by Don Wilcox
Craig made an effort to smile politely. He closed the door behind her, and mopping his forehead turned to Archie.
“It appears that your day’s work is cut out for you. Get acquainted with her. Report to me later. I’m a pretty busy man myself. Now what about this underworld business? I hope it didn’t have anything to do with the old doctor who occupies the south wing of the hospital.”
Archie launched into a complete account of his eavesdropping escapade.
Craig took it all in with intense interest. Then he went over the details to be sure he had missed nothing.
“Evidently I should not have allowed my two friends to lead me away,” he said. “Was I—er—drunk? Never mind. The trouble lies much deeper than that.”
“Seems to me the first thing you need is a good lock on every door.”
“Right. And we’ll get those broken windows boarded up. I’ll make a note of it. The carpenters will be on the job today. As for the doctor, he’s an enigma. I suggest you go in and get acquainted with him. Tell him you’re working for me. Ask him about his experiments.”
Archie tried to imagine himself meeting the doctor after what had occurred last night.
“Are you going to be there, Mr. Craig?”
Craig shot a quick, questioning glance in Archie’s direction. “That’s something else I meant to warn you about. I am completely unpredictable. You must not be surprised at my comings and goings. And you are never to stop me for any questions at the mansion. You and I will carry on our discussions here in private. That’s all, Burnette.”
“Then you are not going to do anything about Drake?”
“That’s not your worry. Drake is the doctor’s stooge. And the authorities in Southwest Boulevard know all about the doctor. They consider him harmless.”
Archie had his doubts. In the waiting-room he tried to work out some plan of action.
But a few minutes later he found that the planning was out of his hands. Craig had arranged for him to take Cornelia to dinner, and after that there would be a round of the smartest shows and night clubs.
“But I must have some clothes,” Cornelia said, “and I promised Mr. Craig I would be a good little girl and go out with you if you would buy me some things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Just a party dress and some new slippers and things. You don’t mind, do you, Archie?” She smiled at him sweetly. “Mr. Craig tells me you are getting a handsome salary.”
CHAPTER VIII
Marcus Drake Has a Headache
Archie lost Cornelia that afternoon at the perfume counter. He escaped while most of his first week’s salary was still intact.
For his freedom he could thank one Carlo Verrazzano, a huge mountain of a man, who resembled a musician, and was discovered in the midst of a rhapsody upon his celebrated achievements in the fine arts of selling perfume.
Verrazzano’s striking appearance was enhanced by a wealth of black hair that hung to his shoulders, plus a trimmed black mustache and a beard. No radio announcer ever advertised milady’s perfumes with any more enthusiasm than the rhapsodic Signor Verrazzano.
When this unique salesman began talking in terms of ten-thousand-dollar orders for millionaire customers, Cornelia edged in front of the cluster of listeners to catch his eye. Soon he was buying perfume and accepting the most flattering remarks from the salesman. By the time the other customers were leaving, she was one of his oldest and dearest friends.
The last Archie heard of the conversation she was saying, “But I am sure I could cancel my other dinner engagement for you, Signor Verrazzano.”
Archie caught his cue, gave her a farewell wave, and scrammed.
On his way to the mansion Archie was sorely tempted to open the little brown leather book. If he could only be sure of getting Hetty before another Cornelia jumped out—but his instinct for self-preservation told him not to risk it.
“If Craig wants to fire me for losing Cornelia,” he thought, “let him do his worst. I ought to be twins for this job—no, sextuplets.”
His plan of action was well laid by the time he reached 7599 Southwest Boulevard. Craig had told him to strike up an acquaintance with Dr. Silverhead. All right, he would screw up his courage and face the doctor.
Had Archie known more of the inside situation that he had glimpsed the previous evening, he would have been even more skeptical about making a social call. The doctor and his agent,
Mr. Drake, were in no mood to receive guests
When Marcus M. Drake caught the blow of the folding chair on the top of his head, he saw a whole galaxy of stars, with several spiral nebulae thrown in, and instantly one of these engulfed him.
He did not know that he rolled to the bottom of the stairs or that some young man was hammering him with fists. Nor did he realize that the doctor stomped around in great agitation long after the anonymous assailant and the walrus-mustached victim had gone their separate ways.
After an hour or more, Drake awoke to the sound of his own groanings. He opened his eyes to receive the dim light of the second floor corridor.
With consciousness came a surge of anger. There was the absentminded doctor, pacing up and down, tapping his pencil on the wall, talking to himself.
“If I hadn’t broken that lens,” the doctor was saying, shaking his white goatee in great distress, “everything would be all right. But there will be another lens like that. There must be. As soon as Drake wakes up I’ll have him order some equipment. I’ll start at once—”
“Stop your damned mumbling,” Drake growled, coming up on one elbow. “What happened? Who struck me? Where did they go?”
“I was just thinking, Drake, I’ll have you order some—”
“Shut up! And get me up from here!”
Dr. Silverhead was all but impervious to Drake’s ill humors. However, he made a show of offering a hand to Drake as the latter groped back toward the stairway on all fours and brought himself up to a sitting position.
Drake turned and stared up into the darkness. His repeated demands as to who his assailants were and where they had gone were lost on the doctor.
“I can’t fathom it, Drake. Why do all of our subjects put up such stubborn resistance? Can’t you sell the proposition to them?”
“I had Rickenthorp sold, don’t ever doubt it,” Drake snarled. Automatically his hand went to his pocket. Of all things, his billfold was safe. At least, that hadn’t been a frame-up between Rickenthorp and some henchmen. For the moment Drake felt somewhat relieved.
But as soon as he discovered his gun was missing his suspicions were on fire. His temperature mounted, and his head, already aching like fury, was suddenly full of blow torches.
“We are in one devil of a jam, Doc. Somebody’s lifted my pistol. There’ll be hell busting loose around here before we know it.”
The doctor’s bleary eyes came down from the ceiling to focus upon Drake. “But what have we done? Nothing except to pursue our rightful scientific interests. My experiments will some day be acclaimed by all the world.”
“Yeah? You are so damned innocent, you are.”
The words struck fire in the wizened doctor’s watery eyes.
“Of course, I’m innocent. You’ve told me a hundred times over that everything we are doing is perfectly legal.”
“All right, all right.” The thickfaced man closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair savagely.
“You’ve told me,” the doctor pursued, “that you have taken care of everything. I am a man of science. I have no time to delve into the legal tangles that might hamper us. But you have assured me—”
“Forget it, I say. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
But the argument was by no means ended. With the new day the doctor began his worried mumblings afresh. He haunted Drake for one assurance after another. In desperation, Drake piled the lies high. Of course the proper authorities had been consulted. Of course these experiments were licensed. Everything would go
on as usual.
“Don’t pay any attention to what I said last night. I was probably out of my head.”
The doctor countered with a gleam of logic. If everything was all right, why had Drake been attacked?
“I told you,” Drake hedged, “that was just some damned ignoramus. The public can’t appreciate what we’re doing. But it won’t happen again. From now on we’ll keep this place guarded.”
There was no use confiding any more to Dr. Silverhead. The less he knew the better. This would be a lucrative game only so long as Drake and his two henchmen kept the whys and wherefores under their hats.
But it was a cinch that something had gone haywire last night. How in the devil had Hamilton Craig managed to show up at that time of evening. The henchmen would have to answer for that.
The more Drake puzzled over this, the more those blow torches blasted his brain. In his racket careful timing was everything. He had known that Hamilton Craig was in the Overton Employment office late in the afternoon. And afterward that Craig was lined up with a few engagements for the rest of the evening.
Craig was not a man to miss his appointments.
Why, then, had Craig been found on these premises at the very time he was not wanted?
If Drake could have answered that question, he would have had the key to the whole fiasco.
Unfortunately, Craig had shown up, and so Drake’s two strong-arm men had been forced to take him for a walk.
And that had left the approaches to Drake’s conference room unguarded!
Yes, Mac and Krug would have to answer for that. Here it was high noon and they had not returned.
Drake puffed at the orchid cigarette holder. The empty hallways echoed his impatient pacing.
“When those two lazy louts come in,” he told Dr. Silverhead, “send them through to the court. I’m going out and tend my garden.”
Drake descended to the basement, donned a pair of unionalls, and sorted over his garden tools. A pleasurable thrill of anxiety surged through him as he made his selection. This was his most useful tool—a pair of pruning shears.
He held them up to the light of the basement window and scrutinized the razor-sharp cutting edge.
As he ascended the steps and wandered out into the enclosed court, he was thinking of a walrus-mustached gentleman named Rickenthorp. If he knew his clients, that gentleman would be too scared to say anything today. A badly frightened man doesn’t grow bold overnight.
But by next week Rickenthorp would be telling everyone about his narrow escape. Or would he?
Drake was smiling inwardly now. He snipped off the top of a hollyhock plant, twisted it in his fingers until he reached the old-fashioned well in the center of the court. He bent over the circular brick wall. With his pruning shears he sliced away at the hollyhock bud. The fragments fell noiselessly into the shaft of bottomless blackness.
Suddenly Drake was startled by a pleasant voice only a few yards away.
“Hello, sir! Interesting garden you’ve got here.”
Drake thrust the pruning shears into his unionalls pocket. Before him stood a well-dressed young man with quick eyes and a hint of nervousness in his smile.
“What do you want?” asked Marcus M. Drake.
“Just thought I’d drop around and get acquainted with Dr. Silverhead. My name’s Archie Burnette.”
CHAPTER IX
Green Lights for Murder
Marcus M. Drake had a natural aversion to strangers, especially those that seemed to have their wits about them. This young fellow was alert. But he was too young and kiddish to know much, Drake thought.
“We may be able to use you around here,” Drake said presently, after he had listened to the young man’s recitation about being hired by Craig, the owner of this property. “So Craig told you to drop around and get acquainted with the Doc, did he? Not a bad idea.”
“You work here too?” the young man asked.
“Oh, I putter around in the garden just to pass the time. I’m sorta looking after the doctor. He’s got no business judgment whatever. The absent-minded old duffer would let his rent slide for years if it wasn’t for me.” Drake decided that the newcomer was swallowing his line.
“Not making much, huh?”
“Well, just between you and me, he’s got a damned good thing as soon as it hits. That’s why I’m staying with him. I’ll see that this new owner, Craig, gets all that’s coming to him—but I hope he won’t get in a hurry for it.”
Drake was sure that plug was well placed. This lad would urge Craig to hold off with the evictions and give the delinquent doctor a chance. These thoughts eased Drake’s suspicions.
“Through that door?” asked Archie Burnette.
“That’s right. You’ll find him at work in there. Tell him Drake sent you in to look around. And think nothing of it if he never even sees you. He’s that way. And one thing more—don’t let him use you in any of his experiments.”
“Why not?”
The kid was still wet behind the ears, Drake thought.
“Because we don’t let anybody go through the doc’s mill unless we register him and give him a physical test and all that.”
“Sounds good,” said the young man, as he went on his way.
Drake slapped the pruning shears against his side, satisfied. Things would be easier than ever with this stooge of Craig’s on the ground. Now if those two lazy louts, Mac and Krug, could get last night’s fiasco covered up in time, there’d be more free-wheeling and green lights ahead.
No, there were still a couple of ted lights. Drake’s blow-torch headache was back again in full fury. He stomped along the path, snipping at every straggling branch he passed.
One of those red lights was that anonymous assailant of last night. Who was he? Where had he come from? Was he a friend of Rickenthorp’s? Apparently he had been content to free that walrus-mustached gentleman and let it go at that. He hadn’t even bothered to recover the money. Evidently he hadn’t seen fit to call the police.
But he had taken the gun—a black pistol with a corrugated handle that Drake would know anywhere.
It was the work of an amateur, Drake decided—someone who had bumped in on the conference scene accidentally.
Drake’s other red light was this man Craig. He was still an enigma showing up unexpectedly when he was thought to be elsewhere.
Now MacMacklevitch and his buddy straggled into the court. Drake was ready for them with a full head of steam.
With careless unconcern Mac “rubbed his crooked nose and twisted the tufts of hair that bristled from his scarred right eyebrow. Krug also listened with a show of indifference, all the while whistling little tunes through his teeth. But Drake gave them their orders in no uncertain terms.
“Something slipped last night, and it came near being the end of us. Another break like that and we’ll be looking for a new address.”
“What happened, boss?”
“Take a look at the stairway up to the conference room. Take a good look, and figure out if you can who lammed me over the skull with a chair. That’s your first job, gents. Trace it down and don’t miss anything.
“Second, you’ve got to bump off Rickenthorp. He missed the mill. We had him on his way when the lights went out and I went with ’em.
“Third job is to get an angle on Craig.”
“We’re not worried about him, boss. He went out and played table tennis with us like a pal. We kept him at it till we figured your deal was over.”
“You figured wrong,” Drake growled.
“And it’s not the first time, you know that.”
“But, boss,” Mac raised his scarred eyebrow cheerfully. “We’ve sewed him up. He’s right in the palm of our hand—and a Craig in the hand is worth two hundred thousand or so in the sock; ain’t it so, Krug?”
“Cut out the gags and tell him what we’ve done,” said Krug.
“What have you done?” Drake studied the two thugs skeptically. They’d better not star
t having ideas of their own.
“We’ve landed jobs with Craig, keepin’ watch on this place while he remodels it. He’s got a young fellow named Burnette on daytime duty, and he’s gonna hire a landlady and a staff of girls to run the office end in the mansion—”
“It’s an advertising stunt,” Krug explained.
“And right away they’ll start renting apartments in this building to workers and their families.”
“The hell!” Drake growled. “Couldn’t you stall him off?”
“It’s easier than that. Ain’t we the night watchmen? All right, we guard the place from ten o’clock on. Your customers come right in, same as always, on a one-way ticket.”
“It sounds not so bad,” said Drake, still feeling doubtful.
“It’s good,” said Krug. “He trusts us.”
“It may work for awhile,” Drake continued.
“It’ll work until the remodeling gets back to our half of the building. What more could you ask?”
Drake gave a low laugh. “That ought to line our pocketbooks so we can retire. If it don’t, we’ll hit Craig for an extension. He might even find himself so tangled up in Doc Silverhead’s web by that time that he wouldn’t have any room to kick.”
With this outlook Marcus M. Drake forgot his headache and went about his gardening.
Before a week passed the delightful little scheme for swindling and murdering the doctor’s prospective investors seemed to be back on a smooth track. The walrus-mustached Mr. Rickenthorp had been quietly bumped off. The newly employed guards were on their job. The doctor’s mysterious experiments continued, completely in secret, and the surrounding public—including one Archie Burnette—never guessed that the doctor’s vision was to be able to turn one person into two—so that any man could have as many duplicates as he wanted.
CHAPTER X
Verrazzano in Distress
Archie Burnette’s visit to the laboratories of Dr. Silverhead left him in great consternation. It was more than he could fathom. What did a successful business man like Hamilton Craig mean by allowing the doctor to carry on such a mysterious enterprise on these premises?