CHAPTER XXXIV
BEATRICE QUALIFIES AS A SHERLOCK HOLMES
Annie Millikan nodded her wise little head. "Jerry's gonna frame himif he can. He's laid the wires for it. That's a lead pipe."
"Sure," agreed Muldoon. "I'll bet he's been busy all night fixin' uphis story. Some poor divvies he'll bully-rag into swearin' lies an'others he'll buy. Trust Jerry for the crooked stuff."
"We've got to get the truth," said Beatrice crisply, pulling on hergloves. "And we'll do it too. A pack of lies can't stand against fourof us all looking for the truth."
Annie looked curiously at this golden-haired girl with the fine raptureof untamed youth, so delicate and yet so silken strong. By trainingand tradition they were miles apart, yet the girl who had lived on theedge of the underworld recognized a certain kinship. She liked thethorough way this young woman threw herself into the business of theday. The wireless telegraphy of the eyes, translated through themedium of her own emotions, told her that no matter whose ring BeatriceWhitford was wearing Clay Lindsay held her happiness in the cup of hisstrong brown hand.
"You're shoutin', Miss." Annie rose briskly. "I'll get busy doin'some sleuthin' myself. I liked your friend from the minute he steppedthrough--from the minute I set me peepers on him. He's one man, ifanybody asks you. I'm soitainly for him till the clock strikes twelve.And say, listen! Jerry's liable not to get away with it. I'm hep toone thing. The gang's sore on him. He rides the boys too hard. Someof 'em will sure t'row him down hard if they think they'll beprotected."
"The district attorney will stand by us," said Whitford. "He told mehimself Durand was a menace and that his days as boss were numbered.Another thing, Miss Millikan. If you need to spend any money in alegitimate way, I'm here to foot the bills."
Muldoon, who was on night duty this month and therefore had his daysfree, guided Whitford and his daughter to Maddock's. As they reachedthe house an express wagon was being driven away. Automatically thelicense number registered itself in Tim's memory.
The policeman took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Thethree went up the stairs to the deserted gambling-hall and through itto the rear room.
"From what Lindsay says the bullet holes ought to be about as high ashis arm pits," said Whitford.
"'Slim' must 'a' been standin' about here," guessed Muldoon,illustrating his theory by taking the position he meant. "The bulletswould hit the partition close to the center, wouldn't they?"
Beatrice had gone straight to the plank wall. "They're not here," shetold them.
"Must be. According to Lindsay's story the fellow was aiming straightat it."
"Well, they're not here. See for yourself."
She was right. There was no evidence whatever that any bullets hadpassed through the partition. They covered every inch of the crosswall in their search.
"Lindsay must have been mistaken," decided Whitford, hiding his keendisappointment. "This man Collins couldn't have been firing in thisdirection. Of course everything was confusion. No doubt they shiftedround in the dark and--"
He stopped, struck by an odd expression on the face of his daughter.She had stooped and picked up a small fragment of shaving from thefloor. Her eyes went from it to a plank in the partition and then backto the thin crisp of wood.
"What is it, honey?" asked Whitford.
The girl turned to Muldoon, alert in every quivering muscle. "Thatexpress wagon--the one leaving the house as we drove up--Did you noticeit?"
"Number 714," answered Tim promptly.
"Can you have it stopped and the man arrested? Don't you see? They'verebuilt this partition. They were taking away in that wagon the plankswith the bullet holes."
Muldoon was out of the room and going down the stairs before she hadfinished speaking. It was a quarter of an hour later when he returned.Beatrice and her father were not to be seen.
From back of the partition came an eager, vibrant voice. "Is that you,Mr. Muldoon? Come here quick. We've found one of the bullets in thewall."
The policeman passed out of the door through which Bromfield had madehis escape and found another small door opening from the passage. Ittook him into the cubby-hole of a room in which were the wires andinstruments used to receive news of the races.
"What about the express wagon?" asked Whitford.
"We'll get it. Word is out for those on duty to keep an eye open forit. Where's the bullet?"
Beatrice pointed it out to him. There it was, safely embedded in theplaster, about five feet from the ground.
"Durand wasn't thorough enough. He quit too soon," said the officerwith a grin. "Crooks most always do slip up somewhere and leaveevidence behind them. Yuh'd think Jerry would have remembered thebullet as well as the bullet hole."
They found the mark of the second bullet too. It had struck atelephone receiver and taken a chip out of it.
They measured with a tape-line the distance from the floor and the sidewalls to the place where each bullet struck. Tim dug out the bulletthey had found.
They were back in the front room again when a huge figure appeared inthe doorway and stood there blocking it.
"Whatta youse doin' here?" demanded a husky voice.
Muldoon nodded a greeting. "'Lo, Dave. Just lookin' around to see thescene of the scrap. How about yuh?"
"Beat it," ordered Gorilla Dave, his head thrust forward in a threat."Youse got no business here."
"Friends av mine." The officer indicated the young woman and herfather. "They wanted to see where 'Slim' was knocked out. So I showed'em. No harm done."
Dave moved to one side. "Beat it," he ordered again.
In the pocket of Muldoon was a request of the district attorney foradmission to the house for the party, with an O.K. by the captain ofpolice in the precinct, but Tim did not show it. He preferred to letDave think that he had been breaking the rules of the force for thesake of a little private graft. There was no reason whatever forwarning Durand that they were aware of the clever trick he had pulledoff in regard to the partition.