Whispering Wires

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "SUSPICION FASTENS"

  Triggy Drew had been trained in the hardest school in the world. LorisStockbridge's statement, delivered with such sincerity and so naively,completely upset him. It was like a gentle reminder that, as a hunterof men, he had failed. He took the blow with flaming cheeks and analmost stopped heart.

  Delaney realized that something of moment in the case had happened. Hestared at his chief, then turned his eyes upon Harry Nichols, whostepped through the portieres and stood by Loris' side.

  "What is it, Chief?" asked the operative. "Was there anything in whatshe said?"

  "Anything!" exclaimed Drew, recovering himself with a tossing shrug ofhis shoulders. "Anything? Everything! The man we want is----"

  "Found?" breathed Loris clutching Nichols' arm.

  "Not yet--but _very_ soon!" said the detective with sanguine eyes. "Wewant that trouble-hunter, Delaney," he added gathering in the detailsfor action as he spoke. "You'll have to hurry right over to the addressand see if you can round him up. If he isn't there--get him! I want himbrought here at once. He's got much to explain!"

  "I'll go right now," said Delaney, starting toward the reception room.

  "Wait," said Drew.

  Delaney turned at the portieres.

  "Don't phone me here," the detective warned. "Don't do anything bytelephone. We're on the trail of a man or men who can tap wires. He orthey may have a confederate in this house. Be careful--get your suspectand bring him here. We'll try him with the footprints. We'll check upwith the fingerprints. Then, if he don't cave in, we'll turn him overto Fosdick and the Third Degree. I firmly believe that Albert, whom Isaw in the library and who was in this house in the early afternoon ofthis day, is implicated in the murder. Strange that I never suspectedhim."

  "I'm going!" growled Delaney, tearing his eyes away from Loris andglancing through the curtains. "I'm right after him, Chief. I won'tstop till I get him, either."

  "If you don't make it in thirty minutes," said Drew glancing sharply athis watch, "if you don't make it by then--come back here. Perhapssomething will have turned up in the meantime. Get that?"

  "Sure, Chief! Good-by!"

  Delaney had passed through the portieres, crossed the reception roomand pressed aside the tapestries leading to the hallways, before Drewstepped to the broad doorway and motioned for Loris and Nichols to taketheir former positions. He waited until they were seated with theirfaces in the shadow cast by the overhead silken hangings. He spokethen, and to the point.

  "This case," he said, thrusting his hands in his coat pockets andstriding back and forth. "This case is clearing clue by clue. Thetrouble-man, whom some one let into the house this afternoon, is themissing link in the chain of circumstance and applied deduction. Wholet him in?"

  "I did!"

  Drew stopped in his stride. "You, Nichols?" he questioned sharply. "Whydid you let him in?"

  "Because I asked Harry to," defended Loris with heat. "I heard the bellring. I sent the maid downstairs. She came back and told me that a manfrom the telephone company was waiting to look over the connections.She said that he said that there was trouble with the wires."

  "I don't believe it!" exclaimed Drew; "that is," he added hastily, "Idon't believe there was anything the matter at all. In the light ofwhat Delaney has told me, that fellow came here last night, when someone else named Frosby or Frisby was sent. Now why would he want to takeanother's place? For one reason only--the same reason that he came herethis afternoon. This reason concerns your future health and security.We had one death in this house which followed his first visit. We don'twant anything to happen after his second visit."

  "You are right, Mr. Drew," said Nichols. "I was careless. I went downstairs and talked with the fellow. It was just a few minutes after Iarrived from downtown. He seemed so plausible that I asked the CentralOffice Detective at the door, who gave the permission. It was all myfault, I guess."

  "Where did this fellow go? What did he do in the house?"

  "He went into the library and tested the phone there. The connectionseemed to be all right. Then he went down stairs and tested thebutler's 'phone. The butler had been taken as a material witness byFosdick. I followed the man. He didn't do anything but test and thentalk with Franklin Official--I think it was."

  "Are you sure he talked over the phone? It's ridiculously easy for aperson to hold down the hook and make believe they are talking to mostanybody."

  "I don't know about that, Mr. Drew," said the captain, turning towardLoris. "Did he talk to anybody when he used this 'phone, MissStockbridge?"

  "I believe so, Harry. I really thought he did."

  Drew furrowed his brows in perplexity. There was no evidence shown thatthe trouble-man had ever talked with anybody, via wire, from themansion. He recalled the first appearance of the lineman in thelibrary. That time both calls, to Central, might have been feigned byholding down the hook and speaking into a disconnected transmitter. Theman was clever. He knew all there was to be known concerning telephony.

  "I'm a child," the detective concluded, swinging about the room inperplexity. "One thing," he added aloud to Loris and Nichols. "Onething! We are absolutely alone in this part of the house. I have lockedthe maid in her room. No one can get through the door to the hall.There's a spring lock on it. Delaney closed it when he went out."

  "And there's a score of detectives scattered about," said the captainreassuringly, as he leaned toward Loris. "Why should we fear anythingat all?"

  "I wouldn't, Harry," said Loris, "if it wasn't for what happened topoor father. Mr. Drew took the same precautions and had everythinglocked and watched. It doesn't seem as if we were in New York at all.It seems like some mediaeval time and place."

  Drew reached for a fragile-looking chair, turned it, sat down andthrust his custom-made shoes out across the rug in the direction ofLoris and Nichols, whose faces shone white and drawn in the soft lightof the alcove where they were seated.

  Swirling thought surged through the detective's brain. He went over thecase with dulled understanding. Briefly, he had eliminated the formersuspects and compressed the matter into a small compass. His conclusionbrought him to his feet with slow swaying from side to side. Some onein state prison was probably directing matters. Some one in New Yorkwas carrying out the arch-fiend's orders. This free agent had the nerveof the damned and the cunning of Cagliostro. He had succeeded inplanting a confederate in the mansion, or entering himself, and slayingStockbridge. The entire case, concluded Drew, rested in capturing thefree agent before he could do further murder. Loris was marked and hadbeen from the first.

  "What servants remain?" he asked, dropping his hand on his right hippocket and feeling the bulge of an automatic there. "Which of theservants, Miss Stockbridge, have Fosdick and his men left for you?"

  "The French maid," said Loris softly.

  "I saw her! She looks all right. She says she has been with you five orsix years."

  "Six--almost. It's been over six years, Mr. Drew!"

  "That ought to let her out of the case. Now, the next one?"

  "The housekeeper, Mrs. Seeley. She has been with us ten or twelveyears--ever since I can remember. Mother thought the world of Mrs.Seeley."

  "Who else?"

  "Father's valet. They didn't arrest him."

  "He was down to my office. He looks all right. I'll cross him off thelist of suspects. Now, are there any more servants in the house?"

  "There's a French chef and a pantry man, I think. Also there's a poorold darkey who tends to the furnace. I don't believe he leaves thebasement. I never see him, only on holidays."

  "The butler, then, and the doorman and the second man and the rest ofthe servants have been taken down to Center Street for interrogationand as suspects. That leaves us with very few to handle, MissStockbridge. I'm going to start by securing the door which leads intothe hallway. Then we'll wait here."

  Drew hurried through the tapestries, stopped, and examined the lock ofthe d
oor before he shot home a second bolt which was functioned by abutterfly of heavy gold alloy. He stood erect with both hands pressingat his temples. It came to him with double force that the sameprecautions had been taken when Stockbridge was alone in the librarydownstairs. There was the lock of superior make and the winged-latch.There was the two-inch, or more, door of dark wood. There were theservants and detectives both within and outside the mansion. Yet themillionaire had been reached in a secret manner through all theprecautions.

  "Things repeat, sometimes," mused Drew, fingering the catch and theflat key. "The same conditions bring the same results. I----"

  The detective's voice trailed into a whisper as he heard footstepsoutside the door. He reached back to his pocket and waited. His heartthumped like a prisoned bird within his breast. It was a case ofstrained nerves. He felt the responsibility of guarding Loris.

  "Bah!" he exclaimed, recovering himself and squaring his jaw. "Bah," herepeated. "It's somebody for me."

  He opened the door after twisting the butterfly and turning the flatkey in the lock. A blurred figure pressed forward. A gruff voice boomedfrom a muffling collar.

  "Hello, Chief! I'm back in a half-hour! No luck, either!"

  Drew waited until Delaney had removed his overcoat and overshoes, whichhe placed in one corner by a hall-tree. "What did you find?" he askedglancing toward the tapestries.

  "The fellow's beat it for good. Landlady says he owes her one week'srent. He cleaned out with a suit-case and left this." The operativereached in his pocket and brought forth a single drill of quarter-inchdiameter. He held it out. "All I could find, Chief, after a quickfrisk. This was in the mattress."

  "Regulation lineman's wood-bit," said Drew as he examined the sizenumber on the shank. "This might have been the one used in boring thehole between the slot-booths at Grand Central Station."

  "Then Albert is the lad, Chief?"

  "We don't know, yet. There's lots of bits like this one. Did you try itfor fingerprints?"

  "They're all rubbed off! I had to pull it from the mattress. It wasstuck in a hole near the foot of the bed."

  "Hold it!" said Drew. "Hold it for evidence. Put it with your plastercasts. Now----"

  "Well, Chief?"

  Drew glanced at his watch. "I'm going out to that drug-store," he said."I want to phone. I can't use the phones of this house. The wires maybe tapped. You stay right by this door and wait till I get back. Itwon't be more than ten minutes. Go get my hat when you're putting thebit away. It's in the corner by Loris and Nichols. Tell them I'mstepping out and that you will stand guard. They might hold me. She isvery nervous."

  Delaney was back at the detective's side, after a clumsy stride throughthe tapestries. "Cute couple," he said, jerking his thumb over-shouldertoward the inner room. "They're sittin' there so close you couldn't geta sheet of paper between them. I like that colleen, Chief! She's thekind you see on them magazine covers--only prettier."

  "A cat can look at a queen," quoted Drew, pulling down his hat andopening the door wide. "Be sure and lock this after me," he warned."Lock and bolt it. Stand guard and don't let anybody in at all. I'monly going round the block."

  Delaney shut the door and turned the key. He followed this action bytwisting the butterfly. Then he drew his gun and waited, grimly alert.

  Drew reached the drug-store after a brisk, lung-cleansing walk throughthe down-driving snow. He dropped a coin in the slot and first calledup his office. Harrigan, who had remained at his post, answered formost of the operatives who were out on the case and who had 'phoned inat every opportunity.

  "Get Frick at the prison," Drew shot back, after making a few notes."Get him and tell him to call up this 'phone," Drew glanced at thenumber over the transmitter. "Tell him to call up Gramercy Hill 9749and let whoever I station here, know to whom and to what number Morphyis talking in New York. Get that?"

  "Sure," came back over the wires. "Sure, Chief. You want to pinch thefellow he's connecting with?"

  "I certainly do," said Drew. "We can work it this way. As soon as Ifind out from Frick where Morphy or anybody else is 'phoning from theprison, I can get a man over there in time to make the arrest. Thesuperintendent at Gramercy Hill will help us out if the call comesthrough his exchange. He can get the girl to stall for a minute or two.I'll send Delaney here to hold this end of the wire. You keep himposted as to developments. O'Toole, yes! He's planted in the alley backof the house. He can't report. All the others are all right?"

  Drew hung up with a flip of the receiver. He backed out of the boothand hurried around the corner. He reached the iron-grilled gate of themansion with his head down and the snow seeping between his collar andhis neck.

  "Rotten night!" said the Central Office man at the door. "I don't thinkwe'll hear anything from anybody. Them gunmen like the backrooms ofsaloons too well to pull off a gun-play in this storm, Inspector."

  "You never can tell," said Drew, shaking his coat and hurrying towardthe stairway which led to Loris Stockbridge's apartment.

  Delaney opened the door after a repeated knock in Morse code. He eyedhis chief. He motioned toward the inner rooms. "All quiet," he saidwith a broad smile. "Them turtle doves sure like to be left alone."

  "And you would too! Especially if you lost your only relative the nightbefore--lost him in the way she lost hers."

  The big operative gulped down the thrust. "What did you find out?" heasked in a husky whisper.

  "Get your coat on. Get over to that drug-store and plant near thatbooth--Gramercy Hill 9749. Frick, at the prison, is going to call thatbooth up as soon as Morphy or anybody else there tries to get New York.If Frick gives you a number, call up the superintendent at GramercyHill and tell him who you are. He's on duty all night. He'll give youthe address of the number, and stall the call. That'll give you time torush to the address and grab your man."

  "I'll grab him, Chief!" rumbled Delaney, reaching for his storm coatwhich was supposed to be fur-lined. "Leave that to me!" he added. "Jus'leave it tu me!"

  Drew eyed the operative's huge hands. "I'll do that," he said with ashort laugh. "Now hurry! No, wait."

  "What is it, Chief?" asked Delaney in the doorway.

  "If the address is downtown, or in Brooklyn, what would you do then?"

  "I'd get the office, Chief, and have Harrigan rush over a man. Thissuper at Gramercy Hill ought to be able to stall that call long enoughfor us to connect--with both hands and both feet."

  "Go to it!" said Drew, pressing Delaney out through the door. "Goodluck," he added as he twisted the key and shot the bolt. "Now we aregetting there," he said softly. "Unfortunately for that devilup-the-river, he has to phone from _one_ place. That's the thing whichwill beat him. I hate to think what would happen if he was outsidegiving orders. He could get away with it, nicely."

  Drew never felt surer of himself in a case. He tested the lock and boltfor a second time. He draped the tapestries and strode into the sittingroom with his shoulders held back--a sanguine light in his olive eyes.

  "Well, Miss Stockbridge," he said, pausing in the center of the roomand smiling. "I think we are on the verge of big things. The attemptcannot be made to-night without we have plenty of warning."

  "Good!" exclaimed Loris, standing upright and arranging her lavendergown about her slipper-tops. "That's the best news I've heard in a longtime, Mr. Drew," she added, glancing archly at the detective, beneathher dark lashes. "Has that Mr. Delaney found any one?"

  Drew raised his brows. Loris' question was not exactly a compliment tothe big operative, who meant so well.

  "He hasn't found anything," said Drew, with soft, pleasing voice. "Hehasn't done that, but I'm venturing my future reputation that he willfind our man--the trouble-man perhaps."

  Harry Nichols stepped to Loris' side. "We were children there," headmitted frankly. "At least I was. I never suspected him at all. Hismanners were so pleasant. He seemed so weak and intent about hisbusiness."

  "Ah!" said Drew, raising his finger. "That's it! He was i
ntent about_his_ business. Only, this particular business concerned the taking ofa human life in cold blood. Mr. Stockbridge was murdered by this fiend,in the guise of a harmless trouble-hunter. How the murder wasaccomplished and by what lethal method we do not know. I'm acting onthe theory that if we catch the man we will find out how it was done.If I can't make him--Fosdick, Commissioner of Detectives, will. May Godhelp him if he doesn't talk to Fosdick!"

  "But can't we find out how father was killed?" asked Loris, with tearsglazing over her eyes. "It don't seem--it don't----"

  The captain caught Loris about the waist and led her to the divan inthe alcove. She sank down with her face covered with her hands. Softsobs, brought to her throat by the memory of the murder, caused Drew topace the rugs with alert, nervous strides like a man who would guardher from some menacing shadow. He went to the ventilators and closedthem slightly. He crossed the room to the radiator-boxes and set themin an open position. He adjusted a thermostat on the wall, to seventydegrees. He stood back then and listened with both ears strained foroutside sounds.

  Snow sifted across the curtain-drawn panes with a cutting of finediamonds against diamonds. A wind whistled and moaned and swirled overthe turrets and towers of the mansion. An echo lifted from the drivingtraffic of the Avenue. Below this echo, so faint it seemed like amurmur of a distant sea, the city throbbed with the shifting of thewhimpering wind. Once it roared. Then afterward there was silence, savefor the sifting snow, and Loris' low, throat choke from welling sorrow.

  She sat up finally and dried her eyes. "I should be ashamed of myself,"she said, brokenly. "I must be brave. I fear something, though. Itseems to be in the room or the air. What is it I fear, Mr. Drew?" Herquestion was vague. Her eyes shone hectically bright and strangelyalluring to the detective.

  "There's nothing to fear!" he declared with a direct glance. "I'marmed! Then," he added as an additional encouragement. "Then, Mr.Nichols is a soldier! You are in safe hands, believe me!"

  Harry Nichols bowed politely. "I've got a gun, myself," he admittedcandidly. "It's not that little one, either. It's army regulation. It,or the ones like it, have been stopping the Huns. I guess we'll takecare of anything that comes up to-night, Mr. Drew. It's getting late,isn't it?"

  The detective glanced at his watch. "I ought to hear from Delaney," hesaid, replacing the watch and reaching for a chair. "Delaney is likeold Dobbin--faithful and slow."

  Drew sat down, pulled at the knees of his black trousers and rested hisheels on the thick soft pile of a Persian rug. Behind him was thecheval glass and the telephone stand. Before him, and in the shade ofthe silk draperies, Loris' eyes glowed alongside the captain's resoluteface.

  The minutes passed with the trio in the same position. The snow siftedacross the cold panes. The wind whined. Suddenly between gusts, Lorisasked point-blankly:

  "Do you suspect that man, Morphy?"

  "Yes; I do!" said Drew with a snap. "I believe that every single leadwe have points to him. I believe he planned to destroy your father eversince the day of conviction. I believe----"

  "But he is in prison."

  "Ah!" said the detective, with bright eyes. "So is his master, Lucifer,in the lower regions. He's there, but he has a long arm. Morphy's toolin this affair is probably the telephone repair-man. You saw him. Mr.Nichols saw him. I saw him. We all agree that he does not look the partof a scoundrel and a scoundrel's tool. But," Drew paused and spread outhis hands; "but," he continued, "that's the reason he was chosen forMorphy's murderous work. You can't send a thug into a drawing room--ora library. You can't cut a sharp slice with a dull tool. Thistrouble-hunter is all that the name implies--a hunter of trouble. Idon't doubt that we have the case rounded up, save for bringing him in.Morphy, we can get at any time. He's in prison and he's getting veryclose to the little green door that leads to the electric-chair. Oneslip to-night, and we have him!"

  "Miss Stockbridge must go south after the funeral," said Nichols. "Shecan't be jeopardized! She is nervous and has suffered acutely. I forone am sorry we let her stay here. It is the place she should not be.They know where to look for her!"

  "They're beat to-night," assured Drew, rising and stretching his arms."My! my!" he added, "this is slow, sleepy work. I'd ask for tea, but Ithink it's best we stay locked in here. Don't you, Miss Stockbridge?"

  "Marie can get some. There's a service-waiter running up to her room.Suppose I order tea, or coffee, and cakes. It might cheer us up?"

  Drew held out a warding arm as Loris rose and started toward thewriting room. "I'll tend to it," he said. "You stay right here close upto Mr. Nichols. We're taking no chances at all."

  The detective parted the portieres and knocked upon the maid's door ashe turned the key with his left hand. He waited as she gave the orderthrough a silver-plated speaking tube. He heard the service-waiterrising. He leaned forward and took the tray with a sharp glance aboutthe maid's room. It was as clean and as neat as a work basket. A Frenchnovel, with a vivid portrait of a poilu carrying a very sharp bayoneton its cover, lay in the center of a white counterpane on the bed.

  "Good-night!" he said as he closed and carefully locked the door. Hereached downward and caught up the tray. He started across thewriting-room. He paused in its center as he heard:

  "Burrrr! Burrrr! Burrrrr!"

  Shrillingly the perfumed air of the suite vibrated with the silvernotes of the telephone. Drew hesitated, with the tray balanced in hishand. He took one step forward as Loris swished across thesitting-room, lifted the hard-rubber receiver and voiced a soft,"Hello!"

  Drew let go of the tray and sprang forward. He parted the portieres andwatched Loris' face. It changed between seconds to a flushed mask ofcrimson-fear. She staggered back, dropped the receiver, and cried"Harry!" as she sank to the floor.

  Drew darted across the rugs and snatched up the instrument. He heard alow, chuckling laugh that died to a whisper and then to nothingness. Heflipped the receiver back on the hook. He turned with a savage twist.He stared across the room toward Loris, who had risen to her knees andwhose head was against Nichols' olive-drab breast.

  "What was said?" he questioned sharply.

  A mass of turbaned, midnight-hued hair uncoiled and fell about thegirl's white face. Glorious eyes dulled, then glowed, with the firewhich was pulsing within her. Her lips trembled and went blanched asshe throated brokenly:

  "The man--the man at the other end said.... He said that his master hadordered my coffin.... He said that I had only a few hours to live....He said that he would call me up again.... For me to be ready then, tomeet my Master and my--doom."