Shirley, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand me at that, Shirley. I have had a curious career. + Somewhere I inherited a strain of criminality—you know how many + ancestors a man has in ten generations. I was a member of a poor but + prominent family. The government paid for my education in the best + universities of Europe, for I was to hold a position under the Emperor, + which had been held in my family for generations. But I was ruined by the + extravagances and the excesses which I learned from the rich young men + whom I met. I studied feverishly, yet was able to waste much time with the + gilded fools, by my ability to learn more quickly. The result was that I + could not be contented with the small salary of my government office. I + had to keep up appearances with my companions. So, I drifted into + gambling, into sharp tricks—then became a mercenary soldier, an + officer, in the continuous revolutions of the southeastern part of Europe. + I sank deeper and at last, in one serious escapade, I managed to have + myself reported dead, so as to quiet the heartaches of my mother, who + believed I was killed on the battlefield. There is the miserable story—or + all I will tell. They caught me in Paris and a girl betrayed part of my + name—fortunately they did not hunt me up, so my mother was saved + that disgrace. Will you keep the secret now, on our understanding?” + </p> + <p> + “I give you my word for that, Warren.” Shirley rose, putting the torn-up + papers into his pockets. “I am sorry for the past—but you have made + the present for yourself. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Warren returned to his cell and the detective to the club house. + </p> + <p> + There he found an additional cable message. It said: “Countess Laschlas + has been dead ten months.” It was signed like the other. + </p> + <p> + Shirley tore up the message, and blinked more than seemed necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little old lady, she knows it all now. I will not have to tell her.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + That afternoon Shirley called again at the Hotel California for Helene. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to go to a sweet, old-fashioned English tea-room, where I may + tell you the rest of the story. There will be no tango music, no cymbals, + no tinkling cocktails, nor, champagne. Can you pour real tea?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an English girl. I have been five days without it.” + </p> + <p> + As they were ensconced at the quaint little table, he realized how + wondrously blended in her was that triad of feminine essential spirits: + the eternal mother instinct, the sensuous strength of the wife-love and + the wistful allurement of maiden tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Does my great big boy wish three lumps of sugar, after his hard tasks?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll die in the flower of immaturity if he has too many sweets in one + day.” + </p> + <p> + He drew out his memorandum book, opening it to a closely-written page. + </p> + <p> + “Before the confections, I must hand in my report to the commanding + officer.” + </p> + <p> + “Advance three paces to the front, and hand over the details,” and she + added another lump of sugar, with a mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, excellency. We transcribed the addresses of Warren's gangsters + from his note-book, and they have all been arrested. The men we captured + in the earlier skirmishes are all languishing in the tombs, as accomplices + in his crime, as well as for their attempts against my own life. You will + be astonished, Helene, at the revelations of his operations as shown by + his bank-books, a translation of that diary and some of the letters which + I took when I burglarized his rooms. I have sent a code letter to Phil, + advising him to confess all, and that man's testimony adds to the + corroboration. I went down to the District Attorney with a full statement + of the facts, leaving nothing unbared. Like me, he agreed that it were + best to let the law take its course, demanding the full penalty, and + saving the honor of a dozen families who would have been dragged into the + case, had not Warren laid himself liable by the murder of his confederate, + Taylor. That young man was an electrical genius—with his brains + misguided by his equally misdirected employer. There is no chance of a + miscarriage of justice, and Warren had accumulated so much money that many + of the victims of his organization can be reimbursed in full.” + </p> + <p> + “You have handled all this with a suspicious skill for a lazy society man, + with no experience in such matters.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley understood the subtle sarcasm of the remark, but he proceeded + unruffled, to lull her suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “I only tried to cover the points which meant happiness and peace of mind + to others. It was merely a matter of common or garden horse sense, as we + call it in America. Warren has been systematically robbing the rich men of + New York for three years, under various subterfuges. No wonder he could + afford such gorgeous collections of art, keeping aloof from his associates + in crime. His treasures, like those in many European museums were bought + with blood. It is curious how a complex case like this smooths itself out + so simply when the key is obtained. And you, Helene, have been the genius + to supply that key: my own work has been merely corroborative!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with a + recurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in the cellar + den of the conspirators. + </p> + <p> + “Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to the + Somerset where you followed my trail through the mole's passage. It was a + frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should have had more sense and led + the way himself.” + </p> + <p> + Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining only one + mystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this curious affair. And + that is you. Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + She parried with the same question. + </p> + <p> + “I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society butterfly, + flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again. Tell me the truth, + now, if ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—gracious, Helene—of all the foolish questions!” He was + adorably boyish in his confusion. She laughed gleefully, like a happy + schoolgirl. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Monty Shirley, my score is better than yours, for I have every + mystery cleared. But while I know all about you, what frightful chances + you are taking with me!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley reddened, as he burned his finger with the match which had been + raised to the end of his cigarette. He accused her of teasing, and she + glanced happily at the iridiscent solitaire upon the third finger of her + left hand. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy, I realize that I understand about you what you cannot fathom + with me. You are not a moth, but your self-sacrifice, and bravery in this + case are professional: you worked on this case as you have on a hundred + others: you are a very original and successful expert in criminology. And + I am not more than half bad at observation and deduction, myself; now, am + I, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley gracefully admitted defeat, with a question: “Who are you, Helene? + And who is dear old Jack?” + </p> + <p> + The roses blossomed in her cheeks as she answered: “Jack is a very sweet + boy, ten years older than you in gray hair and the calendar, and + infinitely younger in worldly wisdom and intellect. He is an English army + officer, who was foolish enough to imagine he loved me, foolish enough to + propose every three days for the last three years and foolish enough to + bore me until in self-defense I escaped from his clutches. As for myself, + at least I am not the young woman who can stand staying in that gaudy + theatrical hotel for another day longer. I have done so many bold, + unmaidenly things that you may believe it easy for me. It is not. + </p> + <p> + “I am truly a horrid, old-time, hoopskirt-minded prude. My first act of + domestic tyranny is to make you find a sedate, prim place for my work and + play, where I may know my own blushes when I see them in the mirror, and + will have less occasion to deserve them!” + </p> + <p> + “Your work? What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very hard work—with a typewriter, but not in code. I will not + divulge my name until we tell it to the marriage license clerk. But Dick + Holloway knows me, and I came to this country, partly to see him. I have + written a few plays, which simple as they were, seemed to interest + European audiences and critics. Some of my novels have strangely enough + brought in royalties, despite the publishers! But, I became satiated with + life in England and on the Continent. I came here because I felt that I + needed life in a younger and newer country. I needed an emotional and + physical awakening.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not wasted any time in drowsiness since you reached America.” + </p> + <p> + “No—and all because I went to Holloway's office that fateful + morning, before I saw any one else in New York, to ask about a play which + he is to produce this spring. I confess that it was my first experience as + an actress. Will you forgive my deception?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley nodded, as he studied the animated face with a new interest. He + admitted to himself that Holloway's prediction had come true—he had + met his match. + </p> + <p> + “And so, my dear Helene (for such I shall always call you, whether your + really, truly name be Mehitabel, Samantha or Sophronisa) you came here, + went through all these horrors without a complaint, crushing the + independence of my confirmed bachelorhood for the sake of what we + newspaper men call copy?” + </p> + <p> + Helene nodded demurely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it was such wonderful 'copy,' Monty boy.” + </p> + <p> + The criminologist scowled over his cigarette, yet he could not feel as + unhappy as he felt this defeat should make him. + </p> + <p> + “When will the 'copy' be ready for publication, my dear girl. It would be + most interesting, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + Helene caught his hand, drawing it toward her throbbing heart. Her wet + lips were almost touching his ear, as she confided, whisperingly, with the + blue eyes averted: “Only published in editions de luxe: some bindings will + be with blue ribbons, some with pink. All of them with flexible backs and + gloriously illumined by the Master's brush. The authors' autographs will + be on every copy to prove the collaboration, and every volume will be a + poem in itself.... But there, Montague dear, I am a novelist—not a + fortune-teller!” + </p> + <p> + “How can I forecast the exact dates of publication?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Voice on the Wire, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOICE ON THE WIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 5672-h.htm or 5672-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/7/5672/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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