Kennedy hung up the receiver. "There have been enough crimes committed
without adding another murder to the list."
"Keep on watching the de Moches," requested Kennedy as Norton made his
way to the door.
"Yes," agreed Norton. "They will bear it--particularly Alfonso. They
are hot-blooded. You never know what they are going to do, and they
keep their own counsel. I might hope that Lockwood would forget; but a
de Moche--never."
I cannot say that I envied him very much, for doubtless what he said
was true, though his danger might be mitigated by the fact that the
dagger was no longer in his Museum. Still, it would never have left
Peru, I reflected, if it had not been for him, and there is, even in
the best of us, a smouldering desire for revenge.
Lockwood was more than prompt. I had expected that he would burst into
the laboratory prepared to clean things out. Instead he came in as
though nothing at all had happened.
"There's no use mincing words, Kennedy," he began. "You know that I
know what has happened. That scoundrel, Norton, has told Inez that you
had shoe-prints of some one who was in the Museum the night of the
robbery and that those shoe-prints correspond with mine. As a matter of
fact, Kennedy, I was there. I was there to get the dagger. But before I
could get it, some one else must have done so. It was gone."
I wanted to believe Lockwood. As for Craig he said nothing.
"Then, when I did have a chance to get away that night," he continued,
"I went over to Mendoza's. The rest you know."
"You have told Inez that?" asked Kennedy in order to seem properly
surprised.
"Yes--and I think she believes me. I can't say. Things are strained
with her. It will take time. I'm not one of those who can take a girl
by main force and make her do what she won't do. I wish I could smooth
things over. Let me see the prints."
Kennedy handed them over to him. He looked at them, long and closely,
then handed back the damning evidence against himself.
"I know it would be no use to destroy these," he remarked. "In the
first place that would really incriminate me. And in the second I
suppose you have copies."
Craig smiled blandly.
"But I can tell you," he exclaimed, bringing his fist down on the
laboratory table with a bang, "that before I lose that girl, somebody
will pay for it--and there won't be any mistakes made, either."
The scowl on his face and the menacing look in his eye showed that now,
with his back up against the wall, he was not bluffing.
He seemed to get little satisfaction out of his visit to us, and in
fact I think he made it more in a spirit of bravado than anything else.
Lockwood had scarcely gone before Kennedy pulled out the University
schedule, and ran his finger down it.
"Alfonso ought to be at a lecture in the School of Mines," he said
finally, folding up the paper. "I wish you'd go over and see if he is
there, and, if he is, ask him to step into the laboratory."
The lecture was in progress all right, but when I peered into the room
it was evident that de Moche was not there. Norton was right. The young
man was neglecting his work. Evidently the repeated rebuffs of Inez had
worked havoc with him.
Nor was he at the hotel, as we found out by calling up.
There was only one other place that I could think of where he would be
likely to be and that was at the apartment of Inez. Apparently the same
idea occurred to Kennedy, for he suggested going back to our
observation point in the boarding-house and finding out.
All the rest of the day we listened through the vocaphone, but without
finding out a thing of interest. Now and then we would try the
detective instrument, the little black disc in the back, but with no
better success. Then we determined to listen in relays, one listening,
while the other went out for dinner.
It must have been just a bit after dark that we could hear Inez talking
in a low tone with Juanita.
A buzzing noise indicated that there was some one at the hall door.
"If it's any one for me," we heard Inez say, "tell them that I will be
out directly. I'm not fit to be seen now."
The door was opened and a voice which we could not place asked for the
senorita. A moment later Juanita returned and asked the visitor to be
seated a few moments.
It was not long before we were suddenly aware that there was another
person in the room. We could hear whispers. The faithful little
vocaphone even picked them up and shot them down to us.
"Is everything all right?" whispered one, a new voice which was
somewhat familiar I thought, but disguised beyond recognition.
"Yes. She'll be out in a minute."
"Now, remember what I told you. If this thing works you get fifty
dollars more. I'd better put this mask on--damn it!--the slit's torn.
It'll do. I'll hide here as soon as we hear her. That's a pretty nice
private ambulance you have down there. Did you tell the elevator boy
that she had suddenly been taken ill? That's all fixed, then. I've got
the stuff--amyl nitrite--she'll go off like a shot. But we'll have to
work quick. It only keeps her under a few minutes. I can't wear this
mask down and I'm afraid some one will recognize me. Oh, you brought a
beard. Good. I'll give you the signal. There must be no noise. Yes, I
saw the stretcher where you left it in the hall."
"All right, Doc," returned the first and unfamiliar voice.
It all happened so quickly that we were completely bowled over for the
moment. Who was the man addressed as "Doc"? There was no time to find
out, no time to do anything, apparently, so quickly had the plot been
sprung.
I looked at Kennedy, aghast, not knowing what to do in this unexpected
crisis.
A moment later we heard a voice, "I'm sorry to have had to keep you
waiting, but what is it that I can do for you?"
"Good God!" exclaimed Kennedy. "It is Inez herself!"
It was altogether too late to get over there to warn her, perhaps even
to rescue her. What could we do? If we could only shout for help. But
what good would that do, around a corner and so far away?
The vocaphone itself!
Quickly Kennedy turned another switch, of a rheostat, which accentuated
a whisper to almost a shout.
"Don't be alarmed, Senorita," he cried. "This is Kennedy talking. Look
under the bookcase by the window. You will find a cedar box. It is a
detective vocaphone through which I can hear you and which is talking
out to you. I have heard something just there just now--"
"Yes, yes. Go on!"
"You are threatened. Shout! Shout!"
Just then there came a sound of a scuffle and a muffled cry which was
not much above a whisper, as though a strong hand was clapped over her
mouth.
What could we do?
"Juanita--Juanita--help!--police!" shouted Craig himself through the
vocaphone.
An instant later we could hear other screams as Juanita heard and
spread the alarm, not a second too soon.
"Come on, Walter," shouted Kennedy dashing out of the room, now that he
was assured the alarm had been given.
We hurried around the corner, and into the apartment. One of the
elevators was up, and no one was running the other, but we opened the
gates and Kennedy ran it up by himself.
In the Mendoza apartment all was a babel of voices, every one talking
at once.
"Did you get them?" Craig asked, looking about.
"No, sir," replied the elevator boy. "One of them came in from the
ambulance and told me Miss Mendoza was suddenly taken sick. He rode up
with the stretcher. The other one must have walked up."
"Do you know him? Has he ever been here before?"
"I can't say, sir. I didn't see him. At least, sir, when I heard the
screams I ran in from the elevator, which the other one told me to wait
with--left the door open. Just as I ran in, they dodged out past me,
jumped into the car and rode down. I guess they must have had the
engine of the ambulance motor running, sir, if they got away without
you seeing them."
We were too late to head them from speeding off. But, at least, we had
saved the Senorita. She was terribly upset by the attack, much shaken,
but really all right.
"Have you any idea who it could be?" asked Craig as the faithful
Juanita cared for her.
"I don't know the man who was waiting and 'Nita never saw him, either,"
she replied. "The one who jumped out from behind the portieres had on a
mask and a false beard. But I didn't recognize anything about him."
Sudden as the attack had been and serious as might have been the
outcome, we could not but feel happy that it had been frustrated.
Yet it seemed that some one ought to be delegated to see that such a
thing could not occur again.
"We must think up some means of protecting you," soothed Kennedy. "Let
me see, Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney seem to be the closest to you. If
you don't mind I'll call them up. I wonder if you'd object if we had a
little luncheon up here, to-morrow? I have a special reason for asking
it. I want to insure your safety and we may as well meet on common
ground."
"There isn't the slightest objection in the world," she replied, as
Kennedy reached for the telephone.
We had some little difficulty in locating both Lockwood and Whitney,
but finally after a time managed to find them and arrange for the
conference on the Senorita's safety for the next day.
Outside Kennedy gave instructions to the officer on the beat to watch
the apartment particularly, and there was no reason now to fear a
repetition of the attempt, at least that night.
XVIII
THE ANTIDOTE
Early the following morning Kennedy left me alone in the laboratory and
made a trip downtown, where he visited a South American tobacco dealer
and placed a rush order for a couple of hundred cigarettes exactly
similar in shape and quality to those which Mendoza had smoked and
which the others seemed also to prefer, except, however, that the
deadly drug was left out.
While he was gone, it occurred to me to take up again the hunt for
Alfonso. Norton was not in his little office, nor could I find Alfonso
anywhere about the campus. In fact he seemed to have almost dropped out
of his University work for the time. Accordingly, I turned my steps
toward the Prince Edward Albert Hotel, in the hope that he might be
there.
Inquiries of the clerk at the desk told me that he had been there, but
was out just at that moment. I did not see Whitney around, nor the
Senora, so I sat down to wait, having nothing better to do until
Kennedy's return.
I was about to give it up and go, when I heard a cab drive up to the
door and, looking up, I saw Alfonso get out. He saw me about the same
time and we bowed. I do not think he even tried to avoid me.
"I haven't seen you for some time," I remarked, searching his face,
which seemed to me to be paler than it had been.
"No," he replied. "I haven't been feeling very well lately and I've
been running up into the country now and then to a quiet hotel--a sort
of rest cure, I suppose you would call it. How are you? How is Senorita
Inez?"
"Very well," I replied, wondering whether he had said what he did in
the hope of establishing a complete alibi for the events of the night
before.
Briefly I told him what had happened, omitting reference to the
vocaphone and our real part in it.
"That is terrible," he exclaimed. "Oh, if she would only allow me to
take care of her--I would take her back to our own country, where she
would be safe, far away from these people who seek to prey on all of
us."
He paced up and down nervously, and I could see that my information had
added nothing to his peace of mind, though, at the same time, he had
betrayed nothing on his part.
"I was just passing through," I said finally, looking at my watch, "and
happened to see you. I hope your mother is well?"
"As well as is to be expected, surrounded by people who watch every
act," he replied, I thought with a rap at us for having Norton about
and so active, though I could not be sure.
We separated, and I hastened back to the laboratory to report to Craig
that Alfonso was rusticating for his health.
Kennedy, on his part, had had an experience, though it was no more
conclusive than my own. After he had left the tobacco district, he had
walked up Wall Street to the subway. In the crowd he had seen Senora de
Moche, although she had not seen him. He had turned and followed her
until she entered the building in which Whitney and his associates had
their offices. Whether it indicated that she was still leading them a
chase, or they her, was impossible to determine, but it at least showed
that they were still on friendly terms with each other.
In the laboratory he could always find something to do on the case,
either in perfecting his chemical tests of the various drugs we had
discovered, or in trying to decipher some similarities in the rough
printing of the four warnings and the anonymous letter with the known
handwriting of those connected with the case, many specimens of which
he bad been quietly collecting. That in itself was a tremendously
minute job, entailing not only a vast amount of expert knowledge such
as he had collected in his years of studying crime scientifically, but
the most exact measurements and careful weighing and balancing of
trifles, which to the unscientific conveyed no meanings at all. Still,
he seemed to be forging ahead, though he never betrayed what direction
the evidence seemed to be taking.
The package of cigarettes which he had ordered downtown was delivered
about an hour after his return and seemed to be the signal for him to
drop work, for the meeting with Lockwood and Whitney had been set
early. He stowed the package in his pockets and then went over to a
cabinet in which he kept a number of rather uncommon drugs. From it he
took a little vial which he shoved into his waistcoat pocket.
"Are you ready, Walter?" he asked.
"Whenever you are," I said, laying aside my writing.
Together we made our way down to the Mendoza apartment which had been
the scene of the near-tragedy the night before. Outside, he paused for
several moments to make inquiries about any suspicious persons that
might have been seen lurking about the neighbourhood. None of the
attendants in the apartment remembered having seen any, and they were
now very alert after the two events, the murder and the attempted
abduction. Not a clue seemed to have been left by the villain who had
been called "Doc."
"How do you feel after your thrilling experience?" greeted Craig
pleasantly, as Juanita admitted us and Inez came forward.
"Oh, Mr. Kennedy," she answered, with a note of sadness in her tone.
"It makes me feel so alone in the world. If it were not for 'Nita--and
you, I don't know what I should do."
"Doesn't Mr. Lockwood count?" asked Kennedy observantly.
"Of course--everything," she answered hastily. "But he has to be away
so much on business, and--"
She paused and sighed. I could not help wondering whether, after all,
his explanation of the dagger episode had been enough to satisfy her.
Had she really accepted it?
Neither Lockwood nor Whitney had arrived, and Kennedy improved the
opportunity to have a quiet talk aside with her, at which, I imagine,
he was arranging a programme of what was to happen at this meeting and
her part in it to co-operate with him.
She had left the room for a moment and we were alone. It was evidently
a part of his plan, for no sooner was she gone than he opened the
package of cigarettes which he had ordered and took out from the box in
which Mendoza had kept his cigarettes those that were there,
substituting those he had brought.
We had not long to wait, now. Lockwood and Whitney came together. I was
interested to see the greeting of Inez and her lover. Was it pure
fancy, or did I detect a trace of coldness as though there had sprung
up something between them? As far as Lockwood was concerned, I felt
sure that he was eager to break down any barrier that kept them from
being as they had been.
Whitney took her hand and held it, in a playful sort of way. "I wish I
were a young buck," he smiled. "No one would dare look at you--much
less try to carry you off. Yes, we must be more careful of our little
beauty, or we shall lose her."
They turned to greet us. I felt, as we shook hands, that it was much
the same sort of handshake that one sees in the prize ring--to be
followed by the clang of a bell, then all going to it, in battle royal,
with the devil after the hindmost.
There was scarcely a chance for a preliminary bout before luncheon was
announced, and we entered the cozy little dining-room to seat ourselves
at the daintiest of tables. One could feel the hostess radiating
hospitality, even on such a cross-current set of guests as we were, and
for the time, I almost felt that it had been Kennedy's purpose to
promote a love-feast instead of an armed truce.
Nothing was said about the main cause of our being together for some
time, and the small talk almost lifted for a time the incubus that had
settled down on all our lives since the tragedy in the den at the other
end of the suite. But the fact could not be blinked.
Tacitly every one seemed to wait on Kennedy to sound the gong. Finally
he did so.
"Of course," he began, clearing his throat, "there is no use making
believe about anything. I think we all understand each other better now
than we have ever done before. As for me, I am in this case under a
promise to stick to it and fight it to the end. I suppose the rest of
you are, also. But that need not prevent us agreeing on one thing. We
can work together to protect Senorita Mendoza, at least, from such
danger as threatened her last night."
"It's a dastardly shame," Lockwood exclaimed angrily, "that a man who
would attempt a thing like that should go unpunished."
"Show me how to trace him and I'll guarantee the punishment," rejoined
Craig drily.
"I am not a detective," replied Lockwood.
Kennedy forebore to reply in kind, though I knew there was a ready
answer on his tongue for the lover.
Ever since they had arrived, the Senorita had seen that they were well
supplied with cigarettes from the case in which she and they supposed
were the genuine South American brand of her father. Kennedy and I
smoked them, too, although neither of us liked them very much. The
others were smoking furiously.
"However," resumed Kennedy, "I do not feel that I want to intrude
myself in this matter without being perfectly frank and having the
approval of Senorita Mendoza. She has known both of you longer and more
intimately than she has known me, although she has seen fit to place
certain of her affairs in my hands, for which I trust I shall render a
good account of my stewardship. It seems to me, though, that if there
is, as we now know there is, some one whom we do not know"--he
paused--"who has sunk so low as to wish to carry her off, apparently
where she shall be out of the influence of her friends, it is only
right that precautions should be taken to prevent it."
"What is your suggestion?" demanded Whitney, rather contentiously.
"Would there be any objection," asked Kennedy, "if I should ask my old
friend,--or any of you may do it,--Deputy Commissioner O'Connor to
detail a plainclothesman to watch this house and neighbourhood,
especially at night?"
We watched the faces of the others. But it was really of no use.
"I think that is an excellent plan," decided Inez herself. "I shall
feel much safer and surely none of you can be jealous of the city
detectives."
Kennedy smiled. She had cut the Gordian knot with a blow. Neither
Lockwood nor Whitney could object. The purpose of the luncheon was
accomplished.
In fact he did not wait for further consideration, but excused himself
from the table for a moment to call up our old friend O'Connor and tell
him how gravely his man was needed. It was a matter of only a few
minutes when he returned from the other room.
"He will detail Burke for this special service as long as we want him,"
reported Craig, sitting down again.
Inez was delighted, naturally, for the affair had been a terrific shock
to her. I could see how relieved she felt, for I was sitting directly
next to her.
The maid had, meanwhile brought in the coffee and Inez had been waiting
to pour until Kennedy returned. She did not do so, now, either,
however. It seemed as if she were waiting for some kind of signal from
Kennedy.
"What a splendid view of the park you get here," remarked Kennedy
turning toward the long, low windows that opened on a balustraded
balcony. "Just look at that stream of automobiles passing on the west
drive."
Common politeness dictated that all should turn and look, although
there was no novelty in the sight for any of us.
As I have said, I was sitting next to Inez. To me she was a far more
attractive sight than any view of the park. I barely looked out of the
window. Imagine my surprise, then, at seeing her take advantage of the
diversion to draw from the folds of her dress a little vial and pour a
bit of yellowish, syrupy liquid into the cup of coffee which she was
preparing for Whitney.
I could not help looking at her quickly. She saw that I had seen her
and raised her other hand with a finger to her lips and an explanatory
glance at Kennedy who was keeping the others interested. Instantly, I
recognized the little vial which Craig had shoved into his waistcoat
pocket. That had been the purpose of his whispered conference with her
when we arrived. I said nothing, but determined to observe more closely.
More coffee and more cigarettes followed, always from the same box
which was now on the table. The luncheon developed almost a real
conversation. For the time, under the spell of our hostess, we nearly
forgot that we were in reality bitter enemies.
My real interest, as time passed, centred in Whitney and I could not
help watching him closely. Was it a fact, or was it merely my
imagination? He seemed quite different. The pupils of his eyes did not
seem to be quite so dilated as they had been at other times, or even
when he arrived. Even his heart action appeared to be more normal. I
think Inez noticed it, too. There was none of the wildness in his
conversation, such as there often had been at other times.
Our party was prolonged beyond the time we had expected, but, although
he had much on his mind, Kennedy made no move to break it up. In fact
he did everything to encourage it.
At last, however, the others did notice the time, and I think it was
with sincere regret that the truce was broken. Even then, no parting
shots were indulged in.
As we left, Inez thanked Kennedy for his consideration, and I am sure
that that in itself was reward enough. We parted from Lockwood, who
wished to remain a little while, and rode down in the elevator with
Whitney, a changed man.
"I'll walk over to the elevated with you," he said. "I was going to my
hotel, but I think I'll go down to the office instead."
Evidently he had got Senora de Moche out of his mind, at least
temporarily, I thought. Then for the first time I recalled that during
the whole luncheon there had been no reference to either the Senora or
Alfonso, though both must have been in our minds often.
"What was it you had Inez drop into Whitney's coffee?" I asked Craig as
we parted from him and rode uptown.
"You saw that?" he smiled. "It was pilocarpine, jaborandi, a plant
found largely in Brazil, one of the antidotes for stramonium poisoning.
It doesn't work with every one. But it seems to have done so with him.
Besides, the caffeine in the coffee probably aided the pilocarpine.
Then, too, I made them smoke cigarettes without the dope that is being
fed them. Lockwood's case, for some reason, hasn't gone far. But did
you notice how the treatment contracted the pupils of Whitney's eyes
almost back to normal again?"
I had and said so, adding, "But what was your idea?"
"I think I've got at the case from a brand-new angle," he replied.
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, when the person who is doing the doping
sees that Whitney is getting better--why, I think you all noticed it,
Inez and Lockwood as well as you--it will mean another attempt to
substitute more cigarettes doped with that drug. I think it's by
substitution that it's being done. We'll see."
At the laboratory, Kennedy called Norton and described briefly what had
happened, especially to Whitney.
"Now is your chance, Norton," he added, "to do some real good work. I
want some one to watch the Senora, see if she, too, notes the
difference in him. Understand?"
"Perfectly," returned Norton. "That is something I think I can do."
XIX
THE BURGLAR POWDER