The butler entered.
“A man to see you, sir,” he said.
Gilder made a gesture of irritation, as he sank into the chair at his
desk.
“I can't see any one to-night, Thomas,” he exclaimed, sharply.
“But he said it was most important, sir,” the servant went on. He held
out the tray insistently.
The master took the card grudgingly. As his eyes caught the name, his
expression changed slightly.
“Very well,” he said, “show him up.” His glance met the wondering gaze
of his son.
“It's Burke,” he explained.
“What on earth can he want--at this time of night?” Dick exclaimed.
The father smiled grimly.
“You may as well get used to visits from the police.” There was
something ghastly in the effort toward playfulness.
A moment later, Inspector Burke entered the room.
“Oh, you're here, too,” he said, as his eyes fell on Dick. “That's good.
I wanted to see you, too.”
Inspector Burke was, in fact, much concerned over the situation that
had developed. He was a man of undoubted ability, and he took a keen
professional pride in his work. He possessed the faults of his class,
was not too scrupulous where he saw a safe opportunity to make a snug
sum of money through the employment of his official authority, was ready
to buckle to those whose influence could help or hinder his ambition.
But, in spite of these ordinary defects, he was fond of his work and
wishful to excel in it. Thus, Mary Turner had come to be a thorn in his
side. She flouted his authority and sustained her incredible effrontery
by a restraining order from the court. The thing was outrageous to him,
and he set himself to match her cunning. The fact that she had involved
Dick Gilder within her toils made him the more anxious to overcome her
in the strife of resources between them. After much studying, he had
at last planned something that, while it would not directly touch
Mary herself, would at least serve to intimidate her, and as well make
further action easier against her. It was in pursuit of this scheme
that he now came to Gilder's house, and the presence of the young man
abruptly gave him another idea that might benefit him well. So, he
disregarded Gilder's greeting, and went on speaking to the son.
“She's skipped!” he said, triumphantly.
Dick made a step forward. His eyes flashed, and there was anger in his
voice as he replied:
“I don't believe it.”
The Inspector smiled, unperturbed.
“She left this morning for Chicago,” he said, lying with a manner that
long habit rendered altogether convincing. “I told you she'd go.” He
turned to the father, and spoke with an air of boastful good nature.
“Now, all you have to do is to get this boy out of the scrape and you'll
be all right.”
“If we only could!” The cry came with deepest earnestness from the lips
of Gilder, but there was little hope in his voice.
The Inspector, however, was confident of success, and his tones rang
cheerfully as he answered:
“I guess we can find a way to have the marriage annulled, or whatever
they do to marriages that don't take.”
The brutal assurance of the man in thus referring to things that were
sacred, moved Dick to wrath.
“Don't you interfere,” he said. His words were spoken softly, but
tensely.
Nevertheless, Burke held to the topic, but an indefinable change in his
manner rendered it less offensive to the young man.
“Interfere! Huh!” he ejaculated, grinning broadly. “Why, that's what
I'm paid to do. Listen to me, son. The minute you begin mixing up with
crooks, you ain't in a position to give orders to any one. The crooks
have got no rights in the eyes of the police. Just remember that.”
The Inspector spoke the simple truth as he knew it from years of
experience. The theory of the law is that a presumption of innocence
exists until the accused is proven guilty. But the police are out of
sympathy with such finical methods. With them, the crook is presumed
guilty at the outset of whatever may be charged against him. If need
be, there will be proof a-plenty against him--of the sort that the
underworld knows to its sorrow.
But Dick was not listening. His thoughts were again wholly with the
woman he loved, who, as the Inspector declared, had fled from him.
“Where's she gone in Chicago?”
Burke answered in his usual gruff fashion, but with a note of kindliness
that was not without its effect on Dick.
“I'm no mind-reader,” he said. “But she's a swell little girl, all
right. I've got to hand it to her for that. So, she'll probably stop at
the Blackstone--that is, until the Chicago police are tipped off that
she is in town.”
Of a sudden, the face of the young man took on a totally different
expression. Where before had been anger, now was a vivid eagerness. He
went close to the Inspector, and spoke with intense seriousness.
“Burke,” he said, pleadingly, “give me a chance. I'll leave for Chicago
in the morning. Give me twenty-four hours start before you begin
hounding her.”
The Inspector regarded the speaker searchingly. His heavy face was
drawn in an expression of apparent doubt. Abruptly, then, he smiled
acquiescence.
“Seems reasonable,” he admitted.
But the father strode to his son.
“No, no, Dick,” he cried. “You shall not go! You shall not go!”
Burke, however, shook his head in remonstrance against Gilder's plea.
His huge voice came booming, weightily impressive.
“Why not?” he questioned. “It's a fair gamble. And, besides, I like the
boy's nerve.”
Dick seized on the admission eagerly.
“And you'll agree?” he cried.
“Yes, I'll agree,” the Inspector answered.
“Thank you,” Dick said quietly.
But the father was not content. On the contrary, he went toward the two
hurriedly, with a gesture of reproval.
“You shall not go, Dick,” he declared, imperiously.
The Inspector shot a word of warning to Gilder in an aside that Dick
could not hear.
“Keep still,” he replied. “It's all right.”
Dick went on speaking with a seriousness suited to the magnitude of his
interests.
“You give me your word, Inspector,” he said, “that you won't notify the
police in Chicago until I've been there twenty-four hours?”
“You're on,” Burke replied genially. “They won't get a whisper out of me
until the time is up.” He swung about to face the father, and there
was a complete change in his manner. “Now, then, Mr. Gilder,” he said
briskly, “I want to talk to you about another little matter----”
Dick caught the suggestion, and interrupted quickly.
“Then I'll go.” He smiled rather wanly at his father. “You know, Dad,
I'm sorry, but I've got to do what I think is the right thing.”
Burke helped to save the situation from the growing tenseness.
“Sure,” he cried heartily; “sure you have. That's the best any of us can
do.” He watched keenly as the young man went out of the room. It was not
until the door was closed after Dick that he spoke. Then he dropped to a
seat on the couch, and proceeded to make his confidences to the magnate.
“He'll go to Chicago in the morning, you think, don't you?”
“Certainly,” Gilder answered. “But I don't like it.”
Burke slapped his leg with an enthusiasm that might have broken a weaker
member.
“Best thing that could have happened!” he vociferated. And then, as
Gilder regarded him in astonishment, he added, chuckling: “You see, he
won't find her there.”
“Why do you think that?” Gilder demanded, greatly puzzled.
Burke permitted himself the luxury of laughing appreciatively a moment
more before making his exclamation. Then he said quietly:
“Because she didn't go there.”
“Where did she go, then?” Gilder queried wholly at a loss.
Once again the officer chuckled. It was evident that he was well pleased
with his own ingenuity.
“Nowhere yet,” he said at last. “But, just about the time he's starting
for the West I'll have her down at Headquarters. Demarest will have
her indicted before noon. She'll go for trial in the afternoon. And
to-morrow night she'll be sleeping up the river.... That's where she is
going.”
Gilder stood motionless for a moment. After all, he was an ordinary
citizen, quite unfamiliar with the recondite methods familiar to the
police.
“But,” he said, wonderingly, “you can't do that.”
The Inspector laughed, a laugh of disingenuous amusement, for he
understood perfectly the lack of comprehension on the part of his
hearer.
“Well,” he said, and his voice sank into a modest rumble that was
none the less still thunderous. “Perhaps I can't!” And then he beamed
broadly, his whole face smiling blandly on the man who doubted his
power. “Perhaps I can't,” he repeated. Then the chuckle came again, and
he added emphatically: “But I will!” Suddenly, his heavy face grew hard.
His alert eyes shone fiercely, with a flash of fire that was known
to every patrolman who had ever reported to the desk when he was
lieutenant. His heavy jaw shot forward aggressively as he spoke.
“Think I'm going to let that girl make a joke of the Police Department?
Why, I'm here to get her--to stop her anyhow. Her gang is going to break
into your house to-night.”
“What?” Gilder demanded. “You mean, she's coming here as a thief?”
“Not exactly,” Inspector Burke confessed, “but her pals are coming to
try to pull off something right here. She wouldn't come, not if I
know her. She's too clever for that. Why, if she knew what Garson was
planning to do, she'd stop him.”
The Inspector paused suddenly. For a long minute his face was seamed
with thought. Then, he smote his thigh with a blow strong enough to kill
an ox. His face was radiant.
“By God! I've got her!” he cried. The inspiration for which he had
longed was his at last. He went to the desk where the telephone was, and
took up the receiver.
“Give me 3100 Spring,” he said. As he waited for the connection he
smiled widely on the astonished Gilder. “'Tain't too late,” he said
joyously. “I must have been losing my mind not to have thought of it
before.” The impact of sounds on his ear from the receiver set him to
attention.
“Headquarters?” he called. “Inspector Burke speaking. Who's in my
office? I want him quick.” He smiled as he listened, and he spoke again
to Gilder. “It's Smith, the best man I have. That's luck, if you ask
me.” Then again he spoke into the mouthpiece of the telephone.
“Oh, Ed, send some one up to that Turner woman. You have the address.
Just see that she is tipped off, that Joe Garson and some pals are going
to break into Edward Gilder's house to-night. Get some stool-pigeon
to hand her the information. You'd better get to work damned quick.
Understand?”
The Inspector pulled out that watch of which Aggie Lynch had spoken so
avariciously, and glanced at it, then went on speaking:
“It's ten-thirty now. She went to the Lyric Theater with some woman. Get
her as she leaves, or find her back at her own place later. You'll have
to hustle, anyhow. That's all!”
The Inspector hung up the receiver and faced his host with a contented
smile.
“What good will all that do?” Gilder demanded, impatiently.
Burke explained with a satisfaction natural to one who had devised
something ingenious and adequate. This inspiration filled him with
delight. At last he was sure of catching Mary Turner herself in his
toils.
“She'll come to stop 'em,” he said. “When we get the rest of the gang,
we'll grab her, too. Why, I almost forgot her, thinking about Garson.
Mr. Gilder, you would hardly believe it, but there's scarcely been a
real bit of forgery worth while done in this country for the last twenty
years, that Garson hasn't been mixed up in. We've never once got him
right in all that time.” The Inspector paused to chuckle. “Crooks are
funny,” he explained with obvious contentment. “Clever as he is, Garson
let Griggs talk him into a second-story job, and now we'll get him with
the goods.... Just call your man for a minute, will you, Mr. Gilder?”
Gilder pressed the electric button on his desk. At the same moment,
through the octagonal window came a blinding flash of light that
rested for seconds, then vanished. Burke, by no means a nervous man,
nevertheless was startled by the mysterious radiance.
“What's that?” he demanded, sharply.
“It's the flashlight from the Metropolitan Tower,” Gilder explained with
a smile over the policeman's perturbation. “It swings around this way
about every fifteen minutes. The servant forgot to draw the curtains.”
As he spoke, he went to the window, and pulled the heavy draperies
close. “It won't bother us again.”
The entrance of the butler brought the Inspector's thoughts back to the
matter in hand.
“My man,” he said, authoritatively, “I want you to go up to the roof and
open the scuttle. You'll find some men waiting up there. Bring 'em down
here.”
The servant's usually impassive face showed astonishment, not unmixed
with dismay, and he looked doubtfully toward his master, who nodded
reassuringly.
“Oh, they won't hurt you,” the Inspector declared, as he noticed the
man's hesitation. “They're police officers. You get 'em down here, and
then you go to bed and stay there till morning. Understand?”
Again, the butler looked at his master for guidance in this very
peculiar affair, as he deemed it. Receiving another nod, he said:
“Very well, sir.” He regarded the Inspector with a certain helpless
indignation over this disturbance of the natural order, and left the
room.
Gilder himself was puzzled over the situation, which was by no means
clear to him.
“How do you know they're going to break into the house to-night?” he
demanded of Burke; “or do you only think they're going to break into the
house?”
“I know they are.” The Inspector's harsh voice brought out the words
boastfully. “I fixed it.”
“You did!” There was wonder in the magnate's exclamation.
“Sure,” Burke declared complacently, “did it through a stool-pigeon.”
“Oh, an informer,” Gilder interrupted, a little doubtfully.
“Yes,” Burke agreed. “Stool-pigeon is the police name for him. Really,
he's the vilest thing that crawls.”
“But, if you think that,” Gilder expostulated, “why do you have anything
to do with that sort of person?”
“Because it's good business,” the Inspector replied. “We know he's a spy
and a traitor, and that every time he comes near us we ought to use a
disinfectant. But we deal with him just the same--because we have to.
Now, the stool-pigeon in this trick is a swell English crook. He went
to Garson yesterday with a scheme to rob your house. He tried out Mary
Turner, too, but she wouldn't stand for it--said it would break the law,
which is contrary to her principles. She told Garson to leave it alone.
But he met Griggs afterward without her knowing anything about it, and
then he agreed to pull it off. Griggs got word to me that it's coming
off to-night. And so, you see, Mr. Gilder, that's how I know. Do you get
me?”
“I see,” Gilder admitted without any enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, he
felt somewhat offended that his house should be thus summarily seized as
a trap for criminals.
“But why do you have your men come down over the roof?” he inquired
curiously.
“It wasn't safe to bring them in the front way,” was the Inspector's
prompt reply. “It's a cinch the house is being watched. I wish you would
let me have your latch-key. I want to come back, and make this collar
myself.”
The owner of the house obediently took the desired key from his ring and
gave it to the Inspector with a shrug of resignation.
“But, why not stay, now that you are here?” he asked.
“Huh!” Burke retorted. “Suppose some of them saw me come in? There
wouldn't be anything doing until after they see me go out again.”
The hall door opened and the butler reentered the room. Behind him came
Cassidy and two other detectives in plain clothes. At a word from his
master, the disturbed Thomas withdrew with the intention of obeying
the Inspector's directions that he should retire to bed and stay there,
carefully avoiding whatever possibilities of peril there might be in the
situation so foreign to his ideals of propriety.
“Now,” Burke went on briskly, as the door closed behind the servant,
“where could these men stay out of sight until they're needed?”
There followed a little discussion which ended in the selection of a
store-room at the end of the passage on the ground floor, on which one
of the library doors opened.
“You see,” Burke explained to Gilder, when this matter had been settled
to his satisfaction, and while Cassidy and the other detectives were
out of the library on a tour of inspection, “you must have things right,
when it comes to catching crooks on a frame-up like this. I had these
men come to Number Twenty-six on the other street, then round the block
on the roofs.”
Gilder nodded appreciation which was not actually sincere. It seemed to
him that such elaborate manoeuvering was, in truth, rather absurd.
“And now, Mr. Gilder,” the Inspector said energetically, “I'm going to
give you the same tip I gave your man. Go to bed, and stay there.”
“But the boy,” Gilder protested. “What about him? He's the one thing of
importance to me.”
“If he says anything more about going to Chicago--just you let him go,
that's all! It's the best place for him for the next few days. I'll get
in touch with you in the morning and let you know then how things are
coming out.”
Gilder sighed resignedly. His heavy face was lined with anxiety. There
was a hesitation in his manner of speech that was wholly unlike its
usual quick decisiveness.
“I don't like this sort of thing,” he said, doubtfully. “I let you go
ahead because I can't suggest any alternative, but I don't like it,
not at all. It seems to me that other methods might be employed with
excellent results without the element of treachery which seems to
involve me as well as you in our efforts to overcome this woman.”
Burke, however, had no qualms as to such plotting.
“You must have crooked ways to catch crooks, believe me,” he said
cheerfully. “It's the easiest and quickest way out of the trouble for
us, and the easiest and quickest way into trouble for them.”
The return of the detectives caused him to break off, and he gave his
attention to the final arrangements of his men.
“You're in charge here,” he said to Cassidy, “and I hold you
responsible. Now, listen to this, and get it.” His coarse voice came
with a grating note of command. “I'm coming back to get this bunch
myself, and I'll call you when you're wanted. You'll wait in the
store-room out there and don't make a move till you hear from me, unless
by any chance things go wrong and you get a call from Griggs. You know
who he is. He's got a whistle, and he'll use it if necessary.... Got
that straight?” And, when Cassidy had declared an entire understanding
of the directions given, he concluded concisely. “On your way, then!”
As the men left the room, he turned again to Gilder.
“Just one thing more,” he said. “I'll have to have your help a little
longer. After I've gone, I want you to stay up for a half-hour anyhow,
with the lights burning. Do you see? I want to be sure to give the
Turner woman time to get here while that gang is at work. Your keeping
on the lights will hold them back, for they won't come in till the house
is dark, so, in half an hour you can get off the job, switch off the
lights and go to bed and stay there--just as I told you before.” Then
Inspector Burke, having in mind the great distress of the man over the
unfortunate entanglement of his son, was at pains to offer a reassuring
word.
“Don't worry about the boy,” he said, with grave kindliness. “We'll get
him out of this scrape all right.” And with the assertion he bustled
out, leaving the unhappy father to miserable forebodings.