[Illustration: Sparks fell upon the shoulders of two white-robed
figures (_page_ 9)]
THE GLOVED HAND
_A DETECTIVE STORY_
BY BURTON E. STEVENSON
Author of "The Holladay Case," "The Marathon Mystery," "The Mystery of
the Boule Cabinet," etc.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THOMAS FOGARTY_
1913
This story was published in _The Popular Magazine_ under the title of
"The Mind Master."
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Marathon Mystery
The Holladay Case
That Affair at Elizabeth
Affairs of State
At Odds with the Regent
Cadets of Gascony
The Path of Honor
A Soldier of Virginia
The Heritage
The Quest for the Rose of Sharon
The Girl with the Blue Sailor
The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet
The Gloved Hand
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE FALLING STAR
II A STRANGE NEIGHBOUR
III THE DRAMA IN THE GARDEN
IV ENTER FREDDIE SWAIN
V A CALL FOR HELP
VI THE SCREAM IN THE NIGHT
VII THE TRAGEDY
VIII A FRESH ENIGMA
IX FIRST STEPS
X THE WHITE PRIEST OF SIVA
XI SWAIN'S STORY
XII GUESSES AT THE RIDDLE
XIII FRANCISCO SILVA
XIV THE FINGER-PRINTS
XV THE CHAIN TIGHTENS
XVI MISS VAUGHAN'S STORY
XVII THE VERDICT
XVIII BUILDING A THEORY
XIX THE YOGI CONQUERS
XX CHECKMATE!
XXI THE VISION IN THE CRYSTAL
XXII THE SUMMONS
XXIII DEADLY PERIL
XXIV KISMET!
XXV THE BLOOD-STAINED GLOVE
XXVI THE MYSTERY CLEARS
XXVII THE END OF THE CASE
ILLUSTRATIONS
SPARKS FELL UPON THE SHOULDERS OF THE TWO WHITE FIGURES (page 9)
"I'M LAWYER ENOUGH TO KNOW," HE SAID, "THAT A QUESTION LIKE THAT IS
NOT PERMISSIBLE"
"OH, MASTER RECEIVE ME!"
"I KNEW THAT I WAS LOST"
CHAPTER I
THE FALLING STAR
I was genuinely tired when I got back to the office, that Wednesday
afternoon, for it had been a trying day--the last of the series of
trying days which had marked the progress of the Minturn case; and my
feeling of depression was increased by the fact that our victory had
not been nearly so complete as I had hoped it would be. Besides, there
was the heat; always, during the past ten days, there had been the
heat, unprecedented for June, with the thermometer climbing higher and
higher and breaking a new record every day.
As I threw off coat and hat and dropped into the chair before my desk,
I could see the heat-waves quivering up past the open windows from the
fiery street below. I turned away and closed my eyes, and tried to
evoke a vision of white surf falling upon the beach, of tall trees
swaying in the breeze, of a brook dropping gently between green banks.
"Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle,"...
and then I stopped, for the door had opened. I unclosed my eyes to
see the office-boy gazing at me in astonishment. He was a well-trained
boy, and recovered himself in an instant.
"Your mail, sir," he said, laid it at my elbow, and went out.
I turned to the letters with an interest the reverse of lively. The
words of Henley's ballade were still running through my head--
"Vale-lily and periwinkle;
Wet stone-crop on the sill;
The look of leaves a-twinkle
With windlets,"...
Again I stopped, for again the door opened, and again the office-boy
appeared.
"Mr. Godfrey, sir," he said, and close upon the words, Jim Godfrey
entered, looking as fresh and cool and invigorating as the fountains
and brooks and pools I had been thinking of.
"How do you do it, Godfrey?" I asked, as he sat down.
"Do what?"
"Keep so fit."
"By getting a good sleep every night. Do you?"
I groaned as I thought of the inferno I called my bedroom.
"I haven't really slept for a week," I said.
"Well, you're going to sleep to-night. That's the reason I'm here. I
saw you in court this afternoon--one glance was enough."
"Yes," I assented; "one glance would be. But what's the proposition?"
"I'm staying at a little place I've leased for the summer up on the
far edge of the Bronx. I'm going to take you up with me to-night and
I'm going to keep you there till Monday. That will give you five
nights' sleep and four days' rest. Don't you think you deserve it?"
"Yes," I agreed with conviction, "I do;" and I cast my mind rapidly
over the affairs of the office. With the Minturn case ended, there was
really no reason why I should not take a few days off.
"You'll come, then?" said Godfrey, who had been following my thoughts.
"Don't be afraid," he added, seeing that I still hesitated. "You won't
find it dull."
I looked at him, for he was smiling slightly and his eyes were very
bright.
"Won't I?"
"No," he said, "for I've discovered certain phenomena in the
neighbourhood which I think will interest you."
When Godfrey spoke in that tone, he could mean only one thing, and my
last vestige of hesitation vanished.
"All right," I said; "I'll come."
"Good. I'll call for you at the Marathon about ten-thirty. That's the
earliest I can get away," and in another moment he was gone.
So was my fatigue, and I turned with a zest to my letters and to the
arrangements necessary for a three days' absence. Then I went up to my
rooms, put a few things into a suit-case, got into fresh clothes,
mounted to the Astor roof-garden for dinner, and a little after ten
was back again at the Marathon. I had Higgins bring my luggage down,
and sat down in the entrance-porch to wait for Godfrey.
Just across the street gleamed the lights of the police-station where
he and I had had more than one adventure. For Godfrey was the
principal police reporter of the _Record_; it was to him that journal
owed those brilliant and glowing columns in which the latest mystery
was described and dissected in a way which was a joy alike to the
intellect and to the artistic instinct. For the editorial policy of
the _Record_, for its attitude toward politics, Wall Street, the
trusts, "society," I had only aversion and disgust; but whenever the
town was shaken with a great criminal mystery, I never missed an
issue.
Godfrey and I had been thrown together first in the Holladay case,
and that was the beginning of a friendship which had strengthened with
the years. Then came his brilliant work in solving the Marathon
mystery, in which I had also become involved. I had appealed to him
for help in connection with that affair at Elizabeth; and he had
cleared up the remarkable circumstances surrounding the death of my
friend, Philip Vantine, in the affair of the Boule cabinet. So I had
come to turn to him instinctively whenever I found myself confronting
one of those intricate problems which every lawyer has sometimes to
untangle.
Reciprocally, Godfrey sometimes sought my assistance; but, of course,
it was only with a very few of his cases that I had any personal
connection. The others I had to be content to follow, as the general
public did, in the columns of the Record, certain that it would be the
first to reach the goal. Godfrey had a peculiar advantage over the
other police reporters in that he had himself, years before, been a
member of the detective force, and had very carefully fostered and
extended the friendships made at that time. He was looked on rather as
an insider, and he was always scrupulously careful to give the members
of the force every bit of credit they deserved--sometimes considerably
more than they deserved.
In consequence, he had the entree at times when other reporters were
rigorously barred.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before Godfrey arrived that evening, but
I was neither surprised nor impatient. I knew how many and unexpected
were the demands upon his time; and I always found a lively interest
in watching the comings and goings at the station across the
way--where, alas, the entrances far exceeded the exits! But finally, a
car swung in from the Avenue at a speed that drew my eyes, and I saw
that Godfrey was driving it.
"Jump in," he said, pushing out his clutch and pausing at the curb;
and as I grabbed my suit-case and sprang to the seat beside him, he
let the clutch in again and we were off. "No time to lose," he added,
as he changed into high, and turned up Seventh Avenue.
At the park, he turned westward to the Circle, and then northward
again out Amsterdam Avenue. There was little traffic, and we were soon
skimming along at a speed which made me watch the cross-streets
fearfully. In a few minutes we were across the Harlem and running
northward along the uninteresting streets beyond. At this moment, it
occurred to me that Godfrey was behaving singularly as though he were
hastening to keep an appointment; but I judged it best not to
distract his attention from the street before us, and restrained the
question which rose to my lips.
At last, the built-up portion of the town was left behind; we passed
little houses in little yards, then meadows and gardens and strips of
woodland, with a house only here and there. We were no longer on a
paved street, but on a macadam road--a road apparently little used,
for our lamps, sending long streamers of light ahead of us, disclosed
far empty stretches, without vehicle of any kind. There was no moon,
and the stars were half-obscured by a haze of cloud, while along the
horizon to the west, I caught the occasional glow of distant
lightning.
And then the sky was suddenly blotted out, and I saw that we were
running along an avenue of lofty trees. The road at the left was
bordered by a high stone wall, evidently the boundary of an important
estate. We were soon past this, and I felt the speed of the car
slacken.
"Hold tight!" said Godfrey, turned sharply through an open gateway,
and brought the car to a stop. Then, snatching out his watch, he
leaned forward and held it in the glare of the side-lamp. "Five
minutes to twelve," he said. "We can just make it. Come on, Lester."
He sprang from the car, and I followed, realising that this was no
time for questions.
"This way," he said, and held out a hand to me, or I should have lost
him in the darkness. We were in a grove of lofty trees, and at the
foot of one of these, Godfrey paused. "Up with, you," he added; "and
don't lose any time," and he placed my hand upon the rung of a ladder.
Too amazed to open my lips, I obeyed. The ladder was a long one, and,
as I went up and up, I could feel Godfrey mounting after me. I am not
expert at climbing ladders, even by daylight, and my progress was not
rapid enough to suit my companion, for he kept urging me on. But at
last, with a breath of relief, I felt that I had reached the top.
"What now?" I asked.
"Do you see that big straight limb running out to your right?"
"Yes," I said, for my eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness.
"Sit down on it, and hold on to the ladder."
I did so somewhat gingerly, and in a minute Godfrey was beside me.
"Now," he said, in a voice low and tense with excitement, "look out,
straight ahead. And remember to hold on to the ladder."
I could see the hazy mist of the open sky, and from the fitful light
along the horizon, I knew that we were looking toward the west. Below
me was a mass of confused shadows, which I took for clumps of
shrubbery.
Then I felt Godfrey's hand close upon my arm.
"Look!" he said.
For an instant, I saw nothing; then my eyes caught what seemed to be a
new star in the heavens; a star bright, sharp, steel blue--
"Why, it's moving!" I cried.
He answered with a pressure of the fingers.
The star was indeed moving; not rising, not drifting with the breeze,
but descending, descending slowly, slowly.... I watched it with parted
lips, leaning forward, my eyes straining at that falling light.
"Falling" is not the word; nor is "drifting." It did not fall and it
did not drift. It deliberately descended, in a straight line, at a
regular speed, calmly and evenly, as though animated by some definite
purpose. Lower and lower it sank; then it seemed to pause, to hover in
the air, and the next instant it burst into a shower of sparks and
vanished.
And those sparks fell upon the shoulders of two white-robed figures,
standing apparently in space, their arms rigidly extended, their faces
raised toward the heavens.