CHAPTER XIII
THE SOUL OF LOGAN BLACK
Wilton Barnstable, the great detective, having witnessed Loge'soutburst of wrath, had thought it signified a quarrel between thieves,as his words to Cleggett indicated. He had thought Cleggett a crook,and Loge's ally.
Loge, on the other hand, had thought Cleggett a detective. He hadaddressed him as "Mr. Detective" that morning at Morris's. Logebelieved the Jasper B. and the Annabel Lee to be allied against him.
Whereas Cleggett, until he had recognized Wilton Barnstable in theboat, had thought it likely that the Annabel Lee and Morris's wereallied against the Jasper B.
Now that Cleggett knew the commander of the Annabel Lee to be WiltonBarnstable, his first impulse was to go to the Great Detective andinvite his cooperation against Loge and the gang at Morris's. Butalmost instantly he reflected that he could not do this. For there wasthe box of Reginald Maltravers! Indeed, how did he know that it wasnot the box of Reginald Maltravers which had brought the GreatDetective to that vicinity? This man--of world-wide fame, and reputedto possess an almost miraculous instinct in the unraveling of criminalmysteries--might be even now on the trail of Lady Agatha. If so, hewas Cleggett's enemy. When it came to a choice between the championshipof Lady Agatha and the defiance of Wilton Barnstable, and all that herepresented, Cleggett did not hesitate for an instant.
There were still some aspects of the situation in which he foundhimself that were as puzzling as ever to Cleggett. It is true that henow knew why Loge's men had been in the hold of the vessel; they hadbeen there, no doubt, in an attempt to get possession of the oblong,unpainted box which had caused Loge's explosion of wrath; the box whichwas the real thing Loge had tried to buy from Cleggett when he dickeredfor the purchase of the Jasper B. But why this box should have been inthe hold of the vessel, Cleggett could not understand. And how Loge'smen had been able to get into and out of the hold without his knowledgestill perplexed him.
The motive behind the attempt to dynamite the vessel was clear. Havingfailed to purchase it, having failed to recover the box from it, Logehad sought to destroy it with all on board. But the strange characterof this explosion still defied his powers of analysis. And then therewas the tenth Earl of Claiborne's signet ring on the dead hand. Beyondthe fact that it was a circumstance which connected his fortunes withthose of Lady Agatha, he could make nothing at all of the signet ring.What, he asked himself again and again, was the connection of thecriminal gang at Morris's with the proudest Earl in England?
Loge himself was a puzzle to Cleggett. The man was a counterfeiter.That he knew. The "queer" twenty-dollar bill, which he had practicallyacknowledged, left no doubt of that. But he was more than acounterfeiter. Cleggett believed him to be also an anarchist. Atleast he was associated with anarchists.
But counterfeiting and anarchy are not ordinarily found together. Theanarchist is not a criminal in the more sordid sense. He is the enemyof society as at present organized. He considers society to be builton a thieving basis; he is not himself a thief. He scorns and hatessociety, wishes to see it overturned, and believes himself superior toit. He will commit the most savage atrocities for the cause andcheerfully die for his principles. The anarchist is not a crook. Heis an idealist.
Convinced that the unpainted oblong box would furnish a clew to theman's real personality, Cleggett, assisted by Lady Agatha and Dr.Farnsworth, opened it in the cabin.
They first took out a number of plates, some broken, some intact, forthe manufacture of counterfeit notes of various denominations. Therewas some of the fibrous paper used in this process. There was aquantity of the apparatus essential to engraving the plates. Thisstuff more than half filled the box. Then there were a number of books.
"Elementary textbooks," said Dr. Farnsworth, glancing at them. On theflyleaf of one of them was written in a bold, firm hand: "Logan Black."
"Loge--or Logan Black," said Dr. Farnsworth, "has been giving himselfan education in the manufacture of high explosives."
"But THESE aren't textbooks," said Lady Agatha, who had pulled outthree long, narrow volumes from the pile. "They're in manuscript, andthey look more like account books."
The first of them, in Loge's handwriting, contained a series of notes,mostly unintelligible to Cleggett, dealing with experiments in twosorts of manufacture: first, the preparation of counterfeit money;second, the production of dynamite bombs.
The second of the manuscript books was in cipher. Cleggett might havedeciphered it without assistance, for he was skilled in these matters,but the labor was not necessary. The book was for Loge's own eye. Aloose sheet of paper folded between the leaves gave the key.
The book showed that Loge had been employed as an expert operator, inthe pay of a certain radical organization, to pull off dynamiting jobsin various parts of the country. This was his account book with theorganization. He had done his work and taken his pay as methodicallyas a plumber might. And he had been paid well. Cleggett guessed thatLoge was not particularly interested in the work in its relationship tothe revolutionary cause; it was the money to be made in this way, andnot any particular sympathy with his employers, which attracted Loge,so Cleggett divined. Cleggett was astonished at the number of jobswhich Loge had engineered. The book threw light on mysteriousexplosions which had occurred throughout a period of five years.
But it was the third manuscript book which displayed the real LoganBlack.
This was also in cipher. Dr. Farnsworth and Cleggett had translatedbut a few lines of it when they perceived that it was a diary. With avanity almost inconceivable to those who have not reflected upon thecriminal nature, Loge had written here the tale of his own life, forhis own reading. He had written it in loving detail. It was, in fact,the book in which he looked when he wished to admire himself.
"It is odd," said Cleggett, "that so clever a man should write down hisown story in this way."
"This book," said Farnsworth, "would be a boon to a psychologistinterested in criminology. You say it is odd. But with a certain typeof criminal, it is almost usual. The human soul is full of strangeimpulses. One of the strangest is towards just this sort of record.Cunning, and the vanity which destroys cunning, often exist side byside. The criminal of a certain type almost worships himself; he isprofoundly impressed with his own cleverness. He is a braggart; heswaggers; he defeats himself. A strange idiocy mingles with hiscleverness."
"Even people who are not criminals do just that sort of thing," saidLady Agatha. "Look at Samuel Pepys. He was one of the most timid ofbeings. And he valued his place in the world mightily. But he wrotedown the story of his own disgrace in his diary--it had to come out ofhim! And then, timid and cautious as he was, he did not destroy thebook! He let it get out of his possession."
It was an evil, a monstrous personality which leered out of LoganBlack's diary. Boastful of his own iniquity, swaggering in hiswickedness, fatuous with self-love, he recounted his deeds with gustoand with particularity. They did not read a quarter of this terribleautobiography at the time, but they read enough to see the man in theprocess of building up a criminal organization of his own, withramifications of the most surprising nature.
"This man," said Dr. Farnsworth, with a shudder, "actually has theambition to be the head of nothing less than a crime trust."
"It seems to be something more than an ambition," said Cleggett. "Itseems to be almost an accomplished fact."
"Ugh!" said Lady Agatha, with a gesture of disgust, "he's like a greathorrid spider spinning webs!"
Interested in anarchy only on its practical side, as the paid dynamiterof the inner circle of radicals, Logan Black in his diary jeered at andmocked the cause he served. And more than that, the man seemed to takea perverted pleasure in attaching to himself young enthusiasts of theradical type, eager to follow him as the disinterested leader of agroup of Reds, and then betraying them into the most sordid sort ofcrime. Cleggett found--and could imagine the grimace of malevolentsatisfactio
n with which it had been written--this note:
Heinrich is about ready to leave off talking his cant of universalbrotherhood, and make a little easy money in the way I have shown him.It will be interesting to see what happens in side of Heinrich when herealizes he is not an idealist, but a criminal. Will he stick to me onthe new lay? But those Germans are so sentimental--he may commitsuicide.
Cleggett recalled the manhandling Heinrich had received. A littlefarther along he came upon this entry:
The Italian-American boy is a find. Jones and Giuseppe! Puritanfather, Italian mother--and he worships me! It will be a test for mypersonal magnetism, the handling of Gieseppe Jones will. He hates athief worse than the devil hates holy water. If I could make him stealfor me, I would know that I could do anything.
"That's our young poet in the forecastle!" said Cleggett. "I wonder ifLoge still held him." And then as the memory of the boy's ravings cameto him he mused: "Yes--he held the boy! That is what the fellow meantin his delirium. Do you remember that he kept saying: 'I'm arevolutionist, not a crook!'? And yet he continued to obey Loge!"
"Is it not strange," said Lady Agatha, "that the man should take suchpride in working ruin?"
All three were silent for a space. And then they looked at each otherwith a shiver. The sense of the strong and sinister personality ofLogan Black struck on their spirits like a bleak wind.
Cleggett was the first to recover himself.
"God willing," he said solemnly, "I will bring that man to justicepersonally!"
Just then two bells struck. It had taken them more time than they hadrealized to make even a partial examination of the contents of the box.Cleggett, when the bell sounded, looked at his watch to see what timeit was--he was still a little unfamiliar with the nautical system.
"He will go to any length to get this back into his possession," saidCleggett, as he dumped the heap of incriminating evidence back into thebox and began to nail the boards on again.
"Any length," echoed the Doctor.
Pat upon the thought came the sound of taxicabs without. They went ondeck and saw a sinister procession rolling by. It consisted of threemachines, and there were three men in each cab. Loge and Pierre werein the foremost one. None of the company vouchsafed so much as aglance in the direction of the Jasper B. as the cabs whirled pasttowards Morris's. It was undoubtedly a reinforcement of gunmen.
"Ah!" said Cleggett, pointing to them. "The real battle is about tobegin! They are making ready for the attack!"