THE FACE AT THE WINDOW
While Doctor Latham fastened the boat, Cole’s eyes swept the black
masses of wooded hills that slanted upward at a sharp angle from the
river bank. At the apex of the tallest peak a light gleamed, but
otherwise there was no sign of human habitation on this side of the
river. The lights of a town twinkled across the foaming welter of
waves, and they helped Cole to fix their location. They were in one
of the wildest and most rugged sections of Dutchess County. The peak,
on which the solitary light shone, had once been a popular pleasure
resort, and in the old days a cable railway had carried week-end
excursionists to the top. Of late, what with the dry era and the
public’s fickle fancy, the place had lost its popularity, and the
buildings on the peak were falling into decay. The ruggedly romantic
setting seemed an ideal one for the kind of adventure Cole anticipated.
With the doctor at his heels, he moved cautiously toward the point
where the yacht had anchored a short distance ahead. Of a sudden they
stopped. The crack of a pistol rose sharply above the whine of the wind.
“Only a signal, I think,” said Cole, after waiting tensely for a few
moments.
They advanced a little farther, then stopped on a slight elevation from
which they had an unobstructed view of the yacht. In the lights from
the craft they saw a number of men going ashore, and several of them
were carrying a bulky object. Their faces were not recognizable at that
distance, but Cole thought there were about a dozen in all.
“We may have quite a lively tussle,” he observed in an undertone. “I
could have brought a few helpers along, but safety doesn’t always lie
in numbers.”
“I like this better,” said Latham. “If there were more of us there
might not be enough thrills to go around. Where are we?”
“That place, up there in the clouds, where you see the light, is called
Dutchess Point. I believe there is a car coming down. That’s probably
what the pistol shot meant.”
A light was treading its way in a zigzagging course down the side of
the hill. Soon were heard the chugging of motors and the metallic snarl
of brakes. The two men waited until the car reached the group that had
come off the yacht. As soon as the loaded vehicle started to retread
its path up the hill they followed. It proved a hard climb, and they
reached the top a full half hour behind the car.
The apex was composed mostly of huge flat rock, with here and there a
few scrawny trees. There were half a dozen buildings scattered about,
and in the largest one several lights had appeared by the time the two
climbers reached the top. They stood in a dark spot behind a little
cluster of starving hemlocks. No one was in sight, but the sound of
voices drifted out to them through the open windows of the large
building.
“Hear that noise?” whispered Latham. “What do you suppose it is?”
Cole listened. A gentle, rhythmic whirring was heard. He looked down at
his feet, for it seemed to come from underground.
“Machinery,” he said, and suddenly he remembered the words spoken by
Malcolm Reeves in his insane glee: “Yellow—pretty yellow.” The whirring
noise that he heard, as he stood there under the hemlocks, brought them
back to his mind.
“Look!” said Latham suddenly.
Cole, following his pointing finger, glanced upward. The large
building, he now noticed, was equipped with a high tower, and near its
top a light had appeared in the last few moments. At the lighted window
a face was dimly discernible. Cole strained his eyes at the point of
illumination, and suddenly he gripped his companion’s arm.
“It’s a woman, Latham!”
The doctor gasped. “It must be Miss Brownell, then!”
The two men continued staring upward. Their imaginations touched up the
dim and remote picture which they saw with their eyes. The face was
very white, thought Cole, and the eyes held a look of terror. She was
looking downward; their glances met somewhere in mid-air, and yet she
appeared not to see the two watchers below.
“What shall we do?” asked Latham.
“You stay here,” said Cole. “I’m going to look around a bit.”
He slipped away among the trees, avoiding the open space in front
of the building. The tower was in the rear, overlooking the steep
incline, and he moved in that direction. He looked up a sheer wall
to where the light shone. To climb up there was out of the question,
for the blank wall offered no hold for either hands or feet. He moved
cautiously toward the front entrance. For a moment he listened outside
the sagging door, then boldly pushed it open and entered.
He was in a dark corridor. Under one of the doors at the side was a
thin wedge of light. A number of voices issued from it; evidently a
conference of some kind was in progress. Knowing that the stairway
leading to the tower must be in that direction, Cole tiptoed farther
down the hall. A bold and reckless move, he had learned from
experience, was often more effective than a thought-out plan. Before he
could do anything else Miss Brownell must be rescued. His hands were
tied, as long as she was held as a hostage by the gang. Once she was
out of harm’s way he could proceed against them as ruthlessly as he
pleased.
He came to the end of the hall, and there he brought up against another
door. He opened it, almost sure that it must lead to the stairs, but
instead he found himself in a large, square room. A small electric
bulb glowed in the ceiling, and in its light he caught a glimpse of a
forbidding figure guarding a door at the farther side. The sentinel was
thickset and broad-shouldered. His bushy brows seemed top-heavy for his
very small eyes which glared out at Cole in a startled way.
“Stop right where you are!” he commanded, at the same instant reaching
for his hip pocket. As his fingers closed around the handle of an
automatic, Cole lunged forward. His fist landed with explosive force in
the man’s face, and he fell to the ground without a sound.
“Sorry, old top, but it had to be done,” Cole told the insensible man,
as he opened the door which the fellow had been guarding. Before him
was a winding stairway that seemed to extend upward interminably. Very
quickly Cole lifted the man through the door and stretched him out
along the steps, then drew the door to.
He hurried up the stairs. The long ascent would have exhausted a weaker
man, but Cole’s lungs and muscles were in the pink of condition. At
length, panting a little, he reached the top. Before him was a door. He
rapped, and footfalls crossed the floor within.
“Who’s there?” demanded a voice which he recognized as Miss Brownell’s.
It sounded a bit lofty, pathetically so, he thought.
“Cole,” he replied.
“Oh!” The exclamation was more a sigh of relief. “But I can’t let you
in. The door is locked, and I have no key.”
“I might have known it,” muttered Cole. The space between the door
and the wall of the tower was very narrow. Bracing his back against
the wall he placed his feet on the door and shoved steadily. It was
of stout material, but at length it gave with an abruptness that
precipitated him to the floor. Quickly he picked himself up.
The girl rushed toward him. There was an excited flush which
surmounted the white of her face. “I am so glad——” she began.
“You were foolish,” Cole sternly interrupted. “You shouldn’t have
started after Ballinger alone. That’s no job for a woman. What
happened?”
“Ballinger was too clever for me,” she confessed. “The moment I thought
I had him I was shoved into a car, blindfolded, and—— Well, that’s
about all I know. When I opened my eyes the next morning I found myself
here.”
“How have they treated you?”
“Oh, very well, suspiciously well. I have been told that prisoners who
are doomed to die always get the best of everything. Mr. Cole, you have
thrown a full-sized scare into the gang. I heard a couple of the men
talking outside my door this morning. I suppose they felt sure I would
never have a chance to repeat what I heard. They said——”
“Not so loud!” admonished Cole.
“I gathered from what they said,” she went on in a whisper, “that the
leaders of the gang are badly frightened. They seem to think you are
hot on their trail.”
“They’re mistaken,” declared Cole modestly. “I’ve barely got started as
yet.”
“Well, all the same they are very much worried. Their plan, as one of
the men put it, is to make a swift clean-up and a quick get-away. Some
one, whom they called ‘the big chief,’ was to come out here to-night.”
“About a dozen men arrived a little while ago,” Cole informed her. “No
doubt the chief was among them. Do you know who he is?”
“No. He wasn’t referred to by name in the conversation which I
overheard. I am sure, though, that Doctor Latham isn’t the man. In fact
I never really thought so. More of my woman’s intuition, I suppose.”
“What else did the men say?” he asked in a whisper.
“They said there is about half a billion dollars’ worth of gold ready
to be minted. I didn’t quite understand what they meant by that. There
is a complete set of machinery hidden somewhere about the place, and it
is running at full capacity.”
“I should think the comings and goings of the gang would excite the
curiosity of the townspeople across the river.”
“Oh, they’ve managed that part very cleverly by circulating a report
to the effect that the buildings are being renovated and that Dutchess
Point is to be reopened as a pleasure resort next spring. In fact, they
have put a crew of carpenters, roadmakers and gardeners to work on the
place. Just for a blind, of course. It seems they haven’t neglected a
single precaution. Yet they seem to be worried over something.”
“Excellent! When your enemy is worried, you have an advantage over him.
What seems to be the trouble?”
“I couldn’t quite make out. All I heard was a few scattered remarks. It
appears they are having some difficulty with the gold-making process.
There seems to be a minor flaw in the product, due to the absence of
something which they refer as the seventh ingredient. I haven’t the
least idea what it is, but it seems to be related to the experimental
work Doctor Latham conducted before he severed his connection with the
gang. They appear to think that he could solve their difficulty if he
was so inclined.”
“By supplying the formula for the seventh ingredient?”
“Something like that. Anyway, that was the impression I received.
Evidently the missing ingredient isn’t of very great importance, but
they want to make the product as perfect as possible.”
“For the sake of safety in minting and circulating it, I suppose,”
said Cole thoughtfully. “Apparently Latham left them at an inopportune
time from their point of view. Doubtless they would exert any manner
of pressure on him in order to make him divulge the secret of this
so-called seventh ingredient.”
“I doubt if they would succeed.”
“So do I,” said Cole, looking curiously at the girl. “Latham is a
fighter clean through, and he is a match for them. By the way, he came
out with me this evening.”
She caught her breath and fixed her wide, troubled eyes on his face.
“Doctor Latham here?” she murmured. “Did he volunteer to come with you?”
“I invited him to come, and he jumped at the invitation. I foresaw that
he would prove useful, and he was doubly anxious to come when I hinted
that our expedition to-night might reveal your whereabouts. Your
disappearance came as a great shock to him.”
“Then you no longer think he is implicated with these scoundrels?”
“No, I don’t. He was with them until he saw that their aims were
crooked, and then he got out as best he could. Latham has acted
foolishly, but that’s all. The scientific side of these experiments
appealed to the scholar in him. I don’t think he was ever moved by
greed. No, Latham wasn’t to be blamed. Whenever a man is in love he is
apt to make a fool of himself.”
She lowered her eyes. “Doctor Latham is a good man,” she said tensely.
“I wish I could——” A gentle sigh escaped her.
“I understand,” murmured Cole. “Life is a bit of a tangle, isn’t it?
Even the logical mind of a scholar isn’t able to steer clear of the
meshes when a charming woman is involved. One never knows——”
He paused, threw a quick glance at the door, then looked at Miss
Brownell, noting the tensity that had suddenly crept into her face.
In an instant his automatic was in his hand, and he tiptoed softly to
the door. Holding it open a crack, he heard unmistakably the sounds of
footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Stand back!” he ordered curtly. “Some one’s coming!”
But the girl, smiling faintly, signified with a shrug that she intended
to remain where she was.