THE PROFESSOR TALKS
“That got the dear gentlemen!” There came a rasping chuckle from below.
“Yes, that sent them to their happy hunting ground. Too bad the Indian
wasn’t with them, but he will serve another purpose.”
“Beg pardon, Professor—” It was Lambert’s subdued voice this time. “If
those two are really done for—burned to death, why don’t the bodies
fall?”
“Caught on the staples, you silly fool! But just to prevent any chance
of survival, you’d better ignite the other can.”
For a moment there was silence, then the two at the top of the
dining-room flue heard the same roar down the chimney and again the
white hot flame rushed past them.
“Now are you quite satisfied?” whined the wheezing treble. “They are
burned to a crisp, I tell you. Tomorrow I’ll have the chimney cleaned
and their remains brought down. It’s too late tonight. Well, Lambert,”
the voice went on testily, “what have you got to say to that? For a man
who makes bad mistakes, you have become exceedingly critical.”
“Very good, Professor. But may I be allowed to suggest that they may
have climbed out the top of the chimney before we started the gasoline?
Even now they may be hiding on the roof.”
“Oh, no, they are not hiding on the roof, my dear young man! I grant you
that the youth Bolton was a midshipman in the Navy and can probably
climb like a cat. But we were a little too fast for them, Lambert—a
little too fast. Ever since I knew they had taken to the chimney, Otto
and Henry have been watching on the roof. Inasmuch as I see them both
standing in the doorway now, I think we may take it for granted, my dear
Lambert, that the intruders have departed—not escaped.” There was a
wealth of ugly sarcasm in the old man’s tone. “Now, Otto,” he added
sharply. “How about it? What’s your report?”
“Nuthin’ come up, sir, but the flames, sir. Them two is burned to a
frazzle!”
“You see, Lambert—you see!” Professor Fanely’s wheeze was triumphant.
“Perhaps Lambert, you will permit me to run my own affairs in future
without interference on your part. Just remember that you are my paid
employee—nothing more.”
Bill nudged the detective. “That ought to hold friend Lambert for a
while,” he whispered. “I certainly hope nobody remembers that this vent
leads into the main chimney.”
“Sh—! There’s Otto again.”
“Beg pardon, sir.” The deep tones floated up the chimney. “What shall we
do about the stiff upstairs?”
“Ah! The late Mr. Serge Kolinski! That was an unforeseen _contretemps_,
was it not, Lambert? Well, the man had his uses. My plan, as you may
have guessed, was to place him in the car with the late Mr. Ashton
Sanborn. They would have been run down the road half a mile or so, the
car wrecked and a revolver, with two empty chambers left in the hand of
the secret service man. Tomorrow’s newspapers would have stated that I
had turned over my butler to Mr. Sanborn. That the two must have fought
in the car, with the result that in the struggle, both were shot with
the same gun.” He stopped and blew his nose loudly. “But there again,
Lambert, you stepped in and messed things up. Now we have Kolinski and
two other bodies on our hands. Let me see—? Ah, yes, we will do it this
way. Henry, tomorrow morning you will place the three bodies in the
small plane. Put them in the luggage cockpit, and take Thomas along. Fly
across the Sound and Long Island, and keep straight out to sea. When you
are twenty-five miles from shore, have Thomas throw them overboard. You
understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then see that there are no more errors made. By the way, Otto, speaking
of Sanborn’s car—what has become of it?”
“We used it to carry the young Indian feller down to the lodge, sir.
It’s parked down there.”
“Very well. Go to bed now. At four o’clock go down to the lodge. Get the
Seminole and drive him up to the laboratory. Don’t forget to change the
license plates, though. We’ve had enough trouble through Kolinski’s
oversight. I will leave later in the Fokker, so will arrive before you.
And while I think of it, Otto, don’t drive up there by way of
Heartfield’s. The state police may be watching that route. Drive from
here to Bedford and up through Brewster to Pawling. I know that the road
to Mizzentop is a bad one, but it’s safer that way. And thanks to Mr.
Lambert, we shall all have to play safe for some little more. Have you
got that straight now, Otto?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“Then good night all. We must be about early in the morning, remember.”
“Good night, sir,” murmured a chorus of voices.
“Oh, Lambert! Don’t forget to take the A44 notes in the morning. I will
leave Mizzentop early in the afternoon for Washington. The President
dines with me, you know, and we will want to go over the papers later.”
“Very good, sir. I shall bring them.”
There came the sound of footsteps, then all was quiet below.
“We’ll give them an hour,” Sanborn whispered. “You haven’t a flashlight,
Bill?”
“No—why?”
“There’s no other way of seeing the hands of my wristwatch to gauge the
time. These matches blow out—”
“Don’t worry, sir. My dial is luminous. Wait till I rub some of the soot
off—great grief! it’s after eleven! We’ve been here nearly two hours.”
“Well, we’ll wait until midnight. Let’s get up on the junction of the
shafts, it will be more comfortable. My back and knees are half
paralyzed.”
They pulled themselves up and squeezed into the narrow space, seated
side by side.
“The old boy,” Bill observed, “certainly has a screw loose—but what do
you think is in back of it all?”
“I don’t know, my boy. But I think we’d better be quiet. We might be
heard if we keep on talking—and I’ve got to straighten out a lot of
things in my mind and try to plan what our next three or four moves will
be.”
“O.K. I’m terribly tired, guess I’ll snatch forty winks.”
Improbably enough, he did fall asleep right there, wedged between the
sooty chimney wall and Ashton Sanborn’s shoulder. He was lost in the
dreamless depths of exhaustion when a hand pressed his arm.
“Gee,” muttered Bill, “where am I? Oh, yes—is it twelve o’clock, Mr.
Davis?”
The detective patted his arm lightly. “Yes, Bill, it’s exactly midnight.
And Sanborn will do in the future, you know.”
The way down proved much easier than the ascent. Five minutes later they
were standing in the dark library. Silently Sanborn went to the broken
window and very slowly and carefully drew up the sash. Then he thrust
his head outside, made sure that no one was about and nodded to Bill
just behind him. They slid over the sill, dropped to the ground, and
soon skirted the flower beds and reached comparative safety beneath the
elms.
“Well! I’m sure glad we’re out of that dive!” sighed Bill. “Professor
Fanely is the perfect host, I don’t think! What’s the next move? Get
Osceola?”
“Yes, we must get him out of the lodge. I first thought of going to the
nearest phone and calling in the Greenwich police. But Fanely seems to
learn of our every move almost before we make it. He’s probably got
someone watching police headquarters in Greenwich, and by the time
enough men were rounded up to make the raid effective, Kolinski’s body
would have disappeared and the old boy would certainly deny all
knowledge of the affair. There’d be only our word against his, and
seeing that Washington thinks I’m chasing a mare’s nest anyway, in
trying to connect this prominent old man with crime—well, Fanely and his
crew would get off scot-free.”
“And Ashton Sanborn would lose his job!”
“Exactly, Bill.”
They continued to head through the landscaped park toward the lodge, but
kept well away from the drive. They were nearing the main entrance to
the property before the secret service man spoke again.
“I’ve been thinking it over, Bill. The only way to get anything definite
on that slippery old customer is to corral him in that laboratory he
talked about. I’ve a hunch we’ll find evidence in plenty at Mizzentop.
That laboratory, to my mind, is the center of this spider’s web.”
“Where is Mizzentop?”
“Why, Mizzentop was one of the fashionable resorts of this country, my
boy, during the ’70’s and ’80’s. It’s up on the mountain above Pawling,
New York, and nine or ten miles across the hills from Heartfield’s. The
house Fanely blew up must have been purchased so that the Professor
could have a hangout conveniently close by and yet not near enough to
arouse suspicion if discovered. Mizzentop is really the name of the old
hotel up there, from which the little settlement takes its name.”
They stepped behind a high bank of shrubbery, beyond which they could
see the dim blur of the lodge in the darkness.
“That,” said Bill, “seems to me a queer place to locate a
laboratory—right near a summer hotel, I mean.”
“Oh, the hotel isn’t running now—hasn’t been for thirty years or more. I
was up there a couple of summers ago. It’s a huge frame building, three
or four stories high, with wide verandas completely encircling it. It
seemed to be in pretty good condition, then. Somebody was evidently
taking care of the property, lawns kept up and so forth, but the place
was untenanted.”
“I wonder—”
“What? Have you got an idea? Let’s have it then we’ll go after Osceola.”
“Well, I was just figuring,” Bill’s voice sounded thoughtful, “suppose
Professor Fanely had bought that hotel and is using it for his
laboratory, or whatever he calls it.”
The detective slapped his thigh sharply. “That is a new slant on it,
Bill! Sounds like a good one to me. Just as soon as we get Osceola I’ll
check up on it by telephone. In fact, I’ve a lot of phoning to do.
Captain Simmonds and the State Police will have to be brought in now,
Washington or no Washington!”
“But do you think Fanely will fly up there as he plans to do—when we’re
found missing?”
“Certainly. Of course our disappearance will worry him quite a bit.
He’ll probably decide that we slipped down the dining-room flue, when he
finds out that it connects with the main chimney. But his line is
absolute denial, and of course, he’ll have no idea that we overheard his
talk in the library, or that we’re planning a raid on Mizzentop.”
“You’re right, I think. So here’s hoping the old boy takes his hop. Now
we can go ahead for the Chief—”
He stopped short. The piercing shriek of a soul in mortal anguish rent
the night. By common impulse Sanborn and Bill dashed for the darkened
lodge.