Collins and the lawyer exchanged questioning glances. What new trick was
this detective about to play? The positive tone employed by Britz in
announcing that he had hooked his fish, worried them. The provoking
coolness of the detective aggravated them beyond measure.
"Evidently you are preparing to draw in a whole netful of fish," said
Luckstone experimentally.
"I didn't cast a net," Britz informed him. "I threw out single lines. Do
you wish to be present when I draw them in?"
"I shall be glad to be there," the lawyer replied.
"And if Mr. Collins will also promise to be on hand I can save him the
discomforts of a Headquarters' cell," said Britz.
"Then Mr. Collins is not the fish you are after?" asked Luckstone.
"You are better acquainted with the game in this criminal aquarium than
I am," retorted Britz.
"Well, if you are through with Mr. Collins, I should like a few minutes
of private conversation with him," said the lawyer.
"I shall refrain from arresting Mr. Collins only on condition that he
remain in custody of one of my men. He may go where he chooses, but only
in the company of a detective."
"And if he refuse your condition?"
"Then I shall be compelled to arrest him."
"And multiply the blunders which you have made in this case!" Luckstone
smiled sarcastically.
"I am responsible for the conduct of this investigation," snapped Britz.
"And let me tell you, Mr. Luckstone, you may think your crafty brain has
succeeded in outwitting the police, but it hasn't. From the outset I
recognized your handiwork in guiding the various persons concerned in
this murder case. You were Whitmore's lawyer! You're Beard's attorney,
you're Mrs. Collins's counsel, you represent Collins, and probably Ward
also."
"Mr. Ward is my client," acknowledged the lawyer.
"You have fortified them all behind a wall of silence," pursued Britz in
even voice. "But the moment I give the signal, the wall will crumble and
your clients will simply fall over one another in their desire to talk."
"I shall be interested to see the wizard's wand with which you're going
to achieve so much!" Luckstone sneered.
"I promise you that pleasure."
Crossing the room, Britz opened a window and nodded to someone who
evidently was waiting in the street. In a few minutes a detective
arrived at the door of the apartment and knocked for admittance. Britz
invited him to enter.
"Collins, this is Detective Hastings," said Britz in introduction. "You
will remain in his custody for the present! Hastings,"--he addressed the
detective--"if this man tries to elude you, arrest him and bring him to
Headquarters."
Britz left the apartment, an exultant gleam in his eye. The long
interview with Collins, even the intervention of Luckstone, had brought
him closer to the final unraveling of the absorbing mystery that had
developed so many amazing complications. As he hastened toward the
subway station, he was fired by a sense of imminent triumph, felt the
first happy thrill of approaching victory.
It was no vain boast in which he had indulged before the crafty
Luckstone. The detective had been following a carefully devised plan
through his investigation, and he was about to reap the fruits of his
industry. The Whitmore case would not take rank among the unsolved
murder mysteries of the city. In fact, to Britz it was no longer a
mystery.
The detective entered Headquarters in a happy frame of mind. He was in
control of the situation, had mastered all the complexities of the case.
As he crossed the corridor, passing three or four groups of waiting
detectives and policemen, he became aware of an atmosphere of suppressed
excitement that seemed to fill the place. The men were talking in low
tones, and instinctively Britz guessed that their conversation related
to some new turn in the Whitmore case.
Entering the office of Chief Manning, he found the Chief still at his
desk. A foot away sat another man, evidently pleading a favor. Britz was
about to withdraw, but Manning called him back.
"This is Mr. Lester Ward!" said the Chief.
Britz showed not the least surprise. Nor was he astonished to find Ward
at Headquarters. In fact, he had figured that the fugitive banker would
return the moment he read the late afternoon papers, which contained an
account of the happenings in the banking establishment. The detective
argued also that Ward would present himself at Headquarters and demand
permission to see his sister.
"So you came back!" Britz greeted him.
"I never ran away," declared Ward. "I had no reason to."
"You were too busy to visit your office, I presume," said Britz.
"It wasn't that. I simply hadn't the courage to face the crowd which I
knew would gather. So I went over to Jersey City to wait until the storm
had abated somewhat."
"And before leaving, you had one of my men set upon and rendered
helpless to follow?"
"I know nothing about that," insisted Ward.
"No, of course not!" Britz retorted.
"Are you the officer in charge of this investigation?" suddenly asked
Ward.
"I am."
"Then perhaps you will tell me why you arrested my sister?" Ward spoke
resentfully, turning an indignant countenance on the detective.
"I arrested her because the evidence warranted it," Britz returned.
"It is preposterous!" exclaimed Ward. "My sister a murderess! Why, you
don't believe that yourself!"
"Then perhaps you will consent to explain the killing of Mr. Whitmore,"
Britz fired at him.
"I didn't come here to explain," retorted Ward.
"Well, what did you come here for?"
"To demand the release of my sister."
"Only a magistrate may release her," Britz informed him. "And no
magistrate will do that in a murder case."
"But you cannot deny me the right to see her," said Ward.
"I can--most emphatically!" Britz corrected him.
"You mean that I am not permitted to speak with my sister?"
"That is precisely what I mean. She may consult with counsel at a
reasonable hour of the day. But she may not receive other visitors until
she has been committed to the Tombs."
"Do you--do you intend to send her there?" demanded Ward, his anger
mounting.
"She will be regularly committed--it is merely a matter of routine."
"But you are making a grave mistake," pleaded the brother. "Isn't there
some way of preventing this additional humiliation?"
"There is a way," said Britz calmly.
"How?" inquired Ward eagerly.
"By giving us the full story of Mr. Whitmore's death as you know it."
"But I can't--I'm not at liberty to talk," protested Ward. "I am acting
under Mr. Luckstone's instructions."
"I thought so," Britz returned dryly. "So we'll let the law take its
course."
"And I'm not permitted to see her to-night?" pleaded Ward.
"No," said Britz curtly. Then, after a moment, he added: "If you will
call here at 10 o'clock to-morrow morning, I may convince you of the
desirability of acting with the police, instead of against them."
When Ward was out of the room, Britz turned smilingly on the chief.
"I'm about ready for the grand climax," he said.
"That so?"--mockingly from the chief.
"Yes. I've tried all the lines of least resistance," continued the
detective, unresentful of the other's aggravating manner. "They led me
against a wall of silence. Now I'm going to discharge my heavy ordnance
against the wall."
"Got something up your sleeve--eh!" drawled Manning.
"Not up my sleeve--in my mind," said Britz, tapping his forehead. "I
wanted to save Mrs. Collins as much notoriety as possible. I could see
no use in parading all her domestic troubles before the public. So I
gave her a chance to take me into her confidence, but she refused. She,
or Collins, or Beard, or Ward, could have saved us all a deal of trouble
by breaking silence. Everyone of them knows what we are furiously
striving to learn. I addressed myself to each of them individually,
tried to obtain enlightenment from each. Now I shall fight them
collectively--I'll get the truth, regardless of whom I have to crush in
the process of extraction."
The chief shook his head dubiously.
"It looks to me now as if you're all in a muddle. You've got two of them
under arrest--why don't you lock up Ward and Collins and have them all
in jail? Then you'd be sure to have the guilty party."
"I shall see to it that Beard obtains his liberty to-morrow," was
Britz's reply.
"And then what?"
"Then for the grand climax," said Britz.