CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"THE END"
Triggy Drew's eyes shone with triumphant fire as he turned and facedthe group gathered in the sitting room.
He adjusted his coat lapels, clicked his heels and smiled politely. Hishand strayed up to his short-cropped mustache which was still neat andwell-trimmed despite the labors of the day.
"Although the case is practically closed," he said with concern, "thereare features which are not entirely cleared up--even in my mind.Perhaps we have a little time," he added, glancing at his watch. "Let'sgo into the other room--away from these memories--and have a cup oftea, if Miss Stockbridge will be so kind as to order some."
Loris glanced at Nichols. She nodded as she turned toward Drew. Hemoved over to the rug which covered Cuthbert Morphy's body. He stoopedand adjusted this. He rose and dimmed the lights by snapping off two ofthe switches and turning a bulb in its socket. He hesitated as heglanced at the telephone wires which Delaney had cut.
"Central will wonder what has happened," he said half aloud. "Theconnections leading to this house have given them a lot of trouble inthe last few hours. I suppose they haven't another trouble-man likethis one, though?" Drew pointed toward the shadowed rug which gleamedwith silk and rare woven designs.
Loris raised her hand and grasped the portieres. She shudderedslightly. She allowed her eyes to wander over the room as if for a lastfleeting glance. They locked with the detective's own. She smiled witha plaintive droop to her mouth.
"I'll order the tea," she said invitingly. "Will you come in?"
Drew bowed and followed her through the portieres. Delaney alreadystood by the door which led to the maid's room. Harry Nichols hadpicked up a small book and was impatiently examining its pages. Thesoldier turned and eyed the detective.
"We'll sit down?" he asked, laying the book on a cushion. "I'm a bitcurious to know how you worked out a number of things. I think thatMiss Stockbridge is, too."
"I'd like to be a detective!" exclaimed Loris, gliding across the roomand tapping with her knuckles on the door. "Wouldn't you, Mr. Delaney?"she added naively.
Delaney chuckled. "I would, Miss," he said with candor. "I'm not aregular. I'm only a volunteer. Mr. Drew has me along to do the heavywork. He says what I can't lift I can drag."
Loris smiled as the maid answered by opening the door to a crack. "Teafor four," she said. "Pekoe and tea biscuits--unless----"
She turned and widened her eyes prettily. "Would you have anythingelse?" she asked Drew.
"Strong tea!" exclaimed the detective. "I'll take 'hops,' as we callit. Make it very strong and then we'll settle some of these questions.My head is none too clear. I've been under a strain. I'm frank to admitthat!"
The tea arrived within ten minutes. Drew had prevented Delaney from'phoning for the coroner or to Fosdick. "Some matters to clear up," hewhispered suggestively. "We'll leave this place with the case entirelycompleted."
Nichols arranged two chairs about a tiny teak-wood table. He had setthis table within the bay of an alcove. The space was small, withDelaney's big feet very much in the way.
Drew poised his cup and glanced from Loris to Nichols. Their heads werevery close together. The blue-black luster of the girl's hair was aperfect contrast to the officer's blond pompadour which was slightlydisarranged. The light from above haloed with the soft fire of frostedglass and cut prisms.
The detective upended the cup, drank deeply, then passed it over toDelaney. "Another, please," he said, watching the operative strugglingwith a saucer which was far too fragile for his thick fingers. "Onemore cup," he added. "No sugar."
Loris leaned from the cushion at the small of her back and glancedtoward the portieres with thought-laden eyes. "Poor misguided fellow,"she said softly. "I feel uneasy, Mr. Drew. Somehow or other I feel thatwe were partly responsible for his death. I wish it hadn't happened."
"I'll agree with you. We must forget more than we remember in thisworld. Our time is short. The coroner and the Central Office squad willhave to be notified. I don't doubt that Fosdick will be surprised atthe turn in the case. He has some of your servants locked up, youknow!"
Loris pressed closer to Nichols. "I wish that body wasn't in there,"she whispered. "Suppose he had other confederates who would break in?"
"He worked alone," assured Drew, finishing the second cup and settingit down. "I found no evidence of another crook. He worked single-handedand single-minded. He made one mistake. Morphy was a bungler. A bungleris a man who lets his artistic temperament get the better of him. Hadhe allowed Cuthbert to slay both the--Mr. Stockbridge and yourself overthe 'phone, he would never have solved the case. It was the telephoningfrom Sing Sing that opened up the entire matter."
"The inevitable slip!" exclaimed Nichols.
"Yes," said Drew. "They all make it. I could tell you of a thousandinstances. But back of the inevitable slip, as you call it, issomething deeper. It has not often been mentioned in dealing withcriminals."
"What is it?" asked Loris.
"Ego! Criminal ego! Most transgressors would go to the electric chairif the newspapers would write enough about them."
Loris raised her brows. "Is that the reason," she asked, "why Morphytelephoned before he killed poor father?"
"Exactly!" declared the detective. "Ego explains much that we callrevenge. Now," he added, glancing about and at a tiny clock on acabinet. "Now the questions from everybody! Make them short. Mr.Delaney and I will leave in ten minutes."
Nichols glanced at Loris. "You first," he said.
"I've just one or two, Mr. Drew," she said.
"What are they?"
"Why did that poor dead man spare my life when he called me up thefirst time? He could have killed me then."
"I explained that. It wasn't _his_ vendetta."
"Vendetta?"
"That is what this case is. An almost successful attempt to wipe out,or I should say obliterate, the Stockbridge Family--root and branch.Morphy had nursed the thing for over a year. He had soured up there inprison. His mind became abnormal. He conceived an abnormal revenge.Also a personal one. He had every reason to believe that he would neverbe discovered."
"Then, Mr. Drew, he would have called me up on the phone later and donewhat he did--to father? He would have told me who he was over thetelephone, and--and----"
"Yes, Miss Stockbridge. Yes, be calm, though. He is beyond the palenow. You will never hear from him again. Be assured of that!"
Drew leaned in his chair and glanced at Delaney. The big operativefidgeted in his seat, squirmed, reached for the tea-pot, then drew backhis hand and started drumming the table with his fingers.
Nichols disengaged his arm from behind Loris and squared his shoulders.He moved forward. "I'm going to ask a question for Miss Stockbridge,"he said. "Did you ever suspect her?"
"Never!" declared Drew.
"Or me?"
The detective hesitated before he answered. His smile cleared the airas he said. "Once--for about an hour. That was when I found out thatyou were partly German. I got over it, though."
"So did I," declared Nichols. "I got over the German part in no time. Ienlisted!"
"That's a good answer! The best one I know!"
Delaney turned to his chief. He drew in his legs. "There's a questionI'd like to ask," he said.
"What is it?"
"That magpie?"
Drew eyed Loris. "It's her bird now," he said. "She may not want itdragged back here again. I shouldn't think she would."
"I don't!" exclaimed Loris. "I wish that you would explain how youfollowed the clew, though. It talks so seldom, and then when it doestalk it says such nonsense it's a perfect enigma."
"That bird," said Drew, "was the fine turning point of the case. Beforeit was brought into the office, downtown, I had no clew to start from.There was no indication to show from whence the blow had fallen. Yourfather was slain for a motive. He was talking to Morphy when he died.Cuthbert had connected the two men."
"Through the two
booths?" asked Loris.
"Yes. Through the booths at Grand Central. Their conversation wasprobably a brief one. Morphy undoubtedly gloated a minute or two, thentold Mr. Stockbridge that his time had come on this earth. NaturallyMr. Stockbridge asked who was talking. Morphy answered by stating whohe was, and also that he was at Sing Sing. Mr. Stockbridge repeatedthis statement aloud. He probably said, 'What, Sing Sing?' or 'Ah,Ossining!' or words to that effect. The bird heard it and remembered it."
"How strange!" exclaimed Nichols.
"Not at all," said Drew, leaning forward. "It was just like a magpie topick out the one salient part of a conversation and repeat it. Thecouplet 'Sing Sing' was one it had never heard. It is so striking toeven a bird. It probably came with such emphasis, there was noforgetting it!"
The group facing the detective was silent for a long minute. Delaneymoved uneasily as Nichols toyed with his cup. Loris breathed insuppressed wonder at the tiny clew which had overthrown the best laidplans on the part of Morphy and his confederate. It was like an echo ofa dead voice coming back to confront a murderer. She shivered as shewidened her eyes and stared at Drew.
"There's another question," she said. "How did the trouble-man get intothis house in the first place, Mr. Drew?"
"I was responsible. He forced my hand!"
"How?"
"By a clever subterfuge. He disconnected the library telephone wires atthe junction-box in the alley. He knew that sooner or later Mr.Stockbridge would try to use the 'phone. He couldn't get a connection,or I couldn't. It was the time I tried to 'phone and then notifiedGramercy Hill Exchange through another 'phone. He was listening in andconsequently caught the gist of my orders to Harrigan. He hurried toGramercy Hill Exchange and there met Frisby, another trouble-man,starting out to investigate my complaint. He took Frisby's place,hurried over and closed the library connection and then came into thehouse, stating that we had sent for him."
"Clever," said Nichols. "That was clever, wasn't it?"
"Remarkably so!" exclaimed Drew. "It was a case of making the detectiveon the premises act as a tool. It was like a safeblower asking a nightwatchman to move a safe out on a truck. I never suspected that fellowat all. I hardly looked at him when he was testing the connections inthe library. I even heard him rattling a pair of pliers over thebinding posts on the receiver. That was the time he took the old oneoff and put on the loaded pistol. It was done very quickly."
The detective paused and glanced at his watch. "We must go," he said,staring at Loris with soft interest. "I'm afraid we're keeping you fromyour sleep."
"No. I want to ask you another question," she said eagerly. "I'm stillin doubt about the slot booths at Grand Central. Why were they used?"
"As a throw off! That is what the English would call shunting.Electricians use the same word. It means diverting a current or aconnection. Cuthbert did this so that his trail would be harder tocheck up. He thought of almost everything."
"He missed his vocation!" interjected Nichols.
"And misused his talents," added Loris. "Think of being clever enoughto do all of those things, and stoop to murder. He paid ten times over.He must have been under that man Morphy's power. So many men were. Iheard father say that when Morphy was arrested. He said Morphy was themost dangerous man in the world. That he would cause trouble sooner orlater."
Drew rose and nodded. "He did that!" he exclaimed with conviction. "Hecame very close to getting away with it. But for the magpie and thefact that he 'phoned from the prison at the same time your father wasmurdered, there would have been no clew. Cuthbert would have enteredthis house after you were slain, and removed the receiver. That wouldhave thrown the case into one of the unsolved mysteries. Electricity isa dangerous tool in the hands of clever crooks."
"It leaves no trace!" said Delaney, rising and standing by his chief."It isn't made out of anything except little shakes in the wire orsomething like that."
Drew smiled good-naturedly. "It's a mystery to most people," he said,turning toward the windows and listening. "It's a bigger mystery to awoman than to a man," he added. "It's a good agent if properly used andkept within bounds. It brings back life as well as takes it. It createsand also destroys. No one knows what it is. All that we do know aboutit is its action on material substances--the power to transformmechanical energy into vibrations and then back again into mechanicalenergy."
"Like a voice on a wire?" asked Loris.
"Yes, Miss Stockbridge. The mechanical vibration of a diaphragm in atelephone transmitter is changed to electrical vibrations, passes alonga wire and changes back to the same thing we had at the beginning.Cuthbert took advantage of this fact. All that was sent into thelibrary was Morphy's voice on the wire. The wire left no trace. Thevoice actuated the diaphragm and at the same time the fine heating coilat the cap on the cartridge. The energy of the voice was sufficient toraise the temperature of the coil. This raise in temperature flashedsome compound set in the wire. The flash started the fulminate ofmercury in the cap. The cap exploded the smokeless powder. It was aseries of steps each a little higher than the one below it."
"Was there any other way of doing the same thing?" Nichols inquired, ashe rose lankily and stood over Loris.
"Yes!" declared Drew. "I can look back over what I found in thetechnical books about electricity and telephony and see several otherways for Cuthbert to accomplish the same result. The electrical pistoldid not necessarily have to be actuated by the human voice."
"How terrible!" Loris whispered, with her brow puckering. "Perhapsothers will use the same idea to slay their enemies."
"We'll keep it a close secret," the detective said. "It rests with usfour, now. Outside of us, there is only Morphy who knows."
"How else could the pistol be discharged?"
"Two other ways that I see, Miss Stockbridge. It would be rather easyto arrange a little magnetic trigger in the receiver. This triggercould be actuated by an excess of current--say the connecting of ahundred and ten volt lighting circuit on the line. It might burn outthe magnet wiring, but it would also release the trigger and fire thecartridge."
"That's like a door-catch?"
"Yes," said Drew. "Like a door-catch operated by a magnet or like thefiring pin of a large cannon. They're not all operated by lanyards.Some work with push-buttons."
Nichols passed his hand over his brow. "I know another way," he said,glancing down at Loris. "There is a way which is far cleverer thanCuthbert thought of. It could be done by a tuning-fork or reed."
"Certainly!" exclaimed Drew. "I never thought of that. A reed attunedto a certain voice could be adapted to trip a trigger. Then the loadedreceiver could be set so that one of your friends who had a peculiarvoice, either high or low, would slay you. Rather terrifying revenge,that!"
"Beyond the pale!" said Nichols. "It's too bad this man Cuthbert didn'texercise one-tenth of his genius in perfecting war inventions. He'dhave helped us a lot."
Drew nodded and strode to the curtains at a side window. He peered out,rubbed the frosted panes, and pressed his nose against the glass.
"Stopped snowing!" he exclaimed, coming back and clasping Delaney'sarm. "You hurry downstairs and telephone Fosdick that we are waitingfor him. Tell him to notify the coroner that there's a subject herewhich will interest him. We'll not explain everything to either thecoroner or Fosdick. No one save us shall know the secret of thereceiver."
"Delaney," said Nichols, as the big operative started through theportieres. "Mr. Delaney."
"Yes!" boomed back through the room.
"Ask the Commissioner if he will release Miss Stockbridge's servants.It was an outrage."
"That's right!" exclaimed Drew, striding to the portieres. "Tell him Isaid so, Delaney. Tell him just what you think. Give it to him strong!He bungled and he don't deserve a bit of sympathy."
"Mr. Drew?"
The detective wheeled on one heel and glanced back at Loris, who hadrisen and was standing with her arm linked within Nichols'. "Mr. Drew,"she repeated with
slow insistence, "won't you have another cup of teabefore you go?"
"That I will, Miss Stockbridge. We three shall drink to the end of thecase. Have you asked all the questions you want to? I want to forgetthis night as soon as possible. You were too close to death to suit me."
"I don't think of any more questions," said Loris, disengaging her armand gliding across the room. "We'll get the tea. There is one matter. Iwant to pay you for your splendid services."
"Ah!" exclaimed Drew. "Ah, Miss Stockbridge, they were far from beingsplendid. I lost my reputation in the first instance. I should neverhave allowed your father to remain alone in the library. That was veryshort-sighted on my part."
"You couldn't think of everything."
"I underestimated the gravity of the situation."
"Perhaps father didn't explain how dangerous his enemies really were."
"No, I don't think it was that, exactly. I had been reading so manyaccounts of German spies that I connected this case with one of them. Itook precautions against anything that a German might think of. Ididn't figure on super-brains of the criminal order. Cuthbert Morphyhad them!"
The maid appeared with the tray and hot water. Drew took the cup fromLoris with a bow. He allowed the tea to cool as he glanced at the twolovers. They had grown closer together over the time of theinvestigation. Nichols had that poise which is given to well-trainedarmy men. He never said too much. This was a trait which pleased thedetective immensely. It spoke volumes for Loris and her judgment inplacing her trust in him.
"I actually hate to leave you people," Drew said, finishing the cup."But I must be on my way."
Loris arched her dark brows. Her mouth parted into a soft smile. Hereyes glistened with moisture. "Harry is going, too," she said, glancingfrom Drew to Nichols. "He has to go! I'll sleep upstairs in mother'sold room to-night. The maid can watch. Perhaps the butler will beback."
"He'll be back!" ejaculated the detective, adjusting his coat collarand stroking his mustache. "I'll see to that if I have to go overFosdick's thick head. You can expect all of your servants within anhour."
Heavy footfalls on the rugs outside the suite announced Delaney. Hecame through the portieres rubbing his hands in the manner of a man whowas well-satisfied with his errand.
"I got them!" he boomed, glancing from Drew to Nichols and then lettinghis eyes shine on Loris. "I got Fosdick, first. I told him what Ithought of him, too. I don't like him. Never did! He said he'd be rightup and see about things. He can see!" The big operative swung towardhis chief.
"How about the coroner?" asked Drew.
"He's coming as fast as his hurry-up wagon will let him. I told himthere was another--well, you know what I told him, Chief?"
The detective lifted his lowered brows. "Yes! Yes!" he said hastily,after a keen glance at Loris. "Yes. You did right. Now, get into theother room and gather up all of the tools and plaster-casts and everyscrap of our own evidence. Put them in the trouble-man's satchel. Setthe satchel outside the door to the hall. Then wait for me. I'll be buta minute."
Delaney paused. "There's one thing," he said in a half stammer----"Onething, Chief, that's been troubling me while I was 'phoning to thecoroner and to Fosdick."
"What is it?"
"If I can have that magpie? I'm going to give it to my wife--Mary--if Ican. There's no bird in the house."
Drew turned toward Loris who had drawn Nichols to a window.
"Can he have it, Miss Stockbridge?" he asked.
"Certainly!"
"Thanks," throated the operative, passing through the portieres withrenewed energy. "Thanks," he added under his breath as he startedpicking up the plaster casts and tools. "That's how we caught'Cutbert,' and I'll nurse the bird like a Grand Opera singer."
Loris glided from out the curtains and crossed the room. She stood amoment under a cone of soft light which reflected downward and broughtout every detail of her gown and girlish figure. She turned and smiledwidely at Drew who stood by the portieres.
"I've almost forgotten something," she said, drawing out a chair andsitting down with a graceful sweep of her skirt. "I've forgotten thatyou are tired and that you have worked hard."
"Not at all," said Drew.
"Yes, you are tired and you have worked very hard. Harry will bear meout in that. He was just saying that you would make a good major ofoverseas forces. Why don't you join the army?"
Drew reached into his right hand trouser pocket. He brought his handout with a small gold badge between his fingers. "I've already joinedthe army," he said. "This is a Secret Service badge. Don't you knowthat much work can be done over on this side? A burnt warehouse, forinstance, is equal to a victory for the Kaiser. My agency is almostexclusively devoted to Government work. We never mention it, though."
"I see," said Loris, reaching into a pigeonhole and drawing out a smallyellow check-book. "I'm glad," she added, picking up a mother-of-pearlpenholder and inspecting the pen-point. "I rather thought you would doyour share. I think everybody should to the limit of their pocketbookand ability. Harry is."
Drew bowed slightly. "That's right, stick by Harry," he said tohimself. "She's a sticker and then some," he added, frowning toward thecheck-book and the poised pen.
"Mr. Drew?"
The detective took one step in her direction. He waited then.
"Mr. Drew, how much money do I owe you? I'll pay you out of my accountuntil the estate is settled."
The detective smiled broadly. "Nothing," he said, toying with his watchchain. "I don't think you owe me anything in this case."
"Oh, but I do!"
"I don't think so. Your father retained me. He was--was slain throughmy own carelessness. I think I owe you something."
"I can't let it remain that way." Loris turned and widened her eyes. Atiny pout sweetened her mouth. Nichols came across the rugs and stoodby her side. He turned to Drew.
"That wouldn't be fair," he said. "You certainly earned your fee inthis case. Why, you look five years older than when you came up into myrooms with that little pistol!"
Drew touched his mustache. He closed his lips. Fatigue swept over himas he said huskily:
"I've aged, yes. Well, I guess I have. The responsibility was more thanI expected."
"How much?" asked Loris, opening the check-book.
Drew raised his eyes to the ceiling. A faint smile brightened his oliveskin and brought out the fullness of his cheeks.
"Five thousand dollars," he said, without glancing at Loris.
She dipped the pen into the ink well, leaned her elbow on the leaf ofthe writing desk and hastily scratched a check with angular writingwhich had certainly been cultivated in a select boarding school. Sheturned, waved the check in the air, then rose and advanced toward thedetective, who had not lowered his eyes.
"Thank you," she said, holding out the oblong of tinted paper. "I wantto thank you."
Nichols stared at the detective. The soldier's eyes were like bayonetsbeneath a parapet. He had thought the figure rather high. Loris had noone to advise her save himself and the presence of Drew had tied histongue.
"I want to thank you," repeated Loris.
Drew lowered his eyes and reached for the check. He glanced at it,started folding two edges, then smiled brightly as he crossed the room,picked up the mother-of-pearl penholder and dipped it into the ink.
"I'll endorse it," he said, flattening out the check with his palm."I'll endorse it so that it can be transferred."
"To whom?" asked Loris.
"Why, to where it belongs. Do you think that I could take it? It's toomuch in the first place. In the second place I'm going to do my fullbit from now on. What do you say, if we endorse this over to theAmerican Red Cross? It'll buy beds and bandages and it'll help out allaround!"
Loris lifted her eyes beneath her down dropping lashes. She smiled withtiny puckerings at the corners of her mouth. The glance was so archlysweet that Drew felt it was more than a reward. He caught her mood andhastily dashed off his signature across
the back of the check.
"You present it to them," he said. "Take it with my compliments to thetreasurer of your own division. I'll venture they will not question thesignature."
Nichols' hand crept out. It clasped over Drew's fingers in a soldier'sgrip. The two men faced each other. Drew reached up his left arm andpatted the captain on the shoulder. "Two bars," he said. "I hope to seestars there," he added sincerely. "Stars, when you come back from theconquest of Berlin."
"They'll be there!" declared Loris with flashing eyes. "Harry will getthem!"
Delaney peered through the portieres despite his instructions to thecontrary.
"All set, Chief," he said. "I hear Fosdick downstairs."
"Coming," said Drew, as he turned away from Loris and Nichols.
The two detectives paused in the center of the room. The mound underthe splendid rug held their eyes for a fleeting moment. The ends of thetelephone wires lay across the hardwood floor. They glanced at these.
"No trace!" said Drew. "We needn't tell Fosdick much. Come on!"
Delaney held out the detective's coat and hat. Drew thrust his armsinto his silk-lined sleeves, pulled the hat down over his eyes andswung as the big operative turned his shoulder.
"Look," whispered Delaney.
Loris Stockbridge and her lover stood under the glow from the softclusters of the inner room of the suite. The captain held his peakedcap in his right hand. He also was departing.
"Turtle-doves," Delaney breathed with almost pride.
"Ah!" said Drew. "Ah, my friend, you must remember that we were oncethat way ourselves. But now--but now, Delaney--there is a thing whichis sweeter than love's young dream. It is a tired man's sleep. I thinkI have earned mine to-night!"
THE END