The Man Who Fell Through the Earth

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XV Wise's Pipe Dream

  The mystery was a baffling one. I learned from Pennington Wise that hehad a pipe dream that Amory Manning had killed Amos Gately.

  But, save for the faithful Zizi, he could find no one to share hissuspicion. It was too absurd. In the first place, had Manning done thedeed, he never would have hung around the scene of the crime as he did,for nearly an hour. I remembered perfectly his demeanor and expression,as I saw him, with Olive Raynor that afternoon. He was deeply concerned,greatly shocked, and most considerate and thoughtful of Olive, but therewas no shadow of guilt on his fine, strong face.

  I had looked at him closely both during the excitement of the tragedyitself, and later, as we were in the street-car, and I noted his grave,serious countenance, but though he seemed puzzled and anxious, there wasno mark of Cain on his brow.

  I told Wise this, and he listened, duly impressed, but, as he finallyowned up, he saw no other way to look.

  "It wasn't Rodman," he asserted; "that chap is a traitor and a spy, buthe's no murderer. And, too, he was in cahoots with Gately, and the lastthing he wanted was to lose his patron. It wasn't Sadie, of course; shetoo, wanted Gately alive, not dead. I know the unwillingness of Olive'sguardian to listen to Manning's suit, seems a slight motive,--yet wherecan we find a suspect with a stronger one?"

  "We haven't as yet," I returned, "but there must be people implicated inthat spy business,--if that's a true bill against Gately----"

  "Oh, it's a true bill, all right. Amos Gately was a wolf in sheep'sclothing! Miss Raynor will have to know it sooner or later. She reallyknows it now, but she won't let herself believe it."

  "What about that paper Zizi took from Sadie Kent?"

  "That's what I'm working on. Meet me this afternoon at the Raynor house,and I may be able to tell you."

  The big, cheerful library at Olive's house had come to be our generalmeeting-place of an afternoon. I usually dropped in there about fouro'clock, and was pretty sure to find Wise or Rivers or both there. Ziziwas a whole vaudeville show herself, and Olive was always cordial andhospitable. Mrs. Vail, too, was a gentle old lady, and I had grown tolike her.

  So I went, as Wise suggested, and found him poring over the mysteriouspaper.

  Looking at it for the first time, I saw merely a lot of letters,pen-written, and arranged in long rows that ran clear across the sheet.

  There were perhaps twenty rows or so, and each row held about thirtyletters. They were carefully aligned and evenly spaced, and, withoutdoubt, contained a hidden message.

  "I've unraveled a lot of cryptograms in my time," said Wise, "but thisisn't a cryptogram. I mean it isn't in cipher code,--there's some otherway of getting at it."

  We all studied it. Olive, Zizi, Wise, and I bent our heads over the tablewhere it lay, while Mrs. Vail looked on from a little distance, andbabbled about some man she knew once, who could solve secret writings.

  Suddenly Zizi jumped up, and running around the table, viewed the paperfrom the other side.

  She cocked her funny little head sidewise, and then wagged it knowinglyas she took a few steps further and looked at the paper from anotherangle. All round the table she went, and finally, with a murmur ofapology, took up the paper and held it laterally in front of her eagereyes.

  "Whee!" she crowed in an ecstasy of satisfaction; "I've got it! You haveto have a pattern to read it by."

  "A pattern!" I repeated, blankly.

  "Yep! A paper with holes in it,--a key-paper."

  "Oh!" and Wise looked as if a light had burst upon him. "That's it, Ziz!You're the wonder-child, after all! Stoo-pid! Stoo-pid!" and he beat hisforehead in self-abasement. "And, oh! I say, Brice, what did you tell meonce about Swiss cheese?"

  "Swiss cheese?"

  "Yes; don't you remember? A carriage-call check--with holes in it."

  "Oh, that thing. Yes; it was on Mr. Gately's desk,--Hudson, the foxydetective, took it."

  "Can we get it?"

  "Of course, by sending for it."

  "I'll go!" cried Zizi; "where? Headquarters?" and she was alreadyflinging on her coat.

  "Let her go," said Wise, giving the girl a quick, appreciative glance."She'll beat any other messenger, and she'll find it."

  We heard Zizi's imperative little voice demanding a cab from thetelephone, and a bit later heard the street door close behind her.

  "You see," and Wise explained it to us, "Zizi noticed,--and then Idid,--these letters. At first glance they seem to be perfectly regular,but noted closely there are some, here and there, that are a microscopicfraction of space nearer or farther away from others. And that shows whatkind of a cipher it is. We may be mistaken about the carriage check, butI truly believe when we get it we can read the message this papercarries. We certainly can't without it."

  This was so true that we laid the paper aside until the return of ourwinged Mercury.

  She came soon, and waved triumphantly the perforated card she had gone inquest of.

  "Here you are!" she cried; "let me try it as a reward for getting it."

  "All right, go to it," said Wise, and flinging off her cape, Zizi bentover the puzzle.

  "It's it! It's it!" she cried, exultantly. "See, oh, Wise One!"

  The detective took the paper and the card.

  "You see," he said, generously sharing the first sight of the solutionwith us, "this card has seven holes, at irregular distances. By placingit in the right position on this solid bank of letters, certain ones showthrough the holes, and these,--I hope,--will spell the message."

  And it did. After re-adjusting the key card several times, Wise finallygot it right, and the letters that could be seen through the holes inthis card, as he moved it along, spelled coherent words and sentences. Ofcourse, the other letters were not to be used.

  He read the message aloud, and as we suspected, it was informationconcerning the shipment of munitions, and told of certain sailing dates.

  "Spy work of the cleverest type," Wise exclaimed; "you see, 'The Link'got her information from stolen telegrams, and recorded it in this way,so it would be unintelligible to anyone not having this card,--or aduplicate of it."

  I scrutinized with interest the letters as they showed clearly throughthe little round holes.

  "The information is of no particular value now," Wise said; "it refers toyesterday as the sailing date. The point is, that this card,--this keycard, was found on----"

  He paused: a glance at Olive's agonized face stopped the words he wouldhave uttered. But we all knew. That card, found on Amos Gately's desk, orin his desk drawer, proved that he was implicated in the interception ofthese messages, that he was guilty of treason to his country!

  Wise tried to help matters by saying, hastily, "Perhaps it was a plant!Perhaps this card was put where it was found by some sly scoundrel forthe purpose of misleading----"

  "Don't!" said Olive, faintly; "you are kind, Mr. Wise, but you are sayingthat merely to give me a ray of comfort and hope. You know better. Youbelieve,--and I fear I must believe,--my guardian was involved in somewrong, some grave wrong--and----"

  She broke down utterly and sobbed in Zizi's arms which were opened toreceive her.

  Feeling that our further stay was an intrusion, Rivers and I took leave,and Wise came along with us. We three went down to my rooms, andcontinued our confab without the embarrassment of Olive's presence.

  "It's clearing itself up pretty quickly in some respects," Wise said ashe settled himself with a cigar, and passed the box to Rivers. "I'm notso surprised as some at Gately's perfidy. It seems the Government hasbeen onto him for some time,--at least, they suspected him, and weresecretly investigating his private affairs. That Sadie person----"

  "By the way, Wise," I interrupted him, "you sized her up perfectly! Didyou ever hear about that, Rivers? Mr. Wise saw only the girl's hatpin,and from it he drew an exact portrait of 'The Link' herself. How did youdo it, Wise? Tell us the details."

 
"Like all those deductions it was simpler than it sounded," the detectivesaid, smiling. "You see, Mr. Rivers, the head of the pin was a biggood-looking scarab. I don't know yet whether it was a real one, but ifnot it was a first-class imitation. This argued a person of education andtaste. The average young woman doesn't lean toward scarabs. Then, therewas a short bit of a human hair caught in the setting. This was black,rather coarse, and strong, denoting a healthy, buxom brunette. Hair is aclear indication of physical appearance, as a rule. That's how I know youaren't Amory Manning," he broke off suddenly and looked at Case Rivers."I've had his description from Miss Raynor and from Brice, here, and theyagree that Manning had dark, heavy hair, rather--footballish type. Yoursis light, fine, and a little scant. And you have all the characteristicsthat belong to it. Oh, yes, I admit I've been trying to fasten Manning'sidentity on you, but without success."

  "Don't apologize," laughed Rivers, "I've been trying to connect up withthe missing Manning myself, but I can't work it. So, I'm out for thereward for finding that elusive individual. But I fear he's gone beyondrecall."

  "By the way," Wise put in, "I've found out who offers the reward. And, ifyou please, it's none other than the United States Government!"

  "Why?" Rivers asked, interestedly.

  "Well, it seems Manning is,--or was,--a Secret Service man and he was seton the trail of Amos Gately. He worked secretly, of course, and----"

  "And he was kidnaped by Gately's friends!" I cried; "by some of Rodman'sunderlings, and put out of the way! I don't believe Manning is alive!"

  "Go on about the hatpin, Mr. Wise, won't you?" urged Rivers. "I think I'mgoing to grow up to be a detective and I'm taking notes."

  "Well," said Wise, good-humoredly, "as I remember it, I mentioned thelady's good teeth. This, because the prints on the rather soft gold ofthe pin were straight and even."

  "You said she was proud of them," I put in.

  "A glittering generality," and Wise laughed. "Aren't all girls proud ofgood teeth? Also, I assumed she had rather flashy tastes, for the scarab,large, and of a bright greenish-blue color, was not a quiet affair. Astrong perfume clung to it, which also indicated a certain lack ofrefinement."

  "And you said untidy habits," I reminded him.

  "Because the pin was bent to a real crookedness. Also, it had been brokenand mended. The break proving probable carelessness, and the mendingseemed to me to show that she was sentimentally fond of it, for it wasskilfully mended and the cost of that would have bought a new one, Ishould judge. I assumed her to be somewhat intellectual to care so muchfor a scarab, and I deduced her fairly well off to own and to care forthe rather valuable trinket. None of these deductions amounted to much byitself, but the combination helped us to find a way to look for theowner. Of course, the cigarette stubs and the powder-paper helped, too.In fact, Miss Kent left pretty strong evidences of her call on Mr.Gately. But,--she didn't kill him. Now, who did? We are learning lots ofthings, but not one shred of evidence have we yet found against anyindividual as the actual murderer."

  "No," I agreed. "You see, the shadow of the head that I saw on the glassdoor couldn't have been Rodman's."

  "And so it may have been anybody's. I mean, it shows that heads lookpretty much alike, when merely shadowed on a thick, waved glass."

  "Yes," I mused, "it may have been anybody's. But whose? It seems as if weought to have a suspect by this time."

  "I'll get you a suspect," spoke up Case Rivers. "I'm going into thisthing for all I'm worth. The way lies through the Rodman crowd. 'TheLink' sold her information to Rodman and he took it to Gately, but oflate, 'The Link' became more bold and went straight to Gately herself.Now, there must be others concerned, and an interview with Miss Kentwould give us an inkling of who they are. She's lost some of her bravado,by this time, I've no doubt, and I'm going to chase her up. Then, too, Iwant to go to Mr. Gately's office. I've never been there yet! Don'tthink, Wise, that I'm butting in on your game, but sometimes two headsare better than one, if one is a nameless wanderer on the face of theearth."

  "All right, Rivers," and Wise nodded genially, "go in and win. We'retogether on this matter. And when it's over, I'm going to take up _your_case, and see just how, when, and where you fell through the earth."

  "I wish you would," and Rivers looked earnestly at the detective, "for Isee that trip every night in my dreams. I see myself falling through--oh,I won't bore you with that same old story!"

  "It doesn't bore me, but just now we'll put all our energies on thepresent puzzle. We must get Gately's murderer, and then we must get AmoryManning."

  "Zizi says----" I began.

  "I know she does," returned Wise, looking thoughtful. "Zizi says Manningis the murderer. But the kid has no reason to say it but a hunch. She's awitch though for hunches, and I keep her idea in mind."

  "No," and Rivers spoke positively, "it doesn't seem to me that Manning isthe murderer. If he was in the Secret Service, he may be purposely inhiding now, for some reason entirely unconnected with Amos Gately'smurder."

  "Very likely," assented Wise. "Only, as I say, I often remember Zizi'snotions because they so often pan out correct."

  "She's a marvel, that child," said Rivers; "where'd you get her?"

  "She's my model. In civilian life, I'm by way of being an artist, youknow. I sketch her over and over, but never have I successfully caughther smile. She's a witch child, a sprite."

  "Yes; she seems gypsy born. But clever! And of a charm."

  "All that," agreed Wise. "And a good little thing. Devoted to me, like afaithful dog, and yet, absolutely impersonal. Oh, I couldn't get along atall without Ziz."

  And almost as he spoke the door opened and Zizi came gliding in. Her modeof entering a room was one of her individual characteristics. She slid insoftly and unobtrusively, yet one was at once aware of her. It seemed toelectrify the atmosphere, and the place was brighter and more vital infeeling. She moved across the room as quietly as a shadow, she said noword, yet her whole presence spoke.

  "Hello, Ziz," and Wise smiled at her. "Watcha want?"

  "Mr. Rivers," she replied, flashing her black eyes at him. "Miss Olivesent me. And she wants the other crystal."

  "A new mystery?" and Wise laughed. "I can't see through the othercrystal! Has it to do with a pair of glasses?"

  "No," and Rivers took out a pocket-book, from which he extracted someflimsy paper. These proved to be tracings of snow crystals similar tothose I had seen him drawing while he was still in the hospital.

  "How lovely!" Zizi exclaimed, as she took the traced patterns. "You see,"and she showed them to Wise, "Miss Olive is making lace work,--and Mr.Rivers makes her these patterns. Aren't they exquisite?"

  They were. They were forms of snow crystals, than which there is nothingmore beautiful, and Rivers had adapted and combined them into a delicatelace-like pattern, which Olive was to copy with linen threads, orwhatever women use to make lace out of.

  "I was going to take them round," Rivers said; "I hope the delay hasn'tbothered Miss Raynor."

  "Oh, no," Zizi assured him, "but she is impatient to see this new designand couldn't wait. So I offered to run down for it. I knew you werehere."

  "But I'm just going up to Miss Raynor's," Rivers spoke as ifdisappointed, "and the patterns are my only excuse for a call! So, if youplease, Miss Zizi, I'll take them to the impatient lady, and I'll go atonce."

  "I think she's gone out, Mr. Rivers, she was about to go as I left. Ifyou telephone you'll likely catch her."

  Quite unembarrassed at our knowing smiles, Rivers took up mydesk-telephone and called Olive's number. While waiting for the responsehe picked up a pencil from my pen-tray, and idly drew a snow crystal onthe big desk-blotter.

  I watched him, for his skill fascinated me. He drew the dainty six-sidedfigure with the accuracy of a designer. The tiny fronds, all six alike,made a lovely hexagonal form as it grew beneath his fingers.

  He was apparently unconscious of what he was doing, and drew withoutthinking, for he spoke
to us several times while waiting for the desiredconnection.

  At last Olive answered him, and he dropped the pencil and talked to her.In a wheedlesome mood, he persuaded her to defer her proposed erranduntil he could join her and he would accompany her. The kindlyfamiliarity with which he carried on the conversation and the jauntyassurance he showed that she would accede to his request proved to us,listeners perforce, that there was good comradeship between them.

  Rivers hung up the receiver, and turned to me with a boyish smile. "I'mgoing now," he said, "Miss Raynor is waiting for me. I'll see you again,tonight, Brice." And with a general nod of farewell he went off.

  Zizi sat staring at my desk.

  The strange child was thinking of something,--more, she had made adiscovery, or had sensed some new information.

  She leaned over the desk, her outstretched hands resting on the bigblotter and her black eyes wide with an expression of surprised fear.

  "Look!" she cried; "look!"

  But her slender finger pointed only to the snow crystal that Rivers haddrawn. It was a graceful figure, not quite finished, but a delicatetracery of one of the myriad forms that snow crystals show. How often Ihad looked at the lovely things as they rested for a moment on my darkcoat sleeve when I was out in a snowstorm. And after seeing Rivers drawthem so skilfully, several times, they had taken on a new interest to me.But what had so moved Zizi I could not imagine. It was as if the littledrawing were fraught with some dreadful significance of which I knewnothing.

  Nor was Pennington Wise any more aware than I of the girl's meaning.

  He smiled quizzically, and said, "Well, Zizi, girl, what's hypnotizingyou? That drawing of Rivers'?"

  "Yes," and Zizi turned her big black eyes from my face to Wise's, andgave a queer little sigh.

  "Out with it, girlie," urged Wise. "Tell your old Penny Wise what's thematter."

  "Will you do what I want?" she asked, her voice tense and thrilled withstrong feeling.

  "Yes; to the limit."

  "Then look at that thing! That snow crystal!"

  "Yes, I've looked," and after a moment's close scrutiny Wise turned hiseyes again to the eerie face, so vividly emotional, so white with thatunnamed fear.

  "You look, too, Mr. Brice," and I did.

  "Note the design," Zizi went on, "see just how the fronds are marked.Isn't it funny how people always draw or scribble while they're waitingto get a telephone call?"

  "Oh, come now, Ziz," and Penny Wise patted her arm, "you're putting up agame on us. We know Rivers draws these things beautifully. Why act as ifyou never knew it before?"

  "Come with me," and Zizi rose and began to put her long black cloak roundher, shivering with excitement as she did so. "You come, too, Mr. Brice."

  We obeyed the strange child, for I remembered how Pennington Wiserespected what he called her "hunches," and before going downstairs shedirected that I call a taxicab.

  In the cab she said nothing, having already bade us go to Amos Gately'soffice, and arrange to get into the rooms.

  And then, when we were there, when I had obtained the keys from the bankpeople and had entered the dim, quiet rooms, Zizi went straight to themiddle room, straight to Amos Gately's desk, and lifting the telephonefrom where it stood on the big desk-blotter, she disclosed the exactcounterpart of the snow crystal we had seen drawn at my desk by CaseRivers!