“What’s the idea?” Brayton demanded, startled.
“To bring the police for the Black Hood, you fool!”
CHAPTER XII
Black Light
Black Hood staggered to his feet, his brain still whirling from that blow to his head. He lurched toward the front door of the shop, stopped half way there, clung to a counter for support. Somebody was pounding on the front door. A hoarse voice was calling on him to open in the name of the law.
Black Hood turned, spurred the muscles of his legs to carry on. The brilliant light of a policeman’s torch sliced through the semi-darkness and spotted him. He kept going. Glass in the front door shattered beneath a blow from the butt of the copper’s revolver. Black Hood ran on leaden feet into the rear of the shop. The back door stood invitingly open. He stepped over the sill, all but fell into the arms of a second cop. He struck just one wild haymaker of a blow that cleared the head of the cop by nearly a foot. And then suddenly there were two cops—one on either side of him.
“It’s Black Hood!” one of the coppers shouted triumphantly. “We’ve got him. We’ve got the Eye. Wait till Sergeant McGinty hears about this!”
Cold steel jaws of handcuffs closed on Black Hood’s right wrist. A second cop frisked him quickly, emptying the pockets of his belt.
“Look at the sparklers, will you!” the policeman gasped.
And Black Hood, his mind still in a daze, stared down at the gems in the copper’s hand. No use telling them it was a frame. That was the standard alibi of every crook who ever found his way into police courts. They had him cold, and in his present condition he was utterly unable to fight back.
As long as he lived he was never to forget that ride down to police headquarters. Nor could he ever forget standing there in Sergeant McGinty’s office while the sergeant did a bit of triumphant gloating.
“As sure as my name’s McGinty, I knew there’d come a day like this, Mr. Black Hood, alias the Eye. I’ve got you, and I’ve got you where I want you. You’ll burn in the chair, Mr. Hood.”
Black Hood stood erect, still handcuffed to the cop who had captured him. He could think a little bit more clearly now and the muscles of his powerful body were much more inclined to obey the dictates of his taut nerves. He looked at the top of the sergeant’s desk. There the entire contents of his belt pockets had been spread out—the dozen diamonds which had been used to frame him; that crumpled check which he had taken from the dead fingers of Biggert; the powder box from Vida Gervais’ boudoir, most of its contents now gone; all his little tools and weapons which he had found valuable in his valiant fight against crime.
“You know what I’ve done, Mr. Hood?” McGinty asked. “I’ve telephoned the members of the citizens’ committee who got together to tell the police what to do to catch the Eye. I’ve asked them and their friends to come down here to headquarters for the unveiling of Black Hood, alias the Eye. When they get here, I’m going to jerk off that mask of yours and we’ll all have a little surprise party.”
“You might spare me that ‘alias, the Eye’ business,” Black Hood said, some of his old-time banter returning. “The Eye died when Jack Carlson died, and I can prove that. Since Carlson was murdered, another has taken his place. The man who killed Biggert and also killed Jack Carlson, now wears the white rubber mask that identifies the Eye, goes around whispering orders to professional rob and kill men. He’s robbed Carlson’s safe and robbed Carlson of his life and even robbed Carlson of his identity as the Eye. And given half a chance, I’ll prove that to you, McGinty.”
McGinty frowned. He could not deny that many times before Black Hood had beaten him to the solution of crimes, much to his embarrassment. And in each case, McGinty had received full credit for the solving of these crimes.
“When the time comes, Mr. Hood,” McGinty said, “you’ll have your chance to speak your little piece. I wouldn’t deny that to any man.”
“Then perhaps you’ll unlock these handcuffs,” Black Hood suggested. “You’ve robbed my bag of all its tricks and I’m relatively harmless at the present time. Besides,” he added, glancing at the cop to whom he was linked, “this man here becomes something of a liability after this length of time.”
“Unlock the cuffs, Bricker,” McGinty ordered the cop. “Black Hood can’t get out of here, and that’s a sure thing.”
* * * *
The cuff removed from his right wrist, Black Hood went to a chair beside the desk and calmly sat down.
“I want to appeal to your reason a moment, Sergeant, before this committee arrives for the ‘unveiling’ as you call it. First of all, is it reasonable to suppose that I would crack open a jewelry store just to get those few diamonds there on the desk? And having broken into the store with intent to rob, as you seem to think, would I be silly enough to fall on my head and knock myself out?”
“Could be those were the only diamonds you found in the store.”
“There were one hundred thousand dollars worth of unset diamonds in that store tonight,” Black Hood said. “And that’s what this man who is posing as the Eye went after and got. The past record shows that none of these crimes have been what you could call petty.”
“A fact,” McGinty said, “which doesn’t prove you haven’t hid the diamonds somewhere.”
“But kept a few of them on my person just to get myself in jail, huh?” Black Hood laughed. “Listen, McGinty, why do you suppose Biggert, Weedham’s secretary, was killed?”
“The shot that killed Biggert was intended for Jack Carlson,” McGinty said. “So it was an accident that Biggert was shot.”
Black Hood shook his head, “Jack Carlson was nowhere near Biggert when the latter fell. That was no mistake. Biggert was killed because he was about to expose somebody who had forged that check which is lying on your desk. That check is the piece of paper that was in Biggert’s hand when he died.”
McGinty’s eyes narrowed. “How did you get hold of that, Mr. Hood?”
Black Hood saw that he would have to lie in order to protect his prototype, Kip Burland.
“I reached the body of Biggert before Carlson or anyone else did. That’s how I know Carlson wasn’t near the man when the shot was fired.”
McGinty thought that over a moment.
“Go ahead, Mr. Hood. I’m not convinced, but every man has a right to free speech.”
“Did the police notice the smudge of white powder on the lapel of Carlson’s coat when they found his body? Did they notice that the regular light bulbs in his garage had been replaced with ultra-violet bulbs?”
McGinty nodded. “Our lab men don’t miss much. That smudge of powder contained some chemical that glows in black light. I figured it spotted Carlson for the killer, made a target out of him in the dark.”
“Right, McGinty. But do you know that Carlson was betrayed by a woman named Vida Gervais? She lives in the house next to the Weedham place. That powder box which you took from my pocket and which is now on your desk, is a sample of her face powder, treated with naphthionate of sodium. You can prove that yourself. And if you’ll question the lady thoroughly, you’ll be able to get at the truth. She’ll know that Carlson was the Eye. And she may even admit that she threw Carlson over and helped somebody else dispose of Carlson and step into the lucrative position which Carlson occupied as the Eye.”
McGinty looked up at one of his men. “Send out for that Gervais dame.” When the man had left the room, he turned to Black Hood. “You haven’t cleared yourself yet. You claim Carlson was the Eye. That’s the world’s oldest alibi—putting the blame on a dead man.”
“I can prove Carlson was the Eye,” Black Hood persisted. “In the morning I will send you that signal device which the Eye used. It carries Carlson’s fingerprints.”
“You’ll send it from jail, then,” McGinty said.
* * * *
Black Hood shook his head. �
��I wonder if you’d send to the police lab for an ultra-violet lamp? I think I can conduct an experiment which will prove my points.”
McGinty considered this a moment, and finally sent out for an ultra-violet lamp. It was not long after that before the members of the citizens committee began to arrive. The two Weedhams, father and son, were ushered into the room, followed by Major Paxton, Harold Adler, and the rest of the committee. Jeff Weedham’s newspaper was represented by Barbara Sutton and her ace cameraman, Joe Strong. And finally the police brought in a coldly furious Vida Gervais.
Black Hood carefully avoided meeting Barbara Sutton’s eyes. He knew that her emotions must be strained to the breaking point, and even a glance from him might have caused her to betray herself.
“D-d-don’t tell me you’ve finally caught Black Hood, Sergeant!” Jeff Weedham gasped.
The sergeant smiled. “Sooner or later, McGinty gets ’em all.”
McGinty waited until all present were seated. Then he stood up alongside of Black Hood.
“Now, folks,” he said, “as you can see, I’ve got Black Hood just where I want him. And I’ve wanted him quite a while. I promised you that I’d show you his face, and that’s just what I’m going to do.”
* * * *
Harold Adler uttered a hoarse cry of warning that came just a bit too late. With one of those lightning-like movements of his, Black Hood had pulled the revolver out of McGinty’s holster, turned it on the sergeant. A copper near the door started to intervene, but Black Hood stopped him with a narrow-eyed glance that held all the threat of a thunderbolt.
“Make a move toward me, and I put a bullet into McGinty’s back,” he said. “No one will ever see the face of Black Hood and live to talk about it. I’ve just given McGinty the entire solution to this mystery. I’ve told him that Jack Carlson was the Eye. I’ve explained how Jack Carlson was murdered and his powerful position in the underworld was usurped by another man who now poses as the Eye. If there is any doubt in his mind, I am about to dispel it.”
Black Hood picked up the ultra-violet lamp with his left hand while his right kept the gun on McGinty. He said, “Mr. Adler, will you kindly turn out the lights.”
Adler hesitated.
“Do as you’re told,” Black Hood insisted, “if you don’t want to witness murder. And I want to warn everyone in this room, that when the lights go out if anyone makes any move toward me, McGinty will die. Even if I were to be shot, the reflex action of my fingers would pull the trigger of this revolver and McGinty will die. I am no murderer, but if you interfere with me in this business, you’ll make a murderer of me.”
Adler switched out the lights. The darkness lay like a smothering blanket upon them all. The air itself had a certain electrical tenseness about it, like the silence before a storm.
“I am now going to switch on the ultra-violet light. If the filter is perfect, you will not be able to see the light, because ultra-violet rays, when unadulterated by other rays, cannot be seen by the human eye. There. The light is on.
“I have offered evidence to Sergeant McGinty in which I intended to prove that Biggert, William Weedham’s secretary, was killed because he was about to show to William Weedham a check to which William Weedham’s signature had been forged. Not only that, but the forger, in cashing the check, also forged the endorsement of Major Paxton, to whom the check was made out.
“I have further pointed out to McGinty, that this same killer disposed of Jack Carlson, after Carlson had been betrayed by a woman. This woman must have been Carlson’s friend. She must have known all his secrets, including the fact that Carlson was the Eye. She gave all this information to another man—the same man who forged the check which I mentioned before. Then she assisted this killer to shoot Carlson. This woman’s face powder was treated with naphthionate of sodium. A little of this powder rubbed from her cheek to Carlson’s lapel made Carlson a perfect target in pitch darkness, provided that darkness was penetrated by rays of invisible ultra-violet or black light. I have a sample of that woman’s face powder here on McGinty’s desk.”
Black Hood turned the ultra-violet lamp on the desk. The box of powder there became phosphorescent.
“When I was framed for the Tauber jewel robbery tonight, I seized the opportunity to toss some of this face powder onto the jewels in the robbers’ bag,” Black Hood continued. “The face powder is that of Vida Gervais. Watch, please.”
Black Hood turned the ultra-violet lamp out toward his audience. Vida Gervais’ frightened face glowed in the black light. Startled gasps could be heard from the others in the room as they stared at that ghostly face.
“Vida Gervais,” Black Hood continued, “knew a good thing when she saw it. To eventually better her social and financial position, she was willing to sell out Carlson, alias the Eye, to another man who, if he could accumulate, through fair means or foul, quite a tidy sum of money now would get his hands on a great deal more money in the future.
“So Vida Gervais betrayed Carlson, alias the Eye, into the hands of the man who had killed Biggert. The forty thousand dollars which this man had got from the forged check was a small part of the money he needed. But if he could step into the Eye’s shoes for a little while, he could rapidly accumulate the rest.
“I mentioned a moment ago that I had tossed some of Vida Gervais’ unusual face powder onto the diamonds stolen from Tauber’s shop. The naphthionate in that powder would cling to the diamonds and subsequently cling to the hands of the criminal who eventually got hold of them. Watch now for the glowing hands of the killer—the man who has been impersonating the Eye ever since Carlson was killed. But one funny thing about that impersonation which I did not realize until tonight. The impersonator, this man who killed Biggert and Carlson, was most careful to avoid any word or name beginning with the letter ‘D.’ He would not, for instance, say the name ‘Delancy,’ nor would he speak the word ‘diamonds.’ Why? Because every time he says a word or name beginning with that letter, he stutters. He might disguise his voice by whispering, but he could not control this stutter, which would have been a dead give-away.”
* * * *
In the black light, luminous fingers suddenly showed themselves. There was a piercing scream. Men surged forward to close in and blot out the glow from the killer’s fingers.
“Watch out!” Black Hood’s warning voice rang out. “He is probably armed!”
Men bumped into each other. There was the repeated thud of blows. There were cries, grunts, stammered oaths. And when finally somebody turned on the lights, Jeff Weedham was on the floor, two cops astride him. He had a gun in his hand, but his hand was pinned to the floor.
Sergeant McGinty looked over his shoulder at the Black Hood—or rather looked where he thought the Black Hood would be. McGinty’s jaw sagged. He looked down at his own gun which was poking him in the ribs. His revolver had been wedged into the baby-gate extension arm of his own desk telephone. And Black Hood was gone.
It was an hour later that McGinty and his men, by playing Vida Gervais and Jeff Weedham, one against the other, got a full confession which corresponded very closely to Black Hood’s reconstruction of the crimes. Jeff Weedham had been placed in rather a desperate position by his father, Jeff explained. William Weedham had bought Jeff the newspaper, insisting that he make a financial success of it and thus prove his worth. If he failed in this as he had in everything else, William Weedham was determined that none of the Weedham fortune should fall into Jeff’s hands.
Jeff had run his newspaper into the red. As the time came closer in which William Weedham was to examine the newspaper’s ledger, Jeff Weedham tried desperately to make up the lost money, first by forgery, and then by stepping into Carlson’s shoes as the Eye.
Ballistics tests proved that it was Jeff’s gun which had killed both Biggert and Carlson.
Just as McGinty was about to leave his office for the night, his phone rang.
Almost before he picked the instrument up, he knew who his caller was.
“I say, McGinty,” the voice of the Black Hood came from the receiver, “I really intended to apologize for making a fool of you there in your office, sticking you up with a gun attached to that telephone arm. But then, as I thought the matter over, it occurred to me that I really wasn’t to blame for making a fool of you. You’ve really got a bone to pick with dear old Mother Nature on that score!”
“Say, will you kindly go to Hell!” McGinty exploded. And as he hung up, a chuckle broke from his thick lips. “What that guy don’t know is that I’m beginning to get a kick out of tangling with him!”
MURDER MONSTER, by Brant House
Originally published in Secret Agent X, December 1934.
CHAPTER I
STORM CLOUDS OF CRIME
The setting sun cast a cold, hard glint across the waters of the Hudson. Brittle spearheads of light flashed athwart the waves that rippled at the bank of the river below the somber walls of the State Prison.
The chill of early November dusk was in the air; almost it seemed to reflect a spirit of dreadful foreboding, to presage the approach of calamity. Somehow, the air seemed charged with thunderbolts of doom, poised and waiting to be hurled at the grim walls of the gloomy pile that loomed above the river, imprisoning fifteen hundred bitter men.
It was Sunday afternoon, and the inmates were being given a glimpse of life in the world beyond their cells. They were being treated to a football game between their own team and the team of Ervinton College, an institution that played the State Prison once a year.
The players on the field, convicts and college boys alike, were lost in the excitement of the game. But the convict spectators displayed only a listless half-interest. Behind the high wire screen that separated their section from that of the visitors, they sat tensely, eyeing each other furtively, shifting nervously in their seats. Over the whole prison there seemed to be an air of tension, of taut expectancy.
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