The unknown seven A detective story
Cole laughed. “They are only an added incentive for me to go on with
it.”
She drew a long breath. “That’s your man’s way of looking at things.
The greater the dangers and difficulties the more determined you are
to forge ahead. You don’t stop to consider the price, or estimate the
cost. The wreckage you scatter about you means nothing to you. All you
think of is the gratification of your boundless ambition. Mr. Cole,
won’t you forgo your foolish pride and do what I ask?”
Her eyes held him despite his will. There was a look of terror in
their depths that exerted a subtle appeal upon him. He got to his feet
and tried to shake off the fascination of her beauty and her magnetic
personality.
“Impossible,” he declared. “If you brought me here in the hope of
inducing me to drop the Carmody case, your time and effort are wasted.”
“Please, Mr. Cole! Forget that you ever heard of this terrible case.
Tell your clients in the morning that you will have nothing further to
do with it.”
“That wouldn’t alter matters. They would promptly accept my
resignation and engage somebody else.”
“There is only one Kingdon Cole.”
“That’s a very neat compliment, but it won’t bear analysis. I haven’t
accomplished anything very wonderful, and another man could finish what
I have begun.”
She was silent for a time, her big, luminous eyes regarding him
imploringly. “If you won’t drop the case for your own sake, because of
the terrible dangers involved, then I beg you to do so for my sake.”
“For your sake? Really, Miss—er—Brown, I don’t understand. What is your
interest in the Carmody case?”
She stepped up and clutched his hand. The touch of her fingers sent
a thrill through him. Her eyes were moist, and the curve beneath her
throat rose and fell with accelerated rhythm. “Yes, for my sake. I
can’t explain, except to say that awful things will happen to me if you
go on. Death would be as nothing in comparison. Doesn’t a woman’s soul
mean anything to you, Mr. Cole?”
Cole looked down into her eyes, while her fingers spasmodically
clutched his hand. Far into their blue depths he gazed, and suddenly
his face underwent a change. His lips curled a trifle, and a hard glint
came into his eyes. Somewhat roughly he released his hand.
“Very touching,” he dryly remarked, “but I don’t see the connection
between the Carmody case and a woman’s soul.”
She drew back with a little sob of bafflement.
“If you meant your own soul, Miss Brown, you mentioned something that
doesn’t exist,” he went on sarcastically. “Trickery and pretense are
poor substitutes for soul.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged disgustedly. “Your acting is superb, but it don’t bear
close inspection. You were splendid at a little distance. Despite the
fact that I am the only Kingdon Cole, as you so charmingly phrased it,
I am rather susceptible to the tears of a beautiful woman. With your
sobs and your loveliness you could have melted a stone, if such a feat
were possible. As soon as I got a close view of you, however, I knew
you were only shamming. Your eyes gave you away when you sprung that
choice line about a woman’s soul. Perhaps you realized you were laying
the pathos on too thick. Anyway the illusion is shattered, and all that
remains is the gorgeous gown you are wearing. It is really stunning.”
“Thank you,” she said coldly, dropping the rôle she had been playing,
as easily as she would a wrap. “No doubt I should have known better
than to try such methods on you.”
“Yes, you should,” said Cole. “For, despite the little slip you made,
I believe that you are really a very clever woman. Now that we are off
the subject of women’s souls won’t you tell me your real reason for
wishing to throw up the Carmody case?”
She shook her head, but he thought he detected a gleam of unwilling
admiration in her eyes. Motioning him to follow, she stepped to the
door and opened it, then preceded him down the hall. Cole guessed that
his little adventure was over, and he felt a twinge of disappointment
at the thought that, in all probability, he would never learn the
meaning of her puzzling behavior. No doubt she would try to blindfold
him again before conducting him away from the place, and he was
prepared to raise strenuous objections.
But it appeared Miss Brown was not yet ready to let him go. She stopped
before one of the massive doors that had already excited his curiosity,
and knocked twice. It opened quickly and noiselessly. In a moment,
before he realized what he was doing, Cole was inside, and the door
closed at his back.
The room was so dimly lighted that at first he could distinguish
nothing but bare, gloomy walls. Miss Brown, who had followed him into
the room, hastened forward and seemed to melt away in the dusk, leaving
him to wonder what new turn his adventure was taking. Gradually, as his
eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he was able to see objects with some
degree of clearness. He was in a long, narrow room, and what he saw
was in keeping with the other strange things that he had witnessed and
experienced in this surprising establishment.
A number of shadowy figures were seated around a circular table in
the center of the room. He counted seven of them, and at first he had
a ludicrous impression that there were only blank spaces where their
faces should have been. Then, as his pupils continued to respond to the
strain imposed by the dim light, he saw that each man wore a mask.
It was only a strip of cloth, with tiny slits over the eyes, but in
the dusk it was the only covering that was needed to make recognition
impossible.
Again Cole was struck with a sense of unreality. The men, sitting
stiffly erect in their chairs, caused him to wonder whether he was in
the midst of some ghostly séance. He felt their eyes searching him
through the vents in the masks. The gloom and the silence gave an added
illusory touch to the scene. Cole had to shake himself before he could
realize that he was on the top floor of a modern skyscraper.
Miss Brown stepped behind one of the chairs and held a brief whispered
conversation with its occupant. The latter nodded, and the girl
slipped away toward the door. A moment later it closed behind her, and
the man, with whom she had been talking, indicated that Cole was to
step forward. With a shrug he complied, and the masked faces stirred
slightly as he approached. For a full minute nothing was said, and
again he felt the sharp and steady scrutiny of seven pairs of eyes.
Finally the man who had beckoned him spoke. “Mr. Cole, how much will
you take to drop the Carmody case?”
Cole could not help but laugh. The words, spoken with a directness
and a matter-of-factness that left nothing to the imagination, had
shattered the illusion completely. In an instant the spell of unreality
was broken. He knew he was dealing with practical men who were in the
habit of reducing everything to terms of dollars and cents. A blunt
reply came to his lips, but his desire to learn more of these strange
men caused him to hold it back.
“Suppose we put all the cards on the table,” he suggested. “I don’t
like to talk business in the dark. Who are you, and what is your
objection to my connection with the Carmody case?”
“We are not here to answer questions,” declared the one who seemed to
be acting as spokesman for the others. “All I care to say is that,
because of a peculiar combination of circumstances, it is to our
advantage to pay you liberally for withdrawing from the case. What’s
your price, Mr. Cole?”
Under ordinary circumstances, Cole would have been indignant at this
cool assumption that every man has his price, but now his dominant
emotion was curiosity. He could not understand why they seemed so
intent upon persuading him to sever his connection with the affair, but
what Miss Brown had said about the vast ramifications of the Carmody
case suggested that they had ample reasons for what they were doing.
“Let me get this straight,” he said evenly. “You are willing to pay me
my price for withdrawing from the Carmody case. Are there any strings
to the proposition?”
The other chuckled dryly. “I wouldn’t call them strings, exactly. They
are only gossamer threads. In addition to retiring from the case you
are to give us a full and veracious report of what you have discovered
to date in connection with the disappearance of Malcolm Reeves.”
“I see,” said Cole. “Anything else?”
“Just one thing more. In addition to withdrawing from your present
connection with the case and turning the information you possess over
to us, you are to come over to our side and put your ability at our
disposal. We are ready to pay you handsomely for your services, either
on a contingent basis, or in the form of a weekly salary.”
“Very generous,” declared Cole, with a faint trace of sarcasm. “Your
proposition is that, for a consideration, I am to betray my present
clients and——”
“Betray is a harsh word,” objected the spokesman for the group.
“Truthful terms are usually harsh,” Cole remarked. “Let’s not quibble
over words. In addition to the amount, which you are willing to pay me
for betraying my clients, you offer to reward me liberally for certain
services that you require. May I ask what they are?”
“You will learn soon enough if you accept our proposition. Let me state
that we have unlimited funds at our disposal and stand ready to pay
you well. It would be no exaggeration to say that in a short time you
should be a rich man if you accept our offer. In view of our liberality
don’t you think it behooves you to be less squeamish and ask fewer
questions?”
“I suppose it is in deucedly bad taste for me to argue with a man who
offers me a fortune on a silver platter,” Cole admitted. “Just the same
I can’t help wondering why you are offering such a glittering bribe to
one who is practically unknown in his profession.”
The man gave an amused chuckle. “Don’t worry about that, Mr. Cole.
We are not in the habit of buying pigs in a poke. You have been under
observation for some time.”
“So I gathered from what the bewitching Miss—Brown told me.”
“We have learned that you have a great deal of ability. You are
fearless and persevering. You have qualities that the average
professional detective sadly lacks, such as tact, polish, and a
magnetic personality. In short, you are precisely the kind of man
we need. We have reason to believe that you have discovered certain
interesting facts in connection with Malcolm Reeves’ disappearance,
facts which would naturally become our property if you came over to our
side.”
Cole marveled at the extent of the man’s knowledge. It was true that he
had picked up several stray facts which, when considered in conjunction
with the known circumstances of Reeves’ disappearance, made a fairly
interesting showing. His glance wandered over the circle of veiled
faces. Each of the seven men was watching him intently through the
slits in his mask.
“We are waiting for your decision, Mr. Cole,” remarked the spokesman
after a pause. “If our proposition appeals to you, name your price.”
Cole pretended to hesitate. He hoped to learn a little more before he
closed the interview. He wondered how far these men would go in their
efforts to induce him to betray his clients and transfer his allegiance
to themselves. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked. “Do you
realize that a man who has been bought once will probably sell himself
again?”
Though he could not see, he fancied the spokesman’s eyes were twinkling
behind the mask.
“We have considered everything, Mr. Cole. You wouldn’t sell yourself
except to a higher bidder, and it isn’t likely any one will outbid us.
If such a situation should arise, however, we would know how to handle
it. What is your price?”