XII
THE "PORTRAIT PARLE"
What it was that Clare Kendall had on her mind, appeared the followingday.
"There's something I want to try," she volunteered, evidently unable torepress it any longer. "I have a plan--or half a plan. Don't you thinkit would be just the thing, under the circumstances, to ring upDistrict Attorney Carton, tell him what we have accomplished and takehim into our confidence? Perhaps he can suggest something. At any ratewe have all got to work together, for there is going to be a greatfight when they find out how far we have gone."
"Bully idea," agreed Craig.
Twenty minutes later we were seated in the District Attorney's officein the Criminal Courts Building, pouring into his sympathetic ear thestory of our progress so far.
Carton seemed to be delighted, as Kennedy proceeded to outline thecase, at the fact that he and Miss Kendall had found it possible toco-operate. His own experience in trying to get others to work with theDistrict Attorney's office, particularly the police, had been quite thereverse.
"I wish to heaven you could get the right kind of evidence against theMontmartre gang," he sighed. "It is a gang, too--a high-class gang. Infact--well, it must be done. That place is a blot on the city. Thepolice never have really tried to get anything on it. Miss Kendallnever could, could you? I admit I never have. It seems to be understoodthat it is practically impossible to prove anything against it. Theyopenly defy us. The thing can't go on. It demoralizes all our otherwork. Just one good blow at the Montmartre and we could drive every oneof these vile crooks to cover." He brought his fist down with a thud onthe desk, swung around in his chair, and emphasized his words with hisforefinger.
"And yet, I know as well as I know that you are all in this room thatgraft is being paid to the police and the politicians by that place andin fact by all those places along there. If we are to do anything withthem, that must be proved. That is the first step and I'm glad thewhole thing hinges on the Blackwell case. People always sit up and takenotice when there is something personal involved, some human interestwhich even the newspapers can see. That Montmartre crowd, whoever theyare, must be made to feel the strong arm of the law. That's what I amin this office to do. Now, Kennedy, there must be some way to catchthose crooks with the goods."
"They aren't ordinary crooks, you know," ruminated Kennedy.
"I know they are not. But you and Miss Kendall and Jameson ought to beable to think out a scheme."
"But you see, Mr. Carton," put in Clare, "this is a brand newsituation. Your gambling and vice and graft exposures have made all ofthem so wary that they won't pass a bill from their right to their leftpockets for fear it is marked."
Carton laughed.
"Well, you are a brand new combination against them. Let me see; youwant suggestions. Why don't you use the detectaphone--get our ownlittle Black Book?"
Kennedy shook his head.
"The detectaphone is all right, as Dorgan knows. It might work again.But I don't think I'll take any chances. No, these grafters wouldn'tsay 'Thank you' in an open boat in mid-ocean, for fear of wireless,now. They've been educated up to a lot of things lately. No, it must besomething new. What do you know about graft up there?"
"The people who are running those places in the fifties are makingbarrels of money," summarized Carton quickly. "No one ever interfereswith them, either. I know from reliable sources, too, that the policeare 'getting theirs.' But although I know it I can't prove it; I can'teven tell who is getting it. But once a week a collector for the policecalls around in that district and shakes them all down. By Jove, to-dayis the day. The trouble with it all is that they have made the thing sounderground that no one but the principals know anything about it--noteven the agents. I guess you are right about the detectaphone."
"To-day's the day, is it?" mused Craig.
"So I understand."
"I think I can get them with a new machine they never dreamed of,"exclaimed Kennedy, who had been turning something over in his mind.
He reached for the telephone and called the Montmartre.
"Julius, please," he said when they answered; then, placing his handover the transmitter, he turned to Clare. "That was your friend theTitian, Miss Kendall."
"No friend of mine if she happens to remember seeing me in Dr. Harris'soffice the other day. Still, I doubt if she would."
"Hello--Julius? Good morning. How about a private dining-room forthree, Julius?"
We could not hear the reply, but Craig added quickly, "I thought therewere two?"
Evidently the answer was in the affirmative, for Craig asked next,"Well, can't we have the small one?"
He hung up the receiver with a satisfied smile after closing with"That's the way to talk. Thank you, Julius. Good-bye."
"What was the difficulty?" I asked.
"Why, I thought I'd take a chance--and it took. Now figure it out foryourself. Carton says it's dough day, so to speak, up there. What ismore natural than that the money for all those places leased to variouspeople should be passed over in a place that is public and yet is notpublic? For instance, there is the Montmartre itself. Now think it out.Where would that be done in the Montmartre? Why, in one of the privatedining-rooms, of course."
"That seems reasonable," agreed Carton.
"That was the way I doped it," pursued Craig. "I thought I'd confirm itif I could. You remember they told us to call up always if I wanted aprivate dining-room and it would be reserved for me. So it was the mostnatural thing in the world for me to call up. If they had said yes, Ishould have been disappointed. But they said no, and straightway Iwanted one of those rooms the worst way. One seems to be engaged--thelarge one. He said nothing about the other, so I asked him. Since Iknew about it, he could hardly say no. Well, I have engaged it forlunch--an early luncheon, too."
"It sounds all right, as though you were on the right trail," remarkedCarton. "But, remember, only the best sort of evidence will go againstthose people. They can afford to hire the best lawyers that money canretain. And be careful not to let them get anything on you, for theyare fearful liars, and they'll go the limit to discredit you."
"Trust us," assured Craig. "Now, Miss Kendall, if you will give us thepleasure of lunching with you at the Montmartre again, I think we maybe able to get the Judge just the sort of open and shut evidence he isafter."
"I shall be glad to do it. I'm ready now."
Kennedy glanced at his watch. "It's a little early yet. If we take ataxicab we shall have plenty of time to stop at the laboratory on ourway."
Arriving at the laboratory, he went to a drawer, from which he took alittle box which contained a long tube, and carefully placed it in thebreast pocket of his coat. Then from a chest of tools he drew severalsteel sections that apparently fitted together, and began stuffing theparts into various pockets.
"Here, Walter," he said, "these make me bulge like a yeggman with hisoutfit under his coat. Can't you help me with some of these parts?"
I jammed several into various pockets--heavy pieces of metal--and wewere ready.
Our previous visits to the Montmartre seemed to have given us theentree and the precaution of telephoning made it even easier. Indeed,it appeared that about all that was necessary there was to be known andto be thought "right." We carefully avoided the office, where thestenographer might possibly have recognized Clare, and entered theelevator.
"Is Dr. Harris in?" asked Craig, both by way of getting information andshowing that he was no stranger.
The black elevator boy gave an ivory grin. "No, sah. He done gone onone o' them things."
Another question developed the fact that whenever Harris was away itwas generally assumed that he was tinting the metropolis vermilion fromthe Battery to the Bronx.
We passed down the hall to the smaller of the two dining-rooms, and aswe went by the larger we could see the door open and that no one wasthere.
We had ordered and the waiter had scarcely shut the door before Kennedyhad divested himself of the heavy
steel sections which he had hidden inhis pockets. I did the same.
With a quick glance he seemed to be observing just how the furniturewas placed. The smaller dining-room was quite as elaborately furnishedas the larger, though of course the furniture was more crowded.
He moved the settee and was on his knees in a corner. "Let me see," heconsidered. "There was nothing on this side of the larger room exceptthe divan in the centre."
As nearly as he could judge he was measuring off just where the divanstood on the opposite side of the wall, and its height. Then he beganfitting together the pieces of steel. As he added one to another, I sawthat they made a sectional brace and bit of his own design, a long,vicious-looking affair such as a burglar might have been glad to own.
Carefully he started to bore through the plaster and lath back of thesettee and to one side of where the divan must have been. He was makingjust as small a hole as possible, now and then stopping to listen.
There was no noise from the next room, but a tap on the door announcedthe waiter with luncheon. He shoved the settee back and joined us. Thediscreet waiter placed the food on the table and departed without aword or look. Kennedy resumed his work and we left the luncheon stilluntasted.
The bit seemed to have gone through as Kennedy, turning it carefully,withdrew it now and then to make sure. At last he seemed to besatisfied with the opening he had made.
From the package in his breast pocket he drew a long brass tube whichlooked as if it might be a putty-blower. Slowly he inserted it into thehole he had bored.
"What is it?" I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity longer.
"I felt sure that there would be no talking done in that room,especially as we are in this one and anyone knows that even if youcan't put a detectaphone in a room, it will often work if merely placedagainst a wall or door, on the other side, in the next room. So Ithought I'd use this instead. Put your eye down here."
I did so and was amazed to find that through a hole less than a quarterof an inch in diameter the brass tube enabled me to see the entire roomnext to us.
I looked up at Kennedy in surprise. "What do you think of this, MissKendall?" I asked, moving the settee out of her way. "What do you callit?"
"That is a detectascope," he replied, "a little contrivance which makesuse of the fish-eye lens.
"Yes. The detectascope enables you to see what is going on in anotherroom. The focus may be altered in range so that the faces of those inthe room may be recognized and the act of passing money or signingcheques, for instance, may be detected. The instrument is fashionedsomewhat after the cytoscope of the doctors, with which the humaninterior may be seen."
"Very remarkable," exclaimed Clare. "But I can't understand how it ispossible to see so much through such a little tube. Why, I almost fancyI can see more in that room than I could with my own eyes if I wereplaced so that I could not move my head."
Kennedy laughed.
"That's the secret," he went on. "For instance, take a drop of water.Professor Wood of Johns Hopkins has demonstrated recently theremarkable refracting power of a drop of water, using the camera andthe drop of water as a lens. It is especially interesting to scientistsbecause it illustrates the range of vision of some fishes. They haveeyes that see over half a circle. Hence the lens gets its name--'thefish-eye lens.' A globe refracts the light that reaches it from alldirections, and if it is placed as the lens is in the detectascope sothat one half of it catches the light, all this light will be refractedthrough it. Ordinary lenses, because of their flatness, have a range ofonly a few degrees, the widest in use, I believe, taking in onlyninety-six degrees, or a little over a quarter of a circle. So you seemy detectascope has a range almost twice as wide as that of any otherlens."
The little tube was fascinating, and although there was no one in thenext room yet, I could not resist the desire to keep on looking throughit.
"Since you are so interested, Walter," laughed Craig, "we'll appointyou to take the first shift at watching. Meanwhile we may as well eatsince we shall certainly have to pay. When you are tired or hungry I'lltake a turn."
Kennedy and I had been taking turns at watching through thedetectascope while Miss Kendall told us more about how she had come tobe associated with the organization to clean up New York.
"We have struck some delicate situations before," she was saying,"times when it meant either that we must surrender and compromise thework of the investigation or offend an interest that might turn out tobe more powerful than we realized. Our rule from the start was, 'NoCompromise.' You know the moment you compromise with one, all theothers hear it and it weakens your position. We've made some powerfulenemies, but our idea is that as long as we keep perfectly straight andhonest they will never be able to beat us. We shall win in the end,because so far it has never come to a show-down, when we appealed tothe public itself, that the public had not risen and backed usstrongly."
I had come to have the utmost confidence in Clare Kendall and her frankway of handling a ticklish yet most important subject without fear orprudishness. There was a refreshing newness about her method. It wasneither the holier-than-thou attitude of many religionists, nor thesmug monopoly of all knowledge of the social worker, nor the brutalwantonness of the man or woman of the world who excuses everything"because it is human nature, always has been and always will be."
"We have no illusions on the subject," she pursued. "We don't expect tochange human nature until the individual standard changes. But we areconvinced of this--and it is as far as we go and is what we are out toaccomplish--and that is that we can, and are going to, smash protected,commercialized vice as one of the big businesses of New York."
"Sh-h," cautioned Kennedy, whose turn it happened to be just then towatch. "Someone has just entered the room."
"Who is it?" I whispered eagerly.
"A man. I can't see his face. His back is toward me, but there issomething familiar about him. There--he is turning around. For Heaven'ssake--it's Ike the Dropper!"
We had already recounted to Miss Kendall our experiences in followingDr. Harris to the black and tan joint and the meeting with Ike theDropper.
"Then Ike the Dropper is the collector for the police or thepoliticians higher up," she exclaimed under her breath. "If we learnednothing more, that would be enough. It would tell us whom to watch."
Hastily we took turns at getting a good look at Ike through thewonderful little detectascope. Then Kennedy resumed his watch,whispering now and then what he saw. Apparently Ike had proceeded tomake himself comfortable in the luxurious surroundings of the privatedining-room, against the arrival of the graft payers.
"I wonder who the man higher up is," whispered Miss Kendall.
"Someone is coming in," reported Kennedy. "By George, it is thatstenographer from the office downstairs. She is handing him anenvelope. Good for her! He tried to kiss her and she backed away indisgust. The scoundrel!
"Isn't it clever, though? Not a word is said by anyone. I don't supposeshe could swear to knowing anything about what is in the envelope.There she goes out. He is opening the envelope and counting out themoney--ten one-hundred-dollar bills. There they go into the fob pocketof his trousers. I imagined he learned something from my pick-pocket.That is the safest pocket a man has. That little contribution, I takeit, was from the Montmartre itself."
Then followed an interval in which Ike puffed away on his cigar insilent state.
"Here's another now," announced Craig. "Another woman. I never saw herbefore."
Both Miss Kendall and I looked and neither of us recognized her. Shewas slim and would have been young-looking if she had not made suchobvious efforts to imitate the healthy colour of the cheeks which sheprobably would have had if she had lived sensibly and left cosmeticsalone.
Kennedy was hastily jotting down some notes on the back of an envelope.
"They are going through the same proceedings again. I guess Ike doesn'tlike her. There she goes. Only two hundred this time."
Another wait
followed, during which Ike smoked down his cigar andlighted another from the stub. Then the door opened again.
Kennedy motioned quickly to Clare to look through the detectascope.Meanwhile he pulled from his pocket the piece of paper he had writtenon and torn from the back of the menu at the Futurist.
"Marie!" exclaimed Clare under her breath.
"The same," whispered Kennedy. "Miss Kendall, you have the true 'cameraeye' of the born detective. Now--please--let me see if I can get whatoccurs."
She yielded her place to him.
"Three hundred more," he murmured. "Marie must be in the game, though.He didn't wait for her to leave before he tore open the envelope. Nowthey are burning the envelopes in the ash tray. And still not a word.This is clever, clever. Think of it--fifteen hundred dollars of easymoney like that! I wonder how much of it sticks to Ike's hands on theway up. He must have a capacious fob pocket for that. Say, he's aregular fellow with the ladies, Ike is. Only this one doesn't seem toresent it. By George, I wonder if this fellow Ike isn't giving thepolice or the politicians the double-cross. He couldn't be on suchintimate terms with one who was paying graft to him as collectorotherwise; do you think so?"
Craig looked up without waiting for an answer. "You will excuse anylevity, but that was some kiss she just gave him."
Kennedy resumed his position for looking through the detectascope,occasionally glancing down at the notes he had made the day before andnow and then making a slight alteration.
"There. She is going away now. Well, I guess the collection is allover. He has his hat on and a third cigar, ready to go as soon assomebody signals that the coast is clear. That was a good day's workfor Ike and the man higher up, whoever he is. Ah--there he goes. It wasa signal from the waiter he was after. Now we may as well finish thisluncheon. It cost enough."
For several minutes we ate in silence.
"I wish I could have followed Ike," observed Craig. "But of course itwould have been of no use. To go out right after him would have giventhe whole thing away."
"Who is that dark-haired, dark-skinned woman, Marie, do you suppose?"asked Clare. "Sometimes I almost think she is part negro."
"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised, though, if you were right. Ifyou have any investigators to spare, they might try to find out who sheis and something of her history. I will give them a copy of these noteswhich I intend to turn over to the Department of Justice men who havebeen making the white slave investigation for the Federal Government."
Kennedy had laid the notes which he had made on the menu before us andwas copying them. Both Clare and I leaned over to read them. It wasGreek to me:
Nose--straight, base elevated, nostrils thick, slightly flaring.
Ears--lobe descending oval, traversed by a hollow, antitragus concave;lobe separated from cheek.
Lips--large.
Mouth--large.
Chin--receding.
There was much more that he had jotted down and added to thedescription.
"Oh," exclaimed Clare, as she ran through the writing, "that is thisnew portrait parle, the spoken picture, isn't it?"
"Yes," replied Kennedy. "You may know that the Government has beenusing it in its white slave inquiry and has several thousands of suchdescriptions. Under the circumstances, I understand that the Governmentagents find it superior to finger-prints. Finger-prints are all rightfor identification, as we have found right here, for instance, in theNight Court. But Bertillon's new portrait parle is the thing forapprehension."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Well, take the case before us. We have had no chance to finger-printthat woman and what good would it do if we had? No one could recognizeher that way until she was arrested or some means had been taken to getthe prints again.
"But the portrait parle is scientific apprehension, the step that comesbefore scientific identification by finger-prints. It means giving thedetective an actual portrait of the person he is sent after withoutburdening him with a photograph. As descriptions are now given,together with a photograph, a person is described as of such a weight,height, general appearance, and so on. A clever crook knows that. Heknows how to change his appearance so that there are few even of thebest detectives who can recognize him. This new system describes thefeatures so that a man can carry them in his mind systematically,features that cannot be changed.
"Take the nose, for example," explained Kennedy. "There are only threekinds, as Bertillon calls them--convex, straight, and concave. Adetective, we will say, is sent out after a man with a concave nose or,as in this case a woman with a straight nose. Thus he is freed from thenecessity of taking a second glance at two-thirds of the women,roughly, that he meets--that is, theoretically. He passes by all withconvex and concave noses.
"There are four classes of ears--triangular, square, oval, and round,as they may be called. Having narrowed his search to women withstraight noses, the detective needs to concern himself with onlyone-fourth of the women with straight noses. Having come down to womenwith straight noses and, say, oval ears, he will eliminate all thosethat do not have the mouth, lips, chin, eyes, forehead, and so on thathave been given him. Besides that, there are other striking differencesin noses and ears that make his work much easier than you wouldimagine, once he has been trained to observe such things quickly."
"It sounds all right," I agreed haltingly.
"It is all right, too," he argued warmly. "The proof of it is its usein Paris and other cities abroad and the fact that it has been importedhere to New York in the Police Department and has been used by theGovernment. I could tell you many interesting stories about how it hassucceeded where photographs would have failed."
I had been reading over the description again and trying to apply it.
"For instance," Craig resumed thoughtfully. "I believe that this womanis a mulatto, but that is a long way from proving it. Still, I hopethat by using the portrait parle and other things we may be able todraw the loose threads together into a net that will catchher--providing, of course, that she ought to be caught."
He had finished making copies of the portrait parle and had called fora cheque for the lunch.
"So you see," he concluded, "this is without any doubt the woman we sawat the Futurist, whom Miss Kendall followed to Madame Margot's BeautyShop, two doors down."
Kennedy handed a copy to Miss Kendall.
"Using that and whatever other means you may have, Miss Kendall," hesaid, "I wish that you would try to find this woman and all you canabout her. Walter, take this other copy and see Carton. I think he hasa county detective who knows the system. I shall spend the rest of theday getting in touch with the Federal authorities in this city and inWashington trying to find out whether they know anything about her."
We left the Montmartre with as much care as we had entered andseemingly without having yet aroused any suspicion. The rest of the daywas spent in setting to work those whom we felt we could trust to usethe portrait parle to locate the mysterious dark-haired Marie whoseemed to cross our trail at every turn, yet who proved so elusive.