Barney felt an almost electric thrill of pleasure. Right on the nose,
Brother Chard! Right on the nose.
He smiled. "Was that what it was supposed to be? I never was told all
the details."
Elby said that for the few who were informed of the details it had
been a seven-day circus. McAllen's reputation was such that more
people, particularly on his staff, had been ready to believe him that
were ready to admit it later. "When he'd left--you know, he never even
bothered to take that 'transmitter' along--the thing was taken apart
and checked over as carefully as if somebody thought it might still
suddenly start working. But it was an absolute Goldberg, of course.
The old man had simply gone off his rocker."
"Hadn't there been any indication of it before?"
"Not that I know of. Except that he'd been dropping hints about his
gadget for several months before he showed it to anyone," Elby said
indifferently. The talk turned to other things.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
The rest was routine, not difficult to carry out. A small cottage on
Mallorca, near the waterfront, was found to be in McAllen's name.
McAllen's liquid assets were established to have dwindled to something
less than those of John Emanuel Fredericks, who patronized the same
local bank as his employer. There had been frequent withdrawals of
large, irregular sums throughout the past years. The withdrawals were
not explained by McAllen's frugal personal habits; even his fishing
excursions showed an obvious concern for expense. The retention of the
Mediterranean retreat, modest though it was, must have a reason beyond
simple self-indulgence.
Barney arranged for the rental of a bungalow in the outskirts of
Sweetwater beach, which lay uphill from the old house in which McAllen
and Fredericks lived, and provided a good view of the residence and
its street entry. He didn't go near the place himself. Operatives of a
Los Angeles detective agency went on constant watch in the bungalow,
with orders to photograph the two old men in the other house and any
visitors at every appearance, and to record the exact times the
pictures were taken. At the end of each day the photographs were
delivered to an address from where they promptly reached Barney's
hands.
A European agency was independently covering the Mallorca cottage in
the same manner.
Nearly four weeks passed before Barney obtained the exact results he
wanted. He called off the watch at both points, and next day came up
the walk to McAllen's home and rang the doorbell. John Fredericks
appeared, studied Barney's card and Barney with an air of mild
disapproval, and informed him that Dr. McAllen did not receive
visitors.
"So I've been told," Barney acknowledged pleasantly. "Please be so
good as to give the doctor this."
Fredericks' white eyebrows lifted by the barest trifle as he looked at
the sealed envelope Barney was holding out. After a moment's
hesitation he took it, instructed Barney to wait, and closed the door
firmly.
Listening to Fredericks' footsteps receding into the house, Barney lit
a cigarette, and was pleased to find that his hands were as steady as
if he had been on the most ordinary of calls. The envelope contained
two sets of photographs, dated and indicating the time of day. The
date was the same for both sets; the recorded time showed the pictures
had been taken within fifteen minutes of one another. The central
subject in each case was Dr. McAllen, sometimes accompanied by
Fredericks. One set of photographs had been obtained on Mallorca, the
other in Sweetwater Beach at McAllen's house.
Barring rocket assists, the two old men had been documented as the
fastest moving human beings in all history.
Several minutes passed before Fredericks reappeared. With a face which
was now completely without expression, he invited Barney to enter, and
conducted him to McAllen's study. The scientist had the photographs
spread out on a desk before him. He gestured at them.
"Just what--if anything--is this supposed to mean, sir?" he demanded
in an unsteady voice.
Barney hesitated aware that Fredericks had remained in the hall just
beyond the study. But Fredericks obviously was in McAllen's
confidence. His eavesdropping could do no harm.
"It means this, doctor--" Barney began, amiably enough; and he
proceeded to tell McAllen precisely what the photographs meant.
McAllen broke in protestingly two or three times, then let Barney
conclude his account of the steps he had taken to verify his
farfetched hunch on the pier without further comment. After a few
minutes Barney heard Fredericks' steps moving away, and then a door
closing softly somewhere, and he shifted his position a trifle so that
his right side was now toward the hall door. The little revolver was
in the right-hand coat pocket. Even then Barney had no real concern
that McAllen or Fredericks would attempt to resort to violence, but
when people are acutely disturbed--and McAllen at least was--almost
anything can happen.
* * * * *
When Barney finished, McAllen stared down at the photographs again,
shook his head, and looked over at Barney.
[Illustration]
"If you don't mind," he said, blinking behind his glasses, "I should
like to think about this for a minute or two."
"Of course, doctor," Barney said politely. McAllen settled back in the
chair, removed his glasses and half closed his eyes. Barney let his
gaze rove. The furnishings of the house were what he had
expected--well-tended, old, declining here and there to the downright
shabby. The only reasonably new piece in the study was a
radio-phonograph. The walls of the study and of the section of a
living room he could see through a small archway were lined with
crammed bookshelves. At the far end of the living room was a curious
collection of clocks in various types and sizes, mainly antiques, but
also some odd metallic pieces with modernistic faces. Vacancies in the
rows indicated Fredericks might have begun to dispose discreetly of
the more valuable items on his employer's behalf.
McAllen cleared his throat finally, opened his eyes, and settled the
spectacles back on his nose.
"Mr. Chard," he inquired, "have you had scientific training?"
"No."
"Then," said McAllen, "the question remains of what your interest in
the matter is. Perhaps you'd like to explain just why you put yourself
to such considerable expense to intrude on my personal affairs--"
Barney hesitated perceptibly. "Doctor," he said, "there is something
tantalizing about an enigma. I'm fortunate in having the financial
means to gratify my curiosity when it's excited to the extent it was
here."
McAllen nodded. "I can understand curiosity. Was that your only
motive?"
Barney gave him his most disarming grin. "Frankly no. I've mentioned
I'm a businessman--"
"Ah!" McAllen said, frowning.
"Don't misunderstand me. One of my first thoughts admittedly was that
here were millions waiting to be picked up. But the investigation soon
made a number of things clear to me."
"What were they?"
"Essentially, that you had so sound a reason for keeping your
invention a secret that to do it you were willing to ruin yourself
financially, and to efface yourself as a human being and as a
scientist."
"I don't feel," McAllen observed mildly, "that I really have effaced
myself, either as a human being or as a scientist."
"No, but as far as the public was concerned you did both."
McAllen smiled briefly. "That strategem was very effective--until now.
Very well, Mr. Chard. You understand clearly that under no
circumstances would I agree to the commercialization of ... well, of
my matter transmitter?"