CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"A SILENT PRISONER"
Loris Stockbridge finished speaking with a low sob which went straightto the detective's heart. He advanced across the room and ran his armabout her supple waist. "We'll help her to the divan," he told Nichols."That's it! Right over here and in the corner. She's all right. I'lltend to that threat which came over the wires."
Drew backed away and turned toward the telephone. He eyed it with coldcalculation. He took one step further, then wheeled and glanced atNichols.
"I want to trace that call if it is humanly possible," he said withdecision. "We can find out, at least, from where it came. Suppose youleave me here with Miss Stockbridge, and you go down stairs and aroundto the drug-store?"
Loris rested her weight on one elbow. She sat erect, with slowlywidening eyes. Her hands strayed to her hair and pressed it back fromher ears. She gained command of herself after a shudder had passedthrough her slender body. She half rose.
"I've heard that voice before!" she exclaimed, pointing toward the'phone. "It was familiar, Mr. Drew. Now where have I heard it?"
"Some friend of your father's?"
"No, I don't think it was. But I've heard it in this house."
"A servant--the valet?"
"No! No, Mr. Drew, it wasn't the valet's voice. It was whispering andconsumptive. It squeaked. It sounded like a little boy's voice."
"How about that trouble-man?" Drew advanced with keen steps. He feltthat he was very close to the truth.
"It might have been. Only--only, Mr. Drew, it wasyounger--thinner--squeakier. It was a terrible voice. It rings andrings in my ears. It was so sure!"
"Ump!" declared Drew with clenched fists. "It won't be so sure," hesaid, squaring his jaw. "It won't be near so sure, next time. I thinkit was that trouble-man you heard. Don't you remember anything he saidwhen he was in the house, for comparison?"
"I just heard him say--I heard him say that the connections, I think hecalled them, were all right. Then he went away, Mr. Drew."
"Did his voice squeak then?"
"It was rather low--like a boy's or a girl's. He seemed too polite. Hehad his cap in his hand." Loris stopped speaking and stood erect. Shearranged her gown and glanced down at Nichols. "I feel stronger," shesaid bravely. "I wonder what became of that tea?"
Drew stepped into the writing-room and found the tea-pot upon its side.He poured from this a cup of tea which he carried to Nichols. "Justtaste it," he ordered. "I want to be sure it isn't doped or anythinglike that. That's it. Just a small swallow. It's all right, isn't it?It isn't bitter?"
Nichols handed the cup to Loris. "Drink it," he said with confidence."That's good tea--only a little cold."
Drew took the empty cup and set it down on a small table. "You'll gofor me?" he asked Nichols. "I want it traced without using the wires ofthis house. They might be tapped."
"Be back in ten minutes!" said the captain at the tapestries, afterLoris had nodded. "Whom shall I ask for at Gramercy Hill?"
"The superintendent--Jack Nefe! If he isn't there, get the chiefoperator. Delaney will attend to that. Find out from what number thecall came. We might get that whispering devil right away."
"I believe it was the trouble-man," said Loris, as Drew returned afterlocking the door to the hallway. "Now that I think of it--I'm almostsure it was. He just tried to change and lower his voice--that wasall."
"Lower it?"
"Yes, Mr. Drew. It was so faint that I hardly heard it at first. Heseemed afraid of something. Perhaps somebody was in the room where hewas telephoning."
"That might have been. Well--he can't hurt or harm you that way. Thething is for you to keep up your courage. Fear is a terrible thing ifyou would let yourself be mastered by it. It might be their game tobreak you down by a series of threats."
"I won't do that. I've Harry and you to stand by me!"
Drew pulled out his watch. "It's getting toward midnight," he said. "Noword yet from Delaney or any of the others on watch. I think that thestorm will clear soon. You can go to bed. Harry--Mr. Nichols and I'llget a deck of cards and keep watch out here. We'll do sentry duty. He'sused to that!"
Loris glided about the room. She stopped at the cheval glass andarranged her hair with a series of twists that formed a turban securedby loops. She swished around and glanced archly toward Drew. Their eyesmet bravely. Hers dropped under shading lashes.
"I'm all right," she whispered with a half laugh. "I did look awful. Itwas the shock of hearing that terrible man. How childish to call me upand say what he did. He didn't mean it!"
"Ah," said Drew, reaching in his pocket and bringing out a key. "Ah, hedid mean it, I think. He has overreached himself by telephoning.Gramercy Hill Exchange is on the alert. There's Mr. Nichols with goodnews, at the door. Now for his report."
The captain came in, brushing snow from his olive-drab uniform. Heglanced at Loris as he strode across the room and took her hand with afirm grip. "Delaney," he said confidentially, "was right at the booth.He was sitting on a chair, propped up and talking with the prescriptionclerk. He did the telephoning to Gramercy Hill. I don't know who he gotthere, but they already knew about the call."
Nichols turned toward Drew for confirmation.
"That's right!" the detective exclaimed. "They should know! Thevice-president, Westlake, has left orders to record all calls to thishouse. Where was that whispering voice from, Mr. Nichols?"
"From Forty-second Street and Broadway."
"Close!" exclaimed Drew, rubbing his hands. "The fellow took chances."
"It came from a slot-booth in a cigar store in a big building. It onlylasted two minutes. The operator at Gramercy Hill says the first voiceshe heard, asking for Gramercy Hill 9764, was harsh and loud. I don'tunderstand that."
"Harsh and loud," repeated Drew, toying with his watch chain. "That'sodd. Was it the same man that Miss Stockbridge heard?"
"The operator don't know. Delaney says maybe there were two of them.One, who called up, and one who talked to this room." Nichols turnedand nodded toward the silver-plated telephone.
"Hardly possible," mused Drew. "I think he changed his voice after hegot the connection. He didn't want Miss Stockbridge to recognize him."
Loris glanced at the two men. "What will they do?" she asked anxiously."Will Mr. Delaney and the other detectives catch him by that call?"
"Hardly," said Drew. "He was in and out within three minutes. The birdhas flown from there!"
"But where will he go?"
"I don't know, Miss Stockbridge. I wish that I did know. There are overa hundred thousand telephones in New York he could use. It's impossibleto guess which one. The booths at the Grand Central are covered by oneof my operatives. The telephone company is on the alert for all callsto this house. All they can do is to record them and tell us whathappens after it happens. We are trying now to get this whispering dogwhen he is compelled to wait at a booth. If Morphy 'phones him from theprison to-night we have him. The telephone company is going to delaythe call after getting the number. It would look natural. Then, we canstrike at the booth or place where the call is directed in time tocatch the man Morphy is telephoning to. Up to now, Morphy has not'phoned or Delaney would have said something about it."
"But can't you stop these calls?" asked Loris.
"Very easy. We could order the wires disconnected. But then we wouldn'tcatch our man. He would be suspicious and wait for another time."
"The whole thing seems so strange, Mr. Drew. We're locked in here. Thehouse is so well guarded. All they can do is 'phone and yet we--atleast I am nervous. Why have I got that strange feeling?"
"From experience!" declared Drew. "If we knew how your poor father waskilled there wouldn't be cause for worry. We don't know. It was sosubtle that we are confronted with the unknown in terrible form. Youfeel a shadow and so do I. A reaching shadow about this splendid houseof yours. It isn't anything we can grasp and say, 'Come here! You'reunder arrest.' It's the uncanny mystery of the entire case that hol
dsus three on the ragged-edge. I confess I have not been myself sincelast night. The powers of darkness and Lucifer, himself, have nothingon the people we are fighting."
"How about running Morphy in the guard house, or whatever they have upthere?" asked Nichols. "Why not lay the case before the warden and havehim put out of harm's way? That's what they'd do in the Army!"
"We can't prove a single thing on him!" declared Drew. "He used the'phone--once or twice. Perhaps he has permission from thesuperintendent of state prisons to do so. He has business interestswhich require his telephoning, we'll say."
"Then we're just going to wait right here?" asked Loris, stamping herslipper. "Wait right here and let them do their worst?"
"The city detectives would do the same thing I'm doing," said Drew onthe defensive. "They'd trap their men. Do you want to see the man ormen who slayed your father, escape? He will, or they will, unless wegive them enough rope to hang themselves."
"Or wire!" said Nichols cheerfully. "No, Loris, Mr. Drew is right. He'sdone everything. All we have got to do, is wait. Let's sit down for alittle while. Delaney said he might have word soon."
Drew waited until Loris had pressed herself into a small compass at theback of the divan, with Harry Nichols leaning over her in a shieldingposition which was thoughtful and at the same time affectionate. Hestrode toward the writing room and parted the heavy, silk portieres. Hestudied every detail. He dropped the portieres and crossed the sittingroom to the doorway leading into Loris' chamber. This, too, he searchedwith his eyes. Backing to the center of the room he dropped his chin inthought. A sound outside the mansion caused him to turn and hurry to awindow. He brushed the curtain aside and tried to peer out. He rubbedthe frosted glass vigorously. His nose pressed to a white button as hesearched the side street. A taxi had come to a grinding halt directlybelow the window. Its wheels spun upon the slippery surface. A manleaned out of an open doorway and urged the driver on with a brandishedfist of ham-like proportions. The driver backed into the snow, droppedinto first speed and stepped on his throttle. The taxi leaped forward,gripped the surface, and plowed toward Fifth Avenue in a welter offlying ice and flakes.
Drew sprang back and faced Loris and Nichols who had risen and werestanding together in the glow from the cluster over their heads.
"What happened?" they asked in unison. "What was outside?"
"Delaney!" snapped Drew, dragging out his watch and glancing at it."Delaney's got word where to find his man. He's on the trail at last!It's twelve-two. We ought to have that fellow in a half hour."
"The trouble-man?" asked Loris, with rising hopes. "Do you think it isthe trouble-man, Mr. Drew?"
"Nine chances in ten, it is! I'm venturing a guess it is. If we gethim--if Delaney gets him--he'll know it. Delaney used to work under theold-time police chiefs. They showed scant consideration."
"But, he won't hurt him!" said Loris, with a tremulous exclamation.
"That murderer! Why, Miss Stockbridge, isn't he plotting to slay you?Didn't he kill your father? I wish I were in Delaney's place."
"Me too!" declared Nichols, drawing closer to the detective. "Say,Inspector, I want to congratulate you. I do."
"Wait, Harry. Just wait! You two sit down and be quiet. This affair isa personal one with me. I don't doubt that Morphy or perhaps some oneelse in state prison 'phoned to the same party who phoned Miss Loris.That was all we needed. Delaney jumped into a taxi and hurried downtownas fast as the storm permitted. Perhaps the call came from the samebooth. I don't think so, though."
"The one at Forty-second Street and Broadway?"
"I don't think so, Nichols. This fellow seems to pick a new one everytime. He's very crafty. That alone shows a criminal mind."
Drew paced the floor with soft gliding. He turned at the portieres andcrossed to the tapestries. He returned and stood before Loris andNichols.
"Captain," he said, "we can now begin to reconstruct this case. We canget some of the dead-wood from our minds. It is apparent to me that oneof Mr. Stockbridge's sworn enemies--Morphy, for instance--confined instate's prison, set about to slay both members of the family. Hesecured a confederate whom he knew. This confederate has never beenarrested in the state. We have that from the finger prints in the boothat Grand Central. We will presume that this confederate is thetrouble-man. He is probably an expert electrician. He either tapped inon the wires the night Mr. Stockbridge was murdered or got behind theswitchboard and called up the library 'phone."
"The switchboard?" asked Loris. "You mean the big place where the girlsare?"
"Not exactly there. The wires run down and are tagged. It would bepossible for him to cut in somewhere between the switchboard and theconduits. Now I don't know how it was done. There's several ways. Butwherever he tapped in, he must have used a magneto to ring Mr.Stockbridge up, and afterwards a battery-set to do the talking. Allthis Westlake says it would be necessary to do, so that the operatorwould not notice a permanent signal on the board."
"What was his object?" asked Nichols.
"To cover himself. He first disconnected the wires and waited till Isent for a trouble-man. Frosby, or Frisby, was sent. The trouble-mantook his place. He came here and looked the place over. He lied to Mr.Stockbridge and I when he told us about that tall German in the alley.If there was such a man there before the snow froze we would have hisfootprints."
"You haven't them?" asked Loris.
"No. Delaney has a set made by this trouble-hunter when he was at thejunction-box. This must have been the time he either cut theconnections so that I would send for him, or it was the time when hecalled up and threatened Mr. Stockbridge with death within twelvehours. You remember that the telephone company have no record of thecall. Now the next call----"
"Was there another?" the girl asked.
"Yes--to your father at or about the moment he died. That was from theGrand Central Station at Forty-second Street. There's a good record ofthat. Your father knocked the telephone down when he dropped dead. Theoperator noticed that the connection was open and put on the howler.The record is clear on that."
"But what is all this twisting and turning for?"
"To throw us off, Miss Stockbridge. We're dealing with a crafty,cunning mind. This mind took the extreme precaution of connecting twobooths at Grand Central so that a man in Sing Sing could talk to yourfather without leaving a record at the Westchester Exchange or atGramercy Hill Exchange. How this was done I don't know. It could bedone with auxiliary batteries and looping so that the Gramercy Hilloperator thought the Westchester call was to a slot booth, whileanother call from the next booth to this house was really the sameconnection shunted or looped through. Westlake, vice-president of thetelephone company, says that there would be several ways of doing this.He added it would take an expert in telephony."
"I'm all twisted up, Mr. Drew. I suppose you understand it. But whatabout that call to-night--the one that frightened me?"
"The man was sure of himself!" said Drew without thinking. "He has hisplans made. He figures they will not fail!"
"Oh, you mean----"
"I mean, Miss Stockbridge, that he expects to slay you in the samemanner your father was slain. We have this advantage. You are not alonein this room or these rooms. Your father was alone. The murderer willhave Mr. Nichols and myself to deal with this time! Be calm."
"But--I don't see how he could--get in here?"
"Nor do I. The point is that he got into the library and out againwithout trace. He had an hour to do his work in. Here, he is runningevery risk."
"But he has already been here, Mr. Drew."
The detective glanced keenly at Nichols, who had shot the statementstraight through clean white teeth.
"I know it," Drew said with a trace of anxiety in his voice. "That isdisquieting. But we have searched these rooms and found absolutely notrace of tampering with locks or ventilators or window-catches."
"Could he climb up here? He might have climbing irons," added Nicholsglancing toward the windows.
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"A good porch-climber could do it," Drew mused, with his eyes sweepingthe curtains. "A very good one could. There are only three or four goodones out of prisons. They never go in for murder."
"Wouldn't money buy them?" asked Loris. "Mr. Morphy may have retainedone--with some of the gold he stole from poor father."
"Retained," repeated Drew, turning with sudden intentness. "Retained,is hardly the word, Miss Loris. Hired, is more to the point. Hiredassassins are not uncommon. We have the Becker case and the Hopemurder. We have----"
Drew allowed his voice to trail to a whisper. "We have," he declared,"our man! There's the front door bell! It's Delaney!"
"You have splendid ears, Mr. Drew."
"I have to have, Miss Stockbridge. Now," he added sharply, "you and Mr.Nichols go into the library--the writing room. I think the case isclosing. There may be a little excitement if Delaney's got that fellow.I, for one, am not going to stand much from him. Please go into theother room. That's right. Stand there, Harry, in case we need asoldier!"
Drew advanced step by step toward the tapestries. He lifted his gunfrom his hip pocket, examined it with narrowed eyes, then replaced itloosely. He brushed the curtains aside and had the key out, as heavysteps shook the upper stairway and a knock sounded on the panels of thedoor.
"Who's there?" asked Drew.
"Delaney, Chief!"
"All right! Just a moment."
The detective glanced through the slit in the tapestries, sawthat Nichols and Loris were across the room, then twisted thebutterfly-latch, at the same time he thrust in the flat key and turnedthe lock.
The door swung open. Delaney's huge bulk blocked the way. He halfturned, cursed savagely, and clutched a pipe-stem neck with rudefingers. "Come along, you!" he boomed. "Get in there!"
The form of a man hurtled by Drew, fell and rose, then fell againbeyond the tapestries in the center of the sitting room. Drew, likesome lithe cat, was over him with a drawn gun. Delaney puffed acrossthe rugs and tried to speak as the detective leaned and studied thechalk-pale face below shielding cuffed hands which were raisedimpotently.
"The trouble-man!" exclaimed Loris fearsomely.
A Central Office detective slouched through the door, deposited a kitof lineman's tools on the floor near the tapestries, then retireddiscreetly.
"It's him!" said Drew. "Please get back, Miss Stockbridge. We're goingto fix this fellow."
"Oh, please don't strike him."
"Please--Miss Stockbridge. I'll promise nothing in this connection.This is the man who foully murdered your father."
Loris shrank back and against Nichols' extended arm. Drew glanced ather with swift concern. He dropped his eyes to the man at his feet."What happened?" he asked Delaney. "Has this fellow said anything? Doneany talking?"
Delaney glared at the trouble-man. "Never a word has he said, Chief.He's a clam. But----"
"What's that? Go on, Delaney!"
"Why, Chief, I wouldn't have brought him here if he hadn't said toMorphy over the 'phone that _'it'_ was fixed in her room. Now what doeshe mean by that _'it'?"_
"We'll find out!" declared Drew, dropping to the prisoner's side.