CHAPTER X
THE SIXTH SENSE
"I suppose you have read in the papers of the mysterious burning of ourcountry house at Oceanhurst, on the south shore of Long Island?"
It had been about the middle of the afternoon that a huge automobile ofthe latest design drew up at Kennedy's laboratory and a stylishlydressed woman, accompanied by a very attentive young man, alighted.
They had entered and the man, with a deep bow, presented two cardsbearing the names of the Count and Countess Alessandro Rovigno.
Julia Rovigno, I knew, was the daughter of Roger Gaskell, the retiredbanker. She had recently married Count Rovigno, a young foreigner whosefamily had large shipping interests in America and at Trieste in theAdriatic.
"Yes, indeed, I have read about it," nodded Craig.
"You see," she hurried on a little nervously, "it was a wedding presentto us from my father."
"Giulia," put in the young man quickly, giving her name an accent thatwas not, however, quite Italian, "thinks the fire was started by anincendiary."
Rovigno was a tall, rather boyish-looking man of thirty-two orthirty-three, with light brown hair, light brown beard and mustache. Hiseyes and forehead spoke of intelligence, but I had never heard that hecared much about practical business affairs. In fact, to Americansociety Rovigno was known chiefly as one of the most daring ofmotor-boat enthusiasts.
"It may have been the work of an incendiary," he continued thoughtfully,"or it may not. I don't know. But there has been an epidemic of firesamong the large houses out on Long Island lately."
I nodded to Kennedy, for I had myself compiled a list for the _Star_,which showed that considerably over a million dollars' worth of showplaces had been destroyed.
"At any rate," added the Countess, "we are burned out, and are stayingin town now--at my father's house. I wish you would come around there.Perhaps father can help you. He knows all about the country out thatway, for his own place isn't a quarter of a mile away."
"I shall be glad to drop around, if I can be of any assistance," agreedKennedy as the young couple left us.
The Rovignos had scarcely gone when a woman appeared at the laboratorydoor. She was well dressed, pretty, but looked pale and haggard.
"My name is Mrs. Bettina Petzka," she began, singling out Kennedy. "Youdo not know me, but my husband, Nikola, was one of the first studentsyou taught, Professor."
"Yes, yes, I recall him very well," replied Craig. "He was a brilliantstudent, too--very promising. What can I do for you?"
"Why, Professor Kennedy," she cried, no longer able to control herfeelings, "he has suddenly disappeared."
"What line of work had he taken up?" asked Craig, interested.
"He was a wireless operator--had been employed on a liner that runs tothe Adriatic from New York. But he was out of work. Someone has told methat he thought he saw Nikola in Hoboken around the docks where a numberof the liners that go to blockaded ports are laid up waiting the end ofthe war."
She paused.
"I see," remarked Kennedy, pursing up his lips thoughtfully. "Yourhusband was not a reservist of any of the countries at war, was he?"
"No--he was first of all a scientist. I don't think he had any interestin the war--at least he never talked much about it."
"I know," persisted Craig, "but had he taken out his naturalizationpapers here?"
"He had applied for them."
"When did he disappear?"
"I haven't seen him for two nights," she sobbed.
It flashed over me that it was now two nights since the fire that hadburned Rovigno's house, although there was no reason for connecting theevents, at least yet.
The young woman was plainly wild with anxiety. "Oh, can't you help mefind Nikola?" she pleaded.
"I'll try my best," reassured Kennedy, taking down on a card her addressand bowing her out.
It was late in the afternoon before we had an opportunity to call at theGaskell town house where the Rovignos were staying. The Count was not athome, but the Countess welcomed us and led us directly into a largelibrary.
"I'd like to have you meet my father," she introduced. "Father, this isProfessor Kennedy, whom Alex and I have engaged to look into the burningof our house."
Old Roger Gaskell received us, I thought, with a curious mixture ofrestraint and eagerness.
"I hope you'll excuse me?" asked the Countess a moment later. "I reallymust dress for dinner. But I think I've told you all I can. I wanted youto talk to my father."
"I've heard of the epidemic of fires from my friend Mr. Jameson here, onthe _Star_," remarked Kennedy when we were alone. "Some, I understand,have attributed the fires to incendiaries, others have said they werethe work of disgruntled servants, others of an architect or contractorwho hasn't shared in the work and thinks he may later. I've even heardit said that an insurance man may be responsible--hoping to get newbusiness, you know."
Gaskell looked at us keenly. Then he rose and approached us, raising hisfinger as though cautioning silence.
"Do you know," he whispered so faintly that it was almost lost,"sometimes I think there is a plot against me?"
"Against _you_?" whispered back Kennedy. "Why, what do you mean?"
"I can't tell you--here," he replied. "But, I believe there aredetectaphones hidden about this house!"
"Have you searched?" asked Kennedy keenly.
"Yes, but I've found nothing. I've gone over all the furniture and suchthings. Still, they might be inside the walls, mightn't they?"
Kennedy nodded.
"Could you discover them if they were?" asked Gaskell.
"I think I could," replied Craig confidently.
"Then there's another peculiar thing," resumed Gaskell, a little morefreely, yet still whispering. "I suppose you know that I have a countryestate not far from my daughter?"
He paused. "Of course I know," he went on, watching Kennedy's face,"that sparks are sometimes struck by horses' shoes when they hit stones.But the shoes of my horses, for instance, out there lately have beengiving forth sparks even in the stable. My groom called my attention toit, and I saw it myself."
He continued looking searchingly at Kennedy. "You are a scientist," hesaid at length. "Can you tell me why?"
Kennedy was thinking deeply. "I can't, offhand," he replied frankly."But I should like to have a chance to investigate."
"There may be some connection with the fire," hinted Gaskell anxiouslyas he accompanied us to the door.
At our own apartment, when we returned, we found our friend, Burke, ofthe Secret Service, waiting for us.
"Just had a hurry call to come to New York," he explained, "and thoughtI'd like to drop in on you first."
"What's the trouble?" asked Kennedy.
"Why, there's been a mysterious yacht lurking about the mouth of theharbor for several days and they want to look into it."
"Whose yacht do they think it is?"
"They don't know, but it is said to resemble one that belongs to a mannamed Gaskell."
"Gaskell?" repeated Craig, turning suddenly.
"Yes,--the _Furious_--a fast, floating palace--one of these new poweryachts, run by a gas engine--built for speed. Why, do you know anythingabout it?"
Kennedy said nothing.
"The revenue cutter _Uncas_ has been assigned to me," went on Burke. "Ifyou have nothing better to do, I'd like to have you give me a hand inthe case. You might find it a little different from the ordinary run."
"I shall be glad to go with you," replied Craig cordially. "Only, justnow I've got a particular case of my own. I'll see you tomorrow at theCustoms House, though, if I can."
"Good!" exclaimed Burke. "I don't think either of you, particularlyJameson, will regret it. It promises to be a good story."
Burke had scarcely left us when Kennedy decided on his next move. Wewent directly over to the Long Island Railroad station and caught thenext train out to Oceanhurst, not a long run from the city.
Thus, early in the evening, Ken
nedy was able to begin, under cover, hisinvestigation of the neighborhood of the Rovigno and Gaskell houses.
We entered the Gaskell estate and looked it over as we made our waytoward the stable to find the groom. Out on the bay we could see the_Furious_ at anchor. Nearer in shore were a couple of Count Rovigno'sspeedy racing motor-boats. Along the shore, we saw a basin for yachts,capable even of holding the _Furious_.
The groom proved to be a rather dull-witted fellow, and left us prettymuch to our own devices.
"Ya-as--sparks--I saw 'em," he drawled in answer to Kennedy's question."So did Mr. Gaskell. Naw--I don't know nawthin' about 'em."
He had lumbered out into another part of the stable when I heard a lowexclamation from Craig, of "Look, Walter!"
I did look in amazement. There were indeed little sparks, in fact asmall burst of them in all directions, where there were metal surfacesin close proximity to one another.
Kennedy had brought along with him a strange instrument and he was nowlooking attentively at it.
"What is that?" I asked.
"The bolometer," he replied, "invented by Professor Langley."
"And what does it do?"
"Detects waves," he replied, "rays that are invisible to the eye. Forinstance, just now it tells me that shooting through the darkness areinvisible waves, perhaps infra-red rays."
He paused, and I looked at him inquiringly.
"You know," he explained, "the infra-red rays are closer to the heatrays than those of the upper end of the spectrum and beyond, theultra-violet rays, with which we have already had some experience."
Kennedy continued to look at his bolometer. "Yes," he remarkedthoughtfully, half to himself, "somewhere around here there is agenerator of infra-red rays and a projector of those rays. It reminds meof those so-called F-rays of Ulivi--or at least of a very powerfulwireless."
I was startled at the speculations that his words conjured up in mymind. Was the "evil eye" of superstition a scientific fact? Was there abaneful beam that could be directed at will--one that could not be seenor felt until it worked its havoc? Was there a power that steel wallscould not hold, which, in fact, was the more surely transmitted by them?
Somehow, the fact of the strange disappearance of Petzka, the wirelessoperator, kept bobbing up in my mind. I could not help wonderingwhether, perhaps, he had found this strange power and was using it forsome nefarious purpose. Could it have been Petzka who was responsiblefor the fires? But, why? I could not figure it out.
Early the next morning we called at the Gaskell town house again.Kennedy had brought with him a small piece of apparatus which seemed toconsist of two sets of coils placed on ends of a magnet bar. To them wasattached a long flexible wire which he screwed into an electric lightbulb socket. Then he placed a peculiar telephone-like apparatus,attached to the other end, to his ears. He adjusted the magnets andcarried the thing carefully about the room.
At one point he stopped and moved the thing vertically up along thewall, from floor to ceiling.
"That's a gas pipe," he said simply.
"What's the instrument?" I asked.
"A new apparatus for finding pipes electrically, which I think can bejust as well applied to finding other things concealed in walls underplaster and paper."
He paused to adjust the thing. "The electrical method," he went on, "isa special application of well-known induction balance principles. Yousee one set of coils receives an alternating or vibrating current. Theother is connected with this telephone. First I established a balance sothat there was no sound in the telephone."
He moved the thing about. "Now, when the device comes near metal-piping,for example, or a wire, the balance is disturbed and I hear a sound.That was the gas pipe. It is easy to find its exact location. Hulloa--"
He paused again in a corner, back of Gaskell's desk and appeared to belistening intently.
A moment later he was ruthlessly breaking through the plaster of thebeautifully decorated wall.
Sure enough, in there was a detectaphone, concealed only a fraction ofan inch beneath the paper, with wires leading down inside the partitionin the direction of the cellar.