IX
THE UNOFFICIAL SPY
"Craig, do you see that fellow over by the desk, talking to the nightclerk?" I asked Kennedy as we lounged into the lobby of the new HotelVanderveer one evening after reclaiming our hats from the plutocrat whohad acquired the checking privilege. We had dined on the roof garden ofthe Vanderveer apropos of nothing at all except our desire to becomeacquainted with a new hotel.
"Yes," replied Kennedy, "what of him?"
"He's the house detective, McBride. Would you like to meet him? He'sfull of good stories, an interesting chap. I met him at a dinner givento the President not long ago and he told me a great yarn about how thesecret service, the police, and the hotel combined to guard thePresident during the dinner. You know, a big hotel is the stampingground for all sorts of cranks and crooks."
The house detective had turned and had caught my eye. Much to mysurprise, he advanced to meet me.
"Say,--er--er--Jameson," he began, at last recalling my name, though hehad seen me only once and then for only a short time. "You're on theStar, I believe?"
"Yes," I replied, wondering what he could want.
"Well--er--do you suppose you could do the house a little--er--favour?"he asked, hesitating and dropping his voice.
"What is it?" I queried, not feeling certain but that it was a veiledattempt to secure a little free advertising for the Vanderveer. "By theway, let me introduce you to my friend Kennedy, McBride."
"Craig Kennedy?" he whispered aside, turning quickly to me. I nodded.
"Mr. Kennedy," exclaimed the house man deferentially, "are you verybusy just now?"
"Not especially so," replied Craig. "My friend Jameson was telling methat you knew some interesting yarns about hotel detective life. Ishould like to hear you tell some of them, if you are not yourselftoo---"
"Perhaps you'd rather see one instead?" interrupted the housedetective, eagerly scanning Craig's face.
"Indeed, nothing could please me more. What is it--a 'con' man or ahotel 'beat'?"
McBride looked about to make sure that no one was listening. "Neither,"he whispered. "It's either a suicide or a murder. Come upstairs withme. There isn't a man in the world I would rather have met at this veryinstant, Mr. Kennedy, than yourself."
We followed McBride into an elevator which he stopped at the fifteenthfloor. With a nod to the young woman who was the floor clerk, the housedetective led the way down the thickly carpeted hall, stopping at aroom which, we could see through the transom, was lighted. He drew abunch of keys from his pocket and inserted a pass key into the lock.
The door swung open into a sumptuously fitted sitting-room. I lookedin, half fearfully, but, although all the lights were turned on, theroom was empty. McBride crossed the room quickly, opened a door to abedroom, and jerked his head back with a quick motion, signifying hisdesire for us to follow.
Stretched lifeless on the white linen of the immaculate bed lay theform of a woman, a beautiful woman she had been, too, though not withthe freshness which makes American women so attractive. There wassomething artificial about her beauty, the artificiality which hintedat a hidden story of a woman with a past.
She was a foreigner, apparently of one of the Latin races, although atthe moment in the horror of the tragedy before us I could not guess hernationality. It was enough for me that here lay this cold, stony, rigidbeauty, robed in the latest creations of Paris, alone in an elegantlyfurnished room of an exclusive hotel where hundreds of gay guests weredining and chatting and laughing without a suspicion of the terriblesecret only a few feet distant from them.
We stood awestruck for the moment.
"The coroner ought to be here any moment," remarked McBride and eventhe callousness of the regular detective was not sufficient to hide thereal feelings of the man. His practical sense soon returned, however,and he continued, "Now, Jameson, don't you think you could use a littleinfluence with the newspaper men to keep this thing off the frontpages? Of course something has to be printed about it. But we don'twant to hoodoo the hotel right at the start. We had a suicide the otherday who left an apologetic note that was played up by some of thepapers. Now comes this affair. The management are just as anxious tohave the crime cleared up as any one--if it is a crime. But can't it bedone with the soft pedal? We will stop at nothing in the way ofexpense--just so long as the name of the Vanderveer is kept in thebackground. Only, I'm afraid the coroner will try to rub it in and makethe thing sensational."
"What was her name?" asked Kennedy. "At least, under what name was sheregistered?"
"She was registered as Madame de Nevers. It is not quite a week nowsince she came here, came directly from the steamer Tripolitania. See,there are her trunks and things, all pasted over with foreign labels,not an American label among them. I haven't the slightest doubt thather name was fictitious, for as far as I can see all the ordinary marksof identification have been obliterated. It will take time to identifyher at the best, and in the meantime, if a crime has been committed,the guilty person may escape. What I want now, right away, is action."
"Has nothing in her actions about the hotel offered any clue, no matterhow slight?" asked Kennedy.
"Plenty of things," replied McBride quickly. "For one thing, she didn'tspeak very much English and her maid seemed to do all the talking forher, even to ordering her meals, which were always served here. I didnotice Madame a few times about the hotel, though she spent most of hertime in her rooms. She was attractive as the deuce, and the men alllooked at her whenever she stirred out. She never even noticed them.But she was evidently expecting some one, for her maid had left word atthe desk that if a Mr. Gonzales called, she was at home; if any oneelse, she was out. For the first day or two she kept herself closelyconfined, except that at the end of the second day she took a shortspin through the park in a taxicab--closed, even in this hot weather.Where she went I cannot say, but when they returned the maid seemedrather agitated. At least she was a few minutes later when she came allthe way downstairs to telephone from a booth, instead of using the roomtelephone. At various times the maid was sent out to execute certainerrands, but always returned promptly. Madame de Nevers was a genuinewoman of mystery, but as long as she was a quiet mystery, I thought itno business of ours to pry into the affairs of Madame."
"Did she have any visitors? Did this Mr. Gonzales call?" asked Kennedyat length.
"She had one visitor, a woman who called and asked if a Madame deNevers was stopping at the hotel," answered McBride. "That was what theclerk was telling me when I happened to catch sight of you. He saysthat, obedient to the orders from the maid, he told the visitor thatMadame was not at home."
"Who was this visitor, do you suppose?" asked Craig. "Did she leave anycard or message? Is there any clue to her?"
The detective looked at him earnestly for a time as if he hesitated toretail what might be merely pure gossip.
"The clerk does not know this absolutely, but from his acquaintancewith society news and the illustrated papers he is sure that herecognised her. He says that he feels positive that it was MissCatharine Lovelace."
"The Southern heiress," exclaimed Kennedy. "Why, the papers say thatshe is engaged---"
"Exactly," cut in McBride, "the heiress who is rumoured to be engagedto the Duc de Chateaurouge."
Kennedy and I exchanged glances. "Yes," I added, recollecting a remarkI had heard a few days before from our society reporter on the Star, "Ibelieve it has been said that Chateaurouge is in this country,incognito."
"A pretty slender thread on which to hang an identification," McBridehastened to remark. "Newspaper photographs are not the best means ofrecognising anybody. Whatever there may be in it, the fact remains thatMadame de Nevers, supposing that to be her real name, has been dead forat least a day or two. The first thing to be determined is whether thisis a death from natural causes, a suicide, or a murder. After we havedetermined that we shall be in a position to run down this Lovelaceclue."
Kennedy said nothing and I could not gather whe
ther he placed greateror less value on the suspicion of the hotel clerk. He had been making acasual examination of the body on the bed, and finding nothing helooked intently about the room as if seeking some evidence of how thecrime had been committed.
To me the thing seemed incomprehensible, that without an outcry beingoverheard by any of the guests a murder could have been done in acrowded hotel in which the rooms on every side had been occupied andpeople had been passing through the halls at all hours. Had it indeedbeen a suicide, in spite of McBride's evident conviction to thecontrary?
A low exclamation from Kennedy attracted our attention. Caught in thefilmy lace folds of the woman's dress he had found a few small and thinpieces of glass. He was regarding them with an interest that wasoblivious to everything else. As he turned them over and over and triedto fit them together they seemed to form at least a part of what hadonce been a hollow globe of very thin glass, perhaps a quarter of aninch or so in diameter.
"How was the body discovered?" asked Craig at length, looking up atMcBride quickly.
"Day before yesterday Madame's maid went to the cashier," repeated thedetective slowly as if rehearsing the case as much for his owninformation as ours, "and said that Madame had asked her to say to himthat she was going away for a few days and that under no circumstanceswas her room to be disturbed in her absence. The maid was commissionedto pay the bill, not only for the time they had been here, but also forthe remainder of the week, when Madame would most likely return, if notearlier. The bill was made out and paid.
"Since then only the chambermaid has entered this suite. The key tothat closet over in the corner was gone, and it might have hidden itssecret until the end of the week or perhaps a day or two longer, if thechambermaid hadn't been a bit curious. She hunted till she foundanother key that fitted, and opened the closet door, apparently to seewhat Madame had been so particular to lock up in her absence. There laythe body of Madame, fully dressed, wedged into the narrow space andhuddled up in a corner. The chambermaid screamed and the secret wasout."
"And Madame de Nevers's maid? What has become of her?" asked Kennedyeagerly.
"She has disappeared," replied McBride. "From the moment when the billwas paid no one about the hotel has seen her."
"But you have a pretty good description of her, one that you could sendout in order to find her if necessary?"
"Yes, I think I could give a pretty good description."
Kennedy's eye encountered the curious gaze of McBride. "This may proveto be a most unusual case," he remarked in answer to the impliedinquiry of the detective. "I suppose you have heard of the 'endormeurs'of Paris?"
McBride shook his head in the negative.
"It is a French word signifying a person who puts another to sleep, thesleep makers," explained Kennedy. "They are the latest scientificschool of criminals who use the most potent, quickest-acting stupefyingdrugs. Some of their exploits surpass anything hitherto even imaginedby the European police. The American police have been officially warnedof the existence of the endormeurs and full descriptions of theirmethods and photographs of their paraphernalia have been sent over here.
"There is nothing in their repertoire so crude as chloral or knock-outdrops. All the derivatives of opium such as morphine, codeine, heroine,dionine, narceine, and narcotine, to say nothing of bromure d'etyle,bromoform, nitrite d'amyle, and amyline are known to be utilised by theendormeurs to put their victims to sleep, and the skill which they haveacquired in the use of these powerful drugs establishes them as one ofthe most dangerous groups of criminals in existence. The men are all ofsuperior intelligence and daring; the chief requisite of the women isextreme beauty as well as unscrupulousness.
"They will take a little thin glass ball of one of these liquids, forinstance, hold it in a pocket handkerchief, crush it, shove it underthe nose of their victim, and--whiff!--the victim is unconscious. Butordinarily the endormeur does not kill. He is usually satisfied tostupefy, rob, and then leave his victim. There is something more tothis case than a mere suicide or murder, McBride. Of course she mayhave committed suicide with the drugs of the endormeurs; then again shemay merely have been rendered unconscious by those drugs and some otherpoison may have been administered. Depend on it, there is somethingmore back of this affair than appears on the surface. Even as far as Ihave gone I do not hesitate to say that we have run across the work ofone or perhaps a band of the most up-to-date and scientific criminals."
Kennedy had scarcely finished when McBride brought his right fist downwith a resounding smack into the palm of his left hand.
"Say," he cried in great excitement, "here's another thing which may ormay not have some connection with the case. The evening after Madamearrived, I happened to be walking through the cafe, where I saw a facethat looked familiar to me. It was that of a dark-haired, olive-skinnedman, a fascinating face, but a face to be afraid of. I remembered him,I thought, from my police experience, as a notorious crook who had notbeen seen in New York for years, a man who in the old days used togamble with death in South American revolutions, a soldier of fortune.
"Well, I gave the waiter, Charley, the wink and he met me in the rearof the cafe, around a corner. You know we have a regular system in thehotel by which I can turn all the help into amateur sleuths. I told himto be very careful about the dark-faced man and the younger man who waswith him, to be particular to wait on them well, and to pick up anyscraps of conversation he could.
"Charley knows his business, and the barest perceptible sign from memakes him an obsequious waiter. Of course the dark man didn't notice itat the time, but if he had been more observant he would have seen thatthree times during his chat with his companion Charley had wiped offhis table with lingering hand. Twice he had put fresh seltzer in hisdrink. Like a good waiter always working for a big tip he had hoverednear, his face blank and his eyes unobservant. But that waiter was animportant link in my chain of protection of the hotel against crooks.He was there to listen and to tip me off, which he did between orders.
"There wasn't much that he overheard, but what there was of it was sosuspicious that I did not hesitate to conclude that the fellow was anundesirable guest. It was something about the Panama Canal, and acoaling station of a steamship and fruit concern on the shore of one ofthe Latin American countries. It was, he said, in reality to be thecoaling station of a certain European power which he did not name butwhich the younger man seemed to understand. They talked of wharves andtracts of land, of sovereignty and blue prints, the Monroe Doctrine,value in case of war, and a lot of other things. Then they talked ofmoney, and though Charley was most assiduous at the time all heoverheard was something about 'ten thousand francs' and 'buying heroff,' and finally a whispered confidence of which he caught the words,'just a blind to get her over here, away from Paris.' Finally the darkman in an apparent burst of confidence said something about 'the otherplans being the real thing after all,' and that the whole affair wouldbring him in fifty thousand francs, with which he could afford to beliberal. Charley could get no inkling about what that other thing was.
"But I felt sure that he had heard enough to warrant the belief thatsome kind of confidence game was being discussed. To tell the truth Ididn't care much what it was, at the time. It might have been anattempt of the dark-visaged fellow to sell the Canal to a come-on. WhatI wanted was to have it known that the Vanderveer was not to be aresort of such gentry as this. But I'm afraid it was much more seriousthan I thought at the time.
"Well, the dark man finally excused himself and sauntered into thelobby and up to the desk, with me after him around the opposite way. Hewas looking over the day's arrivals on the register when I concludedthat it was about time to do something. I was standing directly besidehim lighting a cigar. I turned quickly on him and deliberately trod onthe man's patent leather shoe. He faced me furiously at not getting anyapology. 'Sacre,' he exclaimed, 'what the--' But before he could finishI moved still closer and pinched his elbow. A dull red glow ofsuppressed anger spread over his face,
but he cut his words short. Heknew and I knew he knew. That is the sign in the continental hotelswhen they find a crook and quietly ask him to move on. The man turnedon his heel and stalked out of the hotel. By and by the young man inthe cafe, considerably annoyed at the sudden inattention of the waiterwho acted as if he wasn't satisfied with his tip, strolled through thelobby and not seeing his dark-skinned friend, also disappeared. I wishto heaven I had had them shadowed. The young fellow wasn't a come-on atall. There was something afoot between these two, mark my words."
"But why do you connect that incident with this case of Madame deNevers?" asked Kennedy, a little puzzled.
"Because the next day, and the day that Madame's maid disappeared, Ihappened to see a man bidding good-bye to a woman at the rear carriageentrance of the hotel. The woman was Madame's maid and the man was thedark man who had been seated in the cafe."
"You said a moment ago that you had a good description of the maid orcould write one. Do you think you could locate her?"
The hotel detective thought a minute or two. "If she has gone to any ofthe other hotels in this city, I could," he answered slowly. "You knowwe have recently formed a sort of clearing house, we hotel detectives,and we are working together now very well, though secretly. It isbarely possible that she has gone to another hotel. The very brazennessof that would be its safeguard, she might think."
"Then I can leave that part of it to you, McBride?" asked Kennedythoughtfully as if laying out a programme of action in his mind. "Youwill set the hotel detectives on the trail as well as the police of thecity, and of other cities, will make the inquiries at the steamshipsand railroads, and all that sort of thing? Try to find some trace ofthe two men whom you saw in the cafe at the same time. But for thepresent I should say spare no effort to locate that girl."
"Trust it to me," agreed McBride confidently.
A heavy tap sounded at the door and McBride opened it. It was thecoroner.
I shall not go into the lengthy investigation which the coronerconducted, questioning one servant and employee after another withouteliciting any more real information than we had already obtained soconcisely from the house man. The coroner was, of course, angry at theremoval of the body from the closet to the bed because he wanted toview it in the position in which it had been found, but as that hadbeen done by the servants before McBride could stop them, there wasnothing to do about it but accept the facts.
"A very peculiar case," remarked the coroner at the conclusion of hisexamination, with the air of a man who could shed much light on it fromhis wide experience if he chose. "There is just one point that we shallhave to clear up, however. What was the cause of the death of thedeceased? There is no gas in the room. It couldn't have beenilluminating gas, then. No, it must have been a poison of some kind.Then as to the motive," he added, trying to look confident but reallyshooting a tentative remark at Craig and the house detective, who saidnothing. "It looks a good deal like that other suicide--at least asuicide which some one has endeavoured to conceal," he added, hastilyrecollecting the manner in which the body had been found and hiscriticisms of the removal from the closet. "Didn't I tell you?"rejoined McBride dolefully after we had left the coroner downstairs afew minutes later. "I knew he would think the hotel was hidingsomething from him."
"We can't help what he thinks--yet," remarked Craig. "All we can do isto run down the clues which we have. I will leave the maid to be foundby your organisation, McBride. Let me see, the theatres and roofgardens must be letting out by this time. I will see if I can get anyinformation from Miss Lovelace. Find her address, Walter, and call acab."
The Southern heiress, who had attracted more attention by her beautythan by her fortune which was only moderate as American fortunes gonowadays, lived in an apartment facing the park, with her mother, awoman whose social ambitions it was commonly known had no bounds andwere often sadly imposed upon.
Fortunately we arrived at the apartment not very many minutes after themother and daughter, and although it was late, Kennedy sent up his cardwith an urgent message to see them. They received us in a largedrawing-room and were plainly annoyed by our visit, though that ofcourse was susceptible of a natural interpretation.
"What is it that you wished to see me about?" began Mrs. Lovelace in atone which was intended to close the interview almost before it wasbegun.
Kennedy had not wished to see her about anything, but of course he didnot even hint as much in his reply which was made to her but directedat Miss Lovelace.
"Could you tell me anything about a Madame de Nevers who was staying atthe Vanderveer?" asked Craig, turning quickly to the daughter so as tocatch the full effect of his question, and then waiting as if expectingthe answer from her.
The young lady's face blanched slightly and she seemed to catch herbreath for an instant, but she kept her composure admirably in spite ofthe evident shock of Craig's purposely abrupt question.
"I have heard of her," Miss Lovelace replied with forced calmness as hecontinued to look to her for an answer. "Why do you ask?"
"Because a woman who is supposed to be Madame de Nevers has committedsuicide at the Vanderveer and it was thought that perhaps you couldidentify her."
By this time she had become perfect mistress of herself again, fromwhich I argued that whatever knowledge she had of Madame was limited tothe time before the tragedy.
"I, identify her? Why, I never saw her. I simply know that such acreature exists."
She said it defiantly and with an iciness which showed more plainlythan in mere words that she scorned even an acquaintance with ademi-mondaine.
"Do you suppose the Duc de Chateaurouge would be able to identify her?"asked Kennedy mercilessly. "One moment, please," he added,anticipating the blank look of amazement on her face. "I have reason tobelieve that the duke is in this country incognito--is he not?"
Instead of speaking she merely raised her shoulders a fraction of aninch.
"Either in New York or in Washington," pursued Kennedy.
"Why do you ask me?" she said at length. "Isn't it enough that some ofthe newspapers have said so? If you see it in the newspapers, it'sso--perhaps--isn't it?"
We were getting nowhere in this interview, at least so I thought.Kennedy cut it short, especially as he noted the evident restlessnessof Mrs. Lovelace. However, he had gained his point. Whether or not theduke was in New York or Washington or Spitzbergen, he now felt surethat Miss Lovelace knew of, and perhaps something about, Madame deNevers. In some way the dead woman had communicated with her and MissLovelace had been the woman whom the hotel clerk had seen at theVanderveer. We withdrew as gracefully as our awkward position permitted.
As there was nothing else to be done at that late hour, Craig decidedto sleep soundly over the case, his infallible method of taking a freshstart after he had run up a cul-de-sac.
Imagine our surprise in the morning at being waited on by the coronerhimself, who in a few words explained that he was far from satisfiedwith the progress his own office was making with the case.
"You understand," he concluded after a lengthy statement of confessionand avoidance, "we have no very good laboratory facilities of our ownto carry out the necessary chemical, pathological, and bacteriologicalinvestigations in cases of homicide and suicide. We are often forced toresort to private laboratories, as you know in the past when I have hadto appeal to you. Now, Professor Kennedy, if we might turn over thatresearch part of the case to you, sir, I will engage to see that areasonable bill for your professional services goes through the officeof my friend the city comptroller promptly."
Craig snapped at the opportunity, though he did not allow the coronerto gain that impression.
"Very well," agreed that official, "I shall see that all the necessaryorgans for a thorough test as to the cause of the death of this womanare sent up to the Chemistry Building right away."
The coroner was as good as his word, and we had scarcely breakfastedand arrived at Craig's scientific workshop before that officialappeared, acco
mpanied by a man who carried in uncanny jars thenecessary materials for an investigation following an autopsy.
Kennedy was now in his element. The case had taken an unexpected turnwhich made him a leading factor in its solution. Whatever suspicions hemay have entertained unofficially the night before he could now openlyand quickly verify.
He took a little piece of lung tissue and with a sharp sterilised knifecut it up. Then he made it slightly alkaline with a little sodiumcarbonate, talking half to us and half to himself as he worked. Thenext step was to place the matter in a glass flask in a water bathwhere it was heated. From the flask a Bohemian glass tube led into acool jar and on a part of the tube a flame was playing which heated itto redness for two or three inches.
Several minutes we waited in silence. Finally when the process had gonefar enough, Kennedy took a piece of paper which had been treated withiodised starch, as he later explained. He plunged the paper into thecool jar. Slowly it turned a strong blue tint.
Craig said nothing, but it was evident that he was more than gratifiedby what had happened. He quickly reached for a bottle on the shelvesbefore him, and I could see from the label on the brown glass that itwas nitrate of silver. As he plunged a little in a test-tube into thejar a strong precipitate was gradually formed.
"It is the decided reaction for chloroform," he exclaimed simply inreply to our unspoken questions.
"Chloroform," repeated the coroner, rather doubtfully, and it wasevident that he had expected a poison and had not anticipated anyresult whatever from an examination of the lungs instead of the stomachto which he had confined his own work so far. "Could chloroform bediscovered in the lungs or viscera after so many days? There was onefamous chloroform case for which a man is now serving a life term inSing Sing which I have understood there was grave doubt in the minds ofthe experts. Mind, I am not trying to question the results of your workexcept as they might naturally be questioned in court. It seems to methat the volatility of chloroform might very possibly preclude itsdiscovery after a short time. Then again, might not other substances begenerated in a dead body which would give a reaction very much likechloroform? We must consider all these questions before we abandon thepoison theory, sir. Remember, this is the summer time too, andchloroform would evaporate very much more rapidly now than in winter."
Kennedy smiled, but his confidence remained unshaken.
"I am in a position to meet all of your objections," he explainedsimply. "I think I could lay it down as a rule that by proper methodschloroform may be discovered in the viscera much longer after deaththan is commonly supposed--in summer from six days to three weeks, witha practical working range of say twelve days, while in winter it may befound even after several months--by the right method. Certainly thiscase comes within the average length of time. More than that, nosubstance is generated by the process of decomposition which willvitiate the test for chloroform which I have just made. Chloroform hasan affinity for water and is also a preservative, and hence from allthese facts I think it safe to conclude that sometimes traces of it maybe found for two weeks after its administration, certainly for a fewdays."
"And Madame de Nevers?" queried the coroner, as if the turn of eventswas necessitating a complete reconstruction of his theory of the case.
"Was murdered," completed Kennedy in a tone that left nothing more tobe said on the subject.
"But," persisted the coroner, "if she was murdered by the use ofchloroform, how do you account for the fact that it was done without astruggle? There were no marks of violence and I, for one, do notbelieve that under ordinary circumstances any one will passively submitto such an administration without a hard fight."
From his pocket Kennedy drew a small pasteboard box filled with tinyglobes, some bonbons and lozenges, a small hypodermic syringe, and afew cigars and cigarettes. He held it out in the palm of his hand sothat we could see it.
"This," he remarked, "is the standard equipment of the endormeur.Whoever obtained admittance to Madame's rooms, either as a matter ofcourse or secretly, must have engaged her in conversation, disarmedsuspicion, and then suddenly she must have found a pocket handkerchiefunder her nose. The criminal crushed a globe of liquid in thehandkerchief, the victim lost consciousness, the chloroform wasadministered without a struggle, all marks of identification wereobliterated, the body was placed in the closet, and the maid--either asprincipal or accessory--took the most likely means of postponingdiscovery by paying the bill in advance at the office, and thendisappeared."
Kennedy slipped the box back into his pocket. The coroner had, I think,been expecting Craig's verdict, although he was loath to abandon hisown suicide theory and had held it to the last possible moment. At anyrate, so far he had said little, apparently preferring to keep his owncounsel as to his course of action and to set his own machinery inmotion.
He drew a note from his pocket, however. "I suppose," he begantentatively, shaking the note as he glanced doubtfully from it to us,"that you have heard that among the callers on this unfortunate womanwas a lady of high social position in this city?"
"I have heard a rumour to that effect," replied Kennedy as he busiedhimself cleaning up the apparatus he had just used. There was nothingin his manner even to hint at the fact that we had gone further andinterviewed the young lady in question.
"Well," resumed the coroner, "in view of what you have just discoveredI don't mind telling you that I believe it was more than a rumour. Ihave had a man watching the woman and this is a report I received justbefore I came up here."
We read the note which he now handed to us. It was just a hasty line:"Miss Lovelace left hurriedly for Washington this morning."
What was the meaning of it? Clearly, as we probed deeper into the case,its ramifications grew wider than anything we had yet expected. Why hadMiss Lovelace gone to Washington, of all places, at this torrid seasonof the year?
The coroner had scarcely left us, more mystified than ever, when atelephone message came from McBride saying that he had some importantnews for us if we would meet him at the St. Cenis Hotel within an hour.He would say nothing about it over the wire.
As Kennedy hung up the receiver he quietly took a pistol from a drawerof his desk, broke it quickly, and looked thoughtfully at thecartridges in the cylinder. Then he snapped it shut and stuck it intohis pocket.
"There's no telling what we may run up against before we get back tothe laboratory," he remarked and we rode down to meet McBride.
The description which the house man had sent out to the other hoteldetectives the night before had already produced a result. Within thepast two days a man answering the description of the younger man whomMcBride had seen in the cafe and a woman who might very possibly havebeen Madame's maid had come to the St. Cenis as M. and Mme. Duval.Their baggage was light, but they had been at pains to impress upon thehotel that they were persons of some position and that it was goingdirect from the railroad to the steamer, after their tour of America.They had, as a matter of fact, done nothing to excite suspicion untilthe general request for information had been received.
The house man of the St. Cenis welcomed us cordially upon McBride'sintroduction and agreed to take us up to the rooms of the strangecouple if they were not in. As it happened it was the lunch hour andthey were not in the room. Still, Kennedy dared not be too particularin his search of their effects, for he did not wish to arouse suspicionupon their return, at least not yet.
"It seems to me, Craig," I suggested after we had nosed about for a fewminutes, finding nothing, "that this is pre-eminently a case in whichto use the dictograph as you did in that Black Hand case."
He shook his head doubtfully, although I could see that the ideaappealed to him. "The dictograph has been getting too much publicitylately," he said. "I'm afraid they would discover it, that is, if theyare at all the clever people I think them. Besides, I would have tosend up to the laboratory to get one and by the time the messengerreturned they might be back from lunch. No, we've got to do somethingelse, and do it qui
ckly."
He was looking about the room in an apparently aimless manner. On theside wall hung a cheap etching of a woodland scene. Kennedy seemedengrossed in it while the rest of us fidgeted at the delay.
"Can you get me a couple of old telephone instruments?" he asked atlength, turning to us and addressing the St. Cenis detective.
The detective nodded and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes laterhe deposited the instruments on a table. Where he got them I do notknow, but I suspect he simply lifted them from vacant rooms.
"Now some Number 30 copper wire and a couple of dry cells," orderedKennedy, falling to work immediately on the telephones. The detectivedespatched a bellboy down to the basement to get the wire from thehouse electrician.
Kennedy removed the transmitters of the telephones, and taking thecarbon capsules from them placed the capsules on the table carefully.Then he lifted down the etching from the wall and laid it flat on itsface before us. Quickly he removed the back of the picture.
Pressing the transmitter fronts with the carbon capsules against thepaper and the glass on the picture he mounted them so that the paperand glass acted as a large diaphragm to collect all the sounds in theroom.
"The size of this glass diaphragm," he explained as we gathered aroundin intense interest at what he was doing, "will produce a strikinglysensitive microphone action and the merest whisper will be reproducedwith startling distinctness."
The boy brought the wire up and also the news that the couple in whoseroom we were had very nearly finished luncheon and might be expectedback in a few minutes.
Kennedy took the tiny wires, and after connecting them hung up thepicture again and ran them up alongside the picture wires leading fromthe huge transmitter up to the picture moulding. Along the top of themoulding and out through the transom it was easy enough to run thewires and so down the hall to a vacant room, where Craig attached themquickly to one of the old telephone receivers.
Then we sat down in this room to await developments from our hastilyimprovised picture frame microphone detective.
At last we could hear the elevator door close on our floor. A momentlater it was evident from the expression of Kennedy's face that someone had entered the room which we had just left. He had finished not amoment too soon.
"It's a good thing that I didn't wait to put a dictograph there," heremarked to us. "I thought I wasn't reckoning without reason. Thecouple, whoever they are, are talking in undertones and looking aboutthe room to see if anything has been disturbed in their absence."
Kennedy alone, of course, could follow over his end of the telephonewhat they said. The rest of us could do nothing but wait, but fromnotes which Craig jotted down as he listened to the conversation Ishall reproduce it as if we had all heard it. There were some anxiousmoments until at last they had satisfied themselves that no one waslistening and that no dictograph or other mechanical eavesdropper, suchas they had heard of, was concealed in the furniture or back of it.
"Why are you so particular, Henri?" a woman's voice was saying.
"Louise, I've been thinking for a long time that we are surrounded byspies in these hotels. You remember I told you what happened at theVanderveer the night you and Madame arrived? I'm sure that waiteroverheard what Gonzales and I were talking about."
"Well, we are safe now anyhow. What was it that you would not tell mejust now at luncheon?" asked the woman, whom Kennedy recognised asMadame de Nevers's maid.
"I have a cipher from Washington. Wait until I translate it."
There was a pause. "What does it say?" asked the woman impatiently.
"It says," repeated the man slowly, "that Miss Lovelace has gone toWashington. She insists on knowing whether the death of Marie was asuicide or not. Worse than that the Secret Service must have wind ofsome part of our scheme, for they are acting suspiciously. I must godown there or the whole affair may be exposed and fall through. Thingscould hardly be worse, especially this sudden move on her part."
"Who was that detective who forced his way to see her the night theydiscovered Marie's body?" asked the woman. "I hope that that wasn't theSecret Service also. Do you think they could have suspected anything?"
"I hardly think so," the man replied. "Beyond the death of Madame theysuspect nothing here in New York, I am convinced. You are sure that allher letters were secured, that all clues to connect her with thebusiness in hand were destroyed, and particularly that the package shewas to deliver is safe?"
"The package? You mean the plans for the coaling station on the Pacificnear the Canal? You see, Henri, I know."
"Ha, ha,--yes," replied the man. "Louise, shall I tell you a secret?Can you keep it?"
"You know I can, Henri."
"Well, Louise, the scheme is deeper than even you think. We are playingone country against another, America against--you know the governmentour friend Schmidt works for in Paris. Now, listen. Those plans of thecoaling station are a fake--a fake. It is just a commercial venture. Nonation would be foolish enough to attempt such a thing, yet. We knowthat they are a fake. But we are going to sell them through that friendof ours in the United States War Department. But that is only part ofthe coup, the part that will give us the money to turn the much largercoups we have in the future. You can understand why it has all to bedone so secretly and how vexatious it is that as soon as one obstacleis overcome a dozen new ones appear. Louise, here is the big secret. Byusing those fake plans as a bait we are going to obtain something whichwhen we all return to Paris we can convert into thousands of francs.There, I can say no more. But I have told you so much to impress uponyou the extreme need of caution."
"And how much does Miss Lovelace know?"
"Very little--I hope. That is why I must go to Washington myself. Shemust know nothing of this coup nor of the real de Nevers, or the wholescheme may fall through. It would have fallen through before, Louise,if you had failed us and had let any of de Nevers's letters slipthrough to Miss Lovelace. She richly deserved her fate for that act oftreachery. The affair would have been so simple, otherwise. Luck waswith us until her insane jealousy led her to visit Miss Lovelace. Itwas fortunate the young lady was out when Madame called on her or allwould have been lost. Ah, we owe you a great deal, Louise, and we shallnot forget it, never. You will be very careful while I am gone?"
"Absolutely. When will you return to me, Henri?"
"To-morrow morning at the latest. This afternoon the false coalingstation plans are to be turned over to our accomplice in the WarDepartment and in exchange he is to give us something else--the secretof which I spoke. You see the trail leads up into high circles. It isvery much more important than you suppose and discovery might lead to adangerous international complication just now."
"Then you are to meet your friend in Washington to-night? When do youstart, Henri? Don't let the time slip by. There must be no mistake thistime as there was when we were working for Japan and almost had theblue prints of Corregidor at Manila only to lose them on the streets ofCalcutta."
"Trust me. We are to meet about nine o'clock and therefore I leave onthe limited at three-thirty, in about an hour. From the station I amgoing straight to the house on Z Street--let me see, the cipher saysthe number is 101--and ask for a man named Gonzales. I shall use thename Montez. He is to appear, hand over the package--that thing I havetold you about--then I am to return here by one of the midnight trains.At any cost we must allow nothing to happen which will reach the earsof Miss Lovelace. I'll see you early to-morrow morning, ma cherie, andremember, be ready, for the Aquitania sails at ten. The division of themoney is to be made in Paris. Then we shall all go our separate ways."
Kennedy was telephoning frantically through the regular hotel serviceto find out how the trains ran for Washington. The only one that wouldget there before nine was the three-thirty; the next, leaving an hourlater, did not arrive until nearly eleven. He had evidently had someidea of causing some delay that would result in our friend down thehall missing the limited, but abandoned it. Any such scheme
wouldsimply result in a message to the gang in Washington putting them ontheir guard and defeating his purpose.
"At all costs we must beat this fellow to it," exclaimed Craig, waitingto hear no more over his improvised dictograph. "Come, Walter, we mustcatch the limited for Washington immediately. McBride, I leave you andthe regular house man to shadow this woman. Don't let her get out ofyour sight for a moment."
As we rode across the city to the new railroad terminus Craig hastilyinformed me of what he had overheard. We took up our post so that wecould see the outgoing travellers, and a few minutes later Craigspotted our man from McBride's description, and succeeded in securingchairs in the same car in which he was to ride.
Taken altogether it was an uneventful journey. For five mortal hours wesat in the Pullman or toyed with food in the dining-car, never lettingthe man escape our sight, yet never letting him know that we werewatching him. Nevertheless I could not help asking myself what good itdid. Why did not Kennedy hire a special if the affair was so importantas it appeared? How were we to get ahead of him in Washington betterthan in New York? I knew that some plan lurked behind the calm andinscrutable face of Kennedy as I tried to read and could not.
The train had come to a stop in the Union Station. Our man was walkingrapidly up the platform in the direction of the cab stand. SuddenlyKennedy darted ahead and for a moment we were walking abreast of him.
"I beg your pardon," began Craig as we came to a turn in the shadow ofthe arc lights, "but have you a match?"
The man halted and fumbled for his match-box. Instantly Kennedy'spocket handkerchief was at his nose.
"Some of the medicine of your own gang of endormeurs," ground outKennedy, crushing several of the little glass globes under hishandkerchief to make doubly sure of their effect.
The man reeled and would have fallen if we had not caught him betweenus. Up the platform we led him in a daze.
"Here," shouted Craig to a cabman, "my friend is ill. Drive us around abit. It will sober him up. Come on, Walter, jump in, the air will do usall good."
Those who were in Washington during that summer will remember thesuppressed activity in the State, War, and Navy Departments on acertain very humid night. Nothing leaked out at the time as to thecause, but it was understood later that a crisis was narrowly avertedat a very inopportune season, for the heads of the departments were allaway, the President was at his summer home in the North, and even someof the under-secretaries were out of town. Hasty messages had beensizzling over the wires in cipher and code for hours.
I recall that as we rode a little out of our way past the ArmyBuilding, merely to see if there was any excitement, we found it ablaze of lights. Something was plainly afoot even at this usually dullperiod of the year. There was treachery of some kind and some trustedemployee was involved, I felt instinctively. As for Craig he merelyglanced at the insensible figure between us and remarked sententiouslythat to his knowledge there was only one nation that made a practice ofcarrying out its diplomatic and other coups in the hot weather, aremark which I understood to mean that our mission was more thancommonly important.
The man had not recovered when we arrived within several blocks of ourdestination, nor did he show signs of recovery from his profoundstupor. Kennedy stopped the cab in a side street, pressed a bill intothe cabman's hand, and bade him wait until we returned.
We had turned the corner of Z Street and were approaching the housewhen a man walking in the opposite direction eyed us suspiciously,turned, and followed us a step or two.
"Kennedy!" he exclaimed.
If a fourteen-inch gun had exploded behind us I could not have beenmore startled. Here, in spite of all our haste and secrecy we werefollowed, watched, and beaten.
Craig wheeled about suddenly. Then he took the man by the arm. "Come,"he said quickly, and we three dove into the shadow of an alley.
As we paused, Kennedy was the first to speak. "By Jove, Walter, it'sBurke of the Secret Service," he exclaimed.
"Good," repeated the man with some satisfaction. "I see that you stillhave that memory for faces." He was evidently referring to ourexperiences together some months before with the portrait parle andidentification in the counterfeiting case which Craig cleared up forhim.
For a moment or two Burke and Kennedy spoke in whispers. Under the dimlight from the street I could see Kennedy's face intent and workingwith excitement.
"No wonder the War Department is a blaze of lights," he exclaimed as wemoved out of the shadow again, leaving the Secret Service man. "Burke,I had no idea when I took up this case that I should be doing mycountry a service also. We must succeed at any hazard. The moment youhear a pistol shot, Burke, we shall need you. Force the door if it isnot already open. You were right as to the street but not the number.It is that house over there. Come on, Walter."
We mounted the low steps of the house and a negress answered the bell."Is Mr. Gonzales in?" asked Kennedy.
The hallway into which we were admitted was dark but it opened into asitting-room, where a dim light was burning behind the thick portieres.Without a word the negress ushered us into this room, which wasotherwise empty.
"Tell him Mr. Montez is here," added Craig as we sat down.
The negress disappeared upstairs, and in a few minutes returned withthe message that he would be down directly.
No sooner had the shuffle of her footsteps died away than Kennedy wason his feet, listening intently at the door. There was no sound. Hetook a chair and tiptoed out into the dark hall with it. Turning itupside down he placed it at the foot of the stairs with the four legspointing obliquely up. Then he drew me into a corner with him.
How long we waited I cannot say. The next I knew was a muffled step onthe landing above, then the tread on the stairs.
A crash and a deep volley of oaths in French followed as the manpitched headlong over the chair on the dark steps.
Kennedy whipped out his revolver and fired pointblank at the prostratefigure. I do not know what the ethics are of firing on a man when he isdown, nor did I have time to stop to think.
Craig grasped my arm and pulled me toward the door. A sickening odourseemed to pervade the air. Upstairs there was shouting and banging ofdoors.
"Closer, Walter," he muttered, "closer to the door, and open it alittle, or we shall both be suffocated. It was the Secret Service gun Ishot off--the pistol that shoots stupefying gas from its vapour-filledcartridges and enables you to put a criminal out of commission withoutkilling him. A pull of the trigger, the cap explodes, the gunpowder andthe force of the explosion unite some capsicum and lycopodium,producing the blinding, suffocating vapour whose terrible effect yousee. Here, you upstairs," he shouted, "advance an inch or so much asshow your heads over the rail and I pump a shot at you, too. Walter,take the gun yourself. Fire at a move from them. I think the gases havecleared away enough now. I must get him before he recoversconsciousness."
A tap at the door came, and without taking my eyes off the stairs Iopened it. Burke slid in and gulped at the nauseous atmosphere.
"What's up?" he gasped. "I heard a shot. Where's Kennedy?"
I motioned in the darkness. Kennedy's electric bull's-eye flashed up atthat instant and we saw him deftly slip a bright pair of manacles onthe wrists of the man on the floor, who was breathing heavily, whileblood flowed from a few slight cuts due to his fall.
Dexterously as a pickpocket Craig reached into the man's coat, pulledout a packet of papers, and gazed eagerly at one after another. Fromamong them he unfolded one written in French to Madame Marie de Neverssome weeks before. I translate:
DEAR MARIE: Herr Schmidt informs me that his agent in the WarDepartment at Washington, U. S. A., has secured some importantinformation which will interest the Government for which Herr Schmidtis the agent--of course you know who that is.
It is necessary that you should carry the packet which will be handedto you (if you agree to my proposal) to New York by the steamerTripolitania. Go to the Vandeveer Hotel and in a few days, as so
on as acertain exchange can be made, either our friend in Washington or myselfwill call on you, using the name Gonzales. In return for the packagewhich you carry he will hand you another. Lose no time in bringing thesecond package back to Paris.
I have arranged that you will receive ten thousand francs and yourexpenses for your services in this matter. Under no conditions betrayyour connection with Herr Schmidt. I was to have carried the packet toAmerica myself and make the exchange but knowing your need of money Ihave secured the work for you. You had better take your maid, as it ismuch better to travel with distinction in this case. If, however, youaccept this commission I shall consider you in honour bound tosurrender your claim upon my name for which I agree to pay you fiftythousand francs upon my marriage with the American heiress of whom youknow. Please let me know immediately through our mutual friend HenriDuval whether this proposal is satisfactory. Henri will tell you thatfifty thousand is my ultimatum,
CHATEAUROUGE.
"The scoundrel," ground out Kennedy. "He lured his wife from Paris toNew York, thinking the Paris police too acute for him, I suppose. Thenby means of the treachery of the maid Louise and his friend Duval, acrook who would even descend to play the part of valet for him and fallin love with the maid, he has succeeded in removing the woman who stoodbetween him and an American fortune."
"Marie," rambled Chateaurouge as he came blinking, sneezing, andchoking out of his stupor, "Marie, you are clever, but not too cleverfor me. This blackmailing must stop. Miss Lovelace knows something,thanks to you, but she shall never know all--never--never.You--you--ugh!--Stop. Do you think you can hold me back now with thoselittle white hands on my wrists? I wrench themloose--so--and--ugh!--What's this? Where am I?"
The man gazed dazedly at the manacles that held his wrists instead ofthe delicate hands he had been dreaming of as he lived over theterrible scene of his struggle with the woman who was his wife in theVanderveer.
"Chateaurouge," almost hissed Kennedy in his righteous wrath, "fakenobleman, real swindler of five continents. Marie de Nevers alive stoodin the way of your marriage to the heiress Miss Lovelace. Dead, sheprevents it absolutely."
Craig continued to turn over the papers in his hand, as he spoke. Atlast he came to a smaller packet in oiled silk. As he broke the seal heglanced at it in surprise, then hurriedly exclaimed, "There, Burke.Take these to the War Department and tell them they can turn out theirlights and stop their telegrams. This seems to be a copy of ourgovernment's plans for the fortification of the Panama Canal, heightsof guns, location of searchlights, fire control stations, everythingfrom painstaking search of official and confidential records. That iswhat this fellow obtained in exchange for his false blue prints of thesupposed coaling station on the Pacific.
"I leave the Secret Service to find the leak in the War Department.What I am interested in is not the man who played spy for two nationsand betrayed one of them. To me this adventurer who calls himselfChateaurouge is merely the murderer of Madame de Nevers."
The Poisoned Pen Page 9