Read The Film Mystery Page 28


  XXVIII

  THE PHOSPHORUS BOMB

  We rushed out into the courtyard, Kennedy in the lead, Mackay trailingwith the bag. Here there were dense clouds of fine white suffocatingsmoke mixed with steam, and signs of the utmost confusion on everyhand. Because Manton, fortunately, had trained the studio staff throughfrequent fire drills, there was a semblance of order among the menactually engaged in fighting the spread of the blaze. Any attempt toextinguish the conflagration in the vault itself was hopeless, however,and so the workers contented themselves with pouring water into thebasement on either side, to keep the building and perhaps the othervaults cool, and with maintaining a constant stream of chemical mixturefrom a special apparatus down the ventilating system into and upon thesmoldering film.

  The studio fire equipment seemed to be very complete. There was waterat high pressure from a tank elevated some twenty to thirty feet abovethe uppermost roof of the quadrangle. In addition Manton had investedin the chemical engine and also in sand carts, because water aidsrather than retards the combustion of film itself. I noticed that thepromoter was in direct charge of the fire-fighters, and that he movedabout with a zeal and a recklessness which ended for once and all in mymind the suspicion that Phelps might be correct and that Manton soughtto wreck this company for the sake of Fortune Features.

  In an amazingly quick space of time the thing was over. When the cityapparatus arrived, after a run of nearly three miles, there was nothingfor them to do. The chief sought out Manton, to accompany him upon aninspection of the damage and to make sure that the fire was out. Thepromoter first beckoned to Kennedy.

  "This is unquestionably of incendiary origin," he explained to thechief. "I want Mr. Kennedy to see everything before it is disturbed, sothat no clue may be lost or destroyed."

  The fire officer brightened. "Craig Kennedy?" he inquired. "Gee! theremust be some connection between the blaze and the murder of StellaLamar and her director. I've been reading about it every day in thepapers."

  "Mr. Jameson of the Star," Kennedy said, presenting me.

  We found we could not enter the basement immediately adjoining thevaults--that is, directly from the courtyard--because it seemedadvisable to keep a stream of water playing down the steps, and aresulting cloud of steam blocked us. Manton explained that we could getthrough from the next cellar if it was not too hot, and so we hurriedtoward another entrance.

  Mackay, who had remained behind to protect the bag from the heat,joined us there.

  "I've put the bag in charge of that chauffeur, McGroarty, and armed himwith my automatic," he explained. He paused to wipe his eyes. The fumesfrom the film had distressed all of us. "Shirley and Marilyn Loring areboth missing still," he added. "I've been asking everyone about them.No one has seen them."

  The fire chief looked up. "Everyone is out? You are sure everybody issafe?"

  "I had Wagnalls at my elbow with a hose," Manton replied. "I saw theboy around, also. No one else had any business down there and thevaults were closed and the cellar shut off."

  The door leading from the adjoining basement was hot yet, but not sothat we were unable to handle it. However, the catch had stuck and ittook considerable effort to force it in. As we did so a cloud of acridvapor and steam drove us back.

  Then Kennedy seemed to detect something in the slowly clearingatmosphere. He rushed ahead without hesitation. The fire chieffollowed. In another instant I was able to see also.

  The form of a woman, dimly outlined in the vapor, struggled to lift theprone figure of a man. After one effort she collapsed upon him. Idashed forward, as did Mackay and Manton. Two of them carried the girlout to the air; the other three of us brought her unconsciouscompanion. It was Marilyn and Shirley.

  The little actress was revived easily, but Shirley required thecombined efforts of Kennedy and the chief, and it was evident that hehad escaped death from suffocation only by the narrowest of margins.How either had survived seemed a mystery. Their clothes were wet, theirfaces and hands blackened, eyebrows and lashes scorched by the heat.But for the water poured into the basement neither would have beenalive. They had been prisoners during the entire conflagration, theburning vault holding them at one end of the basement, the door in thepartition resisting their efforts to open it.

  "Thank heaven he's alive!" were Marilyn's first words.

  "How did you get in the cellar?" Kennedy spoke sternly.

  "I thought he might be there." Now that the reaction was setting in,the girl was faint and she controlled herself with difficulty. "I waslooking for him and as soon as I heard the first explosion I ran downthe steps into the film-vault entrance--I was right near there--and Ifound him, stunned. I started to lift him, but there were otherexplosions almost before I got to his side. The flames shot out throughthe cracks in the vault door and I--I couldn't drag him to the steps; Ihad to pull him back where you found us." She began to tremble. "It--itwas terrible!"

  "Was there anyone else about, anyone but Mr. Shirley?"

  "No. I--I remember I wondered about the vault man."

  "What was Mr. Shirley down there for, Miss Loring?"

  "He"--she hesitated--"he said he had seen some one hanging aroundand--and he didn't want to report anything until he was sure. He--hethought he could accomplish more by himself, although I told him hewas--was wrong."

  "Whom did he see hanging around?"

  "He wouldn't tell me."

  Shirley was too weak to question and the girl too unstrung to standfurther interrogation. In response to Manton's call several people cameup and willingly helped the two toward the comfort of their dressingrooms.

  At the fire chief's suggestion the stream of water into the basementwas cut off. Manton led the way, choking, eyes watering, to the frontof the vaults. Feverishly he felt the steel doors and the walls. Therewas no mistaking the conclusion. The negative vault was hot, the otherscold.

  "The devil!" Manton exclaimed. A deep poignancy in his voice made theexpression childishly inadequate. "Why couldn't it have been theprints!" Suddenly he began to sob. "That's the finish. Not one of oursubjects can ever be worked again. It's a loss of half a milliondollars."

  "If you have positives," Kennedy asked, "can't you make new negatives?"

  "Dupes?" Manton looked up in scorn. "Did you ever see a print from adupe negative? It's terrible. Looks like some one left it out in thewet overnight."

  "How about the 'Black Terror'?" I inquired.

  "All of that's in the safe in the printing room; that and the twocurrent five reelers of the other companies. We won't lose ourreleases, but"--again there was a catch in his voice--"we could havecleared thousands and thousands of dollars on reissues. All--all ofStella's negative is gone, too!" To my amazement he began to cry,without attempt at concealment. It was something new to me in the wayof moving-picture temperament. "First they kill her and now--now theydestroy the photographic record which would have let her live for thosewho loved her. The"--his voice trailed away to the merest whisper as heseemed to collapse against the hot smoked wall--"the devil!"

  The fire chief took charge of the job of breaking into the vault. FirstWagnalls attempted to open the combination of the farther door, but theheat had put the tumblers out of commission. Returning to the entranceof the negative vault itself, the thin steel, manufactured for firerather than burglar protection, was punctured and the bolts drivenback. A cloud of noxious fumes greeted the workers and delayed them,but they persisted. Finally the door fell out with a crash and men wereset to fanning fresh air into the interior while a piece of chemicalapparatus was held in readiness for any further outbreak of theconflagration.

  Manton regained control of himself in time to be one of the first toenter. Mackay held back, but the fire chief, the promoter, Kennedy, andmyself fashioned impromptu gasmasks of wet handkerchiefs and braved thehot atmosphere inside the room.

  The damage was irremediable. The steel frames of the racks, the cheapermetal of the boxes, the residue of the burning film, all constituted ahideous,
shapeless mass clinging against the sides and in the cornersand about the floor. Only one section of the room retained theslightest suggestion of its original condition. The little table andthe boxes of negative records, the edges of the racks which had stoodat either side, showed something of their former shape and purpose.This was directly beneath the ventilating opening. Here the chemicalmixture pumped in to extinguish the fire had preserved them to thatextent.

  All at once Kennedy nudged the fire chief. "Put out your torch!" hedirected, sharply.

  In the darkness there slowly appeared here and there on the walls aghostly bluish glow persisting in spite of the coating of soot oneverything.

  Kennedy's keen eye had caught the hint of it while the electric torchhad been flashed into some corner and away for a moment.

  "Radium!" I exclaimed, entirely without thought.

  Kennedy laughed. "Hardly! But it is phosphorus, without question."

  "What do you make of that?" The fire chief was curious.

  "Let's get out!" was Kennedy's reply.

  Indeed, it was almost impossible for us to keep our eyes open, becauseof the smarting, and, more, the odor was nauseating. A guard was postedand in the courtyard, disregarding the curious crowd about, Kennedyasked for Wagnalls and began to question him.

  "When did you close the vaults?"

  "About two hours before the fire. Mr. Manton sent for me."

  "Was there anything suspicious at that time?"

  "No, sir! I went through each room myself and fixed the doors. That'swhy the fire was confined to the negatives."

  "Have you any idea why the doors were open when we went through?"

  "No, sir! I left them shut and the boy I put there while I went over toMcCann's said no one was near. He"--Wagnalls hesitated. "Once he wentto sleep when I left him there. Perhaps he dozed off again."

  "Why did you leave? Why go over to McCann's in business hours?"

  "We'd worked until after midnight the night before. I had to open upearly and so I figured I'd have my breakfast in the usual morning slacktime--when nothing's doing."

  "I see!" Kennedy studied the ground for several moments. "Do yousuppose anyone could have left a package in there--a bomb, in otherwords?"

  Wagnalls's eyes widened, but he shook his head. "I'd notice it, sir! IfI do say it, I'm neat. I generally notice if a can has been touched.They don't often fool me."

  "Well, has any regular stuff been brought to you to put away; anythingwhich might have hidden an explosive?"

  Again Wagnalls shook his head. "I put nothing away or give nothing outexcept on written order from Mr. Manton. Anything coming in is negativeand it's in rolls, and I rehandle them because they're put away in theflat boxes. I'd know in a minute if a roll was phony."

  "You're sure nothing special--"

  "Holy Jehoshaphat!" interrupted Wagnalls. "I'd forgotten!" He facedManton. "Remember that can of undeveloped stuff, a two-hundred roll?"He turned to Kennedy, explaining. "When negative's undeveloped we keepit in taped cans. Take off the tape and you spoil it--the light, youknow. Mr. Manton sent down this can with a regular order, marking on itthat some one had to come to watch it being developed--in about a week.Of course I didn't open the can or look in it. I put it up on top of arack."

  "When was this?"

  "About four days ago--the day Miss Lamar was killed."

  The expression on Manton's face was ghastly. "I didn't send down anycan to you, Wagnalls," he insisted.

  "It was your writing, sir!"

  Kennedy rose. "What did you do with orders like that, such as the oneyou claim came with the can of undeveloped negative?"

  "Put them on the spindle on that table in the vault."

  "Wet your handkerchief and come show me."

  When they returned Kennedy had the spindle in his hand, the charredpapers still in place. This was one of the items preserved in part bythe chemical spray through the ventilating opening above.

  "Can you point out which one it is?" Kennedy asked.

  "Let's see!" Wagnalls scratched his head. "Next to the top," hereplied, in a moment. "Miss Lamar's death upset everything. Only oneorder came down after that."

  With extreme care Kennedy took his knife and lifted the ashy flakes ofthe top order. "Get me some collodion, somebody!" he exclaimed.

  Wagnalls jumped up and hurried off.

  The fire chief leaned forward. "Do you think, Mr. Kennedy, that thelittle can he told you about started the fire?"

  "I'm sure of it, although I'll never be able to prove it."

  "How did it work?"

  "Well, I imagine a small roll of very dry film was put in to occupy apart of the space. Film is exceedingly inflammable, especially when oldand brittle. In composition it is practically guncotton and so a highexplosive. In this recent war, I remember, the Germans drained theneutral countries of film subjects until we woke up to what they weredoing, while in this country scrap film commanded an amazing price andwent directly into the manufacture of explosives. Then I figure that aquantity of wet phosphorus was added, to fill the can, and that thenthe can was taped. The tape, of course, is not moisture proof entirely.With the dampness from within it would soften, might possibly fall off.In a relatively short time the phosphorus would dry and burn.Immediately the film in the can would ignite. As happened, it blew up,a minor explosion, but enough to scatter phosphorus everywhere. That,in the fume-laden air of the vault--there are always fumes in spite ofthe best ventilation system made--caused the first big blast andstarted all the damage."

  Mackay had rejoined us in time to hear the explanation. "Ingenious," hemurmured. "As ingenious as the methods used to murder the girl and herdirector."

  Breathless, Wagnalls returned with the collodion. We watched curiouslyas Kennedy poured it over the charred remains of the second order onthe spindle. It seemed almost inconceivable that the remnants of thecharred paper would even support the weight of the liquid, yet Kennedyused it with care, and slowly the collodion hardened before us,creating a tough transparent coating which held the tiny fibers of theslip together. At the same time the action of the collodion made theletters on the order faintly visible and readable.

  "A little-known bank trick!" Kennedy told us.

  Then he held the slip up to the light and the words were plain.Wagnalls had been correct. The order from Manton was unmistakable. Thecan was to be kept in the negative vault for a week without beingopened, until a certain party unnamed was to come to watch thedevelopment of the film.

  The promoter wet his lips, uneasily. "I--I never wrote that! It--it'smy writing, all right, and my signature, but it's a forgery!"