XXI
THE TELESCRIBE
I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and that I hadbetter go slow that day and regain my strength, a fortunate decision,as it turned out.
Kennedy, also, spent most of the time in the laboratory, so that, afterall, I did not feel that I was missing very much.
It was along in the afternoon that the telephone began actingstrangely, as it will do sometimes when a long distance connection isbeing made. Twice Kennedy answered, without getting any response.
"Confound that central," he muttered. "What do you suppose is thematter?"
Again the bell rang.
"Hello," shouted Kennedy, exasperated. "Who's this?"
There was a pause. "Just a minute," he replied.
Quickly he jammed the receiver down on a little metal base which he hadplaced near the instrument. Three prongs reaching upward from the baseengaged the receiver tightly, fitting closely about it.
Then he took up a watch-case receiver to listen through in place of theregular receiver.
"Who is it?" he answered.
Apparently the voice at the other end of the wire replied ratherpeevishly, for Kennedy endeavoured to smooth over the delay. I wonderedwhat was going on, why he was so careful. His face showed that,whatever it was, it was most important.
As he restored the telephone to its normal condition, he looked at mepuzzled.
"I wonder whether that was a frame-up!" he exclaimed, pulling a littlecylinder off the instrument into which he had inserted the telephonereceiver. "I thought it might be and I have preserved the voice. Thisis what is known as the telescribe--a recent invention of Edison whichrecords on a specially prepared phonograph cylinder all that issaid--both ways--over a telephone wire."
"What was it about?" I asked eagerly.
He shoved the cylinder on a phonograph and started the instrument.
"Professor Kennedy?" called an unfamiliar voice.
"Yes," answered a voice that I recognized as Craig's.
"This is the detective agency employed by Mr. Whitney. He hasinstructed us to inform you that he has obtained the Peruvian daggerfor which you have been searching. That's all. Good-bye."
I looked at Kennedy in blank surprise.
"They rang off before I could ask them a question," said Craig."Central tells me it was a pay station call. There doesn't seem to beany way of tracing it. But, at least I have a record of the voice."
"What are you going to do?" I queried. "It may be a fake."
"Yes, but I'm going to investigate it. Do you feel strong enough to godown to Whitney's with me?"
The startling news had been like a tonic. "Of course," I replied,seizing my hat.
Kennedy paused only long enough to call Norton. The archaeologist wasout, and we hurried on downtown to Whitney's.
Whitney was not there and his clerk was just about to close the office.All the books were put away in the safe and the desks were closed. Nowand then there echoed up the hall the clang of an elevator door.
"Where is Mr. Whitney?" demanded Craig of the clerk.
"I can't say. He went out a couple of hours ago."
"Did he have a visit from one of his detectives?" shot out Craigsuddenly.
The clerk looked up suspiciously at us.
"No," he replied defiantly.
"Walter--stand by that door," shouted Craig. "Let no one in until theybreak it down."
His blue-steel automatic gleamed a cold menace at the clerk. A downtownoffice after office hours is not exactly the place to which one can getassistance quickly. The clerk started back.
"Did he have a visit from one of his detectives?"
"Yes."
"What was it about?"
The clerk winced. "I don't know," he replied, "honest--I don't."
Craig waved the gun for emphasis. "Open the safe," he said.
Reluctantly the clerk obeyed. Under the point of the gun he searchedevery compartment and drawer of the big chrome steel strong-box whichWhitney had pointed out as the safest place for the dagger on our firstvisit to him. But there was absolutely no trace of it. Had we beenhoaxed and was all this risk in vain?
"Where did Mr. Whitney go?" demanded Craig, as he directed the clerk toshut the door and lock the safe again, baffled.
"If I should try to tell you," returned the man, very much frightened,"I would be lying. You would soon find out. Mr. Whitney doesn't make aconfidant of me, you know."
It was useless. If he had the dagger, at least we knew that it was notat the office. We had learned only one thing. He had had a visit fromone of his detectives.
As fast as the uptown trend of automobiles and surface cars during therush hour would permit, Kennedy and I hurried in a taxicab to thePrince Edward Albert in the hope of surprising him there.
"It's no use to inquire for him," decided Craig as we entered thehotel. "I still have the key to that room, 827, next to his. We'll rideright up in the elevator boldly and get in."
No one said anything to us, as we let ourselves into the room next toWhitney's. A new lock had been placed on the door between the suites,but, aside from the additional time it took to force it, it presentedno great difficulty.
"He wouldn't leave the dagger here, of course," remarked Kennedy, as atlast we stepped into Whitney's suite. "But we may as well satisfyourselves. Hello--what's this?"
The room was all upset, as though some one had already gone through it.For a moment I thought we had been forestalled.
"Packed a grip hastily," Craig remarked, pointing to the marks on thebedspread where it had rested while he must literally have thrownthings into it.
We made a hasty search ourselves, but we knew it was hopeless. Twothings we had learned. Whitney had had a visit from his detectives, andhe had gone away hurriedly. An anonymous telephone message had beensent to Kennedy. Had it been for the purpose of throwing us off thetrack?
The room telephone rang. Quickly Craig jumped to it and took down thereceiver.
"Hello," he called. "Yes, this is Mr. Whitney."
A silence ensued during which, of course, I could not gather any ideaof what was going on over the wire.
"The deuce!" exclaimed Kennedy, working the hook up and down butreceiving no response. "The fellow caught on. Something must havehappened to Norton, too."
"How's that?" I asked.
"Why," he replied, "some one just called up Whitney and said thatNorton had got away from him."
"Perhaps they're trying to keep him out of the way just as they arewith us," I suggested. "I think the thing is a plant."
Down the hall, Kennedy stopped and tapped lightly at the door of 810,the de Moche suite. I think he was surprised when the Senora's maidopened it.
"Tell Senora de Moche it is Professor Kennedy," he said quickly, "andthat I must see her."
The maid admitted us into the sitting-room where we had had our firstinterview with her and a moment later she appeared. She was evidentlynot dressed for dinner, although it was almost time, and I sawKennedy's eye travel from her to a chair in the corner over which wasdraped a linen automobile coat and a heavy veil. Had she been preparingto go somewhere, too? The door to Alfonso's room was open and heclearly was not there. What did it all mean?
"Have you heard anything of a report that the dagger has been found?"demanded Kennedy abruptly.
"Why--no," she replied, greatly surprised, apparently.
"You were going out?" asked Kennedy with a significant glance at thecoat and veil.
"Only for a little ride with Alfonso, who has gone to hire a car," sheanswered quickly.
I felt sure that she had heard something about the dagger.
We had no further excuse for staying and on the way out, now that hehad satisfied himself that Whitney was not there, Craig inquired at theoffice for him. They could tell us nothing of his whereabouts, exceptthat he had left in his car late in the afternoon in a great hurry.
Kennedy stepped into a telephone booth and called up Lockwood, bu
t noone answered. Inquiry in the garages in the neighbourhood finallylocated that at which Lockwood kept his car. There, all that they couldtell us was that the car had been filled with gas and oil as if for atrip. Lockwood was gone, too.
Kennedy hastily ordered a touring car himself and placed it at a cornerof the Prince Edward Albert where he could watch two of the entrances,while I waited on the next corner where I could see the entrance on theother street.
For some time we waited and still she did not come out. Had shetelephoned to Alfonso and had he gone alone? Perhaps she had alreadybeen out and had taken this method of detaining us, knowing that wewould wait to watch her.
It must have been a mixture of both motives, for at length I wasrewarded by seeing her come cautiously out of the rear entrance of thehotel alone and start to walk hurriedly up the street. I signalled toCraig who shot down and picked me up.
By this time the Senora had reached a public cab stand and had engageda hack.
Sinking back in the shadows of the top, which was up, Craig directedour driver to follow the hack cautiously, keeping a couple of blocksbehind. There was some satisfaction, though slight, in it, at least. Wefelt the possibility of the trail leading somewhere, now.
On uptown the hack went, while we kept discreetly in the rear. We hadreached a part of the city where it was sparsely populated, when thehack suddenly turned and doubled back on us.
There was not time for us to turn and we trusted that by shrinking backin the shadow we might not be observed.
As the hack passed us, however, the Senora leaned out until it wasperfectly evident that she must recognize us. She said nothing but Ifancied I saw a smile of satisfaction as she settled back into thecushions. She was deliberately going back along the very road by whichshe had led us out. It had been an elaborate means of wasting our time.
She did not have the satisfaction, however, of shaking us off, for wefollowed all the way back to the hotel and saw her go in. Then Kennedyplaced the car where we had it before and left the driver withinstructions to follow her regardless of time if she should come outagain.
Surely, I reasoned, there must be something very queer going on, ifthey were all it to eliminate us and Norton. What had happened to him?
Kennedy hastened back to the campus, late as it was, there to startanew. Norton was not in his quarters and, on the chance that he mighthave sought to elude Whitney's detectives by doing the unexpected andgoing to the Museum, Kennedy walked over that way.
There was nothing to indicate that anybody had been at the Museum, but,as we passed our laboratory, we could hear the telephone ringinginside, as though some one had been trying to get us for a long time.
Kennedy opened the door and switched on the lights. Waiting only longenough to jam the receiver down into place on the telescribe, heanswered the call.
"The deuce you will!" I heard him exclaim, then apparently whoever wastalking rang off and he could not get them back.
"Another of those confounded telephone messages," he said, turning tome and taking the cylinder off. "I looks as though the ready-letterwriter who used to send warnings had learned his lesson and taken tothe telephone as leaving fewer clues than handwriting."
He placed the record on the phonograph so that I could hear it. It wasbrief and to the point, as had been the first.
"Hello, is that you, Kennedy? We've got Norton. Next we'll get you.Good-bye."
Kennedy repeated the first message. It was evident that both had beenspoken by the same voice.
"Whose is it?" I asked blankly. "What does it mean?"
Before Craig could answer there was a knock at our door and he sprangto open it.