The unknown seven A detective story
confirmed. But don’t you see that a man who is clever enough to ferret
out secrets while blindfolded would not betray himself so flagrantly?”
There was a twinkle of mirth in her deep-blue eyes. “Clever men are
often vain. You might have construed my note as a challenge to your
dexterity. It wasn’t that, of course. It was only a test of your
honesty.”
“And now you are convinced?”
“I was practically convinced before, but the others needed proof.”
“What convinced you?”
The blue eyes regarded him shrewdly, almost impersonally. Cole was
reminded of a biologist watching a controlled experiment.
“I am seldom mistaken in matters of that kind,” she said simply.
The cage stopped. As they got out, Cole abruptly asked the question
that had been uppermost in his mind all the time. “What about Reeves?”
“Dead, stabbed through the heart. He was breathing his last when we
found him.”
Cole nodded grimly. Miss Brown’s words had merely confirmed something
of which he had been practically certain. They had gone through the
hidden door in the wall by this time and were now in the corridor. They
passed several men who bowed respectfully to Miss Brown and cast hard
glances at Cole. The woman opened a door, and they entered the large
room with the filing cabinets and the glass globe, the room in which
Cole had been the night before.
At a desk, with iron-gray head bent over a stack of papers, sat Grover
Carlin. The lawyer looked up as they entered, and a faint smile flitted
across his rugged face and tempered the cold gleam in his eyes. “Glad
to see you, Mr. Cole,” he said in measured tones. “I am also pleasantly
surprised. Your abrupt departure, just after the murder last night,
looked pretty bad.”
“I was rather surprised that you didn’t try to stop me.”
Carlin grinned apologetically. “No one thought of doing so until it was
too late. Everybody, including myself, were stricken senseless by the
murder. We couldn’t realize that such a thing had happened right here
in our midst. It seemed unbelievable. All we could think was that you
were——”
“In cahoots with the murderer,” suggested Cole when the lawyer paused.
“Well, I admit it looked strange. That murder was about as nervy a
piece of rascality as I ever heard of. The fellow came here determined
to carry out his purpose or die in the attempt. Doesn’t his reckless
audacity and the ease with which he got into your establishment suggest
something to your mind, Mr. Carlin?”
“Oh, yes a number of things. It suggests that he had powerful
influences behind him. The motive isn’t far to seek. The men
responsible for the murder feared that Reeves might recover from the
effects of the operation and divulge certain facts which would be to
their detriment. They decided to prevent that by silencing him forever.”
“What else?” asked Cole, eying the lawyer steadily.
Carlin gave him a quizzical glance.
“How do you suppose the fellow got in?” Cole went on. “Where did he
get the duplicate key to the elevator door? How did he get hold of
the combination that controls the mechanism? Who told him how to get
through the wall? How do you explain that, after entering, he walked
straight to the room where Reeves was? As you probably remember, we
heard the cry only a few moments after the green light had flashed,
showing that the murderer knew his way thoroughly.”
Carlin gazed at him hard and long. “Well?” he asked at length.
“Perhaps you still suspect me?” asked Cole lightly.
“No.” The word came a little uncertainly. “I never really suspected
you. I only had certain doubts about you, doubts which were natural
under the circumstances. Your return here this afternoon speaks
volumes. You would scarcely have come back if you had been playing us
false. I feel I owe you an apology.”
“It’s accepted,” said Cole with a laugh. “But apologies aren’t going to
remedy matters. Mr. Carlin, there’s a traitor among you.”
Miss Brown, seated near by, caught her breath. The lawyer thrust his
head forward a little. “Impossible,” he said. “There was a traitor
among us, as I explained to you, but we got rid of him. For all I know
he may be dead by this time. I am ready to swear to the reliability of
every man on our staff.”
Cole seemed inclined to argue the point, but he desisted. His eyes
twinkled a little, and he looked as though he were content to let
developments prove the truth of what he had said.
“There is one thing you haven’t explained, Mr. Cole,” said Miss Brown.
“I am curious to know how you got into the elevator a little while ago.
Where did you get the key?”
“Oh, the key,” said Cole lightly. “Why, I found it in the murderer’s
pocket.”
Carlin and Miss Brown looked at him in speechless astonishment.
“I seem to be telling things backward,” Cole went on. “After I left
here early this morning I gave the fellow a chase and caught him. He’s
a hunchbacked, dried-up wisp of a man, and as evil looking a specimen
of humanity as I ever saw.”
Carlin blinked his eyes bewilderedly and looked at Cole, as if he had
just discovered some new quality in him.
“And you—you caught him?” asked Miss Brown. “Where—how?”
Cole explained, but only very briefly. There was a gleam of sly humor
in his eye. Toward the end of his recital he did a strange thing. He
finished it off with an embellishing touch that was not in strict
accordance with the truth.
“The best part of it all,” he said in casual tones, “is that I have
the fellow’s confession in black and white. Like most of his kind he
showed the yellow streak when he saw the game was up. Just how complete
the confession is I can’t say, but it contains several interesting
facts.”
“Where is it?” said Carlin excitedly. “Have you got it with you?” He
half rose from his chair, then sat down again.
“No; it isn’t wise to carry such things on one’s person. No telling
when you’re going to get knocked down and have your pockets picked. The
confession is in a safe place. In due time I shall show it to you.”
Carlin seemed inclined to ask questions, but Cole’s face showed plainly
that he had said all that he intended to say for the present. The
lawyer got up, walked around the desk and gave the other’s shoulder
a vigorous slap. “You belong here with us,” he declared with blunt
emphasis. “You’re just the man for the job. I was sure of it before;
now I’m doubly certain. You’ve proven your fitness in forty different
ways. Will you accept?”
Cole’s eyes gleamed wistfully. His smile showed that the proposition
appealed to him. “You aren’t offering me the position just because I
wormed a confession out of the hunchback?” he asked guardedly.
“By no means. We were ready to offer you the place a week ago, while
you were sniffing around the edges of what you called the Carmody case.
We need you, Cole. Think it over carefully. Consider the opportunities.”
“I have considered them. I am strongly tempted to accept, especially
since I am out of a job.” Cole gave a whimsical little laugh. “I
forgot to tell you that Englebreth gave me my walking papers this
morning. Do you care to take on a man who was fired by his last
employer?”
“You just bet we do!” Carlin extended his hand, and Cole gripped it
vigorously. “This evening your appointment will be confirmed by the
full board, and afterward we’ll introduce you to the members of the
staff. There’s one matter that’s got to be settled immediately though.
You’ve got a ticklish problem to solve right at the start, Cole.
Something must be done about the body of Reeves.”
Cole had already thought of that. He realized what a delicate position
The Unknown Seven were in. The murder could not be reported to the
police without jeopardizing the secrecy that, to a great extent, had
been responsible for the organization’s success. Neither would it be
easy to turn the body over to the proper authorities without imperiling
the society’s seclusion. It was a knotty problem, and Cole considered
it from all angles, while Carlin and Miss Brown showed him over the
premises.
Cole’s eyes grew wider and wider as he was conducted from room to
room. On one side of the hall were the offices with their steel filing
cases, huge nickel-plated safes, desks, typewriters, and even a
rogues’ gallery, which Cole inspected with avid interest. One room was
devoted to finger prints and the Bertillon system of identification.
Adjoining it was a laboratory in which, as Carlin explained, the
latest scientific discoveries were adapted to the requirements of the
detective profession.
They crossed the hall, and it seemed to Cole that he was entering
a different world. This part of the establishment was given over to
clubrooms, but they were more magnificent than any Cole had ever seen.
There was a well-appointed gymnasium; a swimming pool in which clear
water gleamed invitingly in a huge tank of marble; a library containing
all the latest fiction and belles-lettres; a dining room, an art
gallery, a pool and billiard parlor, and various cozy little nooks for
the members.
“You see, Mr. Cole, we believe in combining pleasure and comfort with
work,” explained Carlin, when the tour of inspection was finished and
they were back in the office from which they had started. “By the way,
dinner will be served at six-thirty. You must stay and dine with us.”
Cole agreed after a moment’s hesitation. His glance fell on the
telephone at Carlin’s desk, and suddenly he seemed to remember
something.
“Perhaps you would like to use the telephone,” the lawyer suggested.
“The switchboard is in an office on the tenth floor, and all incoming
and outgoing calls are relayed through it. No chance of a call being
traced, you see.”
Cole picked up the telephone and gave the operator the number of his
landlady. Carlin and Miss Brown started to withdraw, but Cole assured
them there was nothing personal about the call and asked them to stay.
“That you, Mrs. Armstrong?” he asked when he had got his connection.
“Mr. Cole speaking. I may not be home till late this evening, and
I wonder if you’d mind running up and giving Toots her milk. Yes,
Toots—T-o-o-t-s. The cat, you know. Very good of you. Will you do it
right away, Mrs. Armstrong? I’ll hold the wire till you come back.
Toots wasn’t looking well this morning. Acted as if she had a headache
or something. I’m anxious to know how she is.”
With the receiver at his ear, Cole waited. Carlin stroked his chin
reflectively. From time to time he gazed in an odd way at the man who
was to direct the activities of The Unknown Seven, and whose sole
concern just now appeared to be an ailing cat. Miss Brown was amused
and took no pains to conceal it.
Cole was kept waiting a long time. At last he pricked up his ears in a
startled way, as if some surprising news was being told him. He uttered
a few short exclamations, then hung up the receiver and glanced at his
watch.
“Mr. Carlin,” he said gravely, in a tone so low that the other two
could scarcely hear, “two hours ago I sat in this chair and told you
a lie.” He made a silencing signal with his hand as Miss Brown and
Carlin started to interrupt. “Yes, a lie. What I said about having
wrung a confession from the hunchback wasn’t true, though all the
rest was in strict accordance with the facts. As you may remember, I
mentioned having put the confession in a safe place. From that you
might have inferred that I had hidden it at my home, or placed it in a
safe-deposit box.”
He was speaking in whispers, as if afraid that an eavesdropper might be
lurking somewhere in the room. The faces of his two listeners showed
stark bewilderment.
“That was two hours ago,” he went on, “and just now my landlady told me
that when she went up to my rooms to feed the cat she found everything
thrown topsy-turvy. The place looked as if a cyclone had struck it.”