CHAPTER XIX
THE TAXI-CAB
For a few moments after the shrill blast of the whistle filled thesuburban street, the secret agent waited upon the door-step. Then athought seemed to occur to him, and with an angry exclamation he wentquickly in and closed the door.
In a moment he was at the telephone, and stood with impatiently tappingfoot until he was connected with the number called for; then the sleepy,dry voice of Fuller said complainingly in his ear:
"Hello, who is it?"
The secret agent made reply; and the aide's voice, now containing aneager note, demanded:
"What's up?"
"Get O'Neill at once. It's too late for a train, but call Dixon to getout the car in a hurry. Then come to Morse's, Fordham Road, with all thespeed you can."
"All right," replied Fuller. "I'll get Dixon first, and have O'Neillready when the machine arrives."
Ashton-Kirk hung up, and then turned to Nanon, who stood but a fewyards away, still nervously rubbing her hands with the corner of herapron.
"You saw no one but Miss Corbin a while ago?" he asked.
"No," answered the woman.
"You are sure of that?" His singular eyes searched her face, but she metthe look without flinching.
"I am sure," she said. There was a silence; Ashton-Kirk then walked downthe hall toward the library door; and as he reached it, he felt her handtouch his shoulder. "You did not see any one?" she asked.
He paused, and turned his head.
"What would you say if I answered--yes?"
The sharp old eyes wavered; she swallowed once or twice spasmodically.
"You did see some one," she said. Then with intense eagerness: "It wasnot a man?"
He was about to reply when there came heavy footsteps upon the porch andthen a loud peal at the bell. Ashton-Kirk smiled.
"A policeman, no doubt," said he. "Let him in."
The woman opened the street door; the hall lights shone upon the buttonsand shield of a patrolman.
"I heard the sound of a whistle," said he, with a rich Irish accent. "Isanything the matter?"
Nanon looked toward Ashton-Kirk as though expecting him to answer; hecame forward.
"How are you?" said he. "Will you come in?"
The policeman did so. He was a huge-chested and heavy-limbed fellow, andhad a head of fiery red hair. He surveyed Ashton-Kirk with a grin uponhis good-natured face.
"Oh, hello," said he. "So it's you, is it? I noticed you the other daywith Osborne while I was keeping the gate, outside."
"Sure enough," said the secret agent; "so you were."
"I was on the corner beyant, there," went on the red-haired giant, "anddivil the thing was I expecting when the blast of the whistle struck metwo ears. Sure, there's seldom anything happens in the place; it's likea graveyard, faith; and to have a thing like that go off all of a suddenfair took my breath."
"It was a call for a man whom I thought was close by," explained thesecret agent, as the old woman left them together in the library.
The policeman winked with much elaboration.
"I see, I see," said he. "A friend wid a good eye and a careful manner.Sure, it's meself who's seen him often enough of late; but I thought hewas a headquarters man put here by Osborne."
Ashton-Kirk regarded him thoughtfully.
"You say you were standing on the corner when you heard the whistle,"said he.
"There do be a convenient doorway there," smiled the policeman, "andit's often enough I stop there. Sorra the bit of use is there to gopounding about the edges of such a beat as this. A man might as wellmake himself quiet and easy."
"How long were you there to-night?"
The policeman considered.
"The best part of a half hour," he ventured, at last.
"Did you notice any one go by in that time?"
"There was one postman," said the officer, "a couple of milkmen going tothe depot, McGlone's barkeeper on his way to open up for the earlygas-house trade--and--yes, there was a girl."
"What sort of a girl?"
"Rather a nice sort--dressed well and wearing a veil. And it's a hurryshe was in, for she turned the corner almost at a run."
"In what direction did she go?"
"Toward Berkley Street."
"It is not likely that you paid any further attention to her?"
"Well," replied the red-haired policeman, "maybe at any other time Iwouldn't have. But you see, I had my old pipe going in a comfortablekind of a way, and was rather wide awake. Then, the queerness of thehour, and the hurry she was in, made me step out of the doorway and gazeafter her."
"I see," said Ashton-Kirk.
"When she got to the corner of Berkley Street, she stopped for a bit,just as a body will who is not just sure of what they are going to donext. And from the way she looked, this way and that, I got the notioninto me head that she might be expecting somebody."
"Ah! And did it turn out so?"
The man shook his head.
"Sure, I dunno," said he. "But no one come along while she stood there,anyway. She stopped for only a little, though; then she went on upBerkley Street."
"Up Berkley Street? Do you mean north on Berkley?"
"I see you do be very exact," grinned the good-natured giant. "Yes; itwas north she went."
"Humph! South on Fordham Road, and north on Berkley Street. That seemsrather queer."
The policeman looked at him curiously.
"What makes you think so?" asked he.
"Of course she may have changed her mind while she stood on the corner,"said Ashton-Kirk. "But it is scarcely likely. Her movements were notleft to chance." He paused and then asked:
"If a person goes south on Fordham Road, crosses to Berkley, which is aparallel street, and then proceeds north, what does it mean?"
The policeman pondered the matter deeply; then a light appeared upon hisface.
"I get you," he said. "The woman was for stoppin' somewhere on BerkleyStreet. That's certain. If she were not, she'd have gone north beFordham Road and so saved herself the walk av a full block."
The two remained in conversation for some time; but the policeman hadnothing more of an interesting nature to impart. After about half anhour he went away, and Ashton-Kirk began to prowl from room to room onthe lower floor; though he passed old Nanon frequently, as she sat undera light, her lips muttering over a book of fine print, she did not speakto him. Indeed, she scarcely once lifted her eyes. If the secret agentdiscovered anything in his mousing about he made no sign; and when therecame the strident hoot of a siren in the street, he threw open the door.
"This way, O'Neill," he called.
A smoothly-shaven man of middle age came up the walk and stepped uponthe porch.
"How do you do?" said he; then his voice pitched two tones higher as headded: "Good heavens! What's the matter with your head?"
"A little affair in the next street," said Ashton-Kirk. "It is of nogreat consequence, so we'll not speak of it. I want you to stay here andkeep track of everything that goes on; you will be relieved before noonto-morrow."
"Very good," said the smooth-faced man as the other led him through thehall.
"This man," said Ashton-Kirk to the old servant as they came upon her,still poring over the book, "will remain here to see that everything iswell while I am gone."
She merely glanced at O'Neill, and then nodded; bending close over thebook, one gaunt finger following each line of the tiny type, she went onreading and muttering in a husked sort of way that made the newcomerstare.
"Rather a queer old party, I take it," he said, as he followed hisemployer to the street door.
"Yes; but then," and there was a frankly baffled look in the secretagent's eyes, "all the people in this house appear to be of that kind. Ifancied that I had them pretty well gauged; but now I'm beginning tofind out that I've been somewhat off the track."
With this he hurried out to the car and gave a quick order to thechauffeur. Fuller, who sat with uptur
ned collar and down-pulled hat,exclaimed solicitously at the sight of the bandaged head, and theinvestigator in as few words as possible told him what had happened.The eyes of the aide grew round with amazement.
"Warwick!" he cried. "Well, now that's one ahead of me. I've feltconvinced from the first, as you know, that he had a good bit to do withthis affair; but I wasn't sure that he was connected with the Jap. Andso he is back, eh?" with a knowing nod. "Back and crawling about in thedark, knocking people on the head."
At a word from Ashton-Kirk the driver halted the car at the corner ofBerkley Street.
"And this is where Miss Corbin stood, as the policeman told you," saidFuller, looking about. "And then she went northward--northward," withmuch significance in his tone, "toward Okiu's place."
His employer was looking about, and said nothing in reply; so Fullerwent on:
"And what we sought for was hidden in the socket of one of thosecandlesticks all the time, and----" here he halted and his hand slappedsharply upon his knee. "But no! By Jove, it was not, for I distinctlyrecall that you examined all the candlesticks very carefully on thenight of the murder."
Ashton-Kirk nodded rather absently; his eyes were traveling the lengthof Berkley Street.
"Then," cried Fuller, "the paper was placed there since that night. Themurderer, fearing to keep it in his or her possession, placed it in oneof the candlesticks, knowing very well that they must have been alreadysearched, and feeling that they would not be molested again. You saidyou were sure that none of those who sought the document had found it,"he continued, "but it seems that in this you were mistaken. Unless," asthough a fresh idea had come to him, "it should turn out that, afterall, it was not the state paper which Miss Corbin took."
But Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
"I wish I could think so," said he, gravely. "If I could, I should notat this moment be classing myself as a blithering idiot."
"I hardly think I understand," said Fuller.
"Not many hours ago," said Ashton-Kirk, "I told Okiu that I could placemy hands upon the person who was possessed of the paper. And to havefound the assassin of Dr. Morse would have been no more difficult.Well," somewhat bitterly, "if I had taken a leaf from Osborne's book,and done these things when they became plain to me, I would not at thisstage of the affair be circling about like a hound that's lost thescent."
"I see what you mean," said Fuller, "and I scarcely think you could haveacted otherwise than you have. The entire Morse household is soentangled in this matter that it _was_ the best plan to arrest no oneuntil you had learned the extent of the guilt or innocence of all."
"That was my idea, of course," said the investigator. "But I am not surethat it was not entirely the idea of a gambler, too confident of hisluck. I fancy that I allowed the stake to lie too long upon the board;and now I find myself in a fair way to lose it entirely."
"But," and Fuller came back to the idea which he had expressed a fewmoments before, "are you quite confident that the object Miss Corbintook from the candlestick was----"
But the other stopped him.
"I have very excellent reasons for being confident. Listen to me." Hisgaze was still searching the street before them, but the brain behindthe eyes seemed to be not at all concerned with what he saw. "ColonelDrevenoff, the commander of the regiment in which Dr. Morse servedduring the Russo-Japanese war, was a Pole. Most Poles are RomanCatholics. Drevenoff was one, and he wore the scapular."
"Ah," said Fuller, a light beginning to come into his eyes.
"The paper for which we are searching----" here Ashton-Kirk seemed tohesitate.
"And which Colonel Drevenoff stole from the Russian secret embassy,"suggested Fuller.
"We are not at all assured that he did so," returned Ashton-Kirk."However, it was in his possession, no matter how it came there; and hehad reasons for desiring to conceal it. The scapular which hung abouthis neck was a most likely place for this, being but several thicknessesof cloth stitched together. He cut some of these stitches, laid thepaper between the layers of cloth and sewed them together once more."
"And," said Fuller, excitedly, "when he came to give the paper to Dr.Morse, he gave the emblem and all."
"Exactly. And judging from Dr. Morse's lack of light afterward, theelder Drevenoff said nothing about the paper itself. Of course he had anobject in entrusting the scapular to the Englishman; this was,doubtless, that it be handed on to some third person, unknown to us.
"Then the Japanese government somehow got wind of the matter; and Okiu,their most acute agent, was assigned to secure the document. Like mostartists, Okiu believes, so it seems, in preparing his material before hesets about using it; and this process in his hands has had a peculiarlyOriental tinge. True to his racial instinct his methods took aninsidious, indirect form, a sort of preliminary torture, as it were, andthis accounts for the series of enigmatic sketches with which Dr. Morsewas persecuted during the last weeks of his life."
"But," said Fuller, somewhat at loss, "just how does all this assure youthat Miss Corbin now has the paper?"
"I am coming to that," said Ashton-Kirk. "You recall, I suppose, what Itold you regarding the scapulars, their different origins, devices andcolors."
"Yes."
"There is one made of scarlet cloth--the 'Scapular of the Passion.' Thisis the one affected by Colonel Drevenoff; for it was one of this typewhich Miss Corbin took from its hiding-place. My lens showed me somefine scarlet strands adhering to some fragments of wax at the mouth ofthe candlestick; and as if this were not enough, I also saw theimpression of a row of stitching, such as runs along the scapular'sedge, upon a deposit of wax at the bottom of the socket."
"It seems incredible to me," said Fuller, "that a girl of Miss Corbin'ssort should have a hand in an affair like this. But then," with a shakeof the head, "I suppose her love for this fellow Warwick accounts forit. Many a man has been ruined by love of an unworthy woman, and many awoman, no doubt, by love of an unworthy man."
But to all appearances the secret agent did not follow these moralizingswith any great attention. The big lamps upon the car threw their longwhite rays along Berkley Street; and while his mind was apparentlyengaged upon other things, the eyes of Ashton-Kirk followed the stretchof illuminated space to the end. Now he got out, and said to thechauffeur:
"Move ahead very slowly."
With eyes fixed upon the dusty asphalt, the secret agent walked ahead ofthe car. The lights of the latter threw everything they fell upon intosharp relief. At the curb before Okiu's house, Ashton-Kirk held up hishand, and the car halted.
"What is it?" asked Fuller.
"I caught the tire tracks of another car below there; they were so clearand uncut by other marks that I fancied that they might have been madelate at night."
"Do you now think they were?"
"I can't say. But they lead up to this point. A halt was made, then themachine turned and doubled on its tracks."
Some distance up the street on the opposite side, a flare of red andgreen light caught the speaker's attention. It came from a drug store,and with Fuller he crossed the street and entered. A white-jacketedclerk stood behind a marble covered counter, and served them with thecigars which they asked for. Ashton-Kirk lighted his at a swinging gasflame near the door and drew at it with enjoyment.
"Rather out of the way for an all-night place, isn't it?" he asked
The clerk shrugged his shoulders.
"It's not a big payer after about nine o'clock," said he. "But you see,it is one of a chain of stores, and the company's policy is to keep openall the time."
"I see."
"We do some business by not closing, but not enough to shatter anyrecords. This isn't the swiftest place on earth, you know."
"I suppose not."
"Your car will make some talk to-morrow," smiled the clerk. "They'll allbe wondering who was up at such an hour as this. And those who heard youwill feel that they have something on those who did not."
"I shall be a thrilling so
rt of a person, then," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "Isuppose," after a moment, "that you do not have many automobiles passthrough Eastbury at night?"
"Not after early evening. But yours is the second to-night--or ratherthis morning," with a look at the clock.
Fuller darted a rapid glance at the secret agent; but the latterdisplayed no eagerness. Placing his cigar upon the edge of the counter,he began carefully rearranging a frayed end of the bandage about hishead.
"Two, eh?" was all he said.
"I didn't see the other myself," said the drug clerk. "But _it_ stoppedover at the Japanese, too, so old Patterson, the watchman, told me. Thatwas a couple of hours ago."
Ashton-Kirk had finished with the bandage and surveyed it, in a mirror,with an air of satisfaction. Then taking up his cigar once more, heremarked:
"Stopped there, too, did it? Humph! I wonder if any one got in?"
"Patterson said there were two persons came out of the house, but onlyMr. Okiu got into the taxi. The other one walked up the street. But,"and the clerk wagged his head in humorous appreciation, "that's not thefunny part of the thing."
"No?"
"It was the girl," said the clerk, a broad smile upon his face.
Again Fuller darted the inquiring look at the secret agent; but even atthis he did not display any indications of marked interest.
"There was a girl, was there?" was all Ashton-Kirk said.
The clerk nodded.
"Patterson is a funny old scout, there's no use talking," said he."He's got such a comic way of looking at things. And where he gets allhis expressions is more than I can say."
"I'd like to hear him tell about it," said Ashton-Kirk.
"He's taking a sleep in the back room," said the clerk, with a wink."I'll try and get him out."
He disappeared and in a few moments returned, followed by a short,ruddy-faced old man with a short-clipped white moustache.
"Oh, the Jap and the taxi," said he, when the matter was explained tohim. "Yes, that was a queer kind of a little thing." He looked at thesecret agent in a knowing sort of way, and then proceeded: "You can'tkeep track of everybody, no matter how hard you try. I've been noticingthat Jap, because he _was_ a Jap, ever since he came into thisneighborhood, but I never give him credit for this."
"Have a cigar?" suggested Ashton-Kirk.
The private watchman bit the end off the cigar and lit it with muchcare.
"I smoke a pipe most of the time," said he, "but I like a cigar once ina while." He puffed it into a glow, and then went on: "That taxito-night turns around and starts down the street and around the cornertoward Fordham Road. And just as it turns the corner I notices a chickenstanding there--regular broiler with a veil on and a little bag in hermit. She starts up Berkley toward where I'm standing, but before shegets half-way I heard the buzzing of the taxi once more; around it cameagain into Berkley and shot up to the curb abreast of the girl.
"She stopped like a flash, the Jap threw open the door, and she gave alittle yelp as though she was just about as glad as she'd ever been inher life. Then she jumped into the taxi, the door shut and around thecorner it whirled and was gone. There's no use talking," said thespeaker and he shook his head in a way that convulsed the drug clerk,"you can't never tell anything about human nature."
Ashton-Kirk buttoned up his coat.
"In that," said he, "I thoroughly agree with you. Human nature is athing which we can base little upon with safety." Then to Fuller headded: "Come! I think we have some work ahead of us."