On leaving the club, Forrester strolled slowly and thoughtfully north
along Michigan Avenue. The knowledge that old Mr. Nevins had met his
death at the hands of the same people who now threatened him, impressed
Forrester with the seriousness of the situation. Always a fighter, his
army training had developed this side of his nature to a point where it
was practically impossible for him to accede to an unjust demand without
a struggle.
It was Tuesday. Forrester reflected that he had but four days in which
to freely carry out any plan which he might decide upon. In view of
Prentice's experience, and the startling death of Mr. Nevins, there was
no question that after midnight Saturday every move Forrester made would
be attended with danger.
Immersed in these thoughts, Forrester suddenly found himself in front of
the public library building at Washington Street. It reminded him that
the city detective bureau was on La Salle Street at about this point. In
spite of the apparent non-success of the police, he decided that his
first duty would be to report to them the demand just made upon him. A
few minutes later Forrester entered the detective bureau and sent in his
card to the Chief of Detectives. After being admitted to the Chief's
office Forrester laid the message from the "Friends of the Poor" before
the head of the detective bureau, with the remark:
"I'm next! What shall I do about it?"
"Mr. Forrester," said the Chief, after only a hasty glance at the
notice, which showed his familiarity with the subject, "sorry as I am to
say it, the Department has made little progress in this matter. We have
a half-dozen detectives working on the case right now. Detective
Sergeants Cahill and O'Connor have given it special study. They have
been working among the West Side joints for some time, and today they
reported to me that they think they have a line on some of these men.
Nothing definite, understand, but it is the first suggestion of a clue
which we have had.
"The probabilities are that between now and Saturday you will not be
bothered. After Saturday, however, if we have made no further progress,
I suggest that you stay off the streets at night, and that during the
day you select only the main thoroughfares for going about the city. If
you have any friends in the North Shore suburbs, and you probably have,
I recommend that you do not visit them for the present. If you wish it,
I will put a police guard at your home."
"I don't want to be coddled," objected Forrester. "I'm an ex-service man
and I think that I can take care of myself."
"You needn't be ashamed to take precautions in a case like this,"
explained the Chief. "This gang is both dangerous and clever. If Mr.
Nevins, whose death has just been reported, had allowed me to give him a
police guard, as I wished, he would probably be alive today. You are
really helping the police when you allow us to give you a police guard,
for if these fellows show themselves in any way, our man is there ready
to act. If anything happens to you when no one is around, then we are
simply confronted with another mystery and have much of our work to do
over again."
"That's very logical reasoning, Chief," agreed Forrester, "and I thank
you for the offer. But I would not have a moment's peace of mind with a
detective or a policeman hanging around my heels. I am perfectly willing
to take my chance. In fact, I did not come to you for protection, but
simply to talk this matter over with you, and see if something definite
cannot be done to eradicate these criminals. I am doubly interested, not
only because I have received this notice, but from the fact that my
sister is engaged to Mr. Nevins' son, thus practically bringing his
death right into our family. It is the principle of the thing which I
want to fight--and if there is anything I can do to help, outside of
having a detective trailing me around, I want to do it."
"Well, of course," replied the Chief, "we cannot force a police guard
upon you, but outside of that there is really nothing that you could do.
It takes both experience and a special kind of ability to carry on
detective work. To be perfectly frank with you, _novices only hamper
us_. All I can say is, leave this notice with us and we will do what we
can in the matter."
"No," returned Forrester, "I don't want to leave this notice. I want to
keep it for my own use. My mind is fully made up to take an active part
in this hunt myself. I should appreciate it if you will tell your men
about me and explain that if they find me doing mysterious things in
out-of-the-way places, not to mistake me for one of the criminals. If I
find out anything, or have any suspicions, I will let you know."
"All right," laughed the Chief. "Play around if you want to, but for the
love of Mike, don't get under our feet." The Chief and Forrester
exchanged friendly good-byes and the young man passed out into La Salle
Street.
Forrester reflected that Prentice was right. While the detective chief
had maintained an encouraging attitude, it was clear that this was
merely to "save the face" of the Department so far as it was possible.
Between the lines of the Chief's words Forrester had read the helpless
and hopeless position in which the police were placed. It seemed like
pure egoism for him to attempt to accomplish something in which
experienced detectives had failed, yet Forrester felt that he should
make some effort to solve the mystery behind this menace. After all, he
reasoned, could the solution to this problem be so much more difficult
than many of the engineering problems which he had attacked and
mastered.
It now occurred to him that he had not thought to ask Prentice if any
private detective agencies had ever been put on the case. So far as his
present knowledge of the matter went the problem had been left entirely
in the hands of the police, and yet he knew that in many instances
private agencies had been successful where the police had failed.
Forrester decided, therefore, that his next step would be to consult
with one of these agencies. He went to a nearby cigar store and
consulted the classified telephone directory. Under the heading of
"Detectives" he found a long list of agencies and independent
operatives. Several famous names stood out in this list, but Forrester
fancied that these big agencies would merely put an ordinary operative
on the case, while he felt that the matter needed the attention of a
bigger man. Obviously, by going to a smaller agency, it would be easier
to get the head of the agency to do the work. While these thoughts were
passing through his mind, Forrester's eye caught a small advertisement
in the center of the page.
GREEN'S NATIONAL DETECTIVE AGENCY
SECRET SERVICE OF ALL KINDS
Correspondents in All the Leading Cities of the World
_Benjamin F. Green_, _Principal_
Commercial Building, _Chicago_
Forrester decided to call on Mr. Green.
He found "Green's National Detective Agency" to consist of two small
rooms. In the outer room he was met by a woman of uncertain age and
colorless personality who immediately ushered him into Mr. Green's
office. Green was a large, strongly built man with thin black hair,
carefully brushed over a bald spot, and a bristling black mustache. The
detective was in his shirt sleeves, a half-burned, unlit cigar gripped
in the corner of his mouth, and a well-polished badge gleaming on the
left breast of his unbuttoned waistcoat.
"How-do," he said, rising to greet Forrester, and added, "Have a chair,"
pushing one in the direction of Forrester with his foot.
The two men sat down and after Green had shifted his cigar to the other
side of his mouth, he inquired, "What can I do for you?"
"Ever hear of the 'Friends of the Poor'?" inquired Forrester, going
straight to the point.
Green sat up in his chair with a jerk.
"_You_ been gettin' one o' them notices?" he asked.
Forrester took out the warning message and laid it on Green's desk. The
detective's eyes sparkled as he leaned over and closely examined it.
"Gee!" he exclaimed, at length. "I've just been dyin' to get onto this
case. So _you're_ one o' them rich guys they're after, eh?"
"I gather from what you say, Mr. Green, that you know something about
the matter," said Forrester.
"_Do_ I?" cried Green. "I'll show you how I've been followin' that thing
up." He reached into a drawer of his desk, drew out a folder and opened
it before him. Forrester saw that it contained newspaper clippings and
various hand-written notes.
"I'll tell you, Mister," said Green, "I've been followin' this here case
right from the start. I've got some theories, too, that I ain't been
tellin' to nobody. I've just been itchin' to get busy on it, but you
know us guys have to make a livin'--we can't work on a case for
nothin'."
"Well," informed Forrester, "I'm going to give you a chance to see what
you can do." Forrester was not wholly taken with Green's personality,
but the man certainly seemed to know something about the case, and the
fact that he already had theories was a hopeful sign. "There's the
notice," continued Forrester, "which I received in the mail this
morning. It gives me until Saturday at midnight to pay over the money or
take the consequences. Now, I'd rather present you with the ten thousand
dollars than give up to these people."
Green bounced in his chair.
"Do you _mean_ that?" he gasped.
"Certainly," answered Forrester. "You bring these men to justice and the
ten thousand is yours. In the meantime, I'll pay you your regular fees
and expenses."
Green ran a finger around inside of his collar and stared at Forrester
for a minute or two. It was quite evident that he was thoroughly stunned
at the offer which had just been made to him. Then, realizing that he
was making a poor showing before an important client, he straightened up
in his chair and assumed the dignified attitude which he thought in
keeping with his profession and the handling of such a momentous case.
"I'm glad to see that you have such a complete record there," commented
Forrester. "I'm anxious to get the full details and history of this
affair."
Green laid his dead cigar on the edge of the desk and pulled his chair
closer, clearing his throat as he did so.
"The case o' the 'Friends o' the Poor'," he announced, "first became
known to the public about this time a year ago. Here we have the matter
o' one Frederick Prentice." Green picked up the first clipping.
"Yes, I know all about that case," interrupted Forrester. "Prentice is
an old friend of mine."
"Ah--h--h!" breathed Green, looking much impressed as he laid the
clipping and a few others aside. "Maybe you knew _this_ guy, too--Booth
Warren, the banker?"
"Yes, I knew him very well," returned Forrester.
"Ah--h--h!" sighed Green, expressively. Never before had he floated into
such an environment of millionaires.
"But," added Forrester, "I don't know the details of his case. In fact,
I had not heard of his death."
Green cleared his throat once more.
"Booth Warren," he explained, referring to his notes and clippings, "was
vice-president o' the La Salle National Bank. In July o' last year this
criminal organization demanded twenty-five thousand dollars, which he
refused to pay, placin' the matter in the hands o' the police." At this
mention of the police Green gave Forrester a ponderous wink. Then he
continued, "After ignorin' three notices, Warren was found by the
roadside one mornin' just beyond Evanston. The police surgeon o' the
Evanston Police Department could find no signs o' violence, or any
evidence as to how the man had been killed. He said he would diagnoose
the case as one o'--" Green paused a moment over the pronunciation of
the word--"asphyxia."
Green thumbed over his clippings.
"Then followed three cases where the guys lost their nerve and paid up.
I guess you're chiefly interested in the guys that got _killed_,
though," added Green, turning to Forrester.
"Yes, I think so," answered Forrester. "I want to know just what happens
to a man who turns these people down."
"Well, he gets _his_--that's all I can say," replied Green,
emphatically. "That is," he added, realizing his slip, "unless he comes
to me."
"Then it is to be expected that I shall escape?" said Forrester,
smiling.
"I said I had some theories, Mister," returned Green, assuming a wise
expression. "I ain't tellin' _all_ I know, but you can bet your life
I'll be on the job between now and midnight Saturday.
"The next case o' a death," Green resumed, taking up another clipping,
"is that of James Ingraham, capitalist and director of the Cook County
Trust Company. He was ordered to pay fifteen thousand dollars, and
ignored the demand--except for reportin' it as usual to the police.
Ingraham was found sittin' under a tree in Lincoln Park early one
evenin', and the hospital they took him to, and where he died, reported
that all the symptoms showed that he had been--asphyxiated.
"In the early fall, two more guys was threatened and decided to pay up.
"Now," concluded Green, closing the folder and leaning back in his
chair, "I want you to notice two things strikin' me as funny. These here
guys apparently knock off in the winter time. Another thing is that the
poor devils that get took off is always--asphyxiated."
"But," protested Forrester, "how could they be asphyxiated when the
bodies are always found out in the open air? I thought that a person
must be shut up in a closed room to be asphyxiated."
"Ah-ha!" cried Green. "_Now_ you've got the idea! These fellows have a
headquarters somewhere. After they kill a guy they bring him out in an
automobile and throw him alongside the road somewhere. The thing to be
done now is to locate their headquarters. _That's_ what little Benny is
goin' to do!"
"How do you propose to find that out?" inquired Forrester.
"Watch the tree and follow 'em!" replied Green, decisively.
"That sounds all right," objected Forrester, "but the police have been
watching that tree for months without getting sight or sound of anyone."
"Leave it to _me_," assured Green, with a wide sweep of his hand. "I
know things these here city dicks never think about. Now,
Mister--Mister--, by the way, you ain't told me your name yet."
Forrester handed his card to Green.
"Now, Mr. Forrester," continued Green, as he glanced at the card, "take
my advice and don't let nobody bunco you into any strange place. And I
wouldn't take no rides in strange automobiles, either. I'll let you hear
from me in a couple o' days. In the meantime you can count on findin' me
around that tree o' nights. I kinda got an idea that there tree's a
mighty busy place these nights. The 'Friends o' the Poor' seem to be
makin' a big drive right now. I suppose you heard about the banker,
Nevins, today?"
"Yes," said Forrester, rising to go. "I shall probably have full details
of that shortly. My sister is engaged to Mr. Nevins' son."
"Ah-h-h!" sighed Green again, as his new client passed out of the door.