53CHAPTER VTHE WILL
Henry Blainesat in his office, leisurely turning over the pages of a morning newspaper; his attitude was one of apparent idleness, but the occasional swift glances he darted at the clock and a slight lifting of his eyebrows at the least sound from without betokened the fact that he was waiting for some one or something.
His eyes scanned the columns of each page with seeming carelessness, yet their keen glances missed not one significant phrase. And suddenly his gaze was transfixed by a paragraph tucked away in a corner of the second page.
It was merely an account of trouble between capital and labor in a distant manufacturing city, and a hint of an organized strike which threatened for the immediate future. The great detective was not at all a politician, and the social and economic conditions of the day held no greater import for him than for any other conscientious, far-seeing citizen of the country, yet he sat for a long moment with wrinkled brow and pursed lips, musing, while the newspaper dropped unheeded upon the desk.
His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the sharp, insistent tinkling of the telephone; a clear, girlish voice came to him over the wire:
“Is this Grosvenor 0760? This is Miss Lawton54speaking. An alteration must be made at once in that last gown you sent me, and it is imperative that I see you in person concerning it. It will be inconvenient for me to have you come here this morning. Where shall I see you? At your establishment or––”
She paused suggestively, and he replied with a hurried question.
“It is absolutely necessary, Miss Lawton, that you see me in person? You are quite sure?”
“Absolutely.” Her voice held a ring of earnestness and something more which caused him to jump to a lightning-like decision.
“Very well. I will meet you in twenty minutes at your Working Girls’ Club. I am an architect, remember, and you wish to build a new and more improved institution of the same order on another site. Therefore, you have met me there to show me over the old building and suggest changes in its plans for the new one. You understand, Miss Lawton? My name is Banks, remember, and––be a few minutes late.”
“I understand perfectly. Thank you. Good-by.”
The receiver at the other end of the line clicked abruptly, and the detective sprang to his feet.
A quarter of an hour later Blaine presented himself at the Anita Lawton Club, where a trim maid ushered him into a tiny office. There, behind the desk, sat a girl, and at sight of her, the detective, master of himself as he was, gave an imperceptible start.
There was nothing remarkable about her; she was quite a common type of girl: slender, not too tall, with a wealth of red-brown hair, and soft hazel eyes; yet she reminded Blaine vaguely but insistently of some one else––some one whom he had encountered in the past.
He recovered himself at once, and presented the card55which announced him as the senior member of the firm of Banks and Frost, architects.
“Whom did you wish to see, sir?” The girl turned slowly about in her swivel chair and regarded him respectfully but coolly. Her voice was low and gentle and distinctly feminine, yet it brought to him again that haunting sense of resemblance which the first vision of her had caused.
“Miss Lawton,” he replied, quietly.
“But Miss Lawton is not here.” The girl’s surprise was unfeigned.
“I have an appointment to meet her here at this time. She may perhaps have been detained. She has arranged to go over the club building with me. As you see by my card, I am an architect and she is planning more extensive work, I believe, along the lines instituted here––at least that is the impression she has given my firm. I will wait a short time, if I may. You are connected with the official work of the club?”
“I am the secretary.” The girl paused and then added, “I understand perfectly, sir. Will you be seated, please? Miss Lawton had not told me of her appointment here with you. She will without doubt arrive shortly.”
Henry Blaine seated himself, and as she started to turn back to her desk, he asked quickly:
“You must find the work here very interesting, do you not? We––our firm––have erected several philanthropic institutions of learning and recreation, but none precisely on this order. Miss Lawton has shown us the plans of this present club and we consider the arrangement of the dormitories particularly ingenious, with regard to economy of space and the requisite sunlight and air.”
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“Oh, yes!” The girl turned toward him swiftly, her face suffused with interest. “Miss Lawton drew all the plans herself, and they were not changed in the least. I don’t see how they could possibly be improved upon. Miss Lawton has done splendid work here, sir; the club has been a wonderful success since it was first opened.”
“It must have been.” The detective paused, then added easily, “I know that her late father was very proud of her executive ability. You––er––you educate young women here, do you not, and train them for positions?”
“We not only train the members of the club, but obtain positions for them, with reputable business firms,” the girl answered.
“Indeed?” Blaine asked, with apparent surprise. “What sort of positions do the members of your club fill?”
“Whatever they are capable of acquiring a working knowledge of. Filing clerks, stenographers, secretaries, switchboard operators, telegraphers, even governesses. We have never had a failure, and I think it is because Miss Lawton gives not only her personal attention, but real love and faith to each girl. She is––wonderful.”
The face of the young woman was rapt as she spoke, and Blaine could guess without further explanation that she herself was a protégée of Miss Lawton’s, and a grateful one––unless she were playing a part. If so, she was an actress of transcendent ability.
“You say that you have never had a failure. That must, indeed, be encouraging,” Blaine remarked, tentatively. “Perhaps we might arrange later with you or Miss Lawton to place one or two of your clerks or stenographers. We are enlarging our offices––”
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“Good morning!” a fresh young voice interrupted him, and Anita Lawton stood upon the threshold. “Did Mr. Banks come yet?––ah, yes, I see. How do you do?”
Blaine arose, and Anita gave him her hand cordially. His quick eyes observed that in passing she patted the shoulder of her secretary affectionately, and the girl looked up at her quickly, with eyes aglow. The truth was no longer concealed from his discernment. The girl was staunch in every fiber of her being.
“Miss Lawton, I am sorry, but I have really not any too much time this morning. If we could proceed to business at once.”
“Certainly. If you will come this way, Mr. Banks––” At the door she paused, and turned to the secretary: “I will see you later, dear.”
Anita led the detective swiftly through the wide, clean halls and up the stairs, explaining in clear, distinct tones the floor-plan. On the second floor she opened the door leading into a little ante-room at the front of the house just over the office, and when they were seated, she said quickly, with rising excitement, although her voice was carefully hushed.
“Mr. Bl––Banks, I have something to show you––my father’s will! It was discovered, or rather, produced, yesterday. The lawyers who have charge of the estate––Anderson & Wallace, you know––seem to me to be perfectly disinterested, and honest, but I am so hedged in on every hand by a stifling feeling of deceit and treachery that I feel I can trust no one save you and Mr. Hamilton––not even poor old Ellen, my maid, who has been with me since I was born!”
“I quite understand, Miss Lawton, and I realize how difficult the situation is for you, but I want you to trust58no one––at least, to the extent of giving them your confidence. Now about the will; it was produced by your late father’s attorneys?”
“No, by President Mallowe, of the Street Railways. It appears that Father left it in his charge. Mr. Anderson drew it; his partner, Mr. Wallace, witnessed it; and they both assure me that it is absolutely authentic. Here it is.”
She opened her bag and handed a long envelope to him, but at first his attention was held by what she had said, and he frowned as he repeated quickly:
“‘Authentic?’ I trust you did not show any suspicion that you doubted for a moment that it was genuine?”
“Oh, by no means! It was Mr. Anderson himself who took especial pains to assure me of its authenticity.”
Blaine regarded the envelope reflectively for a moment before he raised the flap. Why had the attorney considered it necessary to assure his late client’s daughter that the will which he had himself drawn was genuine?
The will was short and to the point. In it Pennington Lawton left everything of which he died possessed to his daughter, unconditionally and without reservation.
“Of course, Miss Lawton, since you are only twenty, and your father has named no guardian or trustee, the courts will at once appoint one, and I have no hesitation in saying that I believe the guardian so appointed will be one of your father’s three associates, presumably Mr. Mallowe. However, that will make little difference in our investigation, and, since it is claimed that all your father’s huge fortune is lost, the matter of a guardian59cannot tie our hands in any way. Now, just a moment, please.”
He drew from his pocket a small but powerful magnifying glass and the slip of paper which Ramon Hamilton had sent him, on which was the signature of the late Pennington Lawton. Through the microscope he carefully compared it with that affixed to the will and then looked up reassuringly.
“It is quite all right, Miss Lawton. In my estimation the will is authentic and your father’s signature genuine.” He folded the paper, slipped it in its envelope and returned it to her. “There is one thing now which I must most earnestly caution you against. Do not sign any paper, no matter who wishes it or orders it––no matter if it is the most trivial household receipt. Do not write any letters yourself, or notes to any one, even to Mr. Hamilton; you understand they might be intercepted. If anyone wishes you to sign a paper relating to the matter of your father’s estate, say you cannot do so until you have shown it in private to Mr. Hamilton––that you have promised you will not do so. Any other papers you can easily evade signing. As for your private correspondence, obtain a social secretary, and permit her to sign everything––one whom you can trust––say, one of your girls from here, that girl downstairs, for instance. What is her name?”
Anita Lawton rose, and a peculiar pained expression passed over her features.
“I am sorry, Mr. Blaine––really, really I am sorry. I cannot tell you her name. That was one of the conditions under which she came to us here––that is why I have given her an official position here in the Club. She is staunch and faithful and true; I know it, I feel it; and she is too high-principled to pass under any name60not her own. I know and am heartily in sympathy with the reason for her secretiveness. You know that I trust you implicitly, but I know you would not have me go back on my word when once it has been given.”
“Certainly not, Miss Lawton. I realize that many of your protégées here may come of unfortunate antecedents. If you feel that you can trust her, use her. Do you feel equally sure of the other members of your Club?”
“Absolutely. I feel that they all really love me; that they would do anything for me they could in the world, and yet I have done so little for them––only given them the little help which I was able to bestow, which we should all do for those less fortunate than ourselves.... Why did you ask me, Mr. Blaine, if I felt that I could trust the girls who have placed themselves under my care?”
“Because we may have need of them in the future. They may be of the most vital assistance to us in this investigation, should events turn out as I anticipate and they prove worthy of the charge it may be necessary for me to impose on them. But enough of that for now. If at any time you wish to see me, personally, telephone me as you did this morning and I will meet you here.”
The detective left her in the office of the secretary, and as he made his adieus to them both he cast a last quick, penetrating glance at the girl behind the desk. Again that vague sense of resemblance possessed him. With whom was she connected? Why was her name so significantly withheld?
In the meantime Guy Morrow, from his post of observation in the window of the little cottage on Meadow Lane, had watched the object of his espionage for several fruitless days––fruitless, because the actions of the61man Brunell had been so obviously those of one who felt himself utterly beyond suspicion.
The erect, gray-haired, clear-eyed man had come and gone about his business, without the slightest attempt at concealment. A few of the simplest inquiries of his land-lady had elicited the fact that the gentleman opposite, old Mr. Brunell, was a map-maker, and worked at his trade in a little shop in the nearest row of brick buildings just around the corner––that he had lived in the little cottage since it had first been erected, six years before, alone with his daughter Emily, and before that, they had for many years occupied a small apartment near by––in fact, the girl had grown up in that neighborhood. He was a quiet man, not very talkative, but well liked by his neighbors, and his daughter was devoted to him. According to Mrs. Quinlan, Guy Morrow’s aforesaid land-lady, Emily Brunell was a dear, sweet girl, very popular among the young people in the neighborhood, but she kept strictly at home in her leisure hours and preferred her father’s companionship to that of anyone else. She was employed in some business capacity downtown, from nine until six; just what it was Mrs. Quinlan did not know.
Morrow kept well in the background, in case Mr. Pennold should put in an appearance again, but he did not. Evidently that conversation overheard by Suraci had been a final one, concerning the securities at least, and no one else called at the little cottage door over the way, except a vapid-faced young man to whom Morrow took an instant and inexplicable dislike.
Morrow made it a point to visit and investigate the little shop at an hour when he knew Brunell would not be there, and found in the cursory examination possible at that time that its purpose seemed to be strictly legitimate.62A shock-headed boy of fifteen or thereabout was in charge, and the operative easily succeeded in engaging his stolid attention elsewhere while, with a bit of soft wax carefully palmed in his left hand, he succeeded in gaining an impression of the lock on the flimsy door. From this he had a key made in anticipation of orders from his chief, requiring a thorough search of the little shop––orders which for the first time in his career, he shrank from.
He made no effort to scrape an acquaintance with Brunell himself, but frequently encountered, as if by accident, the daughter Emily, on her way to and from the subway station. If she recognized in him the young lodger across the street, she made no sign, and as the days passed, Morrow, the man, despaired of gaining her friendship, save through her father, whom Morrow––the operative––had received orders not to approach personally.
Before he had seen her, had he known that the old forger possessed a daughter, he would have laid his plans to worm himself into the confidence of the little family through the girl, but having once laid eyes upon her face in all its gentle, trusting purity, every manly instinct in him revolted at the thought of making her a tool of her father’s probable downfall.
There was a third member of the Brunell household whom Morrow had observed frequently seated upon the doorstep, or on one of the lower window sills––a small, scraggly black kitten, with stiff outstanding fur, and an absurdly belligerent attitude whenever a dog chanced to pass through the lane. It waited in the doorway each night for the return of its mistress, and in the soft glow of the lamplight which streamed from within, he had seen her catch the little creature up affectionately and63cuddle it up against her neck before the door closed upon them.
One afternoon in the early November twilight, as Morrow was returning to his own door after shadowing Brunell on an aimless and chilly walk, he saw the kitten lying curled up just outside its own gate, and an inspiration sprang to his ingenious mind. He seated himself upon the steps of Mrs. Quinlan’s front porch and waited until the darkness had deepened sufficiently to cloak his nefarious scheme. Then, with soft beguiling tone––and a fewsotto voceremarks, for he hated cats––Morrow began a deliberate attempt to entice the kitten across to him.
“Come here, kitty, kitty,” he called softly. “Come, pussy dear! Come here, you mangy, rat-tailed little beast! Come cattykins.”
At his first words the kitten raised its head and regarded him with yellow eyes gleaming through the dusk, in unconcealed antagonism. But, at the soft, purring flattery of his voice, the gleam softened to a glow of pleased interest, and the little creature rose lazily, stretched itself, and tripped lightly over to him, its tail erect in optimistic confidence.
Morrow picked it up gingerly by the neck and tucked it beneath his coat, stroking its head with a reluctant thumb, while it purred loudly in sleepy content, at the warmth of its welcome. The hour was approaching when Emily Brunell usually made her appearance, and he trusted to luck to keep the little animal quiet until she had entered her home and discovered its loss, but the fickle goddess failed him.
The kitten grew suddenly uneasy, as if some intuition warned it of treachery, and tried valiantly to escape from his grasp, and never did Spartan boy with wolf concealed64beneath his tunic suffer more tortures than Morrow with the wretched little creature clawing at his hands.
Would Emily Brunell never come? What could be keeping her to-night, of all nights? Morrow gripped the soft, elusive bundle of fur with desperate firmness and looked across the street. Evidently he was not the only one impatient for her arrival. The doorway opposite had opened, and Jimmy Brunell stood peering anxiously forth into the darkness.
At that moment the kitten emitted a fearsome yowl, which Morrow smothered hastily with his coat. He fancied that the old man turned his head quickly and glanced in his direction, and never had the operative felt guiltier.
Brunell, however, retired within, closing the door after him, and the kitten’s struggles gradually grew weaker and finally ceased.
Morrow felt a horrible fear surging up within him that he had strangled the little beast, and his grasp gradually relaxed. Then he opened his overcoat cautiously and peered within. The kitten was sleeping peacefully, and he heaved a sigh of relief, glancing up just in time to see Emily Brunell pass quickly through her own gate and up to the door.
He sat motionless on the steps of Mrs. Quinlan’s, and his patience was rewarded when after a few moments the Brunell’s door re-opened and he heard the girl’s voice calling anxiously: “Kitty! Kitty!”
Morrow rose with unfeigned alacrity and crossing the road, opened the little gate without ceremony and mounted the steps of the porch.
“I beg your pardon,” he said blandly. “Is this your kitten? It––er––wandered across the street to65me and fell asleep under my coat. I board just over the way, you know, with Mrs. Quinlan. My name is Morrow.”
The girl gave a little cry of relieved anxiety, and caught the kitten in her arms.
“Oh, I am so glad! I was afraid it was lost, and it is so tiny and defenseless to be out all alone in the cold and darkness. Thank you so much, Mr. Morrow. I suppose it was waiting for me, as it usually does, and grew restless at my delay, poor little thing! It was kind of you to comfort it!”
Feeling like an utter brute, Morrow stammered a humble disclaimer of her undeserved gratitude, and moved toward the steps.
“Oh, but it was really kind of you; most men hate cats, although my father loves them. I should have been home much earlier but I was detained by some extra work at the club where I am employed.”
“The club?” he repeated stupidly.
“Yes,” replied the girl, quietly, cuddling the kitten beneath her chin. “The Anita Lawton Club for Working Girls.”
She caught herself up sharply, even as she spoke, and a look almost of apprehension crossed her ingenuous face for a moment, and was gone.
“Thank you again for protecting my kitten for me,” she said softly. “Good-night.”
Guy Morrow walked down the steps and across to his own lodgings with his brain awhirl. The investigation, through the medium of a small black kitten, had indeed taken an amazing turn. Jimmy Brunell’s daughter was a protégée of the daughter of Pennington Lawton!
66CHAPTER VITHE FIRST COUNTER-MOVE
Thelittle paragraph in the newspaper, which, irrelevant as it would seem, had caught the keenly discerning eye of Henry Blaine, grew in length and importance from day to day until it reached a position on the first page, and then spread in huge headlines over the entire sheet. Instead of relating merely the incidents of a labor strike in a manufacturing city––and that city a far-distant one––it became speedily a sociological question of almost national import. The yellow journals were quick to seize upon it at the psychological moment of civic unrest, and throw out hints, vague but vast in their significance, of the mighty interests behind the mere fact of the strike, the great financial question involved, the crisis between capital and labor, the trusts and the common people, the workers and the wasters, in the land of the free.
Henry Blaine, seated in his office, read the scare-heads and smiled his slow, inscrutable, illuminating smile––the smile which, without menace or rancor, had struck terror to the hearts of the greatest malefactors of his generation––which, without flattery or ingratiation, had won for him the friendship of the greatest men in the country. He knew every move in the gigantic game which was being played solely for his attention, long before a pawn was lifted from its place, a single counter changed; he had known it, from the moment that the67seemingly unimportant paragraph had met his eyes; and he also knew the men who sat in the game, whose hands passed over the great chessboard of current events, whose brains directed the moves. And the stakes? Not the welfare of the workingmen in that distant city, not the lifting of the grinding heel of temporal power from the supine bodies of the humble––but the peace of mind, the honorable, untarnished name, the earthly riches of the slender girl who sat in that great darkened house on Belleair Avenue.
Hence Blaine sat back quietly, and waited for the decisive move which he knew to be forthcoming––waited, and not in vain. The spectacular play to the gallery of one was dramatically accomplished; it was heralded by extras bawled through the midnight streets, and full-page display headlines in the papers the next morning.
Promptly on the stroke of nine, Henry Blaine arrived at his office, and as he expected, found awaiting him an urgent telegram from the chief of police of the city where the strike had assumed such colossal importance, earnestly asking him for his immediate presence and assistance. He sent a tentative refusal––and waited. Still more insistent messages followed in rapid succession, from the mayor of that city, the governor of that state, even its representative in the Senate at Washington, to all of which he replied in the same emphatic, negative strain. Then, late in the afternoon, there eventuated that which he had anticipated. Mohammed came to the mountain.
Blaine read the card which his confidential secretary presented, and laid it down upon the desk before him.
“Show him in,” he directed, shortly. He did not rise from his chair, nor indeed change his position an iota, but merely glanced up from beneath slightly raised68eyebrows, when the door opened again and a bulky, pompous figure stood almost obsequiously before him.
“Come in, Mr. Carlis,” he invited coolly. “Take this chair. What can I do for you?”
It was significant that neither man made any move toward shaking hands, although it was obvious that they were acquainted, at least. The great detective’s tone when he greeted his visitor was as distinctly ironical as the latter’s was uneasy, although he replied with a mirthless chuckle, which was intended to be airily nonchalant.
“Nothing for me, Mr. Blaine––that is, not to-day. One can never tell in this period of sudden changes and revolt, when our city may be stricken as another was just a few hours ago. There is no better, cleaner, more honestly prosperous metropolis in these United States to-day, than Illington, but––” Mr. Carlis, the political boss who had ruled for more than a decade in almost undisputed sway, paused and gulped, as if his oratorical eloquence stuck suddenly in his throat.
The detective watched him passively, a disconcerting look of inquiring interest on his mobile face. “It is because of our stricken sister city that I am here,” went on the visitor. “I know I will not be in great favor with you as an advocate, Mr. Blaine. We have had our little tilts in the past, when you––er––disapproved of my methods of conducting my civic office and I distrusted your motives, but that is forgotten now, and I come to you merely as one public-spirited citizen to another. The mayor of Grafton has wired me, as has the chief of police, to urge you to proceed there at once and take charge of the investigation into last night’s bomb outrages in connection with the great strike. They inform me that you have repeatedly refused to-day to come to their assistance.”
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Blaine nodded.
“That is quite true, Mr. Carlis. I did decline the offers extended to me.”
“But surely you cannot refuse! Good heavens, man, do you realize what it means if you do? It isn’t only that there is a fortune in it for you, your reputation stands or falls on your decision! This is a public charge! The people rely upon you! If you won’t, for some reason of your own, come to the rescue now, when you are publicly called upon, you’ll be a ruined man!” The voice of the Boss ascended in a shrill falsetto of remonstrance.
“There may be two opinions as to that, Mr. Carlis,” Blaine returned quietly. “As far as the financial argument goes, I think you discovered long ago that its appeal to me is based upon a different point of view than your own. You forget that I am not a servant of the public, but a private citizen, free to accept or decline such offers as are made to me in my line of business, as I choose. This affair is not a public charge, but a business proposition, which I decline. As to my reputation depending upon it, I differ with you. My reputation will stand, I think, upon my record in the past, even if every yellow newspaper in the city is paid to revile me.”
Carlis rested his plump hands upon his widespread knees, and leaned as far forward, in his eager anxiety, as his obese figure would permit.
“But why?” he fairly wailed, his carefully rounded, oratorical tones forgotten. “Why on earth do you decline this offer, Blaine? You’ve nothing big on hand now––nothing your operatives can’t attend to. There isn’t a case big enough for your attention on the calendar! You know as well as I do that Illington is clean and that the lid is on for keeps! The police are taking70care of the petty crimes, and there’s absolutely nothing doing in your line here at the moment. This is the chance of your career! Why on earth do you refuse it?”
“Well, Mr. Carlis, let us say, for instance, that my health is not quite as good as it was, and I find the air of Illington agrees with it better just now than that of Grafton.” Blaine leaned back easily in his chair, and after a slight pause he added speculatively, with deliberate intent, “I didn’t know you had interests there!”
The Boss purpled.
“Look here, Blaine!” he bellowed. “What d’you mean by that?”
“Merely following a train of thought, Mr. Carlis,” returned the detective imperturbably. “I was trying to figure out why you were so desperately anxious to have me go to Grafton––”
“I tell you I am here at the urgent request of the mayor and the chief of police!” the fat man protested, but faintly, as if the unexpected attack had temporarily winded him. “Why in h––ll should I want you to go to Grafton?”
“Presumably because Grafton is some fourteen hundred miles from Illington,” remarked Blaine, his quietly unemotional tones hardening suddenly like tempered steel. “Going to try to pull off something here in town which you think could be more easily done if I were away? Cards on the table, Mr. Carlis! You tried to bribe me in a case once, and you failed. Then you tried bullying me and you found that didn’t work, either. Now you’ve come again with your hook baited with patriotism, public spirit, the cry of the people and all the rest of the guff the newspapers you control have71been handing out to their readers since you took them over. What’s the idea?”
The Boss rose, with what was intended for an air of injured dignity, but his fat face all at once seemed sagged and wrinkled, like a pricked balloon.
“I did not come here to be insulted!” he announced in his most impressive manner. “I came, as I told you, as a public-spirited citizen, because the officials of another city called upon me to urge you to aid them. I have failed in my mission, and I will go. I am surprised, Blaine, at your attitude; I thought you were too big a man to permit your personal antagonism to me to interfere with your duty––”
For the first time during their interview Blaine smiled slightly.
“Have you ever known me, Mr. Carlis, to permit my personal antagonism to you or any other man to interfere with what I conceive to be my duty?”
Before he replied, the politician produced a voluminous silk handkerchief, and mopped his brow. For some reason he did not feel called upon to make a direct answer.
“Well, what reason am I to give to the Mayor of Grafton and its political leaders, for your refusal? That talk about me trying to get you out of Illington, Blaine, is all bosh, and you know it.I’mrunning Illington just as I’ve run it for the last ten years, in spite of your interference or any other man’s, and I’m going to stay right on the job! If you won’t give any other reason for declining the call to Grafton, than your preference for the air of Illington, then the bets go as they lay!”
He jammed his hat upon his head, and strode from72the room with all the ferocity his rotund figure could express. The first decisive move in the game had failed.
The door was scarcely closed behind him, when Blaine turned to the telephone and called up Anita Lawton on the private wire.
“Can you arrange to meet me at once, at your Working Girls’ Club?” he asked. “I wish to suggest a plan to be put into immediate operation.”
“Very well. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
When the detective arrived at the club, he was ushered immediately to the small ante-room on the second floor, where he found Anita anxiously awaiting him.
“Miss Lawton,” he began, without further greeting than a quick handclasp, “you told me, the other day, that your girls here were all staunch and faithful to you. Your secretary downstairs had previously informed me that they were trained to hold positions of trust, and that you obtained such positions for them. I want you to obtain four positions for four of the girls in whom you place the most implicit confidence.”
“Why, certainly, Mr. Blaine, if I can. Do you mean that they are to have something to do with your investigation into my father’s affairs?”
“I want them to play detective for me, Miss Lawton. Have you four girls unemployed at the moment?––Say, for instance, a filing clerk, a stenographer, a governess and a switchboard operator, who are sufficiently intelligent and proficient in their various occupations, to assume such a trust?”
“Why, yes, I––I think we have. I can find out, of course. Where do you wish to place them?”
“That is the most difficult part of all, Miss Lawton. You must obtain the positions for them. These three73men who stand inloco parentistoward you, as you say, and your spiritual adviser, Dr. Franklin, who so obviously wishes to ingratiate himself with them, would none of them refuse a request of this sort from you at this stage of the game, particularly if they are really engaged in a conspiracy against you. Go to these four men––Mr. Mallowe first––and tell them that because of the sudden, complete loss of your fortune, your club must be disorganized, and beg them each to give one of your girls, special protégées of yours, a position. Send your filing clerk to Mr. Mallowe, your most expert stenographer to Mr. Rockamore, your switchboard operator to Mr. Carlis, and your governess into the household of your minister. I have learned that he has three small children, and his wife applied only yesterday at an agency for a nursery governess. The last proposition may be the most difficult for you to handle, but I think if you manage to convey to the Reverend Dr. Franklin the fact that your three self-appointed guardians have each taken one of your girls into their employ, in order to help them, and that his following their benevolent example would bring him into closerrapportwith them, no objection will be made––provided, of course, the young woman is suitable.”
“I will try, Mr. Blaine, but of course I can do nothing about that until to-morrow, as it is so late in the afternoon. However, I can have a talk with the girls, if they are in now––or would you prefer to interview them?”
“No, you talk with them first, Miss Lawton, and to-morrow morning while you are arranging for their positions I will interview them and instruct them in their primary duties. I will leave you now. Remember that the girls must be absolutely trustworthy, and the stenographer74who will be placed in the office of Mr. Rockamore must be particularly expert.”
After the detective had taken his departure, Anita Lawton descended quickly to the office of the secretary.
“Emily,” she asked, “is Loretta Murfree in, or Fifine Déchaussée?”
“I think they both are, Miss Lawton. Shall I ring for them?”
“Yes, please, Emily; send them to me one at a time, in the ante-room, and let me know when Agnes Olson and Margaret Hefferman come in. I wish to talk with all four of them, but separately.”
Loretta Murfree was the first to put in an appearance. She was a short, dumpy, black-haired girl of twenty, and she bounced into the room with a flashing, wide-mouthed smile.
“How are you, dear Miss Lawton? We have missed you around here so much lately, but of course we knew that you must be very much occupied––”
She stopped and a little embarrassed flush spread over her face.
“I have been, Loretta. Thank you so much for your kind note, and for your share in the beautiful wreath you girls sent in memory of my dear father.”
“Sure, we’re all of us your friends, Miss Lawton; why wouldn’t we be, after all you’ve done for us?”
“It is because I feel that, that I wanted to have a talk with you this afternoon. Loretta, if a position were offered to you as filing clerk in the office of a great financier of this city, at a suitable salary, would you accept it, if you could be doing me a great personal service at the same time?”
“Would I, Miss Lawton? Just try me! I’d take it for the experience alone, without the salary, and jump75at the chance, even if you weren’t concerned in it at all, but if it would be doing you a service at the same time, I’m more than glad.”
“Thank you, Loretta. The position will be with an associate of my father’s, I think, President Mallowe of the Street Railways. You must attend faithfully to your duties, if I am able to obtain this place for you, but I think the main part of your service to me will consist of keeping your eyes open. To-morrow morning a man will come here and interview you––a man in whom you must place implicit confidence and trust, and whose directions you must follow to the letter. He will tell you just what to do for me. This man is my friend; he is working in my interests, and if you care for me you must not fail him.”
“Indeed I won’t, Miss Lawton! I’ll do whatever he tells me.... You said that I was to keep my eyes open. Does that mean that there is something you wish me to find out for you?” she asked shrewdly.
“I cannot tell you exactly what you are to do for me, Loretta. The gentleman whom you are to meet to-morrow morning will give you all the details.” Anita Lawton approached the girl and laid her hand on her shoulder. “I can surely trust you? You will not fail me?”
The quick tears sprang to the Irish girl’s eyes, and for a moment softened their rather hard brilliance.
“You know that you can trust me, Miss Lawton! I’d do anything in the world for you!”
Anita Lawton held a similar conversation with each of the three girls, with a like result. To Fifine Déchaussée, a tall, refined girl, with the colorless, devout face of a religieuse, the probability of entering a minister’s home, as governess for his children, was most welcome. The76young French girl, homesick and alone in a strange land, had found in Anita Lawton her one friend, and her gratitude for this first opportunity given her, seemed overwhelming. Margaret Hefferman rejoiced at the possible opportunity of becoming a stenographer to the great promoter, Mr. Rockamore; and demure, fair-haired little Agnes Olson was equally pleased with the prospect of operating a switchboard in the office of Timothy Carlis, the politician.
Meantime, back in his office, Henry Blaine was receiving the personal report of Guy Morrow.
“The old man seems to be strictly on the level,” he was saying. “He attends to his own affairs and seems to be running a legitimate business in his little shop, where he prints and sells maps. I went there, of course, to look it over, but I couldn’t see anything crooked about it. However, when I left, I took a wax impression of the lock, in case you wanted me to have a key made and institute a more thorough investigation, at a time when I would not be disturbed.”
“That’s good, Morrow. We may need to do that later. At present I want you merely to keep an eye on them, and note who their visitors are. You’ve been talking with the girl you say––the daughter?”
“Yes, sir––” The young man paused in sudden confusion. “She’s a very quiet, respectable, proud sort of young woman, Mr. Blaine––not at all the kind you would expect to find the daughter of an old crook like Jimmy Brunell. And by the way, here’s a funny coincidence! She’s a protégée of Miss Lawton’s, employed in some philanthropic home or club, as she calls it, which Pennington Lawton’s daughter runs.”
“By Jove!” Blaine exclaimed, “I might have known it! I thought there was something familiar about her77appearance when I first saw her! No wonder Miss Lawton had promised not to divulge her name. It’s a small world, Morrow. I’ll have to look into this. Go back now and keep your eye on Jimmy.”
“Very well, sir.” Guy Morrow paused at the door and turned toward his chief. “Have you seen the late editions of the evening papers, Mr. Blaine? They’re all slamming you, for refusing to accept the call to Grafton, to investigate those bomb outrages last night.”
Henry Blaine smiled.
“There won’t be any more of them,” he remarked quietly. “That strike will die down as quickly as it arose, Morrow; the whole thing was a plant, and the labor leaders and factory owners themselves were merely tools in the hands of the politicians. That strike was arranged by our friend Timothy Carlis, to get me away from Illington on a false mission.”
“You don’t think, sir, that they suspect––”
“No, but they are taking no chances on my getting into the game. They don’t suspect yet, but they will soon––because the time has come for us to get busy.”
78CHAPTER VIITHE LETTER
Thenext morning, when Ramon Hamilton presented himself at Henry Blaine’s office in answer to the latter’s summons, he found the great detective in a mood more nearly bordering upon excitability than he could remember having witnessed before. Instead of being seated calmly at his desk, his thoughts masked with his usual inscrutable imperturbability, Blaine was pacing restlessly back and forth with the disquietude, not of agitation, but of concentrated, ebullient energy.
“I sent for you, Mr. Hamilton,” he began, after greeting his visitor cordially and waving him to a chair, “because we must proceed actively with the investigation into the alleged bankruptcy of Pennington Lawton. We have been passive long enough for me to have gathered some significant facts, but we now must make a salient move. The time hasn’t yet come for me to step out into the open. When I do, it will be a tooth-and-nail fight, and I must be equipped with facts, not theories. I want some particulars about Mr. Lawton’s insolvency, and there is no one who could more naturally inquire into this without arousing suspicion than you.”
“I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Blaine, how anxious I am to do anything I can to help you, for Miss Lawton’s sake,” Ramon Hamilton replied eagerly. “I should like to have looked into the matter long ago––indeed,79I felt that suspicion must have been aroused in the minds of Mallowe and his associates by the fact that I accepted the astounding news of the bankruptcy as unquestioningly as Miss Lawton herself, unless they thought me an addlepated fool––but I didn’t want to go ahead without direct instructions from you.”
“I did not so direct you, Mr. Hamilton, for a distinct purpose. I wished the men we believe to be responsible for the present conditions to be slightly puzzled by your attitude, so that when the time came for you to begin your investigation, they would be more completely reassured. In order to make your questioning absolutely bona fide, I want you to go first this morning to the office of Anderson & Wallace, the late Mr. Lawton’s attorneys, and question them as if having come with Miss Lawton’s authority. Don’t suggest any suspicion of there being any crookedness at work, but merely inquire as fully as possible into the details of Mr. Lawton’s business affairs. They will, in their replies, undoubtedly bring in Mr. Mallowe, Mr. Rockamore and Mr. Carlis, which will give you a cue to go quite openly and frankly to one of the three––preferably Mallowe––for corroboration. Knowing that you come direct from the late Mr. Lawton’s attorneys, he will be only too glad to give you whatever information he may possess or may have concocted––and so lay open to you his plan of defense.”
“Defense? You think, then, Mr. Blaine, that they anticipate possible trouble––exposure, even? Surely such astute, far-seeing men as Mallowe and Rockamore are, at least, would not have attempted such a gigantic fraud if they’d anticipated the possibility of being discovered! Carlis has weathered so many storms, so many attacks upon his reputation and civic honor, that80he may have felt cocksure of his position and gone into this thing without thought for the future, but the other two are men of different caliber, men with everything in the world to lose.”
“And colossal, unearned wealth to gain––don’t forget that, Mr. Hamilton. Men of different caliber, I grant you, but all three in the same whirlpool of crime, bound by thieves’ law to sink or swim together. It is because they are astute and far-seeing that they must inevitably have considered the possibility of exposure and safeguarded themselves against it with bogus corroborative proof. If that proof is in tangible form, and we can lay our hands on it, we shall have them where we want them. Now go back to your office, Mr. Hamilton, and dictate this letter to your stenographer, having it left open on your desk for your signature. Don’t wait for the letter to be typed, but proceed at once to the office of Anderson & Wallace. You, as a lawyer, will of course know the form of inquiry to use.”
The detective handed Ramon Hamilton a typewritten sheet of paper from his desk; and the young man, after hastily perusing it, gazed with a blank stare of amazement into Blaine’s eyes.
“I can’t make this out,” he objected. “Who on earth is Alexander Gibbs, and what has he to do with Miss Lawton’s case? This letter seems to inform one Alexander Gibbs that I have retained you to recover for us the last will and testament of his aunt, Mrs. Dorothea Gibbs. I have no such client, and I know no one in––what’s the address?––Ellenville, Sullivan County.”
Blaine smiled.
“Of course you don’t, Mr. Hamilton. Nevertheless, you will sign that letter and your secretary will mail it––that is, after it has lain open upon your desk for81casual inspection for a considerable length of time. One of my operatives will receive it in Ellenville.”
“But what has it to do with the matter in hand?” Ramon asked.
“Everything. I understand that you employ quite an office force, for an attorney who has so recently been admitted to the bar, and who has necessarily had little time yet to build up an extensive practice. There may be a spy in your office––remember that as Miss Lawton’s fiancé and her only protector in this crisis, you are the one whom they would safeguard themselves against primarily. When I called you up this morning, to ask you to come here, you very indiscreetly mentioned my name over the telephone. Your entire office force will know that you have been to consult me––this letter will throw them off the track should there be a spy among them, and will also give you a legitimate excuse to call upon me frequently in the immediate future. You realize that we also must safeguard ourselves, Mr. Hamilton.”
The young man reddened.
“Of course. I did not think––I called you by name inadvertently,” he stammered. “I’ll be more discreet in the future, Mr. Blaine.”
“Memorize the gist of the letter on your way to your office––particularly the name and address––and place it securely in your vest pocket. When you have left your office to go to Anderson & Wallace, destroy it carefully. You had best, perhaps, stop in the lavatory of some restaurant or public bar and burn it, or tear it into infinitesimal pieces. Remember that everything depends upon you now––upon your discretion and diplomacy.”
Hamilton followed Blaine’s instructions to the letter,82and an hour after he had left the detective he was closeted with the senior member of the firm of Anderson & Wallace.
“My dear Mr. Hamilton, we have had so little time,” Mr. Anderson expostulated. “Remember that Mr. Lawton’s death occurred little more than a fortnight ago, and even the most cursory examination has shown us that his affairs were in a most chaotic condition. It will take us weeks, months, to settle up so involved an estate.
“At present we can give you little information. It is by no means certain that Mr. Lawton was an absolute bankrupt––we have not yet assured ourselves that nothing can be saved from the wreckage. You cannot imagine how aghast, thunderstruck, we were, when this present state of affairs was made known to us. We have been Mr. Lawton’s attorneys for more than twenty years, and we thought that we knew every detail of his multifarious transactions, but for some reason which we cannot fathom he saw fit, within the last two years, to change his investments without taking us into his confidence––and with disastrous results.”
“Mr. Lawton was always conservative. He took no one fully into his confidence,” Ramon Hamilton replied guardedly.
“You knew, of course, that he had ideas about the disposal of his vast wealth which many other financiers would consider peculiar. He would never invest in real estate, to our knowledge. His millions were placed entirely in stocks and bonds, and for years he had stated that his object was, in the event of his death, to save his daughter and the trustees from unnecessary trouble over real-estate matters. This makes his later conduct all the more inexplicable. Mr. Mallowe has told me that83Mr. Lawton made several suggestions to him and to his associates, Mr. Rockamore and Mr. Carlis, to go with him into the unfortunate speculations which ultimately caused his ruin. They were far-seeing enough to refuse.”
“Just what were these speculations, Mr. Anderson?”
“I can’t tell you at this moment. You’ll understand that we don’t wish to make any statement until we can do so definitely, and we are still, as I said, quite at sea. We’ll try to straighten everything out as soon as possible, and give you and Miss Lawton a full report. In the meantime, why not consult Mr. Mallowe? He can give you more explicit information concerning the late Mr. Lawton’s speculation and final insolvency than we shall be able to do for some time; or possibly, Mr. Rockamore, or even Mr. Carlis might enlighten you. All three seem to have been more conversant with Mr. Lawton’s affairs than we, his attorneys.”
The dignified old gentleman’s voice held a note of pained resentment, with which Ramon Hamilton could not help but sympathize.
“I will adopt your suggestion, Mr. Anderson, and call upon Mr. Mallowe at once. I can no more understand than you can how it happens that Mr. Lawton should have confided to such an extent in his business associates, to the exclusion of you and Mr. Wallace––to say nothing of his own daughter; but doubtless there were financial reasons which we’ll learn. I will take up no more of your valuable time, but will try to see Mr. Mallowe immediately. If I learn any facts you’re not now in possession of, I’ll let you know at once.”
Mr. Mallowe, when approached over the telephone, welcomed most cordially the proposed interview with84Miss Lawton’s fiancé. When the latter arrived, he was greeted with a warm, limp hand-clasp, and seated confidentially close to the president of the Street Railways.
“Mr. Anderson did well to suggest your coming to me, Mr. Hamilton,” the magnate remarked unctuously. “I believe I am in a position to give you a more comprehensive idea of the circumstances which brought about my esteemed friend’s unfortunate financial collapse at the time of his death than my colleagues, because I was closer to him in many ways, and I am confident that he regarded me as his best friend. However, I don’t feel that I can, in honor, violate the confidence of the dead by giving any details just now––even to you and Miss Lawton––of matters which have not yet been fully substantiated by the attorneys. I know only from Mr. Lawton’s own private statements that he was interested, to the point one might almost say of mania, in a gigantic scheme from which we, his friends, tried in vain to dissuade him. He urged me especially to go in on it with him, but because of the very position I hold, it would have been impossible for me to consider it, even if my better judgment hadn’t warned me against it.”
“Can’t you give me some idea of the nature of this scheme?” Ramon asked. “I can’t believe, any more easily than Miss Lawton can, that there could have been anything that was not thoroughly open and above-board about her father’s dealings. Surely, there can be no reason for this extraordinary secrecy, particularly as the newspapers had given to the world at large the unauthorized statement, from a source unknown to Miss Lawton or myself, that Pennington Lawton died a bankrupt!”
The young man drew himself up sharply, as if fearful85of having said too much, and for a moment there was silence. Then Mr. Mallowe leaned back easily in his chair and, removing his tortoise-shell rimmed eyeglasses, tapped the desk thoughtfully with them as he replied:
“That was regrettable, of course, Mr. Hamilton. It must have been distressing in the extreme to Miss Lawton, coming just at this time, but it would have had to be revealed sooner or later, you know––such a stupendous fact could not be hidden. There is no extraordinary secrecy about the matter. When the attorneys have completed their settlement of the estate, everything will be clear to you and Miss Lawton. I must naturally decline to give you any explanation which would be, just now, merely an uncorroborated opinion. I appreciate your feelings in this sudden, almost overwhelming trouble which has come to Miss Lawton, and I sympathize with both of you most heartily; but one must have patience. You will pardon me, but you are both very young, and that is the hardest lesson of all for you to learn.”
His watery eyes beamed in fatherly benevolence upon Ramon, and Anita’s fiancé felt his gorge rising. The older man reminded him irresistibly of a cat licking its chops before a canary’s cage, and it was with difficulty he restrained himself to remark coldly:
“You told me at the beginning of this interview, Mr. Mallowe, that I did well in coming to you, since you could give me a more comprehensive idea of the circumstances than anyone else, yet you have disclosed nothing beyond a few vague suggestions––to any other man I should have said, insinuations––and generalities which we were already familiar with. Can’t you give me any real information?”