_The Robbery_
When Professor Jerome Mortenson regained his senses a midday sun was
casting its brilliant light and warmth through a skylight directly over
him. His head throbbed painfully, his lips were dry and feverish. Dark
stains on his shirt-front made him feel his aching head. His hair was
matted with coagulated blood, his cheek was caked. He marvelled that he
had survived the terrible blow at all.
Half-dazed he stood up, swaying like a drunken man. The room spun like
a top. He closed his eyes to steady himself, then lurched slowly
toward a wash-stand to douse his head in cold water. A trickle of
vermilion ran down his temple after the dried blood had been washed
from a gaping scalp wound that would require at least three stitches
to close. Holding a towel over the gash he sat down to his telephone,
called a doctor, and waited in gloomy silence for his arrival.
He did not have long to wait, however. Within fifteen minutes the
medico was on the scene and in less time the wound was stitched and
bandaged. Feeling the effects of a sedative administered to him,
Mortenson became more alert. Rapidly his mind raced over the robbery.
To make sure that he was not dreaming he went to his safe. The fifth
dimensional apparatus was gone all right.
"Damn!" he ejaculated softly, and then: "Oh, well! It's a wonder the
devil didn't kill me. He thought I was fooling with him, but...."
The shrill cry of a newsboy outside suddenly attracted his attention.
He listened as the cries grew louder. Trembling he went to the door and
stepped out into the open. The sun was dazzling and made his head ache
violently for a moment. The newsy paused in the street and yelled at
him.
"Paper, mister?" he cried sharply. "Extra! All about the phantom
bandit!"
Mortenson dug into his pocket and bought a paper. The headlines made
him wince. Quickly he returned to his laboratory, sat down and began
reading with a strange feeling of helplessness.
Like a colorful character stepping out of a fantastic Edgar Allan
Poe story, a lone bandit early today held up the Farmers' National
Bank here, shot and killed James Sprowl, a teller, and escaped with
approximately $250,000.00 in cash.
The holdup occurred shortly after the bank opened its doors this
morning and according to Martin Jones, Sprowl's assistant, employees
were forced to line up beside the vault at the command of a man who
appeared as if by magic.
Speaking almost hysterically of the bold daylight robbery, Jones is
quoted as saying:
"The bandit seemed to appear out of thin air and wore a strange mask
that had two long cylindrical objects sticking out from the eyes. He
had not been seen to enter the bank after the doors were opened.
"I heard his command, even before I could see anything more than a
vague shadow looming up in front of our cage, and then there
appeared a peculiar glow around it from which emerged the bandit.
"He covered Sprowl and me first. I do not recall just what happened
and I'm not certain if Sprowl grabbed the gun under the counter. But
the mysterious bandit's automatic exploded and Sprowl fell dead at
my feet.
"With everyone cowed and appalled, the man forced us to fill a bag
with all available cash and with the money he vanished into the air
again right before our eyes. For a full minute, thereafter, there
was a peculiar blue haze in the spot where he vanished. I heard him
laugh weirdly as he disappeared like a ghost."
Mortenson continued to read the accounts for some minutes; then
suddenly he was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He jumped
nervously, laid the paper aside and went to it. His hand shook on
the knob and his lips twitched. He swung the door wide open, to find
himself confronted by two burly detectives. They displayed their badges
with little formality. But Mortenson knew what they were after.
"Come right in, gentlemen," he invited quickly. "I've been expecting
this call."
"Oh, you have, eh?" Detective-Lieutenant Barton grunted sarcastically.
He glanced over Mortenson with shrewd, suspicious eyes and entered.
Riley, his companion, followed him, his right hand buried in his coat
pocket. Barton continued: "What made you expect this call?" he snapped
bluntly.
At first glance at the newspaper headlines, Mortenson knew he would be
suspected of being the phantom bandit. The world already knew that he,
of all people in it, had been the first man to solve the mysteries of
the Fifth Dimension through the use of strange apparatus such as worn
by the bandit, but he had little doubt of establishing his innocence,
so far as the robbery and killing was concerned. He sat down heavily in
a chair as though to prepare himself for an ordeal of questioning.
"Well," he said slowly, "having invented the apparatus used by the
bandit to make himself invisible, and being known as the inventor, I
would naturally expect to be questioned by the law, considering the
circumstances under which that apparatus has been used. I presume I am
suspected of being the phantom bandit?"
Barton scowled as though taken aback by the scientist's cool,
straightforward speech. He glanced at Riley, whose steel-blue eyes
twinkled with suspicion and amusement.
"You are not only suspected, but accused, Mortenson!" Barton growled.
"What have you to say to that?"
The scientist appraised him calmly, a flush of warm blood mounting to
his cheeks. His head throbbed again and made him slightly dizzy.
"I'll say that I can put you on the right track if you'll listen and
don't go off half-cocked," he said curtly, beginning to resent the
officer's hostile attitude.
"I suppose you'll deny your guilt?" Riley put in ruthlessly.
"I'd be a fool to confess to something I did not do," Mortenson
informed him quickly. "You fellows seem pretty sure of yourselves,
don't you?"
"Now, Mortenson," said Barton, shoving a cigar between his teeth and
pausing to chew at it. "I don't want any beating about the bush. I want
you to tell me exactly where you were this morning at nine-fifteen."
"That's easy, Barton," said Mortenson coolly. "I was lying right
there on the floor, knocked out completely. As usual I worked late
last night. About midnight a masked man came in here, robbed me of my
Fifth Dimensional apparatus, knocked me cold with his gun and skipped.
That's the reason for the bandages on my head and the cause for that
blood-stain on the floor near your feet. I came too about an hour
ago, had Doctor Brandon sew me up, and then bought a newspaper which
informed me of the bank holdup and killing.
"I hardly blame you for suspecting me, but you can see at a glance that
I had nothing to do with the bank affair, except, of course, giving the
crook instructions as to how to operate the apparatus."
"Why did you do that?" snapped Barton.
"To live, Barton," the scientist retorted. "You probably know what it
is to face a gun, not knowing what minute it might go off."
The detectives exchanged baffled glances and Barton bent over to
appraise the blood-stain on the floor. Riley's eyes roved about the
room and finally concentrated on Mortenson's bandaged head.
"Suppose we have a look at that head, Mortenson," he said with a shrug
of his powerful shoulders. Barton looked up.
"Never mind that, Riley," he said authoritively. "Let Wagner do that at
headquarters."
"You mean you are going to take me in on suspicion?" Mortenson sat bolt
upright.
"I've got a warrant for your arrest, Mortenson," the other replied
firmly. "Your story sounds pretty good to me, but I'll have to book you
at least. You'll probably be released on your own recognizance, if the
police surgeon's report is satisfactory. You know...."
"Oh, I know, Barton," said the scientist with a nod. "You think I might
have put that stain there and bashed my own head to establish an alibi.
Well, you're all wrong. Look in the wash-stand and you will see that I
washed the blood off my head and face there. It takes at least eight
hours for blood to coagulate and I'm sure you will find clots in the
sink to prove that I was injured shortly after midnight."
"Why didn't you report to headquarters when you came to?" Riley
grumbled.
"I don't know," said Mortenson. "I guess I was too dazed. Then Dr.
Brandon came and fixed me up. After that I became interested in the
news of the bank robbery."