by Van Powell
Chapter 10 A DEFEAT FOR SCIENCE!
Shudders of superstitious fear shook Roger's nerves as he flung on hisclothes.
Rooms that were locked and barred he had read about in detectivestories; they had been entered. A room not only so sealed but, farbetter, sealed by locks that not even Potts or Roger could haveunsealed, was as impenetrable as a solid block of metal.
Yet some uncanny, mysterious thing, force or creature had penetrated!
Unless, and he caught at the idea, unless Doctor Ryder had beenworked-up and nervous, and had dreamed some nightmare that had made himhide.
No matter what had happened, no matter what force had beaten thescientific measures employed, they would know the facts, because theregistering devices could not have been stopped by the doctor himself,let alone any outside person or power. While that current flowed in thecircuits, the devices must operate; and even if any wires were cut,still the automatic mechanical springs would run the recorder and thecamera.
Driving on speeding wheels, Roger and Grover got there in quick time.The Falcon man rushed up as they leaped out of the car.
"Every fifteen minutes," he reported, "the way you said, I put my copperkey in the slot on the plate over the observation port you had cut inhis room door, so the plate would move aside as long as I needed to lookto see him in bed. Last time he wasn't there. Up to then he'd looked tobe sleeping sound."
They hurried to the room door, on the second floor, down a hall.
Swiftly, while Roger watched, helping as he could, Grover took anobservation, let Roger see the empty bed and vacant room. The next movewas to test, with ammeter and test-circuit, every electrical wire thathad been necessarily exposed outside the room.
Not a circuit was broken. Not a wire had been cut.
"Very strange," even Grover was baffled, "the current is on, fullstrength, in each circuit. Try to get in."
Roger, at a signal from the Falcon man, worked on the door locks withthe keys that rightfully opened them; while the man, on a ladder outsidea window, tried to pry open catches or shift the burglar stopper builtinto the casing. No success.
"The man may be dying," the Falcon agent grumbled, "and we stay outhere, testing."
Roger, too, wondered at such callous but methodically exact procedure.
Grover, paying no attention to their tell-tale faces, calmly insertedhis key in the secret cable-slot, and cut out the circuits.
At once Roger was able to turn his door key.
They hurried in.
As he looked around, at the crumpled bed sheets, at the hollow on thepillow, Roger knew that a man had slept there. How had he been spiritedaway? The closet was wide open, and although clothing had been flungdown, although bureau and chifforobe drawers had been upset as if in asearch for something, no signs of violence showed.
"Get the record from the phonograph," Grover had made swift inspection,"and the camera film. They operated, of course. You can see the groovedtrack on the record. We cannot waste time looking for clues here. Theywill come from our spies, the film and record, at the studio."
Rapidly they assembled the things needed and drove to the lab.
With Tip, ready, eager, and quick to help, Roger got the film into thetank waiting on their arrival, and set the screening room turntable forthe playback. In no time after their arrival they listened to therevealing details--and were again baffled.
The record, after running along for a few seconds, suddenly spoke thatweird warning, "The Voice of Doom!"
As before, it was repeated and was followed by the uncanny and shrillscreech that ran down the scale to a groan that died in a sudden sharpgrinding stop.
"Let it run!" begged Roger as Grover was about to stop the motor, "maybehe gave us a clue after that waked him up."
There was a scraping of the recording needle running without vibrationover the disk for a few seconds, and then they heard, very faintlyrecorded:
"_You_--Clark!----"
"Who's Clark, Cousin Gro----"
"Sh-h-h!"
The recording was again audible:
"How did you get in? What do you want?"
A few instants of silence. How could the answer fail to be recorded?Roger thought swiftly that a whisper should have left a faint report ofits existence.
"It isn't here.... Look, then.... What do _you_ know about anylaboratory?... I don't know the combination to any safe!... Yes, let'sgo there. I will be very glad to go with you, Clark! The great Joseph Z.Clark----"
Only Doctor Ryder's very easily identified voice gave the responses andalthough Roger cut in more output power and added a stage oftransformer-coupled audio, the speakers gave no intermediate words.
They were easily guessed at, of course.
Potts, bringing the film, still sopping, groaned.
"Not a thing on it. Wasn't even exposed."
Grover and Roger looked.
When light acts on a silver-bromide emulsion, it develops dark grains ofsilver where light has fallen, leaving the shadows unaffected within thedegree that they lack light, thus giving the shadings that become apicture in the positive print.
All over, and for its whole length, the film that had run fully threeminutes showed as clear of developed silver as if it had not run throughthe machine as evidence proved that it had done.
"A card over the lens," Grover grunted. "Of course! This Joseph Z. Clarkis a clever man."
"And so is Doctor Ryder, for he must have guessed that the recording wasgoing ahead, and he told us all he could."
"Yes, Roger. And they haven't been here yet."
"So they will walk into a trap," finished Tip.
They made hurried preparations, hiding the Falcon guards and findingconcealment for themselves.
Doctor Ryder had said he would "gladly" bring the man. How wise! Hewould know that they would get him, there.
They did not have a long vigil.
In the tell-tale shadow-box panel of lights wired for all entrances, theone to the cellar coal chute died out.
Roger felt his nerves quiver, his muscles grow taut.
All they had to do was to wait.
When the pair got in, came up the stairs, walked over to the safe, theinfra-red beam would break, tripping relays that set off smallwater-streams that would go all ways around the safe, charged with acurrent that could chain a marauder in his tracks. Doctor Ryder, knowingabout it, would stay out of range, sending his captor, the miscreantthey wanted, to his defeat.
They crouched, Roger behind the recording device, Grover in the office,Tip near the stairs to the upper floor, the Falcon guards at threestrategic points near ground-floor windows.
There was the silence of a deserted building as they waited.
Minutes passed. The intruding thief was careful, Roger decided.
Still more time passed draggily.
Roger began to grow cramped, and also very uneasy in his mind.
What was going on? Was it so wise to wait? Why not throw on some light.Better sidle over and ask Grover? No. Better wait.
He strained his ears.
He heard only what seemed to be the drip of a faucet in the chemicalwashing-sinks. Tick! Tick-et-y--tick. Silence. Tick! Tic-tic--tick-y. Await. Tick-tick.
He tried to focus his hearing on any other possible sound. The drip-dripeffect seemed to cease. He wondered about it, but decided that it hadnot been a faucet but had been a few drops of collected water runningdown the drain and striking in the trap.
But as he wondered about it, he began to feel that it had been ametallic sound, not so much a soft drip.
Risking censure, in his growing uneasiness, he leaped to his feet andthrew into circuit his small pocket flash. Its beam stabbed thedarkness, here, there.
He shouted in dismay and horror.
The safe door, caught in a flick of the beam, stood wide open!
Tip threw a wall switch. No light came.
Then, suddenly, the lights leaped
on, water flowed from the hose.
Too late!
Science had been cheated of its guarded treasure!