Ashton-Kirk, Secret Agent

by John Thomas McIntyre

  CHAPTER X

  SOME STARTLING INTELLIGENCE

  The conversation between Okiu and Miss Corbin was too low voiced forFuller to catch any of it; and in a few moments he also drew in hishead.

  "Well," said he, "here's a state of things. First we find tracks whichmight be hers, then we come upon the shoes which she might have wornwhen she made them, now we see her engaged in secret conversation with aman whom we know to be----"

  But Ashton-Kirk with an impatient gesture stopped him.

  "Indications are not proof," said he, as he went into the hall. "Don'tforget that _we_ ourselves have also made tracks round about the windowbelow, our shoes are also more or less caked with earth, and we haveboth spoken to Okiu."

  "Of course that's so," said Fuller, "but nevertheless the facts arepeculiar." He followed the other along the hall and into a room at thefront of the house. "But, for that matter, everything having to do withthis case is peculiar. I never saw a trail so snarled and crossed andrecrossed. First you get the idea of a Japanese. Then Warwick isplunged into the thing so deep that I fail to see how he's ever going toextricate himself. Thirdly, we have enough proof as to Drevenoff'scomplicity to put him behind the bars; and now the probabilities arethat the girl is also concerned."

  Ashton-Kirk moved slowly about the room; it was one evidently used byDr. Morse as a sort of lounging place, for there were sofas and bigchairs and many books. At one side near the front window was a narrowantique desk of polished wood; it was open, and its contents had beentumbled about by the police. Ashton-Kirk sat down before it, annoyed andfrowning.

  "After an Osborne and a deputy coroner have been over the ground, onecould drive a herd of mules over it without causing any appreciabledifference in its aspect," said he. "They are as heavy handed asdraymen."

  And while he proceeded with a careful inspection of the contents of thedesks, Fuller continued in a complaining tone:

  "I'd like to know what we are to make of the whole business. Is it asort of general conspiracy against Dr. Morse? Are Warwick, Miss Corbinand Drevenoff in league with the Jap for some particular purpose?--arethere factions in the matter--each working for its own advantage?--oris every individual laboring for him or herself, and against all theothers?"

  "Mostly correspondence of a private nature," said Ashton-Kirk, as he ranthrough the papers. "Contracts with publishers, notes as to lectures,and negotiations for the delivery of the same."

  There were some bits of jewelry of no particular value, a few smallbooks of accounts and various odds and ends.

  After some further search he lifted the writing bed of the desk, whichwas also the lid, and was about to close it; something seemed to attracthis attention and he paused.

  "Were you ever handed a bulky book and were surprised to find itextremely light?" said he to Fuller. "That oddity of thickness combinedwith lightness applies also to this lid."

  The tip of the long inquiring finger ran along the edge of the lid; thequick, observant glance followed close behind. Instantly Fuller caughtthe suggestion.

  "That's so," said he, eagerly; "it may be hollow."

  "On each side of the lock," said Ashton-Kirk, "there is an inlaid strip.Look closely and you will see slight marks at the ends of each where thepoint of a knife has been inserted from time to time."

  As he spoke he brought his own knife into play. Out came one of theinlaid pieces, disclosing a shallow opening. But it was empty. However,the second one revealed a number of sheets of paper. With the aid of theknife blade he managed to work these out; then spreading them upon thedesk the two men examined them with attention.

  "Hello," said Fuller, "here is that thing which I said a while agolooked like a ground plan."

  "And here are the variously colored versions of the same, just asWarwick described them," said the secret agent. "They are preciselyalike, but some are in brown, others in black, still others are in red,while some again are in blue. And here are the ones done upon neutralpaper, in white."

  "Is it possible, do you think," questioned Fuller, "that anything wasmeant by the differing colors?"

  "There is nothing to convince me that such is not the case," repliedAshton-Kirk. "Chance seldom rules in a matter of consequence."

  "Could the change in color not be ascribed merely to the fact that thedraughtsman used the one that came first to his hand?"

  "It may be. But see here: The design which you say resembles a groundplan differs in color, but is always the same in shape. But here are theother drawings. First there are a number of the crowned woman, all ofwhich are done in brown. Then here are several duplicates of one whichI saw the first time we came here. It is a cross, and in each case thedown stroke is red and the cross stroke blue. Here the selection ofcolors never varies, and that there was a reason for clinging to theseparticular colors seems pretty evident. And that there was an equallygood reason for changing the colors in the first design seems to mereasonable."

  "Yes, it would appear so," admitted Fuller, but doubtfully. Then anothersheet caught his eye and pointing to it, he inquired: "But what is_that_?"

  Ashton-Kirk was reaching for the drawing when the question was asked.The squares of paper were exactly the size of the others, but the designupon it was totally unlike, however, and was done in heavy black. It wasa picture of a human heart, and transfixing it were a number of pointedweapons resembling stilettos.

  "What a murderous-looking thing!" observed Fuller. "Much like a BlackHand design as illustrated in the evening papers."

  Ashton-Kirk did not reply; he bent down over the drawing as thoughinspecting it closely; then there was a considerable pause in which hedid not stir and Fuller, watching, noted the glaze of introspection inthe singular eyes. However, this was not for long; he suddenlystraightened up; the other designs slowly passed through his hands oncemore; then he arose, a smile upon his face.

  "More than likely that is it," said he.

  "Is--what?" asked Fuller.

  But the other allowed the interrogation to go unheeded.

  "Away somewhere in our memories," said he, "there are many little bitsof information all ticketed and ready to the hand of the person whocares to reach back for them. Those people who go through life withtheir eyes open possess more of these items of recollection than thosewho refuse to look beyond the confines of their own affairs. But theimpressionable person--the one who makes no conscious effort to retainthe things that buzz like bees about him--and yet catches them all muchlike the record of a phonograph--has the greater resources to drawupon."

  "I would not call you one who made no effort," said Fuller. "And thingsmust need be more or less proven to make an impression upon you."

  "I make my effort in the particular line along which my interest runs atthe time," said Ashton-Kirk. "And it is true that the things which Ithen accept must be more or less solidly supported by facts. But anewspaper casually picked up, a novel read as a time-killer, a spokenword, the gesture of a stranger in the street, or the unstudied actionof a child, may convey a something that will stay with us for life."

  "And just now," said Fuller, curiously, "you came upon one of theselittle incidents, a sort of unattached thing, which throws some lightupon these," and he pointed to the drawings upon the desk.

  Ashton-Kirk nodded; placing the sheets of paper in his coat pocket heclosed the desk.

  "The police will have little use for these," he said. "Nevertheless, Isuppose I had better call Osborne's attention to them."

  He spent another half hour in the upper part of the house, but nothingof interest met his eye. Then they descended to the first floor; and asthey did so, met Miss Corbin upon the stairs. As she saw them, astartled look came into her face.

  "Good-morning," said Ashton-Kirk.

  "I did not know that you were here," she said.

  "There were a few trifles which I knew only daylight would show us," hereturned. "We came more than an hour ago."

  "I did not see you go up-stairs," she said; and to Fuller there wa
s asort of confused resentment in her voice.

  "We took the liberty of using the back stairway, that being thenearest," explained the secret agent.

  There was a pause. The slim, girlish figure blocked their way; the greatdark eyes were fixed upon them observantly. "You were in my uncle'sroom?" she asked.

  "Yes. We fancied that there might be something there of interest."

  "Ah, no doubt," she replied; and again Fuller's attention was called toa peculiar something in her voice. However, she said nothing more; andthen as they stood politely aside, she passed on up the stairs.

  The telephone bell was ringing furiously as they reached the hall;Osborne hastened from somewhere in the rear to answer it.

  There followed the usual one-sided and enigmatic telephone conversation;but this one was interspersed with high-pitched questions, amazedejaculation and wondering adjectives upon the part of the headquartersman. At last he hung up and turned to Ashton-Kirk.

  "Well, what do you think of that?" he cried.

  "What is it?"

  "That was the chief. He's just had a wire from New York. They got onWarwick's track an hour after hearing from us, and traced him to anup-town hotel."

  "Ah! And have they taken him?"

  "Two plain clothes men went in and a couple more stood outside. Theclerk said yes, he was in his room. Was registered under the name ofGordon. They went up and knocked. No answer. Knocked again. Still noanswer. They broke down the door, and found----"

  "What?" asked Fuller.

  "That Warwick was gone. On the floor lay a traveling bag like the one hetook from here, slashed open and empty, and beside it lay an unknownJapanese--stabbed through the heart.