The Adventuress Page 6

  The instant was enough. A most unpleasant odour filled the laboratory. I felt a sense of suffocation in the chest, an irritation in the nose and throat, as though by the corrosive action of some gas on the air passages.

  ‘If we could only have seen him before he died,’ continued Kennedy, ‘I suspect we should have found his face as blue as it was when we did see him, his lips violet, his pulse growing weaker until it was imperceptible, and perhaps he would have been raising blood. It would have been like an acute bronchitis, only worse. Look.’

  From a little pin prick which he made on his own thumb Craig squeezed out a drop of blood into a beaker containing some distilled water.

  ‘This is a spectroscope,’ he explained, touching the instrument I had noticed. ‘I think you are acquainted with it in a general way. Blood in water, diluted, shows the well-known dark bands between what we call “D” and “E.” These are the dark bands of oxyhaemoglobin absorption. Now, I add to this, drop by drop, the water from that bottle which I uncorked. See—the bands gradually fade in intensity and finally disappear, leaving a complete and brilliant spectrum devoid of any bands whatever. In other words, here is a substance that actually affects the red colouring matter in the blood, bleaches it out, and does more—destroys it.’

  I listened in amazement at the fiendish nature of his discovery.

  ‘Marshall Maddox was overcome by the poison gas contained in a thin-shelled bomb that was thrown through his state-room window. The corrosion of the metal in the room gave me a clue to that. Then—’

  ‘But what is this poison gas?’ I demanded, horrified.

  Kennedy looked at me fixedly a moment. ‘Chlorine,’ he replied simply; adding, ‘the spectroscope shows that there is a total absence of pigment in the blood. You can readily see that it is no wonder, if it has this action, that death is sometimes so rapid as to be almost instantaneous. Why, man alive, this thing destroys without the possibility of reconstitution! It is devilish in the quantity he inhaled it.’

  I could only gasp with surprise at the discovery.

  ‘But how was it done?’ I repeated. ‘You think a bomb was thrown through the open port?’

  ‘Without a doubt. Perhaps, as you guessed, from a boat outside, the roof of a cruiser, anything, as far as that end of it goes. Whoever did it might also have entered the room in the same way.’

  ‘Entered the room?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, wearing a mask composed of several layers of gauze impregnated with glycerinated solution of sodium hypophosphate. That is one of many substances used. All that was necessary was to wet the mask with water and adjust it. It would have served a double purpose—to protect the wearer’s life as well as his identity.’

  Amazed at Kennedy’s powers of reconstruction from evidence that looked so slender, I merely waited for him to proceed.

  ‘Then whoever it was probably rifled his clothes and so obtained the keys to the building and the office. From the brief-case they must have extracted the copies of the telautomaton plans. After that it was a simple matter to throw the body overboard in the hope that the affair might possibly be covered up as an accident or suicide. In the course of the night the wind cleared the room of the gas. They did not reckon, however, on what science can discover—or if they did, cared little. After that, I suppose, someone went to New York, perhaps in a high-powered car.’

  ‘Mito couldn’t have gone to New York—and got back again,’ I exclaimed impulsively, recalling that Mito had been ashore that night without apparent reason.

  ‘Mito may or may not have played his part,’ was all that Kennedy would comment.

  He left me wildly speculating. Was Mito a cog in the wheel, of which Paquita and the gang suspected by Burke were other cogs? Was Shelby Maddox also a cog, willingly or unwillingly? Could he have got away from the yacht and got back again? A host of unanswered questions raced through my mind. But Kennedy had said all that he was prepared to say now.

  ‘We had better be going,’ he remarked calmly, ‘if we are to keep that appointment with Hastings and Burke.

  He was evidently much more interested in what Burke might turn up than in his own investigation, which was quite natural, for what he had told me was already an old story to him, and his restless mind craved to be speeding toward the solution of the mystery.

  Half an hour later Kennedy and I entered the office of Hastings. I looked about curiously. There were, as in many lawyer’s offices, two private offices for the members of the firm, while outside was a large room for the clerks, the stenographers, and the telephone girl.

  As we were welcomed by Hastings in his own office I wondered what the walls might have heard. Marshall Maddox and his lawyer must have had many conferences there during the time that Maddox was planning his great coup in the munitions company.

  ‘Burke hasn’t arrived yet,’ remarked Hastings nervously. ‘I’ve been expecting him any moment. I wonder what is keeping him?’

  There was no way of finding out, and we were forced to sit impatiently.

  A few moments later we heard hurried footsteps down the hall and Burke burst in, his face flushed with excitement.

  ‘This thing is devilish,’ he exclaimed, looking keenly at Hastings. ‘I must be in your class.’

  ‘How’s that? Did someone shoot at you?’ queried the lawyer.

  ‘No, but I came within an ace of being poisoned.’

  ‘Poisoned?’ we inquired incredulously.

  ‘Yes. You know I started to find that night watchman. Well, I found him. He knows nothing—and I think he is telling the truth. But after I had questioned him I made him admit that sometimes he takes a meal in the middle of the night. Of course he has to leave the front hall of the ground floor unguarded to do so. I figured that the robber might have got in and got away during that time. And I guess I’m right.

  ‘After that I saw the policeman who walks the beat at night. I thought he was going to prove a better witness. He remembers, under questioning, seeing a speedster that stopped around the next corner and was left there standing some time—about the time that the robbery must have taken place, if I am right. He thought it was strange, and hung about.

  ‘When the fellow who drove the car came back the policeman walked over. The fellow offered no explanation of leaving his car on the street at such an hour, except that he had stopped to shift a shoe that had blown. Then he asked where there was an all-night lunch-room. The policeman directed him and the fellow thanked him and drove off in that direction.’

  ‘But the poisoning,’ prompted Craig. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘I’m coming to it. Well, I thought at once of going to the lunch-room and inquiring. You see, I thought I might check up both the night watchman’s story and the cop’s. So I went in and it happened that the night man was just going to work. I hadn’t had anything to eat since this morning and I ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I left the coffee standing on a little table while I talked to the man behind the counter.

  ‘I found out from him that the night watchman had been there, all right. But he didn’t remember anyone in a speedster. In fact, I hadn’t expected that he would. I don’t believe the fellow went there.

  ‘Anyhow, when I went to look for my coffee I noticed something on the lip of the cup. It looked like sugar, and I recollected that I hadn’t put any sugar in the coffee. Besides, this looked like powdered sugar, and I wouldn’t have put powdered sugar in when there was lump sugar. I tasted a bit of it. It was bitter—very bitter. Here’s some of it.’

  Kennedy took from Burke a few particles of a white powder which he had carefully preserved in a piece of paper and began examining the particles closely.

  ‘There were lots of people coming and going at the lunch-room,’ went on Burke, ‘but I didn’t pay much attention to any of them.’

  Kennedy had placed just a particle of the powder on his tongue, and was now making a wry face. As he turned toward us he exclaimed, ‘Strychnine!’

  ‘See?’ n
odded Burke excitedly. ‘I thought it was some poison. I knew there was something wrong.’

  Burke looked at Kennedy fixedly. There could be no doubt now that we were watched. Someone was evidently desperate to prevent discovery. First the attack had been levelled at Hastings. Now it was Burke. Who would be next? I think we all realised that we were marked, though none of us said anything at the time.

  Burke looked over questioningly at Kennedy.

  ‘I’ve found out how Maddox was killed,’ volunteered Craig, understanding the query implied in his glance.

  ‘Indeed—already?’ interrupted Hastings, to whom Kennedy was already frankly incomprehensible.

  ‘How?’ demanded Burke, checking himself in time to protect himself from setting forth a theory of his own, for Burke was like all other police detectives—first forming a theory and then seeking facts that confirmed it.

  Eagerly both Burke and Hastings listened as Kennedy repeated briefly his discoveries of the spectroscopic tests which he had already told me.

  ‘Gassed, by George!’ muttered Burke, more puzzled than ever. ‘I may as well admit that I thought he had been thrown overboard and drowned. The shot at Mr Hastings rather confirmed me in the rough-neck methods of the criminal. But this burglar’s microphone and the strychnine have shaken my theory. This fellow is clever beyond anything I had ever suspected. And to think of his using gas! I tell you, Kennedy, we don’t know what to expect of criminals these days.’

  Burke shook his head sagely. At least he had one saving grace. He realised his own shortcomings.

  ‘How about the speedster?’ reverted Kennedy, passing over the subject, for both Craig and I had a high regard for Burke, whatever might be his limitations. ‘What did the patrolman say the fellow in the speedster looked like?’

  Burke threw up his hands in mock resignation. ‘As nearly as I could make out, he looked like a linen duster and a pair of goggles. You know that kind of cop—doomed always to pound pavements. Why, it might have been anybody—a woman, for all he knew.’

  ‘I think we’ve been away from Westport long enough,’ concluded Kennedy. ‘Perhaps our unexpected return may result in something. A speedster—h’m. At least we can look over the garage of the Harbour House.’

  I remember that I thought the words of little consequence at the moment. Yet, as it proved, it was a fateful statement made at this time and place.

  CHAPTER VII

  THE DIVORCE DETECTIVE

  AT the Westport station, when our train pulled in, there was the usual gathering of cars to meet the late afternoon express from the city.

  As we four were searching for a jitney ’bus to take us down to the Harbour House I caught sight in the press of cars of the Walcott car. Sitting in the back were Winifred and her sister-in-law, Mrs Walcott, sister of the murdered man. They had come up to meet her husband, Johnson Walcott, who now came down the platform from the club car, which had been well forward.

  The train was pulling out, clearing the road across the track, and as it did so there flashed past a speedster with a cream-coloured body, a shining aluminium hood, and dainty upholstery. No one could have failed to notice it. As if the mere appearance of the car was not loud enough, the muffler cut-out was allowing the motor to growl a further demand for attention.

  In the speedster sat Paquita, and as we looked across from our jitney I caught sight of Winifred eyeing her critically, turning at the same time to say something to Mrs Walcott.

  Paquita saw it, too, and shot a glance of defiance as she stepped her dainty toe on the gas and leaped ahead of all the cars that were pulling out with passengers whom they had met.

  ‘Did you get that?’ whispered Kennedy to me. ‘Not only have we a mystery on our hands, but we have something much harder to follow—conflict between those two women. Shelby may think he is a principal in the game, but one or the other of them is going to show him that he is a mere miserable pawn.’

  ‘I wonder where she could have been?’ I speculated. ‘That road up past the station leads to the turnpike to the city. Could she have been there, or just out for a spin?’

  Kennedy shook his head. ‘If we are going to follow that colour-scheme about the country we’ll need to get a car that can travel up to the limit.’

  ‘Well,’ snorted Burke, ‘it does beat all how these dancers can sport cars with special bodies and engines that would drown out the hammers of hell; but—I suppose it would cut down the work of us detectives by half if it weren’t so.’

  Hastings said nothing. Perhaps he was calculating the cost of the outfit that had just passed, and wondering whether the bill had been paid by his client—or someone else.

  The Walcott car had got away and we were now jolting along in our more modest flivver, eager to get back to the scene of our labours, and learn what had taken place in our absence.

  Back at the Harbour House Burke’s man, Riley, was waiting, sure enough, with a full budget of news as we entered quietly by another than the main entrance and drew him off in a corner.

  ‘What’s happened?’ demanded Burke.

  ‘Plenty,’ returned Riley, his reticence before us now overcome. ‘You remember that dark-skinned fellow?’ he asked excitedly.

  ‘An unnecessary question,’ returned Burke. ‘He has not been out of my thoughts since I left. I hope you’ve watched him closely. We saw Paquita. She must have slipped through your fingers. You’ll have to get a car that can keep up with her, Riley, if we are going to handle this affair successfully.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Riley, evidently relieved that his chief had not administered a severer rebuke. ‘I was about to tell you of how she slips away from us in that car, sir. Well,’ he graced on, as though eager to change the subject, ‘we have not only found out who that spiggoty chap is, but that he has reported to Mrs Maddox finally, today. It seems as though she has paid him for his work of watching her husband, and now that Mr Maddox is dead has no further use for him.’

  ‘And he has gone away?’ asked Craig.

  ‘No,’ replied Riley quickly, ‘that’s just the point. Even though she has discharged him—at least that is what it looks like—he is sticking around. At first I thought he was watching Paquita—and he is. But twice I have caught him talking to her. It may be that it’s all right. I don’t get it at all. I can’t make out yet whether he is with her or against her.’

  ‘That’s strange,’ agreed Burke, turning to Kennedy. ‘I don’t understand that. Do you? Do you suppose the fellow has been double crossing Irene Maddox all the time? These divorce sleuths are an unprincipled lot, usually.’

  Kennedy shook his head non-committally. ‘I think it will be worth looking into,’ he considered. ‘Has anything else happened?’

  ‘Plenty,’ replied Riley cheerfully. ‘Since you went away Shelby Maddox has given up living out on the Sybarite, I understand. He is to live at the Harbour House all the time, and has brought his stuff ashore, although he hasn’t been about much. He is another one who has a speedster that can do some travelling.’

  ‘What do you make of that move?’ encouraged Hastings.

  Riley shrugged. ‘Sometimes,’ he remarked slowly, ‘I think he is watching the others. I don’t know yet whether he does it because he suspects something of them, or because he thinks they suspect something of him. Anyhow, he has brought that Jap, Mito, ashore, too. Is he afraid of him? Has Mito something that gives him a leverage on Shelby Maddox? I don’t know. Only, it’s mighty strange.’

  ‘Has Mito done anything suspicious?’ asked Kennedy.

  ‘His whole conduct is suspicious,’ asserted Riley positively. ‘Why was he in town so late last night? Besides, the fellow is well educated—too well educated to be a servant. No, sir, you can’t make me believe that he is here for any good. He’s clever, too. They tell me he can run a motor-boat or a car as well as the best. And he’s quiet. There’s something deep about him. Why, you can see that he knows that he is being watched.’

  ‘But what has he done?’
emphasised Kennedy.

  ‘N-nothing. Only he acts as though he was covering up something. I know the symptoms.’

  I tried to analyse our feelings toward Mito. Was it merely that Riley and the rest of us did not understand the subtle Oriental, and that hence we suspected everything we did not understand? There was no denying that Mito’s actions out on the Sybarite, for instance, had been open to question. Yet, as far as I knew, there was nothing on which one could place his finger and accuse the little man, except his alleged presence in town so late the night before.

  From the corner in which we were sitting we could see through an open window the porte-cochère beside the hotel at which guests were arriving and departing.

  ‘Look!’ pointed out Riley. ‘There’s Shelby Maddox now.’

  His motor had purred up silently around the corner of the road that led about the shore, and as he pulled up before the door the omnipresent Mito appeared from nowhere. Shelby crawled out from under the steering-wheel and turned the car over to Mito to run around to the hotel garage. For a moment he stood talking to the Jap, giving him some parting instructions, when another car tooted its horn and came up to the steps. It was the Walcott car. Evidently they had not come directly from the station, but had taken a little ride along the shore to get the stuffy air of the railroad train out of Johnson Walcott’s lungs.

  It was just the opportunity Shelby wanted. He quickly waved to Mito to pull away and turned to the new arrival, opening the rear door before the officious starter could get to it, and handing out Winifred Walcott most attentively—so much so that he forgot all about his own sister and Johnson Walcott.

  He and Winifred stood talking, evidently about Shelby’s own departing roadster, for they were looking after Mito as he shot up the road to the garage.

  ‘Do you guess what they are talking about?’ queried Kennedy to me. ‘I would be willing to wager that I can reproduce at least a part of the conversation. As they watched the speedster get away she spoke first, and he nodded his head in the negative as he replied. She spoke again, and he nodded in the affirmative—and smiled.’