"MY TIME IS SHORT"
"My time is short," said he. "So if there is anything of importance, I beg that you mention it at once."
Von Stunnenberg twisted his up-pointing moustache; his blue eyes were like ice, his manner was grim and menacing.
"There is nothing to be gained by this attitude," said he. "We are not children to be so deceived."
"You are not children to be so deceived," Ashton-Kirk smiled as he repeated the ambassador's words. "Perhaps not; but Matsadi apparently fancied it not very difficult when he arranged his little scene a few minutes ago."
Von Stunnenberg cast a quick look at Hoffer. The latter's small head turned slowly upon the secret agent.
"Matsadididarrange the scene," said he, and there was admiration in his voice. "No stage manager could have done better. He had not watched the English girl more than a moment when he saw—as did you and I," with a conclusive wave of the hand, "that the papers desired were in the bag at her side. At sight of the Italian woman he grasped his opportunity for creating a momentary ruffle; in the midst of this, at a signal, his confederate allowed the revolver to explode, so transforming the slight confusion into a panic. During this his agent was to abstract the document."
Ashton-Kirk nodded, after the manner of one workman exchanging experiences with another.
"That was not all that I saw," went on Hoffer. "I saw Matsadi's agent making his way toward Miss Corbin to play his part, before the discharge of the revolver. Also," and the big jaws tightened, "I saw you doing your best to anticipate him."
Ashton-Kirk laughed, and there was an odd expression in his singular eyes.
"Was there nothing more that you noticed?" he asked.
"It was sufficient," put in Von Stunnenberg,grimly, "that he saw you reach the girl's side before the Japanese. And, if anything more were needed, an instant after you got within reaching distance, Miss Corbin discovered that the papers were gone."
"And that Okiu was baffled," said Hoffer, "one had only to give him a glance to discover. The rage in his face showed that you had beaten them—that you had taken the prize out of their own trap."
Ashton-Kirk laughed once more.
"My dear sir," said he, "you credit me with a dexterity which I do not possess. It is true that I did——" he paused and then turned to Hoffer. "Aside from Okiu, did you see any one else—of Matsadi's?"
"No."
"Upon the fact that I reached Miss Corbin's side before Okiu you base your belief that I must have secured the paper." Ashton-Kirk placed his finger tips together with great nicety, and then looked placidly at Hoffer. "Have you encountered Matsadi before this?"
"I have," answered the German.
"In that you have the advantage of me. But from what I have heard of him, he is a man who plans with considerable effect. Is it likely," and he bent toward the other slightly, "that he would stop at one man in the crowd?"
The thick jowls of Holler bulged, and a dull red crept into his face.
"You mean——" he got this far and then stopped. "You think," he continued, after a moment, "that there were more than Okiu?"
"I know it," said Ashton-Kirk. "I counted at least three. Matsadi is not restricted to the use of his own countrymen. The man who dropped the revolver, for example, was an American."
At that moment Fuller, his face wearing an anxious expression, looked into the room. Seeing Ashton-Kirk he hurried to him.
"This," said he, holding out a message, "was just handed in. I told the man that I would look you up."
Ashton-Kirk took the envelope, murmured an apology and tore it open. There were but a few lines, and he read them at a glance; then he handed the paper to Von Stunnenberg and arose.
"It seems," said he, "that everything is about ready for me, and I really must go."
"Saw Matsadi come out just now," read the German ambassador. "Two men who had preceded him signaled from across the street. He joined them and all three hurried to the Japanese Embassy. Have building surrounded and am awaiting you.
"Saw Matsadi come out just now," read the German ambassador. "Two men who had preceded him signaled from across the street. He joined them and all three hurried to the Japanese Embassy. Have building surrounded and am awaiting you.
"Culberson."
Von Stunnenberg lifted a crimson face as he finished the message.
"The rats!" he cried. "They have beaten me!" He handed the paper back to the secret agent; as he did so his countenance cleared somewhat, and he smiled grimly. "And also," he added with some appreciation, "they have beaten you."
"Not quite," replied Ashton-Kirk, coolly, as he buttoned up his long coat. "I have still a card to play."
"You would not dare——" Hoffer paused as though the act the other had in mind were too daring to even put into words. "Not in a foreign embassy," he added, fearfully.
But the secret agent smiled.
"If the search for what I desire leads me to a foreign embassy, why not?" asked he. "What I ventured in the German surely I shall not hesitate to repeat in the Japanese. And now, gentlemen, I must say good-night."
And with this he left the room and hurried down the hall, Fuller following close behind him.
When Ashton-Kirk and his aide reached the sidewalk a man in a cloth cap approached.
"Mr. Culberson is awaiting orders," said he.
"Tell him to call off his men," replied the secret agent promptly.
Without comment, the man in the cloth cap walked away. Fuller was amazed.
"You have changed your plan?"
"Our affairs do not wear the aspect they bore when I called upon the Culberson Agency for help," said the secret agent.
There was an unemployed taxi-cab by the curb a little distance away; they got into this and in a short time were put down at their hotel. The secret agent asked some question of the clerk, which the latter seemed to answer in the negative; then they ascended to Ashton-Kirk's apartments.
The secret agent threw himself into a comfortable chair and drew a tobacco pouch toward him. As he rolled a cigarette he said:
"We must lie idle until I get a call from Burgess."
"He is in Washington, then?"
"Yes; I had a few words with him over the wire while at Von Stunnenberg's. The secretary told him that I was there."
Through the open window the drone of the night could be heard. It was now perhaps two o'clock, and the city was deep in sleep. From somewhere in the distance a car could be heard passing now and then; occasionally the smooth hum of a motor, or the sharp "clup-clup" of a cab horse sounded nearer at hand. In silence the two young men sat smoking; half an hour went by and then the telephone rang, brusquely. Ashton-Kirk sprang to the receiver.
"Hello," said he.
The voice of Burgess made reply.
"Everything right," said he. "I followed them from the embassy to the Tillinghast."
"The Tillinghast!"
"Yes, I'm speaking to you from there."
"I will be with you in a very few minutes." Then as an afterthought, the secret agent added, "They areallthere, I suppose."
"They all came here—yes. And they held a consultation in a small reception room on the second floor. After this the young fellow went out."
"I see."
"Those men of Culberson's came in mighty handy. One of them followed him."
"He has not returned?"
"Not yet."
"Very well."
Ashton-Kirk hung up the receiver, and reached for his overcoat.
"Is it the Japs?" asked Fuller, expectantly.
But the secret agent shook his head.
"No," said he, "it is not the Japs. But," and the other noted the speculative look come into his singular eyes, "I rather think we shall see something more of those very interesting personages before the night is over."
A cab took them to the Tillinghast in less than a quarter of an hour. It was a huge, ornate place, showily furnished and glaring with lights. In an office floored with marble and rich with gilt and mirrors, they found Burgess, engaged in conversation with a clerk. He greeted Ashton-Kirk eagerly.
"You are just in time," said he. "The young man just came in, and two Japanese were with him."
Ashton-Kirk smiled as though well pleased.
"I rather fancied that he had gone to fetch them when you told me that he had gone out," said he.
"I hope," said the hotel clerk, earnestly, "that this matter is nothing that will harm the credit of the house."
"Not in the least," Ashton-Kirk assured him, smoothly. "It is more than likely that it will never even be heard of outside ourselves."
The clerk breathed freer.
"In that case," said he, "it's all right. And now, gentlemen, seeing that it is a government affair, if there is anything that I can do, I will do it cheerfully."
"Thank you," replied the secret agent.
As he spoke there came the sound of a buzzer; a youth at a telephone called:
"A waiter in Parlor F."
"That's the parlor your party is occupying," said the clerk, interestedly.
"Hold the waiter until I can speak to him," said Ashton-Kirk. He considered a moment. "This Parlor F," he added, "does it communicate with any other room?"
"Yes, with Parlor G."
"Excellent!" After a few more questions to which the clerk returned pointed answers, Ashton-Kirk gave Fuller and Burgess some low-voiced instructions. "And now," he said to the clerk, "I will see the waiter, if you please."
The man was a Swede with sandy hair and mild blue eyes; and his name was Gustave.
"Gustave," said the secret agent, "how long have you been a waiter?"
"Fifteen years," replied the Swede.
"In that time," said Ashton-Kirk, "you should have learned your business pretty well."
Gustave grinned mildly.
"Oh, yes," said he.
Ashton-Kirk handed him a coin.
"When you go into Parlor F," said he, "forget what you have learned. Be clumsy. Make a noise. Do something that will draw people's attention to you for a little."
Again Gustave grinned.
"I will forget," said he, slipping the coin into a pocket. "The peoples will not be pleased, but I will forget."
That he kept his promise was evinced by sundry crashes and exclamations which came from Parlor F shortly after; and in the midst of these Ashton-Kirk entered the room adjoining and unlocked the communicating door. Then Gustave retired, followed by a series of remarks in a voice that was strange to the secret agent, and for a few moments there was no sound save the clinking and clash of glasses.
"Such a clown," said the voice, "such a clown to be sent to serve gentlefolks. It could happen in no other country but this."
"Will you please come to the matter in hand?" said the gentle voice of Okiu. "You sent for us for a specific purpose, and we should be greatly obliged if you would hold to that, Mr. Karkowsky."
Karkowsky laughed in the manner of a man who was very well contented with himself.
"Of course, of course," said he. "Business is always a pleasure to me. Especially very profitable business such as this will prove to be."
"We do not ask your price," said a voice which the secret agent recognized as that of Matsadi. "We merely desire to be certain that the paper is ready for delivery."
"You may rest assured upon that point," replied Karkowsky. "Drevenoff, show him the scapular."
There was a moment's pause, during which the secret agent could well imagine the young Pole drawing the desired object from his pocket.
"There!" said the triumphant voice of Drevenoff. "There it is. And see here where the edge has been opened—the paper."
Karkowsky laughed once more.
"Ah," said he, contentedly, "these little matters! What a time we have in hunting them out—what a chase they sometimes lead us. And how glad we feel when it is all over."
"There would have been no chase in this matter at least," said Matsadi, "if you had lived up to your word in the first place."
"Not my word, my dear sir," spoke Karkowsky. "That has always been good. But one cannot always depend upon the steadfastness of a boy."
"I am as steadfast as you," broke in the voice of Drevenoff. "But blood is thicker than water."
"I will not deny that," said Karkowsky, soothingly. Then, as though turning to the others, he added: "It happened this way. This was a wild lad. Russia drove him out. He fled to this country. When his father came with Count Malikoff they became reconciled. He was permitted to return home. But he was a Pole; he hated Russia; and beside that,Ipointed out a chance to make a fortune. He stole the document which we now have here."
"And then," said Okiu, "you opened negotiations with Tokio. And when all had been settled, you would not turn the instrument over to us for the price asked."
"That," said Karkowsky, "was the result of the indiscretion of a very young man. I could not turn it over to you. Drevenoff had given it to his father."
"What else would you have me do?" demanded the young Pole, warmly. "Could I see him wrongfully accused, disgraced? No. I returned the paper, told him what I had done, and stood willing to have him do with me what he would."
"But his father," said Karkowsky, "was afraid to act; he feared for himself and for his son. He hid the paper in his scapular, and when dying gave it to the English physician."
"He was afraid to trust a Russian—he dreaded to risk giving the paper into the hands of one who might profit by it. I know that was his reason, because I knew my father," said Drevenoff. "But the Englishman attached no importance to the scapular; he placed it among his effects and forgot it. If my father gave him any instructions with regard to the disposal of it, he also forgot them."
"I reasoned out what must have become of the scapular when this young man came to me after his father's death," said Karkowsky. "He was then willing, once more, to join me in the sale of the paper, because," and the man's laugh was full of mockery, "there was no near and dear one who could be harmed by it."
"Because you would sell your soul, Karkowsky," said young Drevenoff, "don't think me a fool if I would not."
"I beg your pardon," said the elder Pole, "I meant no offense. And as to selling my soul for so little money, don't believe it. If I ever come to such a transaction, my dear child, the price will be of some consequence."
"And when you reasoned that the English doctor must have what you desired," said the smooth voice of Okiu, "you began your operations?"
"At once," answered Karkowsky. "We tookship to England, located him at Sharsdale, and went to work on the matter. We tried everything, but with the same lack of success."
"From what you said a few moments ago," said Matsadi, "you think that Dr. Morse was unaware of the document's existence."
"At first I did not dream of such a thing," said Karkowsky, "and, indeed, it was not until after he had come to America that it occurred to me. On going to Sharsdale I tried to open negotiations with him; I tried the same here. But in neither case did he rise to the bait. ButnowI am convinced that he never knew the thing was in his possession."
Matsadi laughed.
"Then, Okiu," said he, "all your planning was wasted."
"So it would seem," replied Okiu, gently.
"We suspected that you had some hand in the queer communications which Dr. Morse received from time to time," said Karkowsky. "We knew that it was not by chance that you took the house directly behind him. Drevenoff," with a laugh, "tried to get your man to talk many times, but could not."
"Humadi," said the Japanese agent, "never talks."
Here there was a sort of rustling sound; the swish-swish of silken skirts over the floor; then anew voice spoke, a voice which made Ashton-Kirk breathe a quiet sigh of content.
"I think you have rambled long enough in this thing. It will not benefit any of us in any way to know what the others have done to gain possession of the paper. That it is here is, I think, sufficiently to the point."
There was a subdued clapping of hands at this.
"Bravo, Julia," cried Drevenoff. "To business, I say. That is what we are here for."
"Exactly," spoke Karkowsky. "That is what we are here for. The price——"
"Is what was named before," interrupted Julia. "And the paper is to be delivered when the money is turned over."
"To-morrow?" asked Matsadi.
"To-morrow will do very well," said Karkowsky. "Ready money—no checks, or drafts," cunningly. "They are things not always to be trusted. The hard coin, or the downright bank-note; that is what pleases me in a case like this."
"To-morrow, at noon," said Matsadi, curtly. There was a drawing back of chairs and the sound of several persons arising. "You can be seen here, I suppose?"
"Yes," replied Karkowsky. "We will come here. Have the money in large bills, if possible," with a laugh; "we don't care to be loaded down, if it's to be avoided."
"It shall be as you desire," said Matsadi. Then there came the sound of footsteps crossing the floor of Parlor F, and a door opened. "Good-night," said Matsadi.
"Good-night," replied the others.
Softly Ashton-Kirk opened the communicating door, and stepped into the room. Karkowsky was just about closing the door leading into the hall; at his side was Drevenoff and a girl with flaxen hair. As the door clicked behind the Japanese the girl threw up her hands and laughed triumphantly.
"Alexander," she cried, "it is ours at last! We have won! In spite of alltheycould do—in spite of the clever American, we have won!"
She threw her arms about the neck of Drevenoff; but as she did so there came a queer, throaty cry from Karkowsky; and then for the first time since he had entered the room, she saw Ashton-Kirk.
The expression upon the faces of the three as they gazed at Ashton-Kirk were of mingled amazement and fear. But the secret agent only smiled in return; the twinkle in his eyes was altogether humorous.
"I know," said he, "that I am exceedingly annoying in happening here—especially at such a time as this. But, you see, we all have our tasks in life, and mine is to convince people that things are seldom what they seem."
There was no reply; and the secret agent fixing his gaze upon the girl, continued:
"That you think I am clever is a compliment for which I thank you. It is hard," with a smile, "to be indebted to a person and be able to make only a—so to speak—left handed return."
The girl was the first of the three to recover. She stared at the speaker unflinchingly.
"And that is——?" she asked.
"Only that in saying that you have won you made a slight mistake."
"Don't be too sure that itisone," she said. Then with a fierce, bitter ring in her tone, she added: "There would have been no mistake had I had my way a few nights ago."
The secret agent laughed.
"Ah, no," said he. "I can well believe that. You urged our friend here," nodding toward Drevenoff, "rather strongly, to be sure."
Drevenoff's face was waxen with increased fear; the wide open stare of his eyes grew more marked. He was about to say something, but before he could do so Karkowsky spoke.
"Who," asked the elder Pole, "is this gentleman?"
The girl laughed in a mocking sort of way.
"An amateur policeman," she said. "Perhaps you have heard of him. His name is Ashton-Kirk."
Karkowsky seemed to ponder; but at length he shook his head.
"No," said he, "I do not recall the name." Then to the secret agent: "Would you mind stating your business, sir?"
"You would make an excellent comedian, Mr. Karkowsky," said the other. "I do not recall ever having seen that so well done before. And when one considers how many times the device has been used, that is saying a great deal."
Drevenoff took a step toward the speaker.
"What," demanded he, "did you mean a moment ago when you spoke of my being strongly urged?"
"So!" Ashton-Kirk darted a keen look at him. "That attracted your attention, did it?" He remained with his eyes upon the young man for a moment, and then continued: "You seem to have a habit, when dispatched upon messages, of seeing to your own affairs first I recall," reminiscently, "that upon the night of the murder of Dr. Morse I asked you to go for the police."
"I did so," said the Pole.
"Oh, yes, to be sure. But you took occasion first to fasten a window which had been previously neglected."
For an instant it seemed as though Drevenoff would cry out, but with a great effort he held himself in check.
"I don't understand you," he said.
"I sympathize with you in that," said Ashton-Kirk, "because there are many things I do not understand myself. For example," and he wrinkled his brow as though in an attempt to recall something, "I do not understand how you escaped the eye of the man I had at your heels the other night when Miss Corbin sent you to the city. Was it by a leap from the train while it was moving?" He shook his head in strong disapproval. "That was dangerous."
A quick look passed between the three; but the secret agent proceeded:
"There are some, however, who are willing to take chances, no matter how desperate. Then, again, there are others who dislike to risk anything. You, for example," and he looked once more at the girl, "refuse to run risks of a certain sort. You are one of those who believe in clearing the way of obstacles as you come to them. That," and he nodded appreciatively, "is an admirable method. But to be absolutely effective it should contain a dash of imagination. For, then, if one were planning a murder by illuminating gas, for instance, one would realize the result of a raised blind. A grass plot is an excellent background for the shadows cast by a strong light."
Again the quick glances were interchanged; and then Karkowsky spoke briskly.
"We have listened to you, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, as you must admit, with a great deal of patience. So you will pardon me if I insist upon your stating the nature of your business without further loss of time."
Ashton-Kirk looked at the fresh-faced little man with his frank, well opened eyes and well-fed figure; and a look of amusement came into his face.
"As to that," said the secret agent, "I amentirely at one with you. I desire to finish my business as quickly as I can. I am here upon much the same errand as the two who just left," he continued. "But there is this difference.Theywere willing to pay for the paper contained in the scapular; while I expect to have it handed to me for the asking."
Karkowsky sat down and crossed his legs much after the manner of a man who is interested. The young man and the girl remained standing and were silent.
"A paper," said Karkowsky, as he stroked his chin, thoughtfully. "Will you kindly be more explicit?"
"Again I felicitate you upon your talent," said the secret agent; "you were meant for the stage." He sat upon the edge of the table and nursed one knee with his clasped hands. "But let me assure you that you are but wasting your breath and your ability." He paused for a moment and then went on: "If every one concerned in this matter had displayed a like degree of talent, things might not have turned out as they have. Let me suggest to you," to the girl, "that you make an effort to change your style of handwriting; if you continue in your present trade, you can't hope for success while possessing so noticeable a characteristic."
For the first time since his discovery of thesecret agent's presence, Karkowsky lost his presence of mind. He uttered an exclamation.
"The postman," smiled Ashton-Kirk, "told me of Mr. Kendreg of Lowe Street, and it did not take a great deal of time to reason it out that you and he were one, and that the second address was a ruse to throw the police off the track should there be any need of it. The man who had you in charge also had orders to keep an eye out for a woman, for the handwriting which had so attracted the attention of the postman, together with some other little things, had told me that a woman was concerned. But, as a matter of fact, he never had a glimpse of her until you went to meet her at the station and boarded the train for Washington. On the journey here, he occupied a chair in the same car."
"He is a clever man," sneered the girl.
"Quite so. But there are things which are out of his line. For example, he has not been able to find out how you obtained entrance to the Von Stunnenberg house. But that youdidenter he knew, for he watched you as you went in. And then he called me on the telephone and described you. I knew that I could not mistake you," with a little bow, "for there are not many of your marked type, and if that were not enough, your costume is unique."
"Well?" said she.
"I did not see you take the paper from Miss Corbin," said Ashton-Kirk. "But I was quite sure that you had it, for all that."
"And you allowed me to go!" The girl sneered once more; but Ashton-Kirk shrugged his shoulders.
"It made no great difference," said he quietly. "The man who watched you enter was watching you when you left. His arrangements were such that only a miracle could have permitted your escape."
For a moment the three were silent; then young Drevenoff spoke.
"You heard what Okiu and the other said while they were here?"
"All that was essential, I think. I know thatyouhave the paper, and this being the case, it is to you whom I now direct my attention."
"By that," said Drevenoff, "I suppose you mean that you expect me to give it up."
The secret agent nodded.
"I credit you with some common sense," said he, "and therefore think that you will do so."
The young man was about to answer, but Karkowsky stopped him. The elder then bent toward Ashton-Kirk; his usually good-humored eyes wore an entirely different expression, his round face was set and hard.
"I perceive," said he, in a cold, even voice,"that there is nothing to be gained by further evasion. Wehavethe paper of which you speak—we have it after several years of constant effort; and the reward that was to follow the finding of it is all but in our hands." He rose, and his small figure seemed to dilate as he proceeded: "Perhaps you heard this reward mentioned a while ago. It is to be a large sum of money paid by the Japanese government; but do not suppose that we," and he waved his hand so as to include the other two, "hoped for personal profit."
Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
"I do not suppose so," said he. "Some few facts which I gathered as to your reading at the public libraries gave me an idea as to your purpose."
"Humanity," declared Karkowsky, "its development and progress!—that is our creed. This money was to help fight tyranny as represented by Russia. The Japanese whom we have dealt with know nothing of our intentions; for they, too, are ruled by a tyrant, and we feared that rather than advance our cause, if they knew the truth, they would forego leveling at your own country a blow which they longed to strike.
"We have given ourselves to this thing," he went on, "have stopped at nothing. No chance has been too desperate, no hope too small. And now that, as I have said, the reward is all but inour hands, do you think we will pause—that we will weaken in our purpose—that we will surrender the paper to you because you come here and demand it?"
"If you do suppose so," said Drevenoff, "you do not know us. You are only one; if we failed before, it does not follow that we will fail again. You were right, Julia," to the girl; "I should have used the revolver you offered me instead of the gas. It would have been sure, and would have saved us further trouble."
"Ah," said the secret agent, "so it was a revolver she offered you. I recall your refusal of it very well. And I also recall," thoughtfully, "that it was a pistol shot which ended the life of Dr. Morse. Perhaps she also offered you the weapon in that instance."
"What!" cried the young Pole. "Do you mean to say——"
But Ashton-Kirk interrupted him.
"I mean to say," said he, "that I know you were in the library on the night of the murder.
"Wait!" As Drevenoff seemed about to interrupt him. "Do you mean to say that you were not in the library that night, secretly? Do you mean to say that you did not steal down the front staircase, unfasten a rear window, and admit a woman? And do you mean to say that you didnot make a search, and in doing so cut your hand upon a glass drawer knob?"
Drevenoff gasped, and a wild look came into his eyes; in a moment the girl was at his side, whispering soothingly to him, all her defiance gone, her manner soft and anxious.
"If I were to tell these things in a court of law," said Ashton-Kirk, and he shrugged his shoulders, "and then followed them up by showing your entire willingness to take human life, as demonstrated by your venture with the illuminating gas, do you think there would be much chance of your escaping conviction for the murder of Dr. Morse?"
Drevenoff shook himself free from the girl; his face was white, and he trembled from head to foot; but the wild look of terror in his eyes had given place to one of desperate resolution. Karkowsky seemed to read the look; and what it told him, apparently, agreed well with his own inclinations at the moment, for his hand stole to his pocket and he took a forward step.
"You would have us into a law court, would you?" asked the younger Pole, in a husky voice. "And you'd put a rope aroundmyneck! Well, maybe you would, if you got the chance; but you have not yet done it, and youwillnot!"
With the last word he leaped upon Ashton-Kirk, his hands gripping at his throat, and at the same moment Karkowsky drew a shining object fromhis pocket. What would have happened would be difficult to say; but at the first sign of violence, Fuller, Burgess and some others burst into the room; Karkowsky was seized and the younger man was torn away from the secret agent.
The latter readjusted his collar with one hand, and smiled quietly.
"To grip a man by the throat is a very primitive mode of attack, my dear sir," said he. "The very best authorities have set their faces against it, for while you are so engaged, you leave yourself open to more or less deadly counter movements. But as it happened, this," and a scarlet something showed in his hand, "is the only thing that happened to you. I was too seriously engaged in picking your pockets to think of anything else."
What reply Drevenoff made to this did not seem to interest the secret agent a great deal, however; for he turned his back upon them all, and, under a light, began making an examination of his find. They caught the rustle of paper, and saw him place something carefully in his pocketbook. When he finally turned, his aides were about leading the prisoners from the room. At the door there was a halt; the girl turned toward him.
"It's too late to deny anything in which we have had a hand," said she, disregarding the muttered warnings of Karkowsky. "But the one thingwith which we had nothing to do I will deny. Neither he," pointing to Drevenoff, "nor I killed Dr. Morse. I admit everything else; but that one thing we did not do."
Ashton-Kirk said nothing; and the girl went on:
"Drevenoffdidadmit me to the house on the night the doctor was killed. He had searched for the paper everywhere; and knowing that I was clever at such things, he asked me to help him. It was for the same purpose that I was in the house on the night we tried to fix you with the illuminating gas.
"But," and her hands went up dramatically, "we did not lay a hand upon the doctor. He was seated in his chair, dead, when we went into the library. If he was murdered," and her voice sank, "I can indicate the guilty person."
"Who was it?" asked Burgess.
"It was his secretary—Warwick."
"You did not see him do it?" It was Fuller who asked the question.
"No; but after we had searched everywhere, we heard a sound; I was just about to open a bag which I saw on the floor and Drevenoff whispered to me to run. I did so, taking the bag with me. I had stepped out of the window and was looking about, when Warwick leaped out after me and seized the bag. I tried to tear it from him, butcould not. Then I ran, leaving it in his hands." There was a silence for a moment, then she added, "What I have just said is the absolute truth. If you are even half as clever a man as you are said to be," to Ashton-Kirk, "you will find this to be so."
And with that she followed Karkowsky and Drevenoff from the room, each guarded by a stout plain clothes man.
Ashton-Kirk, after Burgess led the prisoners away, turned to a telephone and in a moment had the office.
"A gentleman will probably ask to see me in a little while; if so, send him here."
And as he turned toward Fuller, that young man said, in a dubious sort of way:
"What do you think of that story which the girl just now told? Can there be any truth in it?"
"It is all truth," said Ashton-Kirk, quietly.
"All truth!" Fuller opened his eyes to their widest extent. "Then you have made up your mind Warwick is the murderer."
Ashton-Kirk smiled.
"As to that," said he, "we will allow him to speak for himself. I expect him here at any moment."
"Here!"
"Yes," replied the secret agent. And then as a low knock sounded upon the door, he added, "More than likely that is he now."
In response to his "Come in," Philip Warwick entered. Closing the door behind him, he advanced slowly, and then paused facing Ashton-Kirk.
"I believe," said he, quietly, "that you desire to see me."
He was rather pale and obviously nervous; but for all that he made a good attempt to appear at ease.
"It was very kind of you to come at this hour," said Ashton-Kirk. "Will you sit down?"
The young man did so.
"I did not know just where you were putting up," proceeded Ashton-Kirk, "and so had to call up one hotel after another."
"I was at the Carlton," said Warwick. "I got the call a half-hour ago. And now that I am here," with a squaring of his shoulders, "will you kindly be as brief as possible?"
"Brevity suits me exactly," said Ashton-Kirk. "But before making a beginning, don't you think it advisable to secure the presence of one more person? I think," significantly, "she has returned from Von Stunnenberg's by this."
For an instant Philip Warwick hesitated; then he went to the telephone; and in a very few minutes there came a knock upon the door. Fuller opened it, and Stella Corbin entered swiftly; with a cry she ran to Warwick, and he put his armsabout her protectingly, while his eyes seemed to defy the secret agent.
"And now," said the latter, after the girl had gained control of herself, "suppose we make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and then come at once to that which has brought us together."
When all were seated, he resumed:
"There are a great many points in this case which remain to be cleared up. Some of these," and his eyes searched their faces, "are things upon which you two only can throw a light."
But the girl and the young man remained looking at him coldly and in silence. He smiled.
"Your present attitude is not unfamiliar," said he to Miss Corbin. "I think," reflectively, "that I noted it first upon the day after the murder of your uncle when we met you upon the stairs. And," his brows lifting in polite inquiry, "as you had just finished a somewhat earnest conversation with your neighbor Okiu, I've often wondered just how much he had to do with my loss of your confidence."
"You are right," said Stella Corbin, steadily. "It was Mr. Okiu who first told me what many things have since convinced me is the truth. He was passing the window where I stood that morning and stopped to express his sympathy. We entered into a conversation and he told me of the paper—I had never heard of it before—and hetold me that you were endeavoring to become possessed of it.
"But I believed in you then, and replied that you had been engaged by Mr. Warwick to clear up a mystery which surrounded my uncle. However, he said he knew your methods. You had no doubt in some insidious way caused yourself to be suggested to Mr. Warwick for the——"
"Stella!" cried Warwick, in astonishment.
"Is it so surprising that this should be true?" she asked turning to him. "Have not much more surprising things happened of late?"
Warwick made no reply to this, but directed a look toward the secret agent.
"One would have thought," said the latter, composedly, "that Okiu's being so manifestly an interested person would have weakened the plausibility of his story. But," and he smiled as he went on, "perhaps he did not divulge the real nature of the paper." He caught the look that came into her face, and added: "I see that he did not. A clever manwouldnot, and Okiu is really very clever."
He paused for a few moments as though expecting either one or the other to speak; but as they did not do so, remaining cold faced and unbelieving, he resumed:
"I see that there is very little that I can say that will tend toward reëstablishing our firstfriendly relationship. And this being the case, we shall waste no more time upon the attempt." He took a note-book from his pocket and turning over the leaves, said: "Here I have the main points of the affair of Dr. Morse from the time of your visit to me," nodding to Warwick, "until the time Miss Corbin removed the sought-for document from the candlestick in the library of the house on Fordham Road."
At this the girl started up with a little startled cry; but Warwick drew her back with a whispered warning.
The secret agent smiled.
"You seem surprised that I should know just where you found the paper," he said. "Do you forget that I was in the house on the night that it was done?" There was another brief pause; then he went on: "However, in tracing out this matter, I have come upon indications and have arrived at conclusions which may surprise you still more." His turning of the pages of the note-book stopped, and with his finger marking a penciled entry, he said to Warwick: "This woman in New York—have you settled your matters with her?"
It was now the young man's turn to show discomposure. But it was for an instant only.
"A woman?" said he, inquiringly. "I don't think I understand."
"Of course," said Ashton-Kirk, with a gesture, "it is your privilege to assume any attitude you choose; but I must say that I consider this one faulty. Thereisa woman! And she insists that she has some sort of a legal claim upon you. This you deny; and Miss Corbin believes you."
"Mr. Warwick," exclaimed the girl, warmly, "has my utmost confidence."
"Thank you," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "We will now consider the existence of the woman as having been admitted." He settled back in his chair, and went on: "Some time ago Dr. Morse received a number of letters. They were brought to him by a second woman—one whom you," to Warwick, "did not know."
A quick look of surprise passed between the girl and the young man; but they kept silent.
"From that time," said Ashton-Kirk, easily, "there was a decided feeling between Dr. Morse and his secretary. Quarrels were frequent; he was not careful as to his words and you resented his brutality. On the night of the murder he struck you," looking at Warwick. "He struck you in the face; and you," turning his eyes swiftly upon the girl, "saw the blow and were glad."
"Glad!" the girl echoed the word. "Yes, Iwasglad. Because I knew that that would mark the end of your hesitancy," to Warwick. "Iknew that you would act—that you would not be content with merely denying."
Ashton-Kirk nodded.
"If you had read my notes," said he, tapping his book approvingly, "you could not have made a statement more in accord with them." He looked at them for a moment, and then went on: "Dr. Morse had made up his mind finally to interview this woman. He had placed the letters in his hand-bag and was preparing for the trip when you," to Stella, "convinced him that he was making a mistake, and succeeded in obtaining his consent that Warwick make the journey with the letters instead. Am I right?"
"You are," replied Warwick. "I had known this woman," in explanation. "She heard of my intended marriage with Miss Corbin, claimed that she was my wife and forged certain letters to substantiate her claim. The entire matter was absurd, though Dr. Morse chose to regard it seriously. But at last hedidconsent to giving me the letters, permitting me to seek out the woman and force her to tell the truth."
"I see," said Ashton-Kirk. "It was while upon a landing of the back stairs that you were told that the letters were in the hand-bag in the library, and you at once went to get them, meaning to catch the next New York train. Miss Corbin went as far as the lower hall with you, then returned toher room. You entered the library. It was dark. A sound attracted you in the rear room. You went toward it, and as you gained the doorway you saw a woman with the bag in her hand step out of the low window to the lawn."
"You were there!" cried Warwick.
"No," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "Some of the things which I have told you were seen, or heard. Others I have gathered from signs. I have merely connected all of these by reasoning out what must have occurred to bring about the results that followed."
"I did see a woman step out upon the lawn," said Warwick, "and I followed her."
"Of course," said the secret agent. "You knew it was a woman who had brought the letters to Dr. Morse; and that you had not seen her is shown by the fact that you suspected that the woman with the bag was the same. You fancied that she had somehow learned of Dr. Morse's intention to turn the letters over to you; and in fear of what you might do and knowing that the letters were palpable forgeries, she had effected an entrance to the house and was trying to make off with them. If it occurred to you that she had been exceedingly quick to gain her information, and had suspiciously little trouble getting into the house, you might have suspected the collusion of Dr. Morse. As you had a deep-seated aversionto him, this thought would have been natural enough."
"As a matter of fact," said Warwick, slowly, "what you say is practically the truth. But," and there was a strong curiosity in his voice, "it is not possible that you have reasoned your way to this."
Ashton-Kirk smiled.
"Most things to which we are unaccustomed seem difficult," replied he. "This particular conclusion was arrived at very simply. It is based upon the fact that you did not give an alarm. Had you thought the woman was a housebreaker, you would not have contented yourself with taking the bag from her and watching her make away." And as young Warwick was staring, deeply struck by this explanation, the secret agent continued: "But, tell me, what made you reënter by the window after she had gone?"
"To have an understanding with Dr. Morse. But I got no further than the back room when I changed my mind. That would wait, but the railroad wouldn't. If I became involved in a quarrel with him I might miss the train."
"Ah! I saw your tracks upon the window-sill, showing that you had gone in that way as well as come out. But your reasons puzzled me. You will observe," smiling, "there are some things for which Icannotsupply the answer."
"I passed around the back of the house, just asthe newspapers said," spoke Warwick, "and leaped the fence. I did this to save time. I had no idea what the hour was, and did not wish to be late."
"It was then that the Japanese saw you," said Ashton-Kirk. "Okiu sent one of his men to follow you, thinking something was in the wind. It was this man who was afterward found dead in your room at the New York hotel."
"He got into the room during my momentary absence," stated Warwick, who now seemed not at all backward in rendering help. "I came upon him just as he had slashed the bag open and removed the letters. These I snatched from him, and as he leaped at me I knocked him down. In a rage at his defeat he then killed himself, Japanese fashion, before my eyes. Knowing that I should be held for an explanation of this, and not wishing to become involved in a delay at that time, I managed to slip from the hotel without being seen.
"Later I saw the account of Dr. Morse's death in the newspapers and learned that my sudden and secret departure had caused me to be suspected. But I determined not to make my whereabouts known until I completed the business which took me to New York. This I did very effectually after I found the woman I had sought; then I returned."
"First," said Ashton-Kirk, "you communicated with Miss Corbin, made certain arrangements with her on the telephone and then paid a visit. You had probably recognized the Japanese of the hotel room as one whom you had seen about Okiu's. This had aroused a suspicion in you that possibly Okiu knew more of certain things than any one else."
"What you have said is quite correct," said the young man, composedly. "First I intended making an open visit to the Japanese, and made my way to his house for that purpose. But I saw you entering at the front door and changed my mind. Miss Corbin had spoken of you with some suspicion over the telephone. I thought it best to take no chances and at the same time I wanted to learn more about the Japanese and your apparent intimacy with them. So I entered secretly from the rear of the house. However, I had not gone further than the first floor when I came upon you in the dark."
Ashton-Kirk laughed and touched the patch of plaster with a finger tip.
"You strike a sharp blow," he said. "But tell me, what had Okiu to say when we burst through the door into the lighted apartment?"
Warwick shook his head.
"There was no one there. I saw that it would not do to leave you, so I lifted you and carriedyou out of the house by the rear door. I meant to call attention to you, and after gaining the lawn behind the house of Dr. Morse, I heard some one opening a door. I placed you upon the ground and stepped back. It was Drevenoff who came out, and he found you almost instantly."
"I thank you," said Ashton-Kirk, "not only for that good service, but for your willingness to speak." He turned to the girl and added: "Perhaps it would help matters greatly if you were equally willing. Believe me, Okiu had his reasons for implanting suspicion in your mind against me. He was quite right if he told you that I was searching for the paper concealed in the scapular; I knew that it was in your uncle's possession after my first visit to Fordham Road, and made up my mind to have it. But murder is not my business. I gain my ends by other means."
"Tell me," said the girl, and she bent a little toward him, "have you gained your end in this case?"
"I have," returned the secret agent.
She gave a little gasp.
"It was you, then, who took the scapular from me at the embassy?"
He laughed and shook his head.
"No," he answered, "it was not. It came to my possession only about a half hour ago." Helooked at her for a moment, and then went on: "I will not ask how it came into your possession, or rather how you knew of its being in the candlestick, for I already know."
"You know?" She arose, her face white.
He nodded.
"Yes;" and here his voice sank. "I also know who killed your uncle."
Her hand went out, trembling; her face was so bloodless that Warwick sprang up, alarmed.
"You are sure?" she asked, quaveringly.
Again the secret agent nodded.
"I am quite sure," he said.
At an early hour next day, Ashton-Kirk paid a visit to the secretary; what passed between them can only be guessed, but that the scarlet scapular and its accompanying document was one of them, is a certainty. Then the secret agent, accompanied by Fuller, boarded a train leaving Washington and went speeding homeward. Fuller, though sorely troubled, managed to contain himself until they had almost finished the journey. Then, as one unable to combat his curiosity any longer, he said:
"I wonder how many of those things which old Nanon suspected regarding the Corbin girl are true?"
Without turning his eyes from the flat country which whirled by the car window, Ashton-Kirk said:
"There are a great many well-meaning people whose views or statements cannot be accepted without great risk. Nanon is one of these."
"Then you do not believe what she told youupon the various occasions when you talked to her?"
Ashton-Kirk proceeded as though he had not heard the question.
"As we saw at almost the first glance, the woman is a fanatic; she hated 'pagans,' as she termed the Japanese; she feared Morse because of his views; to her mind he was possessed by a spirit of evil. This feeling grew so strong in the course of time that she began to feel that even his surroundings must necessarily be evil, that those who possessed the same blood, or for whom he cared, must be filled with demonic impulses."
"That is probably so," said Fuller. "Something of the sort occurred to me once or twice after you told me of the things she said on the day she visited you." He was silent for some little time; his mind seemed to have turned to a fresh matter for bewilderment, for he finally said: "I heard all you said to Miss Corbin at the Tillinghast and a great deal of it was plain enough. But what I can't understand is the affair of Okiu, Miss Corbin and the taxi-cab. She was seen to enter the cab with the Jap at a time when she had in her possession the thing which he desired most in the world. And, instead of taking it then, he preferred to wait and lay a rather ornate plan which was not at all sure to succeed."
"The story of the old watchman, whom wetalked to at the drug store that night, gave me some hours of hard work," said Ashton-Kirk. "And I burned up quite a bit of tobacco before I finally worked the truth out of it." He turned toward his aide lazily and asked: "Suppose there had been two taxi-cabs instead of one that night?"
"Two?" Fuller did not seem to grasp the suggestion.
"Okiu got into one; it turned, and vanished around the corner. Then a second appeared, coming from the direction in which the first had gone. As taxis are unusual in Eastbury at night the watchman never dreamed but that it was the same one returning."
"But," protested Fuller, "he saw the Jap open the taxi door."
"He said so, yes. But after I had considered the matter I went to him and asked a few questions. It was as I thought. He had taken the cab for granted in the first place, and he took the Jap for granted in the second."
"But Okiu bought two tickets for Washington."
"One was for his confederate, Humadi, who joined him at the station."
"The second cab, then——" Fuller paused, expectantly.
"I hunted it up. It had been engaged by young Warwick. He and Miss Corbin had agreed over the telephone to meet at a certainhour upon the corner where the policeman noticed the girl waiting. Warwick went to secure the cab to take them to the station, and was delayed in some way. As he did not appear, she evidently became nervous, fancied that she had made a mistake and that he had really named the corner above as the place of meeting. She had started for this, when his cab turned the corner, halted and took her up."
"Yes, yes," said Fuller. "I see now that that could very readily have happened. But," with a lift of his brows, "if the Japanese were not in on the finding of the scapular, why did they take it intotheirheads to bolt so suddenly for Washington?"
"The attempt upon me had failed," returned Ashton-Kirk. "They feared to remain without instructions, and so hurried to Washington to lay the facts before their superiors. Burgess noted them upon the train, and was a witness to the amazement they showed at sight of Karkowsky and his friends.
"However, none of the latter saw the Japanese. Okiu, as I think I have said before, is a clever man. He saw that something was ripe, or considered to be so by the Poles, and so he clung to them secretly after they had reached the capital. And within an hour he had learned that Miss Corbin was at the Tillinghast! The observation ofall this was a deft piece of observation upon the part of Culberson's fellows. They are much more deserving than I ever gave them credit for."
There was quiet a long period in which nothing more passed between the two men. Indeed the train was slowing up to stop when Fuller asked:
"You have given up all thought of the girl or Warwick having had any hand in the death of Dr. Morse?"
"I never had any such thought," said Ashton-Kirk. "To be sure," smilingly, "they puzzled me more than a little from time to time. The girl's fear of the police, from the very first, was a thing that interested me. But that may be safely attributed to a natural uncertainty. There was bad blood between her lover and her uncle; perhaps the former in a fit of rage had killed the latter. She feared this possibility, and in consequence dreaded the police."
"And the shoes with the caked soil upon the soles?"
"As I remarked at the time you discovered them, our own shoes were in like condition."
"Okiu is a resourceful, secretive man," said Fuller. "And, being so, why did he tell Miss Corbin of the paper? Her knowledge of its existence could not benefit him in any way, and her possible discovery of it could only have hurt him."
Ashton-Kirk laughed.
"By telling her what he did, he gained a valued aide. He had planted an unwearying searcher in the house which he could in no other way enter. If the girl found the paper, so he figured, she would at once acquaint him with the fact. And I have no doubt but that this is the very thing that would have happened had not Warwick arrived with his newly created suspicions of the Japanese."
They took a taxi at the station and were speeding toward the house of Ashton-Kirk, when Fuller spoke again.
"Several times," said he, "I have heard you say that you know who killed Dr. Morse. I suppose that to-day will see the arrest of the murderer."
Ashton-Kirk nodded.
"Yes," said he, "I suppose so."
The driver of the cab was paid and dismissed and the two entered the house.
"Any one here, Stumph?" asked Ashton-Kirk.
"Mr. O'Neill and Mr. Purvis," replied the man.
These two were seated in a room off the secret agent's study, engaged in conversation.
"How is this?" demanded Ashton-Kirk, rather sharply. "I thought that either one or the other of you was to remain at the Fordham Road place until I called you off."
"Well, seeing that the regular police are there," said O'Neill, "we thought we could ease up a bit."
"The regular police!" exclaimed the secret agent.
"Then you didn't get my wire. Yes, the regulars are on the job there now. The old servant is dead—died while sitting muttering over her prayer-book. It was perfectly natural, I feel sure, but the police, in view of what has already happened in the house, are going to take no chances."
The two men had gone, and Ashton-Kirk sat smoking a cigar in his big chair.
"A while ago," said he, "you said that you supposed that to-day would witness the arrest of the assassin of Dr. Morse; and I think I agreed that it would. But now——" he stopped and shook his head.
Fuller regarded him for a moment; then an expression of incredulity came upon his face.
"By George!" cried he. "Surely you can't mean that——"
"I mean that it is too late," interrupted Ashton-Kirk. He drew at the cigar reflectively for a space and then continued: "The thing as far as I could learn happened this way:
"One day while still at Sharsdale, Nanon, in turning over her employer's belongings, came upon the scapular given him by Colonel Drevenoff. She was horrified at the thought of so holy an emblem being in the possession of such a blasphemer,and at once all sorts of reasons for his having it occurred to her. She had perhaps heard of the Black Mass, and fancied no doubt that she had come upon evidence of some such another sacrilege. She quietly took the scapular, therefore, and hid it."
"And she never told him?"
"Not until the night of his death. Then she was called into the library, as she stated, and in some manner the thing came out. I talked with her as to this later before leaving for Washington, but she could give no clear account of it. However, I think he uttered some sort of a taunt, as was his habit, and she replied in kind. The meaning of the drawings sent by Okiu had gradually dawned upon her, it seems, and she had concluded that the suspense which he suffered because of them was a sort of retribution. She must have put this thought into words, and in an instant the truth was out. In a rage he took a revolver from his desk. She did not know whether it was merely an attempt to frighten her or no; however, she feared for her life and snatched at the weapon. It exploded and he fell back into the chair.
"Yes; it was old Nanon who killed Morse. She concealed the revolver upon her person and went to the front door, where she sat for some time, as she told in her first story. She was calmand self-contained—she felt that she had done no wrong."
"And so she concluded it would be best to 'find the body' when she brought in the coffee?"
"Yes; and while she was engaged with this Drevenoff stole down the front stairs, admitted his woman confederate to the room back of the library—and discovered the dead body of Dr. Morse. Then followed the fear-filled search; the approach of Warwick added to their fright. They evidently carried a pocket torch, which accounts for the library being dark when Warwick entered. Then the girl, Julia, made an effort to escape with the bag; and while Warwick was in pursuit of her, Drevenoff crept back to his room."
Fuller nodded slowly.
"Yes," said he, "it could very easily have been that way. But tell me this: The old woman knew all the time that she was responsible for the death of Morse; so why did she manifest so much uneasiness whenever Warwick was mentioned in the matter?"
"She was alarmed at his disappearance because she was shrewd enough to know that this would attract attention toward him. There were two reasons for this. She felt kindly toward Warwick, and so disliked his being falsely accused. Then, if he was arrested, she would be forced to confess the truth to save him. She had these things inmind when she withheld the fact that she had seen Morse strike the young man.
"She claimed to have heard voices in the library while she sat upon the step. Now, Dr. Morse was dead at that time and none of the others had yet gone into the room.
"The voices were a fiction. She thought to mislead the police by the invention. Or perhaps she really thought she heard them; I did not question her very closely upon this point. A woman like that is apt to see and hear things which do not exist. Witness her suspicion of Miss Corbin. She fancied that for some dark reasons the girl was making an effort to have the crime fixed upon Warwick, while professing to love him. That Miss Corbin had been long under the influence of Dr. Morse made this idea, to Nanon's mind, not only possible, but probable.