by Don Wilcox
With puffy fingers this thick-set person tapped his monocle on the desk top. He tossed his head back and forth. His right eyebrow went up and his left one clamped down tighter as he eyed his prospect.
“If there’s anything you don’t understand,” said the thick-set man, adjusting his monocle, “Dr. Silverhead will be here in a few minutes.”
He consulted his watch. He drew an orchid-colored cigarette holder from his pocket and lighted a cigarette. His client was a slow reader.
“I had better call Dr. Silverhead to be sure,” the thick-set man continued. “He’s very absent-minded. He may have forgotten.”
There was no answer to the telephone call. The client looked up.
“Didn’t you get him, Mr. Drake?”
“He must be on his way up. Is there any question about that contract, Mr. Rickenthorp?”
“I—I think not.”
The man with the walrus mustache seemed unsure of himself. “You are sure that everything will be all right, Mr. Drake?”
“Now, Mr. Rickenthorp, don’t be foolish,” said the thick-set man, puffing confidently. “You have been contacted in three previous interviews. You have been assured that many big men are investing in this experiment. You were advised not to come for the fourth interview unless you were ready to lay the money on the line.”
“I am ready,” said Mr. Rickenthorp, weakly. “If this works out, it will pay bigger than anything I have ever tried.”
“It will work out, Mr. Rickenthorp. It may take time and, as you understand, some human sacrifice will be involved.”
The fragile old gentleman managed a laugh. “I guess we can stand that.” He counted out a number of bills.
Drake handed his client a fountain pen. “Before I touch the money, you must sign, and have I called your attention to this particular clause?”
“I have it practically memorized,” said Rickenthorp. He read it over aloud: “ ‘My complete endorsement of this plan is denoted, first, by my investment, and secondly, by my fullest approval of whatever measures the experimenter sees fit to take, even though the sacrifice of human lives may be necessitated.’ ”
With trembling hand the old gentleman signed.
Footsteps could be heard from down the corridor. Drake looked up sharply. As soon as the hall lights came on he seemed to be satisfied.
“It’s Dr. Silverhead. He didn’t forget, after all.”
From their hiding-place Archie and Hetty could see the white-haired newcomer as he tottered into the conference room. So this was Dr. Silverhead. A wizened old man, with crisp white mustaches and goatee, and watery eyes that seemed to be seeing visions.
The doctor was absent-minded indeed. He evidently knew he had come to meet a client. It was Drake that he approached with his greeting, until the former apprised him of his mistake.
“It is Mr. Rickenthorp you have come to meet,” Drake said. “Mr. Rickenthorp has just signed our agreement.”
The doctor shook hands with the walrus-mustached man, but did not bother to look at him. The ceiling seemed to be more attractive to the doctor, who kept up an incessant mumbling about his own troubles.
“I have been calling everywhere to try to get some lenses. No place is open this time of day. It is an outrage.
If I were making lenses I would try to give service to the most important people. There ought to be more lens-makers. I broke the one good lens I had. Yes, I may be driven to do it myself. I have made other professional equipment. Is there any reason why I could not make lenses?”
“Of course you could make them,” said Drake, “but now I want you to say a word to Mr. Rickenthorp. He is ready for the experiment.”
The doctor was profoundly affected by this announcement. He paced back and forth in front of the client, patted him on the shoulder and shook him by the wrist.
“So you are going to help us out. That’s fine—fine. I admire your courage, your spirit of sacrifice.”
“What is this?” The walrus-mustached man was nonplussed. “Oh, you mean I get to watch you perform something.”
“Precisely,” said the doctor jubilantly, “you will see it from the inside. You are going to be the experiment yourself.”
“Oh, no, not me! I came here as an investor.”
Drake looked down his cigarette holder, fixed his monocle and drew a revolver out of his pocket. He spoke brusquely.
“Don’t start backing out. You have just signed this document. That proves you are willing to spend lives in this cause. All right, the next life on the program happens to be yours.”
CHAPTER VI
Trail of Shadows
Because of Hetty, Archie had made a show of bravery in plunging blindly into this eavesdropping situation. Hetty had believed in him. Her confidence gave him courage.
Now he studied the hard, cruel eyes of Drake and knew that this treacherous swindler meant business. No one would dare play this game and risk letting a client get away. The walrus-mustached man was in for it.
The girl whispered, “What are we going to do?”
“Hold back. Follow them if they march him away. If it wasn’t for those darned lights—”
“I’ve got to get this.” Hetty brought the camera up to the ledge and pointed it through the narrow aperture. The three men inside were standing like statues. It was the victim’s move, but he was too astonished to do more than tremble.
Archie had momentary visions of a flashlight bulb explosion and the effect it would have upon this tense deadlock. He pressed Hetty’s hand.
“Don’t do it. That fellow Drake is desperate. He’ll start shooting at this service window and ask questions afterwards.”
“Don’t worry,” Hetty whispered. “Everything’s O.K.”
A moment later, when the three camera subjects broke out of their freeze, Hetty removed the camera. Then Archie knew she had taken a bulb exposure.
In the conference room the victim yielded ground. As he edged toward the door, Drake followed him with the gun on a level with his heart. Meanwhile, Dr. Silverhead went on with his glib chatter. The gunplay was of secondary importance to him. He was talking about experiments and his eagerness to try certain new lenses. He was even thanking the dazed Mr. Rickenthorp for his readiness to co-operate.
As the three of them made their way through the door, Archie lost any hope that Rickenthorp might try to break and run. In this moment of danger he was without resources.
“They’ve got him,” Archie whispered. “He wouldn’t run out if his own house was on fire.”
“Where you going?” the girl asked.
“After them. You stay back. If you don’t hear from me within five minutes, call the police.”
Archie crept to the door. He ran his hand over the dusty furniture in search of a weapon. Off the top of a heap he took a folding chair.
“Careful,” Hetty whispered. “They are coming back.”
She waited with him beside the door just inside the deep shadows. The snarling voice of Drake could be heard as he re-entered the next room.
“Don’t move, Rickenthorp—I’ll be right with you.”
The gunman’s heavy tread sounded across the conference room floor. He rummaged through the desk and gathered up some papers. The frightened Rickenthorp had found his voice and was beginning to rant. This was an outrage. They were not going to get away with it. If they would only sit down and talk it over sensibly he could make it worth their while to cancel the deal.
Drake gave a cynical laugh.
“This deal is too big to be bought off with cash. Haven’t we already told you that Dr. Silverhead is going to revolutionize his profession? What he needs is co-operation from farsighted business men like yourself, Buddy Rickenthorp. All right, you march down and help him put his theories into practice.”
This time Drake snapped off the light over the conference desk. Only the dim yellow light halfway down the corridor was burning.
The three men moved along, their jumping shadows retreat
ed from the doorway where Archie and Hetty waited. Archie relaxed his grip on the folding chair. It seemed that the moment for action had passed him by.
“What will they do to him?” Hetty whispered tensely.
“They won’t let him out alive, you can be sure of that. The fool! He let himself in for it, but all the same—”
“We’ve got to do something,”
Archie rummaged through the shelves. There were all sorts of kitchen equipment in this place. He grabbed a handful of heavy china teacups. He picked up a butcher knife, but his own boldness frightened him. He dropped it.
All the way down the hall he kept wishing he could change his armful of weapons for a good solid baseball bat.
Hetty was following him, warning him to come back. How could he dare take such a desperate chance? He knew the answer to that one. It was because he was seeing himself in her eyes—bold, foolhardy.
The gun party had disappeared, and the corridor light had gone off when they rounded the corner. Now their footsteps were sounding down a stairway, and the only light was that wafting up from the foot of the staircase. Archie could gauge their progress by the bouncing shadows. If he was swift enough, this was his opportunity. He was sprinting almost noiselessly.
He reached the head of the stairs, folding chair in one arm, teacups in the other. Down the creaky old stairs the solemn trio was marching. They had heard nothing.
With utmost care he placed the folding chair at one side of the top step and three of the teacups at the other.
Before he went into action, he crept down to the third or fourth step. Then his good right arm did its stuff. In rapid succession—one, two, three—he hurled the teacups straight at the electric light bulb.
The instant the missiles began whirring through the air there were growls of surprise from Drake and his prisoner.
But the last aim was true, and before Drake could turn, the light bulb was shattered. Archie grabbed up the chair.
The darkness wasn’t complete. A dim light filtered up from the floor below. It gave Archie an advantage he had not counted on. As he leaped down the stairs swinging the folding chair over his head, he got a perfect silhouette of Drake coming up with his gun-arm ready.
C-R-A-A-SH!!!
The folding chair landed like a ton of bricks. Drake went down with a breathy “o-o-o-of” like a punctured balloon. Then he and Archie were rolling down the stairs together, and Archie was throwing punches as fast and furious as he could. By the time they hit the floor below, there were four of them in the scramble.
One of them, however, was out for the count, and that one was Drake.
Over the excited mumbling of Dr. Silverhead and the grunts of consternation from Rickenthorp, Archie shouted. He shouted with such excitement in his voice that he hardly knew himself.
“Now get out, you fool, if you’ve got any sense! This is your chance! Beat it!”
With that, Archie went bounding up the steps, three at a time, hesitating only once. That was to pick up the gun which had dropped on the stairs.
A few minutes later he and Hetty were crossing the city in a taxi.
Archie would never forget that ride. It seemed that the beautiful girl beside him could not get her breath. She kept saying, “How did you do it? Gee, I didn’t think you could get away with it. Honest, I never saw anything like it.”
“Could you see what happened?”
“First I saw the gunman. Then, when the light went out I just knew he’d be shooting you full of holes. But I had to look anyway. And I was just in time to see you jump down the steps swinging that chair over your head.
“Honest, Archie, I never saw anything like it.”
Archie slipped his arm around her and looked into her eyes intently.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been there.”
As he said it, Archie knew that he was not kidding this girl. He had been a hero because of her. Without her he might have played the coward. It all added up to something pretty important, and Archie knew it. She had been a good sport to stick with him, and he had fallen hard.
Then he was trying to kiss her, and she was suddenly remembering that they had not known each other before this evening.
“You’re a fast worker, Archie, but I think you’re just a little excited over all that’s happened.”
“I know I am,” he admitted, “but the evening would not be complete if I didn’t kiss you goodnight.”
Then they were at the door of her apartment house, and she was in his arms and he was claiming his kiss.
Kisses are known to have curious effects upon beautiful young ladies, but what happened now was more than Archie anticipated. The girl did not melt into his arms—she melted out of them! In fact, she melted out of existence, and left Archie standing there staring.
All he saw was a white paper card floating down to the steps. He picked it up, filed it away in Craig’s book, sent the taxi on its way and walked home.
CHAPTER VII
Cornelia
At nine in the morning the events of the previous night seemed a dream, yea, a nightmare. Archie waited in the reception room on the twenty-first floor of a downtown building. There were no forbidding signs on the door of Hamilton Craig, Architect, but the door was locked.
Archie was in the process of magnifying his fears over the walk-out of Craig and the two strangers of the previous night, when Craig himself strode into the reception room.
“Good morning, Burnette. I see you’re right on the dot.” Craig’s voice was hearty. He was like a man with no troubles in the world.
Archie followed him into the office. The bad news had just as well be broken at once.
“Mr. Craig, what the devil goes on out there on Southwest Boulevard? Are you harboring a gang of racketeers or something?”
Craig laughed lightly. He sat down at his desk and locked his hands back of his head. The whole block was a pretty bad mess, he admitted, but he hadn’t had time to straighten things up. He began to sort some charts.
“You see I am making plans,” Craig said.
“But if the underworld is going to trespass on your premises—”
“I guess it isn’t quite that bad,” said Craig. “Of course, after the windows of a building are broken out, it is hard to tell what riffraff may come in. What did you see that aroused your suspicions?”
“Plenty,” said Archie. He drew his chair closer to the desk. “After you and those two men passed me, the girl and I started out, like you told us to. And then—”
“Hold on,” Craig interrupted, “what girl was this?”
“You know. The one I wanted you to stop and meet. Her name’s Hetty Hildreth.”
“Oh, yes.” Craig gazed up at the ceiling. “She was one of the parade girls. Tell, me about her. Did you like her?”
“But this crime racket, Mr. Craig.”
“Tell me about the girl.”
Archie drew a long breath. He was not sure where to begin. “Gosh, if I could only recite poetry—well, to begin with, she’s one swell gal.”
Archie found himself growing a bit dreamy as he recited the virtues of Hetty, and before he knew it he was sure he had waxed much too enthusiastic. Craig’s eyes were glowing. “But you might not fall for her like I did,” Archie said. His instinct told him it was time to pull his punches.
“She sounds interesting.”
“You might not care for her. I doubt if you would. She’s pretty young—”
“I’d like to meet her. Right away. Do you think it could be arranged?” Archie fumbled for an answer. “Well—er—it was sorta strange the way I happened onto her.”
Craig was eying the little leather book in Archie’s pocket.
“No stalling, Burnette. You had just as well get used to this convenience of having beautiful girls at our beck and call. Notice I said our. I’ll bet Hetty Hildreth would be delighted to have lunch with the two of us.”
Archie snapped open the book cover. He was sure
that the last of the six cards was the one he wanted, and his hands were not nervous. Afterward, recalling this scene, he was certain on that point. Nevertheless, it was the first card that dropped out of the back.
It barely touched the floor, then rose to the level of the table, vanished.
“Ah!” said Craig. “You are becoming accustomed to this clever little gadget.”
“It’s the wrong one,” Archie gasped. “It isn’t Het—”
Craig hushed him with a gesture. Out of the air had come a steamy little cloud which presently materialized into a new girl. She was slender, blonde, as beautiful as something out of Hollywood—beautiful in a different way from Hetty, Archie thought. She was still wearing her parade costume.
To Archie the sudden appearance of a beautiful girl was always something of a shock, whether she dropped out of a cloud or merely came around a corner. But he noticed that this young lady wasted only one look on him. Thereafter her eyes were fastened upon Hamilton Craig.
“This is a pleasure, Mr. Craig,” she was saying, offering a drooping hand to the handsome architect. “Just call me Cornelia.”
“I remember you distinctly,” Craig nodded. He, too, was a little confused at having his luncheon plans upset.
“I came to see you on behalf of the six of us.”
Cornelia accepted Archie’s chair without acknowledging the courtesy. “I would have been here sooner, but as I walked into your private office some practical joker took advantage of me. Now, what we have in mind, we six girls who won the contest for you, is to see if you would like to have us appear in a show. As an advertising stunt I mean. You could call us the Six Craig Girls or—”
“If you will excuse us,” Craig interrupted, “I will talk with you in just a few minutes. You’ll find a chair in the waiting-room.”
“Of course, Mr. Craig.” Cornelia glanced at the door apprehensively. “This isn’t another one of those electric things, is it? Well, I’ll be waiting for you, but I warn you I’m going to land a contract, Mr. Craig.”