CHAPTER XXV
THE BLOOD-STAINED GLOVE
I do not know what it was I expected to see, as I leaped from my chairand peered over Godfrey's shoulder; but certainly it was somethingmore impressive than the soiled and ragged object he held in his hand.It was, apparently, an ordinary rubber glove, such as surgeonssometimes use, and it was torn and crumpled, as though it had been thesubject of a struggle.
Then I remembered that I had seen it crushed in Miss Vaughan'sunconscious fingers, and I recalled how the fingers had stiffened whenGodfrey tried to remove it, as though some instinct in her sought toguard it, even in the face of death.
"But I don't understand," said Simmonds, who was staring over theother shoulder. "What's that thing got to do with the finger-prints?"
"Look here," said Godfrey, and held the glove so that the ends of thefingers lay in the full light.
Then I saw that against the end of every finger had been glued a stripof rubber, about an inch in length and half as wide; and, bendingcloser, I perceived that the surface of each of these strips wascovered with an intricate pattern of minute lines.
"Forged finger-prints! That's a new idea in crime, isn't it,Simmonds?" and Godfrey laughed excitedly.
Simmonds took the glove, got out his pocket-glass, and examined thefinger-tips minutely.
"You think these reproduce Swain's finger-prints?" he asked, sceptically.
"I'm sure they do! You see it's the right hand; look at the thumb--yousee it's a double whorl. Wait till we put them side by side withSwain's own, and you'll see that they correspond, line for line. Yes,and look at those stains. Do you know what those stains are, Simmonds?They're blood. Did you notice the stains, doctor?"
"Yes," said Hinman. "I think they're blood-stains. That will be easyenough to determine."
"Whose blood is it?" asked Simmonds, and I could see that even hisarmour had been penetrated.
"Well," answered Godfrey, smiling, "science isn't able, as yet, toidentify the blood of individuals; but I'd be willing to give oddsthat it's Swain's blood. My idea is that Silva got the blood for thefinger-prints from the blood-soaked handkerchief, which Swain probablydropped when he fled from the arbour, and which Silva picked up anddropped beside the chair, after he was through with it, as anadditional bit of evidence."
"That's reasonable enough," agreed Hinman, with a quick nod, "but whatI can't understand is how he made these reproductions."
Godfrey sat down again and contemplated the glove pensively for somemoments. Then he turned to me.
"Where is that book of finger-prints you spoke about, Lester?" he asked.
I went to the book-case and got it out. Godfrey took it and began toturn the pages quickly.
"Swain's name is in the index," I said, and he glanced at it, and thenturned to the place where the page had been.
"Which reminds me," said Hinman, with a rueful smile, "that Iconcocted a very pretty theory to account for that missing page. Ifelt quite chesty about it! I'm glad it didn't throw Miss Vaughan offthe scent!"
"So am I!" agreed Godfrey, "for it must have been this missing pagewhich gave Miss Vaughan her first suspicion of the truth. Perhaps itwas pure inspiration--or perhaps she knew that Silva could reproducefinger-prints. We shall learn when we hear her story. In any event,it's a clever trick--and easy enough when you know how!"
"Like standing the egg on end," I suggested.
"Precisely. Every trick is easy when you work it backwards. But justthink, Simmonds," he added, "what problems the police will have toface, if gloves like these become fashionable among cracksmen!"
Simmonds groaned dismally.
"You haven't told us yet how it's done," he said.
I bit back a smile, for Simmonds's tone was that of pupil to master.
"Well," said Godfrey, slowly, "it might be done in several ways. Thefirst thing is to get a good set of the prints to be reproduced. ThatSilva got from this album. The moulds might be made by cutting them inwood or metal; but that would take an expert--and besides, I fancy itwould be too slow for Silva. He had a quicker way than that--perhapsby transferring them to a plate of zinc or copper and then eating themout with acid. Once the mould is secured, it is merely a question ofpressing india-rubber-mixture into it and then heating the rubberuntil it hardens--just as a rubber-stamp is made. The whole processwould take only a few hours."
Simmonds drew a deep breath.
"It may be simple," he said, "but that fellow's a genius, just thesame. He's much too clever to be at large. We've got to get him!"
"Be sure of one thing," retorted Godfrey. "You'll find it harder tocatch him than it was to let him go! He won't walk into your arms. Notthat I blame you, Simmonds," he added; "but I blame thosemuckle-headed men of yours--and I blame myself for not keeping my eyesopen. Here's the glove--take good care of it. It means Swain'sacquittal. And now there is one other thing I want to see before we goto bed. Suppose we make a little excursion to the roof."
"To the roof? What for?" demanded Simmonds, as he wrapped the glove inhis handkerchief and put it in his pocket.
"You know how fond you are of fire-works!" retorted Godfrey, smiling,and started for the door.
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," said Hinman,"but I'm as curious as an old woman,--and I like fire-works, too!"
"Come along, then," laughed Godfrey, and led the way up the stairs."This time we'll go as quietly as we can!" he added, over hisshoulder.
In the entry at the top of the stairs leading to the attic story was aheavy closed door, and Godfrey looked at it with a smile.
"Do you suppose those two German servants have slept on through allthis excitement?" he asked; and we found afterwards that they had!
The flare of Godfrey's torch disclosed a third flight of stairs at theend of the entry, and, when we reached the foot of these and lookedup, we found ourselves gazing at the stars.
"Ah!" said Godfrey; "I thought so! The stage was set, ready for thecurtain, and then the leading lady failed to appear. So the villainwent in search of her, found her with the glove in her hand, andstarted to suppress her, when our timely arrival interrupted him!Gentlemen, I think I can promise you a most interesting demonstration.What did Miss Vaughan call it, Lester?"
"An astral benediction," I said.
"That's it!" said Godfrey, and led the way up the steps.
There was a wide, hinged trap-door at the top, lying open, and westepped through it out upon the roof. Here had been built a platformabout eight feet square, with a low railing around it. I saw Godfrey'storch playing rapidly over the boards of the platform, then hemarshalled us in the middle of it.
"Stand here in a row," he said, "facing the west. Extend your arms tothe heavens and concentrate your gaze upon that big star up yonder.Go ahead, doctor," he urged, as Hinman hesitated. "We're trying topersuade an astral visitor to pay us a call, and it takes team-work."
We stood silent a moment, with our arms above our heads, and I couldhear Godfrey shifting his feet cautiously along the boards of thefloor.
"What's that!" cried Simmonds, for, from the darkness at our feet, hadcome a soft whirr as of a bird taking flight.
"Look!" cried Hinman. "Look!"
High above our heads a point of flame appeared, brightened and burnedsteel-blue. For a moment it hung there, then it grew brighter andbrighter, and I knew that it was descending. Lower and lower it came,until it hovered in the air just above us; then it burst into amillion sparks and vanished.
For a moment, no one spoke; then I heard Hinman's voice, and it wasdecidedly unsteady.
"What is this, anyway?" he demanded. "The Arabian Nights?"
"No," said Godfrey, and in his voice was the ring of triumph. "It'smerely a device of one of the cleverest fakirs who ever lived. Takethe torch, Simmonds, and let us see how it works."
He dropped to his knees, while Simmonds lighted him, and I saw thatthere was a hole in the floor about three inches in diameter. Godfreyfelt carefully about it for a mome
nt, and then, with a littleexclamation of triumph, found a hold for his fingers, pulled sharply,and raised a hinged section of the floor, about eighteen inches square.
"Now give us the light," he said, and plunged it into the opening.
In line with the little hole was an upright metal tube about a footlong, ending in a small square box. Beside the tube, a slender ironrod ran from the platform down into the box.
"That's the lever that sets it off," remarked Godfrey, tapping therod. "A pressure of the foot did it."
He pulled the rod loose, seized the tube, and lifted the wholeapparatus out upon the platform.
"Let's take it down where we can look at it," he said, and, carryingit easily in one hand, led the way back to the library, cleared aplace on the table and set it down. Then, after a moment'sexamination, he pulled back a little bolt and tilted the top of thebox, with the tube attached, to one side.
A curious mechanism lay revealed. There was a powerful spring, whichcould be wound up with a key, and a drum wound with filament-like wireand connected with a simple clock-work to revolve it. Two smalldry-batteries were secured to one side of the box, their wires runningto the drum.
"Why, it's nothing but a toy catapult!" I said.
"That's all," and Godfrey nodded. "It remained for Silva to add a fewtrimmings of his own and to put it to a unique use. Instead of amissile, he loaded it with his little aerial shell, attached to theend of this wire. Then he shot it off with a pressure of the foot;when it reached the end of the wire, the pull brought this platinumcoil against the battery wires and closed the circuit. The spark firedthe shell, and the drum began to revolve and pull it down. Thatexplains, Lester, why it descended so steadily and in a straight line.The fellow who could devise a thing like that deserves to succeed!Here's health to him!"
"He ought to be behind the bars," growled Simmonds. "The cleverer heis, the more dangerous he is."
"Well," retorted Godfrey, "I admire him, anyway; and he isn't behindthe bars yet. No doubt you'll find some of his shells to-morrow aboutthe house somewhere, and you might amuse yourself by shooting one offevery night at midnight, on the chance that he sees it and comes backto see who's stealing his thunder!"
But this brilliant suggestion didn't seem to appeal to Simmonds, whomerely grunted and continued his examination of the catapult.
"Silva had loaded it for to-night's performance," Godfrey went on,"but, as I remarked before, the leading lady failed to answer her cue,and it remained for us to touch it off. There it is, Simmonds; I turnit over to you. It and the glove will make unique additions to themuseum at headquarters. And now," he added, with the wide yawn ofsudden relaxation, "you fellows can make a night of it, if you wantto, but I'm going to bed."
I glanced at my watch. It was half-past four. Another dawn wasbrightening along the east.
Hinman ran upstairs, took a look at his patient, and came down to tellus that she was sleeping calmly.
"She'll be all right in the morning," he assured us; "and while Idon't want to butt in, I'd certainly like to hear her story.Adventures like this don't happen very often to a country doctor! MayI come?"
"Most surely!" I assented warmly. "I think we were very fortunate tohave had you in this case, doctor."
"So do I!" echoed Godfrey, while Hinman flushed with pleasure. "Anddon't forget, Lester, that it was I who picked him out, with nothingbetter than the telephone-book to guide me! That was my infallibleinstinct!"
"Suppose we say ten o'clock, then?" I suggested, smiling at Godfrey'sexuberance--but then, I was feeling rather exuberant myself!
"I'll be here!" said Hinman. "And thank you," and a moment later weheard his car chugging away down the drive.
We listened to it for a moment, then Godfrey yawned again.
"Come along, Lester," he said, "or I'll go to sleep on my feet. Can Igive you a bed, Simmonds?"
"No, thanks," said Simmonds. "I'm not ready for bed. I'm going to combthis whole neighbourhood, as soon as it's light. Silva can'tescape--unless he just fades away into the air."
"You've found no trace of him?"
"I've had no reports yet," and Simmonds walked beside us down thedrive to the gate; "but my men ought to be coming in pretty soon.There's a thick grove just across the road, where he may behiding...."
He stopped, for a man was hastening toward us, carrying under one arma small white bundle.
Simmonds quickened his pace.
"What's that you've got?" he asked.
The man saluted.
"I found it just now, sir, in the bushes near the gate. Looks like adress."
Simmonds unrolled it slowly. It was the robe of the White Priest of Siva.
Godfrey looked at it and then at Simmonds, whose face was a study.Then he took me by the arm and led me away.
"I'm afraid Simmonds has his work cut out for him," he said, when wewere out of earshot. "I thought so from the first. A fellow as cleveras Silva would be certain to keep his line of retreat open. He's faraway by this time."
He walked on thoughtfully, a little smile on his lips.
"I'm not altogether sorry," he continued. "It adds an interest to lifeto know that he's running around the world, and that we may encounterhim again some day. He's a remarkable fellow, Lester; one of the mostremarkable I ever met. He comes close to being a genius. I'd givesomething to hear the story of his life."
That wish was destined to be gratified, for, three years later, weheard that story, or a part of it, from Silva's lips, as he lay calmlysmoking a cigarette, looking in the face of death,--and withoutflinching. Perhaps, some day, I shall tell that story.
"But, Godfrey," I said, as we turned in at his gate, "all this schemeof lies--the star, the murder, the finger-prints--what was it allabout? I can't see through it, even yet."
"There are still a few dark places," he agreed; "but the outlines arepretty clear, aren't they?"
"Not to me--it's all a jumble."
"Suppose we wait till we hear Miss Vaughan's story," he suggested."After that, I think, we can reconstruct the whole plot. There's onefoundation-stone that's missing," he added, thoughtfully. "I wonder ifMiss Vaughan uses a blotting-book? It all depends upon that!"
"A blotting-book?" I echoed. "But I don't see...."
He shook himself out of his thoughts with a little laugh.
"Not now, Lester. It's time we were in bed. Look, there's the sun!"and he led the way into the house. "I'll have you called at nine," headded, as he bade me good-night at my door.
The Gloved Hand Page 25