THE CLOUD GROWS DARKER
For a moment Willie was almost stunned. He stood as motionless as a
statue. His Chief was studying his face with searching gaze. Willie
endured the examination without flinching. Not for a second did he
turn away from the penetrating look. Then he found his voice.
“Do you accuse me of taking the papers?” he demanded.
“I haven’t accused you of anything,” said the Chief. “I have merely
stated the facts. Circumstances point to you. It’s up to you to
prove that you did not touch those papers.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Willie retorted indignantly. “If you want to
make me out a thief, it’s up to you to prove I did take them. It’s
the law in this land that a man is innocent until he is proved
guilty.”
The Chief seemed to be weighing Willie’s words, as though to
determine whether Willie was making a bold bluff or voicing a
natural indignation. If he came to any conclusion, he did not
mention it. Instead, he went on, “What you say is true, in a general
way. But if you really are honest, you will be eager to prove your
innocence.”
“Of course I am eager to prove my innocence,” cried Willie. “And I
shall not rest day or night until the truth is known. But it isn’t
fair to think I’m the thief, merely because I happened to be in the
building when the papers were stolen. And anyway, was it fair for
you to leave the papers where they could be taken, and not notify me
so I could be on the watch?”
“The papers were not left where they could be easily taken. They
were locked in my desk.”
“Then you should have been careful to keep your keys in your
pocket,” said Willie.
“The keys were in my pocket, all right. Whoever opened the drawer
had a duplicate key.” And again the Chief looked hard at Willie.
“Then I don’t see why you should suspect me,” said Willie. “I
certainly have no duplicate keys.”
“Perhaps not,” continued the Special Agent, looking harder than ever
at Willie. “But I lent you my keys yesterday to open that cupboard
in the corner. You had the keys in your pocket when you went to your
boarding-place to get your wireless outfit. What was there to
prevent you from having a duplicate key made while you were away?
You were gone a long time.”
Poor Willie! He was almost overwhelmed. Circumstances certainly did
point to him. He knew it was useless to protest his innocence. He
saw now that what he must do was to prove it.
“Mr. King!” he cried, as soon as he could get command of himself.
“I’ll have to admit that circumstances are badly against me. But I
am absolutely innocent. I shall not rest until this matter is
cleared up. I want you to search me this instant, and my desk, and
the wireless room.”
“Then take off your coat and give it to me.”
Willie pulled off his coat. Mr. King examined it thoroughly, then
carefully ran his hands over Willie. Next he searched Willie’s desk
and finally the wireless room. He found no trace of his missing
papers.
“See!” cried Willie jubilantly. “I do not have them.”
“That doesn’t prove you didn’t take them.”
“Aren’t you going to give me a fair deal?” cried Willie
passionately.
“Of course I’ll give you a square deal. I’ll prove that by sending
for a Secret Service man to investigate the matter at once.” Again
he looked hard at Willie, but Willie never flinched.
“I’ll be very glad if you will,” he said. “If anybody can find out
the truth, the Secret Service men can.”
Within a short time a Secret Service operative arrived. Willie
ushered him into Mr. King’s office and closed the door. If ever in
his life he wanted to be an eavesdropper, it was now. He resolutely
fought down the idea and went back to his desk. But it was hard to
keep his mind on his work.
After a time the Secret Service man came out of Mr. King’s office
and began to question Willie. He asked him about every move he had
made during the dinner hour, and Willie, comprehending his purpose,
tried to account for every second. He explained that he had left the
office on the very stroke of twelve, in order to get a quick bite so
he could use his wireless during his free time.
“I ran over to the Childs’ restaurant,” said Willie, “and got a
sandwich and a cup of coffee.”
“Can you prove it?” demanded the Secret Service man.
“I think so. I can pick out the waitress who brought me the food.”
“Then do it,” said the detective.
Willie asked Mr. King if he might step out with the detective.
“Certainly,” replied the Chief. “Ask one of the clerks to keep his
eye on the door.”
Willie did so and joined the Secret Service man. The restaurant was
just across Bowling Green, on the east side of Broadway. The two
descended in the elevator, walked across the little park, and
entering the restaurant, stood near the door. Willie watched the
waitresses come and go, for there were still some people eating.
Presently Willie touched the detective’s arm. “That’s the girl,” he
said, and he pointed to a black-haired waitress just coming from the
kitchen with a tray of food.
The detective walked over to her table, followed by Willie. When she
had distributed her food, the detective spoke to her quietly. “Did
you ever see this lad before?” he asked.
The waitress looked keenly at Willie. “Yes,” she said. “He’s been in
here several times.”
“When did you see him last?”
“At dinner-time.”
“Do you remember what he had to eat?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he had coffee and a sandwich.”
“How are you able to recall him?”
The girl hesitated. “Maybe it’s because he’s so little, but I guess
it’s because he’s so polite. Anyway, he’s different from most of the
boys that come in here, and I like him. He often eats at my table.”
“I’m obliged to you,” said the Secret Service man, and the two
investigators went out.
“So far so good,” said the Secret Service man. “Now let’s return to
your office.” They walked back to the Custom-house. “How do you know
it was twelve-fifteen when you got back?” asked the detective.
“I looked at the clock, to see how long I could stay in the wireless
room.”
“Was anybody in the office then?”
“Mr. King was. He sat at his desk, but his back was toward me and he
was busy so that I am sure he did not notice me.”
“What did you do next?”
“I went directly into the wireless room.”
“Let’s take a look at it.”
They passed through one or two of the office rooms and then into a
small inner room that had been made for a sort of storeroom, but was
little used for any purpose. The Secret Service man looked around
the room.
“What did you do after you came here?” he demanded.
“I shut the door, so I would not be interrupted. Then I sat down at
my instrument and called my old chums at home.”
“How long did you call them?”
“I can’t say exactly. I called and called at frequent intervals,
right up to the time I went back to the office. When I reached my
desk, it was exactly one o’clock.”
“Can you prove you were calling all that time?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I didn’t get a single answer. If I could find
any other operator who heard me, I might be able to. But I don’t
believe there’s much chance that I could find such a person.”
“Why not? There are lots of operators talking and listening in all
the time.”
“Certainly. But mostly they use longer wave-lengths than I did. You
know we amateur operators are limited to a low wave-length. There
are hundreds of operators, no doubt, who were near enough to have
heard me, but mostly they work in longer wave-lengths.”
The detective frowned. “You don’t seem very eager to find out,” he
said.
“On the contrary, I’d give anything I own to find another operator
who had a complete record of my calls. But I realize that probably
no such record exists, either on paper or in some operator’s memory.
You would hardly expect anybody to listen for three-quarters of an
hour to a strange call or to make a note of hearing such a call. But
just the same I’m going to begin a search for an operator who did
hear me. I’ll get a list of stations within talking distance, and
I’ll comb that list until I find somebody who heard my call. But it
will be a big job and it will take me a long time. You know I can’t
work very late in the evening, for I have to leave the building when
it closes for the night.”
“Very well,” said the Secret Service man. “I advise you to make
every effort you can. We have no proof whatever that you were in the
wireless room at all during the noon hour. There is only your word
for it.”
Poor Willie! The further matters went, the worse it seemed for him.
He didn’t know where to turn for help or counsel. Roy’s ship had
sailed during the forenoon, taking the purser and Roy with it. They
were the only people in all this great city that Willie felt were
really his friends. He didn’t know how they could help him, even if
he could see them. But it would at least relieve his mind if he
could talk the matter over with some one who was friendly. Then
Willie thought of Reynolds, of the Morro Castle. He knew that he had
sailed away two or three hours behind Roy, so he couldn’t talk with
him. The only other person Willie could think of who might have a
friendly interest in him was Sheridan. At the thought of Sheridan,
Willie felt heartened. He would see the big Secret Service man at
the first opportunity. Also he would get the list of radio stations
and begin immediately to search for an operator who had heard his
calls. And he would do some detective work on his own account. If
ever there was occasion for him to make use of what detective powers
he had, now was the time. The stake was the biggest he could ever
work for. It was his own reputation.
The moment Willie was free that afternoon, he hurried to the Secret
Service office and there he found Sheridan. He told him of the
difficulty he was in.
“Do you think I would steal those papers?” he asked, after telling
the Secret Service man his story.
“No, I don’t. But my belief in you won’t help you any. What we want
to do is to find out who did take the papers. Now tell me everything
that has occurred in that office since you started to work there.”
Willie reviewed in detail the story of his services to date,
beginning with the first morning he went to work. He did not even
neglect to tell Sheridan how Tom Smith had bullied him and
threatened him, or how he, Willie, had made the ridiculous mistakes
about the spittoons and other things, though evidently these things
could have no possible bearing on the case. Yet he tried not to omit
even the smallest details.
“That’s a good, clear statement,” commented Sheridan, when Willie
had finished his story. “I have confidence in your innocence, but
I’ll tell you frankly that things look bad for you. I hope the man
on the case will get to the bottom of it.”
Willie stepped back aghast. “Aren’t you going to make an
investigation yourself?” he cried.
“It is not for me to decide what I shall investigate,” replied the
Secret Service man. “That’s up to the Chief. Besides, there’s a man
already detailed to the case. I wouldn’t like to butt into another
man’s job.”
“Then I’ll appeal to the Chief,” said Willie desperately. “The man
that’s on the job believes I’m the thief and is trying hard to
fasten the crime on me.”
“Hold on! Hold on!” said Sheridan. “United States Secret Service men
don’t try to fasten crimes on any one.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Willie. “But I can’t help feeling
indignant at the way he questioned me.”
“That questioning may mean your salvation, young man. If you are
innocent, you want the truth disclosed. And the only way we can get
at the truth is to follow out every clue that presents. He naturally
started with you, because that seemed the obvious clue to follow.
But it doesn’t follow that he thinks you guilty or that he is trying
to prove you took the papers. If it had been my lot to make this
investigation, I should doubtless have done just what he did. Now
don’t queer your case with the Chief by making any such charges.”
“I’ll think twice before I speak once,” said Willie. “Will you ask
the Chief if he will see me?”
“Yes, but it won’t do you any good. He’s busy.”
The Chief, however, was willing to see Willie. How much Sheridan had
to do with making that possible, he did not say. But he came back,
smiling, and told Willie to step into the Chief’s office.
“Hello, youngster,” said the Chief cordially. “What brings you back
to the Secret Service? Lost your job at the Custom-house already?”
“No, sir,” said Willie, “but it looks as though I’m in a fair way to
do so.” And he told the Chief all about his difficulties. He told
him so heart-brokenly and fervently, moreover, that the Chief was
touched.
“A fellow who appeals to the Secret Service for help when he’s
accused of wrong,” said the Chief, “isn’t very likely to be guilty,
is he?”
“Thank you,” said Willie. “That’s the first encouraging word anybody
has said to me since this thing happened. I am not guilty, and all I
ask is to have Mr. Sheridan investigate the matter and show who is.”
“You may be very sure we shall go into the matter thoroughly,”
replied the Chief. “It is a serious business. But I cannot promise
to put any particular man on the investigation. You may be sure,
however, that you will have a fair deal and that we will get to the
bottom of the affair.”
Willie went away, feeling that his effort had been in vain. It was,
however, more fruitful than he ever dreamed it would be. The first
Secret Service operative questioned others besides Willie, and at
once everybody in the office knew him for what he was. Thereafter
his usefulness was past. The Chief recalled him and sent a second
operative: and the new man was Sheridan. But no one knew he was a
Secret Service man. He came into the building as a cleaner and
porter; and even Willie would not have known him had he seen him.
For a long time he made no more headway than did Willie, who was
industriously communicating, day after day, with wireless operators,
in a quest for some one who had heard his signals on the day the
papers were stolen from the Special Agent’s desk. But apparently the
quest was vain. Meanwhile Willie did his work with absolute
fidelity, putting into it every bit of mind and energy he possessed.
But he could see that he was watched on all sides, and that belief
in his guilt did not lessen as time passed.