The unknown seven A detective story
But it was the door between the stairs and the shaft that claimed his
interest. The single word, “Private,” stenciled in black letters on a
golden-brown surface, piqued his curiosity. It was plainly a hint to
strangers to keep out. Signs of that kind had held a strong fascination
for Cole ever since he was a boy. It was just as if some one had dared
him to pass through the forbidden door. He tried it furtively, though
well aware of the starter’s oblique scrutiny. It was locked, as he
had expected, but the word, “Private,” continued to tantalize him.
What could be on the other side of the locked door? The office of the
superintendent of the building, perhaps. Or, maybe, the establishment
of a mail-order concern that did not care for personal relations with
its customers. On the other hand it might be only a storeroom where the
scrub women kept their mops and brooms and buckets. All these guesses
seemed plausible enough, but Cole strongly suspected something entirely
different. Unless he were greatly mistaken, the door was the entrance
to the private elevator.
Wishing to verify his surmise, he walked up to the starter and, in a
tone which might have signified that he was an agent for the building
department or the inspector of an insurance company, inquired by whom
the private door was being used.
“A bunch of nuts,” said the starter, moved to loquacity by Cole’s
official air. “They come an’ go at all hours. They’s some big bugs
among ’em, too. Guess they belong to wunna them secret societies.”
Cole tried to learn more, but the man became suddenly tight-lipped
and referred him to the superintendent of the building for further
information. “It’s agin’ my orders to talk about the tenants,” he added.
Cole nodded understandingly and stepped aside. The locked door seemed
to bar further progress for the present. Just then he remembered his
original errand. He had almost forgotten Englebreth. The cage into
which he had seen the invalid carried had just reached the ground
floor and was disgorging passengers. Cole waited till it was ready to
make another trip, then stepped in and slipped a small bill into the
operator’s hand.
“You carried up a crippled person some ten or fifteen minutes ago,” he
said in an undertone. “Where did he go?”
“Oh, him!” The operator grinned as he stuffed the bill into a pocket.
“He comes here every now and then. You’ll find him in 2512, sir. It’s
the top floor.”
Cole got out on the twenty-fifth floor. To all outward appearances
it was, indeed, the top floor of the building. The elevator shaft
terminated in a blank ceiling, and the stairs in the back extended no
higher. It was somewhat tantalizing to know that directly above him,
and yet completely out of reach, was the rendezvous of The Unknown
Seven.
Cole paused outside the door numbered 2512, but he did not knock.
He could think of no pretext for seeking another interview with
Englebreth. The office, as was indicated by the sign on the frosted
glass, was occupied by the Bureau of Civil Research, and he made a
mental note of the fact. He could see no particular significance in
Englebreth’s visit to a place of that kind. No doubt the Bureau of
Civic Research was one of the numerous activities that his former
client cultivated as a hobby. As far as his original purpose was
concerned it looked as though Cole had wasted his time, but there was
consolation in the fact that he had incidentally found the headquarters
of The Unknown Seven. For the moment, however, he did not see how he
was to profit by his discovery.
He descended, cast a mildly baffled glance at the private door, and
went out to lunch. It seemed as if there was nothing for him to do but
loiter in the vicinity of the building and wait for one of the members
to appear. Idleness irked him, however, and he disliked the thought
that such a small thing as a locked door was standing in his way. He
cudgeled his brain for an idea, as he strolled out of the restaurant.
Suddenly he found one, and he walked two blocks and ducked into a
subway entrance. Soon he was aboard an uptown train, bound for Doctor
Latham’s residence. He suspected that in the pockets of the hunchback
he would find a key that would unlock the door. If his guess had been
correct, and the door opened into the elevator used by The Unknown
Seven, then the hunchback must have passed through that very door the
previous night. He could not have done so unless he had a duplicate
key. He might have thrown it away, of course, but the chances were that
it was still in his possession.
Cole looked sharply about him as he walked down the block in which the
doctor resided. He knew Tony was lurking somewhere in the neighborhood,
but the youngster had a surprising knack at making himself
inconspicuous when the occasion demanded it. He rang the doctor’s
doorbell and was told by the white-capped attendant who admitted him
that the physician was engaged with a patient. Cole waited in the
reception room. Evidently Latham did not permit his other enterprises
to interfere with his practice, for several patients were waiting to
consult him.
Presently the door opened, and the doctor arched his brows as he saw
Cole in the waiting group. After a moment’s hesitancy he motioned him
to enter the consulting room.
“How is the patient, doctor?” inquired Cole briskly, glancing at the
door in the rear.
Latham stroked his glossy beard. “As well as can be expected,
considering the awkward position you left him in. He has difficulty
getting about.”
“Then you have not yet succeeded in extricating him from his
embarrassing predicament?”
“Oh, no!” said the doctor with a dry laugh. “I haven’t even tried. I
just removed him to one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. He was in the
way down here. You wish to have a talk with him, I suppose? I fear it
is impossible. He grew hysterical a while ago, and I had to give him a
sedative.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just want to look at him.”
Latham gave him a queer glance, then he smiled knowingly. “I see,” he
murmured. “You wish to make sure that he hasn’t escaped, despite the
handicap you imposed on him. This way.”
He opened a door and preceded Cole up a flight of stairs. They entered
a room, and Cole saw the hunchback stretched out on the operating table
and sound asleep. The physician watched him narrowly as Cole stepped
up to the recumbent man and began to explore his pockets. A blank look
came into the doctor’s eyes when Cole, with a murmur of satisfaction,
extracted a key.
“As I observed once before,” said Latham, “you are a most astounding
person. I wonder what the significance of that key might be.”
“Every key has a mission, doctor, and that is to unlock some door.”
The physician regarded him thoughtfully. “I don’t understand you at
all. You do such unexpected things. I am still wondering what your
intentions are with respect to my patient.”
“For the present my only concern is that he shan’t get away.”
The doctor pondered for a few moments longer, then he shrugged his
shoulders, and the two men walked down the stairs in silence. As they
reached the consultation office and were about to pass into the outer
room, Latham paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Would it surprise
you very much,” he asked in slow, incisive accents, “if I were to tell
you that I am just as anxious as you can possibly be that the fellow
upstairs shan’t get away?”
Cole’s eyes opened wide. “No, it wouldn’t surprise me. I would simply
be unable to follow you. You are a deep one, doctor; nothing that you
could say or do would startle me.”
Latham’s face relaxed in a smile. “I construe that as a compliment.
Please appease my curiosity on one point. You have taken extraordinary
precautions against my patient escaping, but what about myself? Aren’t
you afraid that I might run away?”
“I am not,” said Cole emphatically. “You are not the kind that runs
away. You work by subtler means than that. Where men of coarser
mentality would kill an undesirable person, you merely render him
harmless. If, later on, it should prove absolutely necessary to remove
him, you hire another man to perform the nasty job. Your sensitive soul
shrinks from vulgar tactics and sordid actions. For the same reason you
don’t run away from danger. Instead, you plan your moves so carefully
in advance that the risk is reduced to the lowest possible minimum, and
flight becomes unnecessary.”
It was a rather blunt speech, and Cole had spoken so plainly only
because he wished to watch the effect on the doctor. In the end he
was disappointed. The expansive beard concealed all outward signs of
emotion; the face was no more expressive than a wooden image. For just
a moment the eyes shone with a cold gleam, but that was all. When Cole
had finished, the bearded lips parted in a pleased smile.
“Thanks,” murmured Latham. “Too bad we appear to be enemies. I like you
immensely—I really do.”
He held the door open and Cole went out. As he walked toward the subway
he was almost inclined to share the doctor’s regret that they were
enemies. There was something at once attractive and repellent about
Latham. His subtleties, his cool audacity, and his flashing wits made
him a charming personality, and there was a certain fascination even
about his cold cynicism and conscienceless manner. Cole came away from
the doctor’s house with a spell hanging over him. But, aside from these
things, there were phases of Latham’s character that he could not
understand. Stray remarks, which the doctor had dropped, and certain
telltale gestures and mannerisms lingered in his memory while he rode
downtown.
“A fascinating riddle and a highly accomplished villain,” was his way
of summing up the doctor’s many-sided personality, as he got out of the
subway and turned toward the Security Building.
He entered and, key in hand, walked direct to the private door. The
elevator starter gave him an astonished glance, but did not interfere.
The key fitted easily. Cole opened the door and stepped in, then
quickly closed it behind him. He was in a narrow cage, with a small
electric bulb at the top. He looked about him in bewilderment, for
there was no sign of any apparatus by which the elevator could be
started. Carlin had told him that there was a peculiar mechanism that
could be operated only by the initiated, but all Cole saw was a dial
with figures along the rim and a knob in the center. It looked like the
combination lock of a safe.
He twirled the knob back and forth, but without result. He tried
several different combinations on the dial, but the elevator refused
to budge. With ingrained stubbornness he persisted in his efforts, but
in the end he was forced to confess that the task was beyond him. He
was on the point of getting out when a key grated in the lock. A moment
later the door came open, and Miss Brown entered the cage.
She started slightly as she saw him. Cole looked at her, and his frown
melted. She was simply, but charmingly, attired in a tailor-made suit
of some soft, gray material the name of which was not included in
Cole’s vocabulary.
“Oh, you came!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, but I didn’t get very far.” Cole regarded her with a half
humorous, half reproachful glance. Her plain little hat set off
to perfection the lily-white complexion and the hair like ruffled
sunshine. “How did you expect me to manipulate the contraption?”
“I didn’t really expect you to,” she told him, while she whirled the
knob back and forth a number of times. “In fact, I was sure it would
stump you, but the others had their doubts on that point.”
“I see,” said Cole dryly, as the cage rocketed upward. “If I had
shown that I knew how to operate the mechanism I would have convicted
myself of duplicity, and the suspicions of the others would have been