CHAPTER II
The Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan District was doingsome heavy thinking, which, modestly enough, bore generally on his owndazzling perspicacity. Just at the moment he couldn't recall anydetector of crime whose lustre in any way dimmed his own, or whose mereshadow, even, had a right to fall on the same earth as his; and thislapse of memory so stimulated his admiration for the subject of histhoughts that he lighted a fresh cigar and put his feet in the middle ofthe desk.
He sat thus when The Thinking Machine called. The SupremeIntelligence--Mr. Mallory--knew Professor Van Dusen well, and, though hereceived his visitor graciously, he showed no difficulty in restrainingany undue outburst of enthusiasm. Instead, the same admirableself-control which prevented him from outwardly evidencing his pleasureprompted him to square back in his chair with a touch of patronisingaggressiveness in his manner.
"Ah, Professor," was his noncommittal greeting.
"Good-evening, Mr. Mallory," responded the scientist in the thin,irritated voice which always set Mr. Mallory's nerves a-jangle. "I don'tsuppose you would tell me by what steps you were led to arrest Mr.Herbert?"
"I would not," declared Mr. Mallory promptly.
"No, nor would you inform me of the nature of the evidence against himin addition to the jewels and plate found in his possession?"
"I would not," replied Mr. Mallory again.
"No, I thought perhaps you would not," remarked The Thinking Machine. "Iunderstand, by the way, that one of your men took a leather cushion fromthe automobile in which the thieves escaped on the night of the ball?"
"Well, what of it?" demanded the detective.
"I merely wanted to inquire if it would be permissible for me to seethat cushion?"
Detective Mallory glared at him suspiciously, then slowly his heavyface relaxed, and he laughed as he arose and produced the cushion.
"If you're trying to make any mystery of this cushion, you're in bad,"he informed the scientist. "We know the owner of the automobile in whichHerbert and the Girl escaped. The cushion means nothing."
The Thinking Machine examined the heavy leather carefully and paid agreat deal of attention to the crusted stains which it bore. He pickedat one of the brown spots with his penknife and it flaked off in hishand.
"Herbert was caught with the goods on," declared the detective, and hethumped the desk with his lusty fist. "We've got the right man."
"Yes," admitted The Thinking Machine, "it begins to look very much as ifyou _did_ have the right man--for once."
Detective Mallory snorted.
"Would you mind telling me if any of the jewelry you found in Mr.Herbert's possession has been identified?"
"Sure thing," replied the detective. "That's where I've got Herbertgood. Four people who lost jewelry at the masked ball have appeared andclaimed pieces of the stuff."
For an instant a slightly perplexed wrinkle appeared in the brow of TheThinking Machine, and as quickly it passed.
"Of course, of course," he mused.
"It's the biggest haul of stolen goods the police of this city have madefor many years," the detective volunteered complacently. "And, if I'mnot wrong, there's more of it coming--no man knows how much more. Why,Herbert must have been operating for years, and he got away with it, ofcourse, by the gentlemanly exterior, the polish, and all that. Iconsider his capture the most important that has happened since I havebeen connected with the police."
"Indeed?" inquired the scientist thoughtfully. He was still gazing atthe cushion.
"And the most important development of all is to come," DetectiveMallory rattled on. "That will be the real sensation, and make thearrest of Herbert seem purely incidental. It now looks as if therewould be another arrest of a--of a person who is so high socially, andall that----"
"Yes," interrupted The Thinking Machine, "but do you think it would bewise to arrest her now?"
"Her?" demanded Detective Mallory. "What do you know of any woman?"
"You were speaking of Miss Dorothy Meredith, weren't you?" inquired TheThinking Machine blandly. "Well, I merely asked if you thought it wouldbe wise for your men to go so far as to arrest her."
The detective bit his cigar in two in obvious perturbation.
"How--how--did you happen to know her name?" he demanded.
"Oh, Mr. Hatch mentioned it to me," replied the scientist. "He has knownof her connection with the case for several days, as well as Herbert's,and has talked to them both, I think."
The Supreme Intelligence was nearly apoplectic.
"If Hatch knew it why didn't he tell me?" he thundered.
"Really, I don't know," responded the scientist. "Perhaps," he addedcurtly, "he may have had some absurd notion that you would find it outfor yourself. He has strange ideas like that sometimes."
And when Detective Mallory had fully recovered The Thinking Machine wasgone.
Meanwhile Hatch had seen and questioned Dr. Clarence Walpole in thelatter's office, only a stone's throw from Dick Herbert's home. HadDoctor Walpole recently dressed a wound for Mr. Herbert? Doctor Walpolehad. A wound caused by a pistol-bullet? Yes.
"When was it, please?" asked Hatch.
"Only a few nights ago."
"Thursday night, perhaps?"
Doctor Walpole consulted a desk-diary.
"Yes, Thursday night, or rather Friday morning," he replied. "It wasbetween two and three o'clock. He came here and I fixed him up."
"Where was the wound, please?"
"In the right shoulder," replied the physician, "just here," and hetouched the reporter with one finger. "It wasn't dangerous, but he hadlost considerable blood."
Hatch was silent for a moment, dazed. Every new point piled up theevidence against Herbert. The location of the wound--a pistol-wound--thevery hour of the dressing of it! Dick would have had plenty of timebetween the moment of the robbery, which was comparatively early, andthe hour of his call on Doctor Walpole to do all those things which hewas suspected of doing.
"I don't suppose Mr. Herbert explained how he got the wound?" Hatchasked apprehensively. He was afraid he had.
"No. I asked, but he evaded the question. It was, of course, none of mybusiness, after I had extracted the bullet and dressed the hurt."
"You have the bullet?"
"Yes. It's the usual size--thirty-two calibre."
That was all. The prosecution was in, the case proven, the verdictrendered. Ten minutes later Hatch's name was announced to Dick Herbert.Dick received him gloomily, shook hands with him, then resumed hisinterrupted pacing.
"I had declined to see men from other papers," he said wearily.
"Now, look here, Dick," expostulated Hatch, "don't you want to make somestatement of your connection with this affair? I honestly believe thatif you did it would help you."
"No, I cannot make any statement--that's all." Dick's hand closedfiercely. "I can't," he added, "and there's no need to talk of it." Hecontinued his pacing for a moment or so; then turned on the reporter."Do you believe me guilty?" he demanded abruptly.
"I can't believe anything else," Hatch replied falteringly. "But at thatI don't _want_ to believe it." There was an embarrassed pause. "I havejust seen Dr. Clarence Walpole."
"Well?" Dick wheeled on him angrily.
"What he said alone would convict you, even if the stuff had not beenfound here," Hatch replied.
"Are you _trying_ to convict me?" Dick demanded.
"I'm trying to get the truth," remarked Hatch.
"There is just one man in the world whom I must see before the truth canever be told," declared Dick vehemently. "And I can't find him now. Idon't know where he is!"
"Let me find him. Who is he? What's his name?"
"If I told you that I might as well tell you everything," Dick went on."It was to prevent any mention of that name that I have allowed myselfto be placed in this position. It is purely a personal matter betweenus--at least I will make it so--and if I ever meet him----" his handsclosed and unclosed spasmodi
cally, "the truth will be known unless I--Ikill him first."
More bewildered, more befuddled, and more generally betangled than ever,Hatch put his hands to his head to keep it from flying off. Finally heglanced around at Dick, who stood with clenched fists and closed teeth.A blaze of madness lay in Dick's eyes.
"Have you seen Miss Meredith again?" inquired the reporter.
Dick burst out laughing.
Half an hour later Hatch left him. On the glass top of an inkstand hecarried three precious drops of Herbert's blood.