“Not at all,” Meek denied, smiling. “Just something I—uh—was going to eat. Did you want me?”
The girl turned a rather lovely pink. “I was looking for Rick. He—oh!” A peculiar reaction seemed to have overtaken Binnie. Her eyes were lambent.
The doctor looked startled.
“What’s wrong?”
The girl gulped and looked down. “Nothing. It—felt like somebody kissed me. Isn’t that silly?”
“Damned silly,” Meek remarked grimly, glaring at empty air. “You must excuse me, Binnie. I have work to do I—”
He paused, his gaze riveted on the unusual antics of the extroverted dog.
ANGEL was in trouble. His nose was deceiving him. There was a ghost in the room—the ghost of a smell. It smelled like Raleigh, but that gentleman obviously wasn’t present. Angel shook his ears away from his eyes and stared around in a baffled and hopeless manner. No Raleigh. But the smell remained.
Angel put his nose on the carpet and proceeded to drag himself after it, sniffing audibly. Abruptly he halted, with a muffled shriek. His nose had come in violent contact with an invisible shoe.
It was a toss-up whether or not Angel would collapse. The unfortunate beast began to tremble in every limb. Raleigh, taking pity on the creature, bent down and stroked Angel’s head.
That was the last straw. With a loud cry of distress the dog fainted.
Meek cleared his throat. Significantly he turned toward the door and opened it, allowing room for the invisible Raleigh to pass through. Under his breath he muttered.
“The cardcase?”
“Got it,” came an almost inaudible whisper—and Raleigh was gone, leaving a slightly hysterical beast and a girl who, though puzzled, was rather pleased than otherwise.
CHAPTER II
The Robbery
ANGEL’S recovery was swift. His bump of curiosity brought him back to consciousness. With canine instinct, he divined that the enigma had left the room, so Angel followed with frantic speed, almost upsetting Dr. Meek. There came the sound of a closing door, followed by quiet, vitriolic profanity spilling from the learned savant’s lips.
He sent Binnie away and went back into his office, to practice various positions before a full-length mirror. Some of the reporters had carried cameras.
Meanwhile the invisible man was lying in the gutter outside the house, nursing a bruised knee. Trouble had been immediate. Raleigh’s feet hadn’t been where he imagined, and he had taken a nasty spill as a consequence. It was, in a way, like trying to walk with your eyes closed. Distances were too easily misgauged. Raleigh clambered erect, discovered that he had lost the cardcase, and searched for it. It lay nearby, and vanished as he picked it up.
What now? He looked around, feeling oddly isolated and lonely. There were few passers-by. A street car rumbled past. One of the reporters was leaning against a lamp post not far away.
Reminded of his errand, Raleigh slowly began to walk toward the man. He paused directly in front of him, waiting. The reporter made no sign. Obviously he didn’t see Raleigh.
The latter delicately reached out and snatched the handkerchief that protruded from the reporter’s pocket. So swiftly did it vanish that its disappearance went unnoticed. The reporter yawned, found a cigarette, and lit a match on his thumbnail.
Raleigh grinned. This was going to be easy. He extracted a card from the case and slipped it into his victim’s pocket in lieu of the handkerchief.
As he turned away, there came a loud sniff from behind him. Angel was on the trail, his bloodhound instincts fully aroused. His hopeless whine seemed to say,
“What the hell is this, anyhow?” Fearing complications, Raleigh hurried off. There was another reporter halfway down the block, and he accomplished his errand there before the dog caught up with him. A third reporter was leaning against the granite wall of the Fifth Security Bank on the corner, and Raleigh got his cigarette case unnoticed. He was beginning to enjoy the feeling of power his invisibility gave him. If only that damned dog would keep its distance!
But Angel was dogged, in more than one way. People paused to stare at the odd antics of the creature, who was indulging in some sort of acrobatic dance. He had again located Raleigh, and had decided to leap up and lick his friend’s face. Since the man was invisible, Angel’s antics looked decidedly peculiar.
A crowd gathered. “Hydrophoby,” said a lean spinster wearing steel-rimmed glasses.
“Nuts,” said a tall, cadaverous man with sad eyes. “The dog’s drunk.”
He paused, stared, and after brief consideration, added, “No. I’m drunk. Or else mad. Look at that! Is that ghastly-looking dog actually floating in the air, or am I mad?”
THE spinster did not answer, having collapsed in a faint. Cries of amazement rose from the gathering crowd. There was reason.
As Angel sprang up, Raleigh automatically had seized the dog in order to prevent him from falling and hurting himself. To the onlookers it seemed as though Angel was hanging unsupported some four feet above the sidewalk, frantically scrambling and grunting as though trying to maintain the precarious position.
A policeman pushed his way through the group. His red face turned redder.
“Break it up!” he commanded. “What’s going on here, anyway?”
Nobody answered. It wasn’t necessary. Patrolman Donovan compressed his lips firmly. A man of little imagination, he realized only that a dog was floating in the air and causing a disturbance. Ergo, the dog would have to come down.
Marching forward, Donovan placed his large hands on Angel’s back and endeavored to press the beast down to safer ground. Raleigh automatically pushed up. Compressed thus painfully, Angel gasped, cursed softly, and bit the policeman.
Donovan staggered back, gritting his teeth. He withdrew his nightstick and came on again, looking dangerous. Fearing complications, Raleigh acted.
The dog seemed to leap through the air, to come violently in contact with Donovan’s face. Tire two, man and beast, collapsed on the sidewalk, but did not remain there. Angel seized the opportunity of biting his tormentor again, after which he fled, Donovan in hot pursuit. Seeing that the spectacle was ended, the crowd dispersed.
So did Raleigh. He glanced at his wrist-watch, discovered that he couldn’t see it, and continued on his errand. It didn’t take long.
Fifteen minutes later he stepped invisibly into Meek’s outer office, using his key. Silently he went into the laboratory, where the scientist still sat behind his desk.
“Okay,” Raleigh said.
Meek had glanced up nervously.
“Oh, it’s you. I was afraid—it wouldn’t do for the reporters to come in yet. They mustn’t know you were the invisible man instead of me. Everything all right?” He thrust a vial at Raleigh, who drank its contents.
A violent shock seized him and then let go. Meek’s gaze, which had been wandering around the room, settled. He nodded.
“Good. You’re visible again. Well, what happened?”
“Everything went off fine.” Raleigh put his loot on the desk. Then the bell rang.
“I’m relieved,” Meek smiled. “I didn’t know how the stuff would work on a human being. So far I used it only on frogs and lower animals.”
Raleigh repressed an impulse to wring the scientist’s neck. Instead, he went to the door and admitted a horde of reporters. They emitted short, sharp cries and surrounded Meek’s desk.
“You’re just on time,” said the latter. “Well? Are you satisfied?”
THERE were affirmative noises. A tall, cold-eyed man whom Raleigh did not recognize stepped forward.
“You made yourself invisible?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What a scoop!” chortled a reporter.
The cold-eyed man said, “Doctor Meek, you’re under arrest.”
In the stunned silence he exhibited a gleaming badge.
“Where’s the money?”
Meek was a statue. But the reporters burst into a babble
of excited questions. The detective quelled them.
“The Fifth Security Bank on the corner has just been robbed. So—”
“You’re crazy!” Meek yelped. “I’ll sue you for slander! I—I—”
“Listen,” the detective said. “I saw the whole thing. Banknotes. Packages of them. Floating through the bank and out the door. Banknotes don’t have wings. I wouldn’t have guessed what happened if I hadn’t got talking to the reporter who was waiting outside the bank. You didn’t get away with it, Meek—and you’d better make it easy for yourself. Where’s the dough?” Raleigh turned green. He met Meek’s accusing stare and winced. He knew what the scientist must be thinking. Sure, Raleigh needed money to marry. It would have been easy for him to slip unobserved into the bank and—
“That’s the man,” Meek snarled, thrusting out a pudgy finger at his assistant. “I—I didn’t make myself invisible. He did it for me. I was here all the time.”
“Can you prove that?” the detective asked. “I thought you couldn’t. It won’t work, pal. There’s too much evidence against you. Every reporter in this room is a witness. You left your card with all of ’em. Where’s the money?”
Meek snatched for a red-labeled vial on the desk before him. The detective forestalled him. Handcuffs clicked.
“If that’s the way you want it, okay,” the lawman grunted. “Come along.”
“Raleigh!” screamed the trapped Meek. “I’ll kill you for this!”
The door burst open and Binnie appeared, dragging Angel after her. “What—”
In brief, cogent syllables Dr. Meek explained the situation.
“Your boy friend robbed a bank and threw the blame on me. I—”
“Come on,” said the detective, and dragged his protesting captive away. The reporters followed. Alone in the office, Binnie, Raleigh and Angel looked at one another.
The girl sobbed faintly and buried herself in Raleigh’s arms.
“Oh, Rick, what’s happened?”
He explained. “It wasn’t my fault. You know that, Binnie, don’t you?” She hesitated. “Are you—sure?”
“Binnie! You know I wouldn’t—”
“But it does look funny. I believe you, dear, but you have to admit—oh, can’t we do something? Can’t you do something?”
“What?” Raleigh asked hopefully.
BINNIE’S lips tightened. “You’ve got to save Dad. He can’t prove his innocence. He may be sent to prison. Then—then I simply couldn’t marry you, Rick.”
Raleigh grunted. “But how could it have happened? Money floated out of the bank, but I was the only invisible man in existence.”
“Were you?”
There was a little silence. Raleigh said slowly.
“Uh-huh. I get it. Another invisible man—but how?”
He considered. “Somebody else might have invented an invisibility elixir, but that’s too much of a coincidence. We’ll take it for granted that those vials on the desk are the only ones in existence.”
“No,” Binnie said. “There’s more in the safe.” She nodded toward a large wall-safe in one corner.
“Okay, but that’s locked. Only your father knows the combination. There’s more of the elixir and the antidote in the safe—but we can forget about that just now. Those vials on the desk are important.”
Raleigh’s eyes widened. “Come to think of it, I did have an idea that there were less of them.”
“When?”
“After the reporters first arrived—Whoa! Listen to this, Binnie! Suppose one of that gang wasn’t a reporter?”
“But—”
“No, listen! It’s a perfect setup for a crook. Suppose he heard, somehow, what was going to happen today. Suppose he pretended to be a reporter, came in with the others, and swiped a couple of vials when nobody was looking. After he left, he could simply make himself invisible and rob the bank—and the blame would be thrown on your father.”
“You’ve got it, I bet,” Binnie agreed. “But what can we do?”
“Wait a minute.” Raleigh was counting the vials. “Uh-huh. Two missing, besides the ones I used. One of the elixir and one of the antidote.”
He shook his head. “I can’t tell the police a story like that.”
“Then you’ll just have to get proof,” Binnie said decidedly. “No, keep away from me. You get Dad out of this mess. You got him into it.”
Touched to the quick by the unfair accusation, Raleigh gasped. Then his lips tightened.
“Okay,” he nodded. “But if I do—will you marry me?”
“Yes,” said Binnie, and Raleigh hurried out of the office.
CHAPTER III
Tough Guy
EVIDENCE. That was the thing.
The whirlpool in Raleigh’s brain gave little chance for coherent thought; but he knew, from the many detective stories he had read, that clues were vital. Where could he find them? At the bank, perhaps.
But it wasn’t at the bank that Raleigh discovered a clue. It was across the street, near a vacant lot. And it consisted of small fragments of shattered glass, from which a subtle odor still rose.
Embedded in the glass was a soaked green label.
The antidote! Raleigh shut his eyes tightly, trying to visualize what had happened. Invisible, the crook had entered the bank and stolen the money. Then, fleeing, he had accidentally dropped the vial containing the antidote. That meant—
It meant that the culprit was still invisible. He’d have to remain invisible unless he could get more of the antidote!
How to catch an unseen thief? Raleigh rubbed his aching head. Sight was useless. When he himself had been invisible, only Angel had detected his presence.
Angel . . . bloodhounds . . . that was it! He’d set Angel on the trail. It was a long chance, but the only one.
It took Raleigh five seconds to get back to the house. Binnie was nowhere around. The office was empty.
“Angel!” he called. “Here! Dinner!”
A violent blow caught Raleigh on the chest. He sat down painfully, while a limp, warm, wet object began to pass rapidly over his face. Angel, it seemed, was pleased by the prospect of dinner.
“Oh, my God,” Raleigh groaned. “That damned dog’s invisible too.”
It was true. The floor was a shambles, consisting of objects which had once reposed on the desk. Glittering glass shards were everywhere. Pushing away the unseen dog, Raleigh began to scrabble among the wreckage. Finally he sat back, sighing deeply.
Only two vials remained unbroken. Both were red labeled—the invisibility elixir. No trace of the antidote remained. But, Raleigh remembered, there was a good supply of it in the safe. He’d just get the combination from Meek and—
There was no time for that now. The scent might grow cold—perhaps was too cold already. He’d have to use an invisible bloodhound to track an invisible thief.
How?
Raleigh secured Angel’s collar and leash. By dint of much effort, he finally adjusted things to his satisfaction and stood up, holding the loop of the leash in his hand. His teeth began to chatter.
It wasn’t a pleasant sight. The leash stood out rigidly from Raleigh’s fingers, ending in a dog collar that hung unsupported in empty air, bouncing up and down slightly. It was impossible, to believe that Angel was really there. Raleigh, on a mad impulse, tried to stick his hand through the nothingness inside the collar, and got nipped.
“Okay,” Raleigh, groaned. “Try and behave, Angel. Quiet. To heel.”
HE opened the door and departed, doing his best to ignore the collar and leash. It would have been easier to ignore an earthquake.
Luckily, the street was almost deserted. No one noticed anything amiss as Raleigh dragged the dog to his destination. There he pushed Angel’s nose toward the broken vial on the sidewalk and muttered:
“Trail! Trail, stupid! Go get him!”
The bloodhound in the composite dog rose to the surface. With a deep bay Angel plunged away, snapping the leash out of Raleigh’s
hand. Then was seen an incredible sight which caused half a dozen people to go mad and sent a curvaceous blonde screaming into a saloon with wild gestures.
“Double Scotch!” she gasped to the bartender. “Quick! I just saw a man chasing a snake down the street, and it was the damnedest snake I ever saw!”
The frantic collar and leash sped on. Cursing softly, Raleigh pursued, his hand outstretched. Angel was on the trail . . .
“A snake!” cried a uniformed policeman. He whipped out his service revolver and took steady aim, only to find the gun wrested from his hand by Raleigh. The cop tried to wrench free.
“Let go!” he shouted. “It’ll bite somebody—”
“No, no!” Raleigh babbled. “It hasn’t any teeth. It—it’s an old snake. A pet. We’ve had it in the family for years. Don’t shoot!”
There was a scuffle, terminated by Angel himself. A dog of honor, he had discovered that Raleigh was apparently in trouble. Giving up the trail momentarily, he returned and, waiting for an opportune moment, bit the policeman in the pants. This caused a distraction, and before the cop had recovered, Raleigh was around the corner, the leash again safely in his hand.
“Ground glass,” he promised the dog. “That’s what you’ll get for dinner. With arsenic on the side. I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands—after you find the guy I’m looking for.”
But Angel had stopped. He was sniffing at a closed door. Raleigh opened it, revealing a flight of stairs that led up into dimness. A cheap rooming house, from which odors of cooking drifted down not too enticingly.
Angel plunged madly up, dragging Raleigh. One flight. Two. Three. The top story—
Before another door the dog halted. He sniffed, glanced at Raleigh—something the man did not, of course, know—and barked shortly. Nothing happened.
Raleigh’s stomach had turned into ice. Behind this door, he realized, was his quarry. So what?
Heartily he wished the policeman had followed him. Unarmed, he could do little against an invisible crook who no doubt packed a rod. Well—he’d have to get help. Cops. Lots of them. Hundreds of them, Raleigh hoped. He turned to tiptoe away.
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