XIX
THE ESCAPE
At last the telephone rang and Carton answered it eagerly. As he didso, he quickly motioned to us to go to the outside office where we,too, could listen on extensions.
"Yes, this is Mr. Carton," we heard him say.
"This is the editor of the Wall Street Record," came back the reply ina tone that showed no hesitation or compunction if it was lying. "Isuppose you have heard the rumours that are current downtown thatHartley Langhorne and the people associated with him have gone broke inthe pool they formed to get control of the public utilities that wouldput them in a position to capture the city betterment contracts?"
"No--I hadn't heard it," answered Carton, with difficulty restraininghimself from quizzing the informant about himself. Kennedy wasmotioning to him that that was enough. "I'm sure I can't express anyopinion at all for publication on the subject," he concluded brusquely,jamming down the receiver on the hook before his interlocutor had achance to ask another question.
The bell continued to ring, but Craig seized the receiver off its hookagain and called back, "Mr. Carton has gone for the day," hanging it upagain with a bang.
"Call up the Record now," advised Craig, disconnecting the recordinginstrument he had brought. "See what the editor has to say."
"This is the District Attorney's office," said Carton a moment laterwhen he got the number. "You just called me."
"I called you?" asked the editor, non-plussed.
"About a rumour current in Wall Street."
"Rumour? No, sir. It must be some mistake."
"I guess so. Sorry to have troubled you. Good-bye."
Carton looked from one to the other of us. "You see," he said indisgust, "there it is again. That's the sort of thing that has beengoing on all day. How do I know what that fellow is doing now--perhapsusing my name?"
I had no answer to his implied query as to who was the "wolf" and whathe might be up to. As for Kennedy, while he showed plainly that he hadhis suspicions which he expected to confirm absolutely, he did not careto say anything about them yet.
"Two can play at 'wolf,'" he said quietly, calling up the headquartersof Dorgan's organization.
I wondered what he would say, but was disappointed to find that it wasa merely trivial conversation about some inconsequential thing, asthough Kennedy had merely wished to get in touch with the "SilentBoss." Next he called up the sanitarium to which Murtha had beencommitted, and after posing as Murtha's personal physician managed tohave the rules relaxed to the extent of exchanging a few sentences withhim.
"How did he seem--irrational?" asked Carton with interest, for I don'tthink the District Attorney had complete confidence in the commonlyannounced cause of Murtha's enforced retirement.
Kennedy shook his head doubtfully. "Sounded pretty far gone," was allhe said, turning over the pages of the telephone book as he looked foranother number.
This time it was Kahn whom he called up, and he had some difficultylocating him, for Kahn had two offices and was busily engaged inpreparing a defence to the charges preferred against him for the juryfixing episode.
Among others whom he called up was Langhorne, and the conversation withhim was as perfunctory as possible, consisting merely in repeating hisname, followed by an apology from Kennedy for "calling the wrongnumber."
In each case, Craig was careful to have his little recording instrumentworking, taking down every word that was uttered and when he hadfinished he detached it, looking at the cylinder with unconcealedsatisfaction.
"I'm going up to the laboratory again," he announced, as Carton lookedat him inquiringly. "The investigation that I have in mind will taketime, but I shall hurry it along as fast as I possibly can. I don'twant any question about the accuracy of my conclusions."
We left Carton, who promised to meet us late in the afternoon at thelaboratory, and started uptown. Instead, however, of going up directly,Craig telephoned first to Clare Kendall to shadow Mrs. Ogleby.
The rest of the day he spent in making microphotographs of thephonograph cylinder and studying them very attentively under hishigh-powered lens.
Toward the close of the afternoon the first report of Miss Kendall, whohad been "trailing" Mrs. Ogleby, came in. We were not surprised tolearn that she had met Langhorne in the Futurist Tea Room in the middleof the afternoon and that they had talked long and earnestly. What didsurprise us, though, was her suspicion that she had crossed the trailof someone else who was shadowing Mrs. Ogleby.
Kennedy made no comment, though I could see that he was vitallyinterested. What was the significance of the added mystery? Someoneelse had an interest in watching her movements. At once I thought ofDorgan. Could he have known of the intimacy of his guest at the Gastrondinner with Langhorne, rather than with Murtha, with whom she had gone?Suddenly another explanation occurred to me. What was more likely thanthat Martin Ogleby should have heard of his wife's escapade? He wouldcertainly learn now to his surprise of her meeting with Langhorne. Whatwould happen then?
Kennedy had about finished with his microphotographic work and waschecking it over to satisfy himself of the results, when Carton, as hehad promised, dropped in on us.
"What are you doing now?" he asked curiously, looking at the prints andparaphernalia scattered about. "By the way, I've been inquiring intothe commitment of Murtha to that sanitarium for the insane. On thesurface it all seems perfectly regular. It appears that, unknown evento many of his most intimate friends, he has been suffering from acomplication of diseases, the result of his high life, and they have atlast affected his brain, as they were bound to do in time. Still, Idon't like his 'next friends' in the case. One is his personalphysician--I don't know much about him. But Dorgan is one of theothers."
"We'll have to look into it," agreed Kennedy. "Meanwhile, would youlike to know who your 'wolf' is that has been spreading rumours aboutbroadcast?"
"I would indeed," exclaimed Carton eagerly. "You were right about thestatement I issued. It had no more effect than so many unspoken words.The fellow has kept right on. He even had the nerve to call up MissAshton in my name and try to find out whether she had any trace of themissing Betty Blackwell. How do you suppose they found out that she wasinterested?"
"Not a very difficult thing," replied Kennedy. "Miss Ashton must havetold several organizations, and the grafters always watch suchsocieties pretty closely. What did she say?"
"Nothing," answered Carton. "I had thought that they might trysomething of the sort and fortunately I warned her to disregard anytelephone messages unless they came certainly from me. We agreed on alittle secret formula, a sort of password, to be used, and I flattermyself that the 'wolf' won't be able to accomplish much in thatdirection. You say you have discovered a clue? How did you get it?"
Kennedy picked up one of the microphotographs which showed anenlargement of the marks on the phonograph cylinder. He showed it to usand we gazed curiously at the enigmatic markings, greatly magnified. Tome, it looked like a collection of series of lines. By close scrutiny Iwas able to make out that the lines were wavy and more or lesscontinuous, being made up of collections of finer lines,--lines withinlines, as it were.
An analysis of their composition showed that the centre of larger lineswas composed of three continuous series of markings which looked, underthe lens, for all the world like the impressions of an endless straightseries of molar teeth. Flanking these three tooth-like impressions wereother lines--varying in width and in number--I should say, about four,both above and below the tooth-like impressions. When highly magnifiedone could distinguish roughly parallel parts of what at even a lowmagnification looked like a single line.
"I have been studying voice analysis lately," explained Kennedy,"particularly with reference to the singing voice. Mr. Edison has madethousands and thousands of studies of voices to determine which arescientifically perfect for singing. That side of it did not interest meparticularly. I have been seeking to use the discovery rather fordetective purposes."
He p
aused and with a fine needle traced out some of the lines on thephotographs before us.
"That," he went on, "is a highly magnified photograph of a minutesection of the phonographic record of the voice that called you up,Carton, as editor of the Wall Street Record. The upper and lower lines,with long regular waves, are formed by a voice with no overtones. Thosethree broader lines in the middle, with rhythmic ripples, show theovertones."
Carton and I followed, fascinated by the minuteness of hisinvestigation and knowledge.
"You see," he explained, "when a voice or a passage of music sounds oris sung before a phonograph, its modulations received upon thediaphragm are written by the needle point upon the surface of thecylinder or disc in a series of fine waving or zig-zag lines ofinfinitely varying depth and breadth.
"Close familiarity with such records for about forty years has taughtMr. Edison the precise meaning of each slightest variation in thelines. I have taken up and elaborated his idea. By examining them underthe microscope one can analyze each tone with mathematical accuracy andcan almost hear it--just as a musician reading the score of a song canalmost hear the notes."
"Wonderful," ejaculated Carton. "And you mean to say that in that wayyou can actually identify a voice?"
Kennedy nodded. "By examining the records in the laboratory, lookingthem over under a microscope--yes. I can count the overtones, say, in asinging voice, and it is on the overtones that the richness depends. Ican recognize a voice--mathematically. In short," Craig concludedenthusiastically, "it is what you might call the Bertillon measurement,the finger-print, the portrait parle of the human voice!"
Incredible as it seemed, we were forced to believe, for there on thetable lay the graphic evidence which he had just so painstakinglyinterpreted.
"Who was it?" asked Carton breathlessly.
Kennedy picked up another microphotograph. "That is the record I tookof one of the calls I made--merely for the purpose of obtaining samplesof voices to compare with this of the impersonator. The two agree inevery essential detail and none of the others could be confounded by anexpert who studied them. Your 'wolf' was your old friend Kahn!"
"Fighting back at me by his usual underhand methods," exclaimed Cartonin profound disgust.
"Or else trying himself to get control of the Black Book," addedKennedy. "If you will stop to think a moment, his shafts have beenlevelled quite as much at discrediting Langhorne as yourself. He mighthope to kill two birds with one stone--and incidentally save himself."
"You mean that he wants to lay a foundation now for questioning theaccuracy of the Black Book if it ever comes to light?"
"Perhaps," assented Kennedy carefully.
"Surely we should take some steps to protect ourselves from hisimpostures," hastened Carton.
"I have no objections to your calling him up and telling him that weknow what he is up to and can trace it to him--provided you don't tellhim how we did it--yet."
Carton had seized the telephone and was hastily calling every place inwhich Kahn was likely to be. He was not at either of his offices, norat Farrell's, but at each place successively Carton left a messagewhich told the story and which he could hardly fail to receive soon.
As Carton finished, Kennedy seemed to be emerging from a brown study.He rose slowly and put on his hat.
"Your story about Murtha's commitment interests me," he remarked,"particularly since you mentioned Dorgan's name in connection with it.I've been thinking about Murtha myself a good deal since I heard abouthis condition. I want to see him myself."
Carton hesitated a minute. "I can break an engagement I had to speakto-night," he said. "Yes, I'll go with you. It's more important to lookto the foundations than to the building just now."
A few minutes later we were all on our way in a touring car to theprivate sanitarium up in Westchester, where it had been announced thatMurtha had been taken.
I had apprehended that we would have a great deal of difficulty eitherin getting admitted at all or in seeing Murtha himself. We arrived atthe sanitarium, a large building enclosed by a high brick wall, andevidently once a fine country estate, at just about dusk. To mysurprise, as we stopped at the entrance, we had no difficulty in beingadmitted.
For a moment, as we waited in the richly furnished reception room, Ilistened to the sounds that issued from other parts of the building.Something was clearly afoot, for things were in a state of disorder. Ihad not an extensive acquaintance with asylums for the care andtreatment of the insane, but the atmosphere of excitement whichpalpably pervaded the air was not what one would have expected. I beganto think of Poe's Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether, and wonder whetherthere might not have been a revolution in the place and the patientshave taken charge of their keepers.
At last one of the attendants passed the door. No one had paid anyattention to us since our admission and this man, too, was going topass us without notice.
"I beg your pardon," interrupted Kennedy, who had heard his footstepsapproaching and had placed himself in the hallway so that the attendantcould not pass, "but we have called to see Mr. Murtha."
The attendant eyed us curiously. I expected him to say that it wasagainst the rules, or to question our right to see the patient.
"I'm afraid you're too late," he said briefly, instead.
"Too late?" queried Kennedy sharply. "What do you mean?"
The man answered promptly as if that were the quickest way to get backto his own errand.
"Mr. Murtha escaped from his keepers this evening, just after dinner,and there is no trace of him."