Guy Garrick

  CHAPTER V

  THE BLACKMAILER

  It was late in the afternoon, while Garrick was still busy with ahigh-powered microscope, making innumerable micro-photographs, when thedoor of the office opened softly and a young lady entered.

  As she advanced timidly to us, we could see that she was tall and gavepromise of developing with years into a stately woman--a pronouncedbrunette, with sparkling black eyes. I had not met her before, yetsomehow I could not escape the feeling that she was familiar to me.

  It was not until she spoke that I realized that it was the eyes, notthe face, which I recognized.

  "You are Mr. Garrick?" she asked of Guy in a soft, purring voice which,I felt, masked a woman who would fight to the end for anyone oranything she really loved.

  Then, before Guy could answer, she explained, "I am Miss VioletWinslow. A friend of mine, Mr. Warrington, has told me that you areinvestigating a peculiar case for him--the strange loss of his car."

  Garrick hastened to place a chair for her in the least cluttered anddusty part of the room. There she sat, looking up at him earnestly, adainty contrast to the den in which Garrick was working out the captureof criminals, violent and vicious.

  "I have the honor to be able to say, 'Yes' to all that you have asked,Miss Winslow," he replied. "Is there any way in which I can be ofservice to you?"

  I thought a smile played over his face at the thought that perhaps shemight have come to ask him to work for three clients instead of two.

  At any rate, the girl was very much excited and very much in earnest,as she opened her handbag and drew from it a letter which she handed toGarrick.

  "I received that letter," she explained, speaking rapidly, "in the noonmail to-day. I don't know what to make of it. It worries me to get sucha thing. What do you suppose it was sent to me for? Who could have sentit?"

  She was leaning forward artlessly on her crossed knee lookingexpectantly up into Garrick's face, oblivious to everything else, evenher own enticing beauty. There was something so simple and sincereabout Violet Winslow that one felt instinctively that nothing was toogreat a price to shield her from the sordid and the evil in the world.Yet something had happened that had brought her already into the officeof a detective.

  Garrick had glanced quickly at the outside of the slit envelope. Thepostmark showed that it had been mailed early that morning at thegeneral post office and that there was slight chance of tracinganything in that direction.

  Then he opened it and read. The writing was in a bold scrawl andhastily executed:

  You have heard, no doubt, of the alleged loss of an automobile by Mr.Mortimer Warrington. I have seen your name mentioned in the societycolumns of the newspapers in connection with him several times lately.Let a disinterested person whom you do not know warn you in time. Thereis more back of it than he will care to tell. I can say nothing of thenefarious uses to which that car has been put, but you will learn moreshortly. Meanwhile, let me inform you that he and some of the wilder ofhis set had that night planned a visit to a gambling house onForty-eighth Street. I myself saw the car standing before anothergambling den on Forty-seventh Street about the same time. This place, Imay as well inform you, bears an unsavory reputation as a gamblingjoint to which young ladies of the fastest character are admitted. Ifyou will ask someone in whom you have confidence and whom you can askto work secretly for you to look up the records, you will find thatmuch of the property on these two blocks, and these two places inparticular, belongs to the Warrington estate. Need I say more?

  The letter was without superscription or date and was signed merelywith the words, "A Well-Wisher." The innuendo of the thing was apparent.

  "Of course," she remarked, as Garrick finished reading, and before hecould speak, "I know there is something back of it. Some person istrying to injure Mortimer. Still---"

  She did not finish the sentence. It was evident that the "well-wisher"need not have said more in order to sow the seeds of doubt.

  As I watched her narrowly, I fancied also that from her tone thenewspapers had not been wholly wrong in mentioning their names togetherrecently.

  "I hadn't intended to say anything more than to explain how I got theletter," she went on wistfully. "I thought that perhaps you might beinterested in it."

  She paused and studied the toe of her dainty boot. "And, of course,"she murmured, "I know that Mr. Warrington isn't dependent for hisincome on the rent that comes in from such places. But--but I wish justthe same that it wasn't true. I tried to call him up about the letter,but he wasn't at the office of the Warrington estate, and no one seemedto know just where he was."

  She kept her eyes downcast as though afraid to betray just what shefelt.

  "You will leave this with me?" asked Garrick, still scrutinizing theletter.

  "Certainly," she replied. "That is what I brought it for. I thought itwas only fair that he should know about it."

  Garrick regarded her keenly for a moment. "I am sure, Miss Winslow," hesaid, "that Mr. Warrington will thank you for your frankness. More thanthat, I feel sure that you need have no cause to worry about theinsinuations of this letter. Don't judge harshly until you have heardhis side. There's a good deal of graft and vice talk flying aroundloose these days. Miss Winslow, you may depend on me to dig the truthout and not deceive you."

  "Thank you so much," she said, as she rose to go; then, in a burst ofconfidence, added, "Of course, after all, I don't care so much about itmyself--but, you know, my aunt--is so dreadfully prim and proper thatshe couldn't forgive a thing like this. She'd never let Mr. Warringtoncall on me again."

  Violet stopped and bit her lip. She had evidently not intended to sayas much as that. But having once said it, she did not seem to wish torecall the words, either.

  "There, now," she smiled, "don't you even hint to him that that was oneof the reasons I called."

  Garrick had risen and was standing beside her, looking down earnestlyinto her upturned face.

  "I think I understand, Miss Winslow," he said in a low voice, rapidly."I cannot tell you all--yet. But I can promise you that even if allwere told--the truth, I mean--your faith in Warrington would bejustified." He leaned over. "Trust me," he said simply.

  As she placed her small hand in Garrick's, she looked up into his face,and with suppressed emotion, answered, "Thank you--I--I will."

  Then, with a quick gathering of her skirts, she turned and almost fledfrom the room.

  She had scarcely closed the door before Garrick was telephoninganxiously all over the city in order to get in touch with Warringtonhimself.

  "I'm not going to tell him too much about her visit," he remarked, witha pleased smile at the outcome of the interview, though his faceclouded as his eye fell again on the blackmailing letter, lying beforehim. "It might make him think too highly of himself. Besides, I want tosee, too, whether he has told us the whole truth about the affair thatnight."

  Somehow or other it seemed impossible to find Warrington in any of hisusual haunts, either at his office or at his club.

  Garrick had given it up, almost, as a bad job, when, half an hourlater, Warrington himself burst in on us, apparently expecting morenews about his car.

  Instead, Garrick handed him the letter.

  "Say," he demanded as he ran through it with puckered face, thenslapped it down on the table before Guy, in a high state of excitement,"what do you make of that?"

  He looked from one to the other of us blankly.

  "Isn't it bad enough to lose a car without being slandered about itinto the bargain?" he asked heatedly, then adding in disgust, "And todo it in such an underhand way, writing to a girl like Violet, andnever giving me a chance to square myself. If I could get my hands onthat fellow," he added viciously, "I'd qualify him for the coroner!"

  Warrington had flown into a towering and quite justifiable rage.Garrick, however, ignored his anger as natural under the circumstances,and was about to ask him a question.

  "Just a moment, Garrick," forestalled Warringt
on. "I know just what youare going to say. You are going to ask me about those gambling places.Now, Garrick, I give you my word of honor that I did not know untilto-day that the property in that neighborhood was owned by our estate.I have been in that joint on Forty-eighth Street--I'll admit that. But,you know, I'm no gambler. I've gone simply to see the life, and--well,it has no attraction for me. Racing cars and motorboats don't go withpoker chips and the red and black--not with me. As for the other place,I don't know any more about it than--than you do," he concludedvehemently.

  Warrington faced Garrick, his steel-blue eye unwavering. "You see, it'slike this," he resumed passionately, "since this vice investigationbegan, I have read a lot about landlords. Then, too," he interjectedwith a mock wry face, "I knew that Violet's Aunt Emma had been acrusader or something of the sort. You see, virtue is NOT its ownreward. I don't get credit even for what I intended to do--quite thecontrary."

  "How's that?" asked Garrick, respecting the young man's temper.

  "Why, it just occurred to me lately to go scouting around the city,looking at the Warrington holdings, making some personal inquiries asto the conditions of the leases, the character of the tenants, and theuses to which they put the properties. The police have compiled a listof all the questionable places in the city and I have compared it withthe list of our properties. I hadn't come to this one yet. But I shallcall up our agent, make him admit it, and cancel that lease. I'll close'em up. I'll fight until every---"

  "No," interrupted Garrick, quickly, "no--not yet. Don't make any moveyet. I want to find out what the game is. It may be that it is someonewho has tried and failed to get your tenant to come across with graftmoney. If we act without finding out first, we might be playing intothe hands of this blackmailer."

  Garrick had been holding the letter in his hand, examining itcritically. While he was speaking, he had taken a toothpick and wasrunning it hastily over the words, carefully studying them. His facewas wrinkled, as if he were in deep thought.

  Without saying anything more, Garrick walked over to the windows andpulled down the dark shades. Then he unrolled a huge white sheet at oneend of the office.

  From a corner he drew out what looked like a flat-topped stand, aboutthe height of his waist, with a curious box-like arrangement on it, inwhich was a powerful light. For several minutes, he occupied himselfwith the adjustment of this machine, switching the light off and on andfocussing the lenses.

  Then he took the letter to Miss Winslow, laid it flat on the machine,switched on the light and immediately on the sheet appeared a veryenlarged copy of the writing.

  "This is what has been called a rayograph by a detective of myacquaintance," explained Garrick. "In some ways it is much superior tousing a microscope."

  He was tracing over the words with a pointer, much as he had alreadydone with the toothpick.

  "Now, you must know," he continued, "or you may not know, but it is awell-proved fact, that those who suffer from various affections of thenerves or heart often betray the fact in their handwriting. Of course,in cases where the disease has progressed very far it may be evident tothe naked eye even in the ordinary handwriting. But, it is there, tothe eye of the expert, even in incipient cases.

  "In short," he continued, engrossed in his subject, "what reallyhappens is that the pen acts as a sort of sphygmograph, registering thepulsations. I think you can readily see that when the writing is thrownon a screen, enlarged by the rayograph, the tremors of the pen arequite apparent."

  I studied the writing, following his pointer as it went over the linesand I began to understand vaguely what he was driving at.

  "The writer of that blackmailing letter," continued Garrick, "as I havediscovered both by hastily running over it with a tooth-pick and, moreaccurately, by enlarging and studying it with the rayograph, issuffering from a peculiar conjunction of nervous trouble and disease ofthe heart which is latent and has not yet manifested itself, even tohim."

  Garrick studied the writing, then added, thoughtfully, "if I knew him,I might warn him in time."

  "A fellow like that needs only the warning of a club or of a good pairof fists," growled Warrington, impatiently. "How are you going to workto find him?"

  "Well," reasoned Garrick, rolling up the sheet and restoring the roomto its usual condition, "for one thing, the letter makes it prettyevident that he knows something about the gambling joint, perhaps isone of the regular habitues of the place. That was why I didn't wantyou to take any steps to close up the place immediately. I want to gothere and look it over while it is in operation. Now, you admit thatyou have been in the place, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes," he replied, "I've been there with Forbes and the otherfellows, but as I told you, I don't go in for that sort of thing."

  "Well," persisted Garrick, "you are sufficiently known, any way, to getin again."

  "Certainly. I can get in again. The man at the door will let me in--anda couple of friends, too, if that's what you mean."

  "That is exactly what I mean," returned Garrick. "It's no use to goearly. I want to see the place in full blast, just as the after-theatrecrowd is coming in. Suppose you meet us, Warrington, about half pastten or so. We can get in. They don't know anything yet about yourintention to cancel the lease and close up the place, althoughapparently someone suspects it, or he wouldn't have been so anxious toget that letter off to Miss Winslow."

  "Very well," agreed Warrington, "I will meet you at the north end of'Crime Square,' as you call it, at that time. Good luck until then."

  "Not a bad fellow, at all," commented Garrick when Warrington haddisappeared down the hall from the office. "I believe he means to dothe square thing by every one. It's a shame he has been dragged into amess like this, that may affect him in ways that he doesn't suspect.Oh, well, there is nothing we can do for the present. I'll just addthis clew of the handwriting to the clew of the automobile tiresagainst the day when we get--pshaw!--he has taken the letter with him.I suppose it is safe enough in his possession, though. He can't waituntil he has proved to Violet that he is honest. I don't blame himmuch. I told you, you know, that the younger set are just crazy overViolet Winslow."