CHAPTER VIII
THE HIDDEN VOICE
"Jameson--wake up!"
The strain of the Dodge case was beginning to tell on me, for it waskeeping us at work at all kinds of hours to circumvent the ClutchingHand, by far the cleverest criminal with whom Kennedy had ever hadanything to do.
I had slept later than usual that morning and, in a half doze, I hearda voice calling me, strangely like Kennedy's and yet unlike it.
I leaped out of bed, still in my pajamas, and stood for a momentstaring about. Then I ran into the living room. I looked about, rubbingmy eyes, startled. No one was there.
"Hey--Jameson--wake up!"
It was spooky.
I ran back into Craig's room. He was gone. There was no one in any ofour rooms. The surprise had now thoroughly awakened me.
"Where--the deuce--are you?" I demanded.
Suddenly I heard the voice again--no doubt about it, either.
"Here I am--over on the couch!"
I scratched my head, puzzled. There was certainly no one on that couch.
A laugh greeted me. Plainly, though, it came from the couch. I wentover to it and, ridiculous as it seemed, began to throw aside thepillows.
There lay nothing but a little oblong oaken box, perhaps eight or teninches long and three or four inches square at the ends. In the facewere two peculiar square holes and from the top projected a black disc,about the size of a watch, fastened on a swinging metal arm. In theface of the disc were several perforated holes.
I picked up the strange looking thing in wonder and from that magic oakbox actually came a burst of laughter.
"Come over to the laboratory, right away," pealed forth a merry voice."I've something to show you."
"Well," I gasped, "what do you know about that?"
Very early that morning Craig had got up, leaving me snoring. Casesnever wearied him. He thrived on excitement.
He had gone over to the laboratory and set to work in a corner overanother of those peculiar boxes, exactly like that which he had alreadyleft in our rooms.
In the face of each of these boxes, as I have said, were two squareholes. The sides of these holes converged inward into the box, in themanner of a four sided pyramid, ending at the apex in a little circleof black, perhaps half an inch across.
Satisfied at last with his work, Craig had stood back from the weirdapparatus and shouted my name. He had enjoyed my surprise to thefullest extent, then had asked me to join him.
Half an hour afterward I walked into the laboratory, feeling a littlesheepish over the practical joke, but none the less curious to find outall about it.
"What is it?" I asked indicating the apparatus.
"A vocaphone," he replied, still laughing, "the loud speakingtelephone, the little box that hears and talks. It talks right out inmeeting, too--no transmitter to hold to the mouth, no receiver to holdto the ear. You see, this transmitter is so sensitive that it picks upeven a whisper, and the receiver is placed back of those twomegaphone-like pyramids."
He was standing at a table, carefully packing up one of the vocaphonesand a lot of wire.
"I believe the Clutching Hand has been shadowing the Dodge house," hecontinued thoughtfully. "As long as we watch the place, too, he will donothing. But if we should seem, ostentatiously, not to be watching,perhaps he may try something, and we may be able to get a clue to hisidentity over this vocaphone. See?"
I nodded. "We've got to run him down somehow," I agreed.
"Yes," he said, taking his coat and hat. "I am going to connect up oneof these things in Miss Dodge's library and arrange with the telephonecompany for a clear wire so that we can listen in here, where thatfellow will never suspect."
. . . . . . . .
At about the same time that Craig and I sallied forth on this newmission, Elaine was arranging some flowers on a stand near the cornerof the Dodge library where the secret panel was in which her father hadhidden the papers for the possession of which the Clutching Hand hadmurdered him. They did not disclose his identity, we knew, but they didgive directions to at least one of his hang-outs and were thereforevery important.
She had moved away from the table, but, as she did so, her dress caughtin something in the woodwork. She tried to loosen it and in so doingtouched the little metallic spring on which her dress had caught.
Instantly, to her utter surprise, the panel moved. It slid open,disclosing a strong box.
Elaine took it amazed, looked at it a moment, then carried it to atable and started to pry it open.
It was one of those tin dispatch boxes which, as far as I have everbeen able to determine, are chiefly valuable for allowing one to placea lot of stuff in a receptacle which is very convenient for a criminal.She had no trouble in opening it.
Inside were some papers, sealed in an envelope and marked "Limpy RedCorrespondence."
"They must be the Clutching Hand papers!" she exclaimed to herself,hesitating a moment in doubt what to do. The fatal documents seemedalmost uncanny. Their very presence frightened her. What should she do?
She seized the telephone and eagerly called Kennedy's number.
"Hello," answered a voice.
"Is that you, Craig?" she asked excitedly.
"No, this is Mr. Jameson."
"Oh, Mr. Jameson, I've discovered the Clutching Hand papers," shebegan, more and more excited.
"Have you read them?" came back the voice quickly.
"No--shall I?"
"Then don't unseal them," cautioned the voice. "Put them back exactlyas you found them and I'll tell Mr. Kennedy the moment I can get holdof him."
"All right," nodded Elaine. "I'll do that. And please get him--as soonas you possibly can."
"I will."
"I'm going out shopping now," she returned, suddenly. "But, tell himI'll be back--right away."
"Very well."
Hanging up the receiver, Elaine dutifully replaced the papers in thebox and returned the box to its secret hiding place, pressing thespring and sliding the panel shut.
A few minutes later she left the house in the Dodge car.
. . . . . . . .
Outside our laboratory, leaning up against a railing, Dan the Dude, anemissary of the Clutching Hand, whose dress now greatly belied hisunderworld "monniker," had been shadowing us, watching to see when weleft.
The moment we disappeared, he raised his hand carefully above his headand made the sign of the Clutching Hand. Far down the street, in aclosed car, the Clutching Hand himself, his face masked, gave ananswering sign.
A moment later he left the car, gazing about stealthily. Not a soul wasin sight and he managed to make his way to the door of our laboratorywithout being observed. Then he opened it with a pass key which he musthave obtained in some way by working the janitor or the universityofficials.
Probably he thought that the papers might be at the laboratory, for hehad repeatedly failed to locate them at the Dodge house. At any rate hewas busily engaged in ransacking drawers and cabinets in thelaboratory, when the telephone suddenly rang. He did not want to answerit, but if it kept on ringing someone outside might come in.
An instant he hesitated. Then, disguising his voice as much as he couldto imitate mine, he took off the receiver.
"Hello!" he answered.
His face was a study in all that was dark as he realized that it wasElaine calling. He clenched his crooked hand even more viciously.
"Have you read them?" he asked, curbing his impatience as sheunsuspectingly poured forth her story, supposedly to me.
"Then don't unseal them," he hastened to reply. "Put them back. Thenthere can be no question about them. You can open them beforewitnesses."
For a moment he paused, then added, "Put them back and tell no one oftheir discovery. I will tell Mr. Kennedy the moment I can get him."
A smile spread over his sinister face as Elaine confided in him herintention to go shopping.
"A rather ex
pensive expedition for you, young lady," he muttered tohimself as he returned the receiver to the hook.
Clutching Hand lost no further time at the laboratory. He had thus,luckily for him, found out what he wanted. The papers were not thereafter all, but at the Dodge house.
Suppose she should really be gone on only a short shopping trip andshould return to find that she had been fooled over the wire? Quickly,he went to the telephone again.
"Hello, Dan," he called when he got his number.
"Miss Dodge is going shopping. I want you and the other Falsers tofollow her--delay her all you can. Use your own judgment."
It was what had come to be known in his organization as the"Brotherhood of Falsers." There, in the back room of a low dive, wereDan the Dude, the emissary who had been loitering about the laboratory,a gunman, Dago Mike, a couple of women, slatterns, one known as Kittythe Hawk, and a boy of eight or ten, whom they called Billy. Beforethem stood large schooners of beer, while the precocious youngstergrumbled over milk.
"All right, Chief," shouted back Dan, their leader as he hung up thetelephone after noting carefully the hasty instructions. "We'll doit--trust us."
The others, knowing that a job was to lighten the monotony ofexistence, gathered about him.
They listened intently as he detailed to them the orders of theClutching Hand, hastily planning out the campaign like a divisioncommander disposing his forces in battle and assigning each his part.
With alacrity the Brotherhood went their separate ways.
. . . . . . . .
Elaine had not been gone long from the house when Craig and I arrivedthere. She had followed the telephone instructions of the ClutchingHand and had told no one.
"Too bad," greeted Jennings, "but Miss Elaine has just gone shoppingand I don't know when she'll be back."
Shopping being an uncertain element as far as time was concerned,Kennedy asked if anyone else was at home.
"Mrs. Dodge is in the library reading, sir," replied Jennings, takingit for granted that we would see her.
Aunt Josephine greeted us cordially and Craig set down the vocaphonepackage he was carrying.
She nodded to Jennings to leave us and he withdrew.
"I'm not going to let anything happen here to Miss Elaine again if Ican help it," remarked Craig in a low tone, a moment later, gazingabout the library.
"What are you thinking of doing?" asked Aunt Josephine keenly.
"I'm going to put in a vocaphone," he returned unwrapping it.
"What's that?" she asked.
"A loud speaking telephone--connected with my laboratory," heexplained, repeating what he had already told me, while she listenedalmost awe-struck at the latest scientific wonder.
He was looking about, trying to figure out just where it could beplaced to best advantage, when he approached the suit of armor.
"I see you have brought it back and had it repaired," he remarked toAunt Josephine. Suddenly his face lighted up. "Ah--an idea!" heexclaimed. "No one will ever think to look INSIDE that."
It was indeed an inspiration. Kennedy worked quickly now, placing thelittle box inside the breast plate of the ancient armourer with the topof the instrument projecting right up into the helmet. It was a strangecombination--the medieval and the ultra-modern.
"Now, Mrs. Dodge," he said finally, as he had completed installing thething and hiding the wire under carpets and rugs until it ran out tothe connection which he made with the telephone, "don't breathe a wordof it--to anyone. We don't know who to trust or suspect."
"I shall not," she answered, by this time thoroughly educated in thevalue of silence.
Kennedy looked at his watch.
"I've got an engagement with the telephone company, now," he saidrather briskly, although I knew that if Elaine had been there thecompany and everything could have gone hang for the present. "Sorry notto have seen Miss Elaine," he added as we bowed ourselves out, "but Ithink we've got her protected now."
"I hope so," sighed her aunt.
. . . . . . . .
Elaine's car had stopped finally at a shop on Fifth Avenue. She steppedout and entered, leaving her chauffeur to wait.
As she did so, Dan and Billy sidled along the crowded sidewalk.
"There she is, Billy," pointed out Dan as Elaine disappeared throughthe swinging doors of the shop. "Now, you wait right here," heinstructed stealthily, "and when she comes out--you know what to do.Only, be careful."
Dan the Dude left Billy, and Billy surreptitiously drew from under hiscoat a dirty half loaf of bread. With a glance about, he dropped itinto the gutter close to the entrance to Elaine's car. Then he withdrewa little distance.
When Elaine came out and approached her car, Billy, looking as cold andforlorn as could be, shot forward. Pretending to spy the dirty piece ofbread in the gutter, he made a dive for it, just as Elaine was about tostep into the car.
Elaine, surprised, drew back. Billy picked up the piece of bread and,with all the actions of having discovered a treasure, began to gnaw atit voraciously.
Shocked at the disgusting sight, she tried to take the bread away fromhim.
"I know it's dirty, Miss," whimpered Billy, "but it's the first foodI've seen for four days."
Instantly Elaine was full of sympathy. She had taken the food away.That would not suffice.
"What's your name, little boy?" she asked.
"Billy," he replied, blubbering.
"Where do you live?"
"With me mother and father--they're sick--nothing to eat--"
He was whimpering an address far over on the East Side.
"Get into the car," Elaine directed.
"Gee--but this is swell," he cried, with no fake, this time.
On they went, through the tenement canyons, dodging children andpushcarts, stopping first at a grocer's, then at a butcher's and adelicatessen. Finally the car stopped where Billy directed. Billyhobbled out, followed by Elaine and her chauffeur, his arms piled highwith provisions. She was indeed a lovely Lady Bountiful as a crowd ofkids quickly surrounded the car.
In the meantime Dago Mike and Kitty the Hawk had gone to a wretchedflat, before which Billy stopped. Kitty sat on the bed, putting darkcircles under her eyes with a blackened cork. She was very thin andemaciated, but it was dissipation that had done it. Dago Mike wascorrespondingly poorly dressed.
He had paused beside the window to look out. "She's coming," heannounced finally.
Kitty hastily jumped into the rickety bed, while Mike took up a crutchthat was standing idly in a corner. She coughed resignedly and helimped about, forlorn. They had assumed their parts which were almostto the burlesque of poverty, when the door was pushed open and Billyburst in followed by Elaine and the chauffeur.
"Oh, ma--oh, pa," he cried running forward and kissing hispseudo-parents, as Elaine, overcome with sympathy, directed thechauffeur to lay the things on a shaky table.
"God bless you, lady, for a benevolent angel!" muttered the pair, towhich Elaine responded by moving over to the wretched bed and bendingdown to stroke the forehead of the sick woman.
Billy and Mike exchanged a sly wink.
Just then the door opened again. All were genuinely surprised thistime, for a prim, spick and span, middle-aged woman entered.
"I am Miss Statistix, of the organized charities," she announced,looking around sharply. "I saw your car standing outside, Miss, and thechildren below told me you were up here. I came up to see whether youwere aiding really DESERVING poor."
She laid a marked emphasis on the word, pursing up her lips. There wasno mistaking the apprehension that these fine birds of prey had of her,either.
Miss Statistix took a step forward, looking in a very superior mannerfrom Elaine to the packages of food and then at these prize members ofthe Brotherhood. She snorted contemptuously.
"Why--wh-what's the matter?" asked Elaine, fidgeting uncomfortably, asif she were herself guilty, in the icy atmosphere th
at now seemed toenvelope all things.
"This man is a gunman, that woman is a bad woman, the boy is Billy theBread-Snatcher," she answered precisely, drawing out a card on which torecord something, "and you, Miss, are a fool!"
"Ya!" snarled the two precious falsers, "get out o' here!"
There was no combating Miss Statistix. She overwhelmed all arguments bythe very exactness of her personality.
"YOU get out!" she countered.
Kitty and Mike, accompanied by Billy, sneaked out. Elaine, now verymuch embarrassed, looked about, wondering at the rapid-fire change.Miss Statistix smiled pityingly.
"Such innocence!" she murmured sadly shaking her head as she leadElaine to the door. "Don't you know better than to try to help anybodywithout INVESTIGATING?"
Elaine departed, speechless, properly squelched, followed by herchauffeur.
. . . . . . . .
Meanwhile, a closed car, such as had stood across from the laboratory,had drawn up not far from the Dodge house. Near it was a man in rathershabby clothes and a visored cap on which were the words in dull goldlettering, "Metropolitan Window Cleaning Co." He carried a bucket and asmall extension ladder.
In the darkened recesses of the car was the Clutching Hand himself,masked as usual. He had his watch in his hand and was giving mostminute instructions to the window cleaner about something. As thelatter turned to go, a sharp observer would have noted that it was Danthe Dude, still further disguised.
A few moments later, Dan appeared at the servants' entrance of theDodge house and rang the bell. Jennings, who happened to be down there,came to the door.
"Man to clean the windows," saluted the bogus cleaner, touching his hatin a way quietly to call attention to the words on it and drawing fromhis pocket a faked written order.
"All right," nodded Jennings examining the order and finding itapparently all right.
Dan followed him in, taking the ladder and bucket upstairs, where AuntJosephine was still reading.
"The man to clean the windows, ma'am," apologized Jennings.
"Oh, very well," she nodded, taking up her book, to go. Then, recallingthe frequent injunctions of Kennedy, she paused long enough to speakquietly to Jennings.
"Stay here and watch him," she whispered as she went out.
Jennings nodded, while Dan opened a window and set to work.
. . . . . . . .
Elaine had scarcely started again in her car down the crowded narrowstreet. From her position she could not possibly have seen Johnnie,another of the Brotherhood, watching her eagerly up the street.
But as her car approached, Johnnie, with great determination, pulledhimself together and ran forward across the street. She saw that.
"Oh!" she screamed, her heart almost stopping.
He had fallen directly in front of the wheels of the car, apparently,and although the chauffeur stopped with a jolt, it seemed that the boyhad been run over.
They jumped out. There he was, sure enough, under the very wheels.People came running now in all directions and lifted him up, groaningpiteously. He seemed literally twisted into a knot which looked as ifevery bone in his body was broken or dislocated.
Elaine was overcome. For, following their natural instincts the crowdbegan pushing in with cries of "Lynch the driver!" It would have gonehard with him, too, if she had not interfered.
"Here!" cried Elaine, stepping in. "It wasn't his fault. The boy ranacross the street right in front of the car. Now--we're just going torush this boy to the hospital--right away!"
She lifted Johnnie gently into the car herself and they drove off, to avery vigorous blowing of the horn.
A few moments later they pulled up before the ambulance entrance to thehospital.
"Quick!" beckoned Elaine to the attendants, who ran out and carriedJohnnie, still a complicated knot of broken bones, inside.
In the reception room were a couple of nurses and a young medicalstudent, when Johnnie was carried in and laid on the bed. The student,more interested in Elaine than the boy, examined him. His face wore apuzzled look and there was every reason to believe that Johnnie wasseriously injured.
At that moment the door opened and an elderly, gray-bearded housephysician entered. The others stepped back from the bed respectfully.He advanced and examined Johnnie.
The doctor looked at the boy a moment, then at Elaine.
"I will now effect a miraculous cure by the laying on of hands," heannounced, adding quickly, "--and of feet!"
To the utter surprise of all he seized the boy by the coat collar,lifting him up and actually bouncing him on the floor. Then he pickedhim up, shook him and ran him out of the room, delivering one last kickas he went through the door. By the way Johnnie went, it was quiteevident that he was no more injured than the chauffeur. Elaine did notknow whether to be angry or to laugh, but finally joined in the generallaugh.
"That was Double-Jointed Johnnie," puffed the doctor, as he returned tothem, "one of the greatest accident fakers in the city."
Elaine, having had two unfortunate experiences during the day, nowdecided to go home and the doctor politely escorted her to her car.
. . . . . . . .
From his closed car, the Clutching Hand gazed intently at the Dodgehouse. He could see Dan on the ladder, now washing the library window,his back toward him.
Dan turned slowly and made the sign of the hand. Turning to hischauffeur, the master criminal spoke a few words in a low tone and thedriver hurried off.
A few minutes later the driver might have been seen entering a near-bydrug store and going into the telephone booth. Without a moment'shesitation he called up the Dodge house and Marie, Elaine's maid,answered.
"Is Jennings there?" he asked. "Tell him a friend wants to speak tohim."
"Wait a minute," she answered. "I'll get him."
Marie went toward the library, leaving the telephone off the hook. Danwas washing the windows, half inside, half outside the house, whileJennings was trying to be very busy, although it was apparent that hewas watching Dan closely.
"A friend of yours wants to speak to you over the telephone, Jennings,"said Marie, as she came into the library.
The butler responded slowly, with a covert glance at Dan.
No sooner had they gone, however, than Dan climbed all the way into theroom, ran to the door and looked after them. Then he ran to the window.Across and down the street, the Clutching Hand was gazing at the house.He had seen Dan disappear and suspected that the time had come.
Sure enough, there was the sign of the hand. He hastily got out of thecar and hurried up the street. All this time the chauffeur was keepingJennings busy over the telephone with some trumped-up story.
As the master criminal came in by the ladder through the open window,Dan was on guard, listening down the hallway. A signal from Dan, andClutching Hand slid back of the portieres. Jennings was returning.
"I've finished these windows," announced Dan as the butler reappeared."Now, I'll clean the hall windows."
Jennings followed like a shadow, taking the bucket.
No sooner had they gone than Clutching Hand stealthily came from behindthe portieres.
One of the maids was sweeping in the hall as Dan went toward thewindow, about to wash it.
"I wonder whether I locked these windows?" muttered Jennings, pausingin the hallway. "I guess I'd better make sure."
He had taken only a step toward the library again, when Dan watchfullycaught sight of him. It would never do to have Jennings snooping aroundthere now. Quick action was necessary. Dan knocked over a costly Sevresvase.
"There--clumsy--see what you've done!" berated Jennings, starting topick up the pieces.
Dan had acted his part well and promptly. In the library, ClutchingHand was busily engaged at that moment beside the secret panelsearching for the spring that released it. He ran his finger along thewoodwork, pausing here and there without succeed
ing.
"Confound it!" he muttered, searching feverishly.
. . . . . . . .
Kennedy, having made the arrangements with the telephone company bywhich he had a clear wire from the Dodge house to his laboratory, hadrejoined me there and was putting on the finishing touches to hisinstallation of the vocaphone.
Every now and then he would switch it on, and we would listen in as hedemonstrated the wonderful little instrument to me. He had heard thewindow cleaner and Jennings, but thought nothing of it at the time.
Once, however, Craig paused and I saw him listening more intently thanusual.
"They've gone out," he muttered, "but surely there is someone in theDodge library."
I listened; too. The thing was so sensitive that even a whisper couldbe magnified and I certainly did hear something.
Kennedy frowned. What was that scratching noise? Could it be Jennings?Perhaps it was Rusty.
Just then we could distinguish a sound as though someone had movedabout.
"No--that's not Jennings," cried Craig. "He went out."
He looked at me a moment. The same stealthy noise was repeated.
"It's the Clutching Hand!" he exclaimed excitedly.
. . . . . . . .
A moment later, Dan hurried into the Dodge library.
"For heaven's sake, Chief, hurry!" he whispered hoarsely. "The falsersmust have fallen down. The girl herself is coming!"
Dan himself had no time to waste. He retreated into the hallway just asJennings was opening the door for Elaine.
Marie took her wraps and left her, while Elaine handed her numerouspackages to Jennings. Dan watched every motion.
"Put them away, Jennings," she said softly.
Jennings had obeyed and gone upstairs. Elaine moved toward the library.Dan took a quiet step or two behind her, in the same direction.
In the library, Clutching Hand was now frantically searching for thespring. He heard Elaine coming and dodged behind the curtains againjust as she entered.
With a hasty look about, she saw no one. Then she went quickly to thepanel, found the spring, and pressed it. So many queer things hadhappened to her since she went out that she had begun to worry over thesafety of the papers.
The panel opened. They were there, all right. She opened the box andtook them out, hesitating to break the seal before Kennedy arrived.
Stealthy and tiger-like the Clutching Hand crept up behind her. As hedid so, Dan gazed in through the portieres from the hall.
With a spring, Clutching Hand leaped at Elaine, snatching at thepapers. Elaine clung to them tenaciously in spite of the surprise, andthey struggled for them, Clutching Hand holding one hand over her mouthto prevent her screaming. Instantly Dan was there, aiding his chief.
"Choke her! Strangle her! Don't let her scream!" he ground out.
They fought viciously. Would they succeed? It was two desperate,unscrupulous men against one frail girl.
Suddenly, from the man in armor in the corner, as if by a miracle camea deep, loud voice.
"Help! Help! Murder! Police! They are strangling me!"
The effect was terrific.
Clutching Hand and Dan, hardened in crime as they were, fell back,dazed, overcome for the moment at the startling effect.
They looked about. Not a soul.
Then to their utter consternation, from the vizor of the helmet againcame the deep, vibrating warning.
"Help! Murder! Police!"
. . . . . . . .
Kennedy and I had been listening over the vocaphone, for the momentnon-plussed at the fellow's daring.
Then we heard from the uncanny instrument, "For Heaven's sake, Chief,hurry! The falsers have fallen down. The girl herself is coming!"
What it meant we did not know. But Craig was almost beside himself, ashe ordered me to try to get the police by telephone, if there was anyway to block them. Only instant action would count, however. What to do?
He could hear the master criminal plainly fumbling, now.
"Yes, that's the Clutching Hand," he repeated.
"Wait," I cautioned, "someone else is coming!"
By a sort of instinct he seemed to recognize the sounds.
"Elaine!" he exclaimed, paling.
Instantly followed, in less time than I can tell it, the sounds of asuppressed scuffle.
"He has seized her--gagged her," I cried in an agony of suspense.
We could now hear everything that was going on in the library. Craigwas wildly excited. As for me, I was speechless. Here was the vocaphonewe had installed. It had warned us. But what could we do?
I looked blankly at Kennedy. He was equal to the emergency.
He calmly turned a switch.
Then, at the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Help! Help! Police! Theyare strangling me!"
I looked at him in amazement. What did he think he could do--blocksaway?
"It works both ways," he muttered. "Help! Murder! Police!"
We could hear the astounded cursing of the two men. Also, down thehall, now, we could hear footsteps approaching in answer to his callfor help--Aunt Josephine, Jennings, Marie, and others, all shouting outthat there were cries in the library.
"The deuce! What is it?" muttered a gruff voice.
"The man in armor!" hissed Clutching Hand.
"Here they come, too, Chief!"
There was a parting scuffle.
"There--take that!"
A loud metallic ringing came from the vocaphone.
Then, silence!
What had happened
. . . . . . . .
In the library, recovered from their first shock of surprise, Dan criedout to the Clutching Hand, "The deuce. What is it?"
Then, looking about, Clutching Hand quickly took in the situation.
"The man in armor!" he pointed out.
Dan was almost dead with fright at the weird thing.
"Here they come, too, Chief," he gasped, as, down the hall he couldhear the family shouting out that someone was in the library.
With a parting thrust, Clutching Hand sent Elaine reeling.
She held on to only a corner of the papers. He had the greater part ofthem. They were torn and destroyed, anyway.
Finally, with all the venomousness of which he was capable, ClutchingHand rushed at the armor suit, drew back his gloved fist, and let itshoot out squarely in a vicious solar plexus blow.
"There--take that!" he roared.
The suit rattled, furiously. Out of it spilled the vocaphone with abang on the floor.
An instant later those in the hall rushed in. But the Clutching Handand Dan were gone out of the window, the criminal carrying the greaterpart of the precious papers.
Some ran to Elaine, others to the window. The ladder had been kickedaway and the criminals were gone. Leaping into the waiting car, theyhad been whisked away.
"Hello! Hello! Hello!" called a voice, apparently from nowhere.
"What is that?" cried Elaine, still blankly wondering.
She had risen by this time and was gazing about, wondering at thestrange voice. Suddenly her eye fell on the armor scattered all overthe floor. She spied the little oak box.
"Elaine!"
Apparently the voice came from that. Besides, it had a familiar ring toher ears.
"Yes--Craig!" she cried.
"This is my vocaphone--the little box that hears and talks," came backto her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes--all right,--thanks to the vocaphone."
She had understood in an instant. She seized the helmet and breastplateto which the vocaphone still was attached and was holding them close toherself.
. . . . . . . .
Kennedy had been calling and listening intently over the machine,wondering whether it had been put out of business in some way.
"It works--yet!" he cried excitedly to me. "Ela
ine!"
"Yes, Craig," came back over the faithful little instrument.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes--all right."
"Thank heaven!" breathed Craig, pushing me aside.
Literally he kissed that vocaphone as if it had been human!