THE STOLEN SUITCASE
The placing of Tierney on guard in the hall had been an impulsive
act on Morgan's part. It was more to put an idea into immediate
execution than to actually have a protecting outpost at this time,
for the very nature of his experience would have told Morgan that
after the mysterious attack upon Jane Atwood there would be little
possibility of a similar occurrence the same day. The instant he saw
Tierney lying in the hall, however, he realized that the man had
been the victim of a somewhat similar attack, and the mere thought
that such a thing was possible stunned him into inaction for a
moment. The next minute both he and Marsh were kneeling at Tierney's
side and endeavoring to arouse him.
Morgan removed Tierney's cap and passed his hand around over the
man's head until he found a slight lump, a little back of the right
ear.
"Knocked out with a black-jack!" he cried. "How could a man get that
close to Tierney without being heard!"
"The carpet in these halls and on the stairs is well padded,"
explained Marsh. "I have noticed on a number of occasions that
people passing up and down these stairs make very little noise
unless a foot happens to strike the woodwork. And you can be sure of
one thing, Morgan, this man must have been pretty close at hand. He
got into action without having to do much climbing."
"Or descending," added Morgan, suddenly, looking at Marsh.
"If he came DOWN the stairs, Morgan, then the girl has certainly
been pulling the wool over our eyes."
Morgan shook his head doubtfully. "Well, I'll acknowledge that it
takes a pretty wise detective to understand a woman."
At this moment, Tierney showed signs of coming back to life. His
eyes opened and looked at them with a dazed stare. Almost instantly
this changed to a savage glare. His two arms shot up, seized the men
leaning over him and pulled them down. Like most people who have
been knocked unconscious, Tierney had no idea of the intervening
lapse of time. Before becoming unconscious he had probably realized
that he was attacked, and he was now taking up the fight where he
had left off.
"Hold on, Tierney--this is Morgan--Morgan--do you understand? And
this is Marsh with me!"
The two men held Tierney down until he had a chance to collect his
thoughts. Then he smiled sheepishly as he looked from one to the
other. "What the--!" he began; then paused.
They jerked him to his feet and set him down on the stair. There he
sat for a moment, rubbing the sore spot on his head, of which he now
began to be conscious.
"Guess I'd better resign," he said, dolefully, coming to a full
realization of the situation. "A detective ain't much use after he
begins to need a bodyguard."
"Cut the nonsense, Tierney," admonished Morgan. "Tell us what
happened."
"That's what I'd like to know," growled Tierney.
"Well then," suggested Morgan, "tell us what happened up to the
point where you don't know anything."
"Let's see," reflected Tierney. "When you sent me out into the hall,
the first thing I did was to go part way up this flight of stairs
and make sure that all was clear above. Then I sat down exactly
where I am sitting now, but close to the stair rail. I figured that
if anybody came up the stairs I could see him before he spotted me.
I heard a couple of people go out downstairs, but everything was
quiet up here. I kept my eye on your friend here while he took the
girl upstairs. After he went in I settled back in the same place
again. Finally I felt like a smoke. There didn't seem much chance of
anybody coming back again, so I figured I might as well have a smoke
and I got out my pipe. While I was lighting up, something hit me.
You know the rest better than I do."
"But," expostulated Morgan, "you're no green hand, Tierney. How
could anybody sneak up behind you without your hearing them?"
Tierney looked foolish for a moment, then brightened up. "Morgan,"
he said, "I've got the dope. That old pipe of mine was wheezing like
a sick horse when I began to pull on it. That's what gave the fellow
his chance. I'll admit it, Morgan--I should have known better than
to light it in the first place."
"All right, Tierney, you've learned your lesson. But I'm afraid you
let something good slip by you."
"It is my opinion," Marsh broke in, "that he has let the most
important actor in the drama get away. The man must have been pretty
desperate to take such a chance, and I doubt if anyone but the
leading character would have been so anxious to get away quickly and
unseen. Now then, let us go up to the Atwood apartment. I will
assume the role of protector to Miss Atwood while you two, whom she
knows to be detectives, can search the flat."
At this, Tierney stood up on the stairs and looked suspiciously at
Marsh. Then, as Morgan agreed to the idea, Tierney turned toward him
and exclaimed, "Say, you gone crazy?"
Morgan gazed at him in astonishment.
Marsh laughed. "Tierney is still suspicious," he said.
Morgan's face lit up with understanding. Going over to Tierney, he
whispered in his ear.
"Well, I'm damned!" Tierney mumbled.
The three men then climbed the stairs to the Atwood apartment, and
Morgan's hand was already on the push button of the electric bell
when there was an exclamation from Marsh.
"Stop!" he cried. "Look here."
They instantly saw what he meant. The wood door was standing open
about two inches, and there was sufficient light in the entrance
hall of the apartment to show that at least no one was looking out.
"Remember, I'm in the background on this," Marsh whispered to
Morgan. "You two take, the lead--but be cautious."
Morgan pulled out his revolver and Tierney followed his example.
Then Morgan gave the door a quick push and stood back. It swung back
against the wall with a resounding thud, but outside of that sound
everything remained silent. The three men then moved warily into the
doorway, with Tierney and Morgan in the lead. While Marsh remained
in the entrance hall, Tierney stepped into the living room and
Morgan crept cautiously through the portieres into the dining room.
So silently did these two men move that Marsh heard, nothing until,
a moment later, he saw Morgan step back through the portieres. The
doors of both the bedroom and the bathroom stood open and Morgan,
without saying anything to Marsh, investigated these two rooms. Then
he returned to the entrance hall and spoke to Marsh, who had already
been joined by Tierney.
"Not a soul in the flat but the girl," whispered Morgan. "She's in a
chair in the dining room, and apparently unconscious again. There's
an odor of chloroform in the dining room!"
Marsh sprang through the dining room portieres, followed by the
others. He found Jane Atwood in a rocking chair near one of the
windows. She was apparently unconscious, but there were convulsive
movements of her body. Marsh sniffed the aromatic odor and nodded.
"I don't think they gave her much," he said. "She's just barely
unconscious. I'll try to revive her while you two look things over
more carefully."
Morgan turned to Tierney. "You take another look at the front," he
directed. "Look through all the drawers and closets, but be careful
not to leave anything upset."
Tierney promptly started on his work of investigation. Morgan turned
back into the kitchen. He had previously noticed that the maid's
room was upset and he wanted to examine this room again. The bed was
made up, but as the linen was fresh and unwrinkled it seemed certain
that no one had occupied it recently. The chief cause of the
disorder seemed to have been a hasty examination of the closet. A
roll of blankets and some other articles that had evidently been on
the shelf of the closet had been pulled down and scattered over the
bedroom floor. A couple of suits, and other articles of men's
attire, were hung on the hooks, apparently undisturbed. Morgan saw
that a speedy search had been made for something. Whether or not the
object had been found it was impossible to say.
Going back into the kitchen, and trying the rear door, he discovered
that, though closed, it was unlocked. He locked it, and returning to
the dining room, found that Marsh had succeeded in reviving the
girl. Tierney was also there, and the two men were chatting with
her.
"You seem to be having a good deal of trouble today," said Morgan,
as he neared her.
She smiled wanly at him.
"I can't understand it at all. Burglars must be extremely bold in
Chicago."
"Do you think it was a burglar?" asked Morgan.
"What else could it be?" she returned. "I am sure that I have no
enemies anywhere, and I haven't even any friends in Chicago."
"Are you keeping anything of special value in the house?" inquired
Morgan.
"Only what you can see about you," she replied "And these rings,
which have not been touched."
"You are sure you didn't have anything of value concealed in the
maid's room?"
"No, that's the room my father uses when he comes home from his
trips."
"Well, perhaps he had something of value there."
"I'm quite sure he did not," she said, positively.
"How do you feel now, Miss Atwood?" asked Marsh, catching the drift
of the questioning.
"Just a little bewildered," she replied, "and slightly nauseated,
but I think I shall be all right presently."
"Do you feel equal to looking over that room now?" Marsh inquired.
"I think so," she said, and with Marsh's assistance, she arose from
her chair.
Morgan led the way and the girl, leaning on Marsh's arm, followed.
"You see," said Morgan, when they had reached the maid's room,
"somebody has pulled everything off the shelf. Is there anything
missing as far as you know?"
Miss Atwood looked over the articles on the floor, glanced at the
empty shelf, and at the bottom of the closet. Then she turned to
Morgan. "My father had a suitcase on that shelf," she said. "I do
not see it there now."
"Oh," murmured Morgan. "Was it an empty suitcase?"
"I really couldn't tell you. I never examined it, as it was always
pretty well hidden under a lot of other things."
"I see," said Morgan. "The burglar evidently stole only the
suitcase, thinking perhaps there was something of value in it. We'd
better go now," he added, turning to the others. "Miss Atwood will
want to lie down and rest after her exciting day."
When they reached the front door, Morgan turned to her. "Do you
expect your father home soon, Miss Atwood?" he inquired.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "I haven't read my letter yet. You see, I had
just reached the dining room when that burglar attacked me."
"You need not worry about any further disturbances or attacks, Miss
Atwood," Morgan assured her. "There will be a policeman at the front
and back of this house inside of an hour, and they will stay here
until we clear up this case."
"And remember that I live close at hand, on the floor below, Miss
Atwood," reminded Marsh. "If there is anything I can do to help you
at any time, don't fail to call upon me."
"Thank you," she replied, and closed the door as the men went down
the stairs.