Wizard Of Crime.txt

by Wizard of Crime (lit)

  didn't tell her everything he wanted to say during this telephone conversation.

  Ralph felt that he couldn't mention the money. He was afraid that Alicia

  would get excited and telephone her father. He said that he would drive down to

  the pier, would be there by the time that she was dressed. So Alicia, at last,

  agreed to meet him at the pier entrance.

  Hardly had Ralph ended the phone call before a suave voice spoke behind

  him. He knew that voice, but had supposed that Frederick Glenny was out of

  town. Turning, Ralph found the sleek-haired man covering him with a revolver.

  Glenny motioned Ralph to a chair.

  "So you want to talk to your girl friend?" purred Glenny. "I don't think

  that would be a good idea, Atgood. She might want you to return all the dough

  that used to belong to her father."

  "It still belongs to him!"

  "Not at all!" Glenny picked up the telephone. "Weylan agreed to a deal,

  and then tried to welsh on it. That money goes to R. G. Dean."

  Very deftly, Glenny was dialing a number, using his left hand. His right

  hand, gripping the telephone, also held the revolver pointed toward Ralph.

  "Don't forget," added Glenny, as he tucked the telephone receiver between

  his shoulder and his ear. "that you are on our pay roll. It was a neat idea,

  wasn't it, putting the swag in your charge? Anyway, you're working for us -"

  A clicking sound interrupted from the telephone. Glenny began to talk, and

  Ralph knew that he was holding conversation with his chief. But Glenny's voice

  was very low, his lips close to the mouthpiece. Ralph didn't hear enough to

  know what Glenny was telling over the wire. When the call was finished, Ralph

  asked anxiously:

  "What's going to happen, Glenny?"

  "You'll find out," Glenny told him. "So just sit tight awhile. You'll hear

  the rest soon enough."

  Ralph never suspected that Alicia was to learn the other half of the

  situation sooner than he did. Nor did the girl, still in her stateroom, suspect

  that she was in for trouble.

  QUITE tired out by the evening's excitement, Alicia did not relish the

  idea of getting dressed again. She had changed her clothes after the party and

  had found it a lot of bother. She was rather piqued that she had promised to

  meet Ralph at the pier entrance, until a bright idea occurred to her.

  She didn't have to bother getting dressed. The nightie that she wore was a

  rather elaborate one, with a broad, flowing skirt below its snug-fitted waist

  The skirt, at least, would pass for part of a gown.

  After sliding her feet into a pair of evening slippers, Alicia put on a

  light coat that had a fur collar, which she bundled around her neck.

  Looking at herself in a full-length mirror, she was quite pleased with the

  effect. She seemed fully attired, except for stockings, and her lack of hosiery

  would not be noticeable under the dim lights of the pier.

  Alicia spent a while fixing her hair and putting on some make-up. Then she

  strolled out to the deck, passed across the gangway and walked to the shore end

  of the pier.

  While Alicia was waiting for Ralph's car to appear, an old-fashioned cab

  drew up beside her. The driver, a blocky-built man with squarish,

  blunt-featured face, looked toward the girl as he alighted from the cab. He

  asked in a mechanical tone:

  "Miss Weylan?"

  Alicia nodded. The driver opened the rear door and gestured her toward the

  cab.

  "Mr. Atgood sent me," he said. "His car is broken down. He said to bring

  you to see him."

  Alicia took two steps forward; then, in terrified suspicion, she turned

  about to run back toward the boat. The fake taxi driver clamped a solid hand on

  her shoulder and twisted her toward the cab. With a quick wriggle of her arms,

  Alicia slid completely out of her fur-collared coat, leaving it in the man's

  hand.

  Instead of screaming, she took the first route that offered. Alicia leaped

  into the cab intending to yank open the door on the other side. She thought she

  would be safely away before the pretended cab driver could get back to his

  wheel. Instead, Alicia flung herself squarely into a trap.

  There was another man in the rear of the cab, a chunky individual who

  might have been the phony driver's twin. With one hand, he caught the girl's

  throat, stifling the shriek that she at last attempted to give. With his other

  hand, he covered Alicia's face with a cloth that reeked of chloroform.

  The blocky driver tossed the coat into the rear of the cab. His equally

  chunky pal draped it over the nightgowned girl, who had slumped deep in the

  seat. Not a word passed between the pair as the driver took his place behind

  the wheel. These mechanical-minded men were trained to treat all tasks as

  simple; kidnapping was just a routine job for them.

  The ancient cab rolled away from the pier carrying Alicia Weylan to an

  unknown destination, where a master plotter ruled.

  CHAPTER XVI

  CRIME'S HEADQUARTERS

  FOR more than an hour, Ralph Atgood had been glumly waiting under the

  cover of a gun, wondering what was going to happen next. He had begun to think

  that Frederick Glenny, with his smooth, indifferent manner, was an artist at

  giving the third degree.

  Smacks across the jaw, or wallops from a rubber hose, would have been tame

  compared to this tormenting period of silence. At intervals, Ralph was almost

  ready to jump the gun that covered him, not caring whether or not it blasted

  him full of slugs.

  Glenny wasn't entirely inactive. At times, he toyed with the swag that had

  come from Weylan's, hefting it with one hand, while he kept the gun pointed with

  the other. At times, he would light a fresh cigarette with a mechanical lighter

  that he could manipulate easily with one hand.

  Ralph was free to smoke, which he did; but Glenny did not let him talk or

  leave his chair. A gesture of Glenny's gun, the snap of the fellow's dark eyes,

  were the elements that always made Ralph subside when he tried to indulge in

  motion or conversation.

  There was just one factor that sustained Ralph through that period.

  He knew that Glenny had overheard his talk with Alicia. Therefore Glenny,

  in his turn, knew that Ralph had not mentioned his possession of the missing

  funds. On that account, Ralph reasoned, Alicia was in no danger - provided, of

  course, that she did not come here to the apartment when Ralph failed to meet

  her at the dock.

  Ralph hoped that Alicia wouldn't come, and believed that he could bank on

  it. The idea of a meeting was his own, and he hadn't overstressed it. If she

  called up, Glenny would probably give Ralph a chance to dissuade her from

  leaving the ship, by saying that the matter was unimportant. That, Ralph

  finally decided, was why Glenny waited to see if Alicia would call.

  In his confidence that Alicia would remain unharmed, Ralph managed to

  forget his own dilemma.

  The prolonged period ended when the phone bell rang. Ralph had waited for

  that jangle so long, that he started to spring from his chair. Glenny thrust

  him back with a shove of the gun muzzle.

&nb
sp; "That won't be your girl friend," purred the crook. "She has given you up

  as a bad bet, long before this. Sit where you are, Atgood! That call is for me!"

  Glenny was right. With the receiver tucked to his ear, he held a brief

  conversation, during which Ralph could make out only a single phrase, which

  Glenny spoke louder than the others:

  "In five minutes -"

  Ending the call, the suave crook turned to Ralph.

  "You aren't so badly off, Atgood," he said. "The chief is willing to make

  allowances because you are new to the game. How would you like to drop in and

  see him?"

  "You mean R. G. Dean?"

  "Who else?" laughed Glenny. "Of course, that isn't his actual name, but I

  wouldn't advise you to ask him his real one. But he'd like to see you."

  The way Glenny put the word like made it sound very much a command. Ralph

  nodded his willingness to call on crime's hidden chief.

  "In five minutes -"

  The phrase repeated itself through Ralph's brain. Some of those minutes

  still remained. Maybe the best way to use them would be to start a battle with

  Glenny. Ralph had thought of that off and on, but his concern for Alicia had

  made him reject the idea.

  Of course, there was merit in visiting R. G. Dean, whoever he might be,

  and finding out more about him. It would help Ralph when he talked to the

  police as he still hoped to do sometime. But he questioned whether Glenny

  actually intended to take him to see the big-shot. Maybe this little excursion

  was intended as a one-way ride.

  "Call your garage," suggested Glenny. "Tell them to come over and get your

  car. It's been standing out front long enough."

  Ralph made the call, thereby wasting another of his precious minutes. He

  looked inquiringly toward the door: Glenny nodded him in that direction.

  They were starting out from the apartment. Ralph first and this looked

  like the right time for a break. Ralph knew that Glenny wouldn't leave a few

  hundred thousand dollars lying loose. He decided to start things as soon as

  Glenny picked up the loot.

  Opening the apartment door, Ralph took one slow step toward the hall, then

  swung about. Glenny was at the couch, hooking the stacks of currency and bonds

  under one arm. His gun was out of aim; with a savage lunge Ralph made for the

  fellow. Glenny must have expected the move, for he dropped away but did not

  fire.

  Then, as Ralph tried to sidestep the swinging muzzle of the gun, a pair of

  men pounced in from the hallway and caught him, one from each side. His arms

  wrenched behind him. Ralph stared left and right at two chunky, expressionless

  faces.

  "The chief's main helpers," introduced Glenny, with a smirk. "They usually

  stay around his lab, but once in a while he sends them out. All right" - this

  was to the block-faced pair - "take him along!"

  Going down in the automatic elevator, Ralph could feel the grip of

  powerful hands on each of his arms. On the street, one man released him, to

  step into a cab, but Glenny took over duty on that side, with his gun. He and

  the remaining man pushed Ralph into the cab and Glenny followed.

  Between Glenny and one blocky captor Ralph was blindfolded, while the

  other fellow took the wheel. Then began a twisty ride through so many streets

  that Ralph had no idea how far they traveled

  He struck upon an idea, though, soon after the cab started. He began to

  count turns left or right, as the vehicle made them. He wasn't trying to keep

  his sense of direction; he could figure out the points of the compass later, if

  he remembered the progression of the turn.

  The task was comparatively simple, for Ralph was used to keeping strings

  of figures in his head and had something of a system that he used for it. He

  noticed that nearly all of the intervals were short ones, which might prove a

  help later.

  WHEN the cab stopped, Ralph was repeating the string of numbers to

  himself; they came mostly in ones and twos. He found himself in a pitch-black

  alleyway, where his captors took him through a creaky doorway and down a flight

  of steps. Then came what seemed a passage in a cellar, a fairly long one.

  The walk ended at a blank wall, which Ralph could feel in the darkness.

  Glenny was feeling along that wail, evidently seeking a hidden catch, for

  something clicked and Ralph was pushed into a darkened elevator. His blindfold

  was off by this time, for Glenny had decided that the prisoner did not need it

  in the darkness.

  As the elevator moved slowly, silently upward, Ralph heard Glenny's purred

  tone in his ear:

  "Keep cool, Atgood. We're treating you all right. This is the way we bring

  everybody who comes to see the chief."

  How high the elevator traveled, Ralph was not sure, but he calculated it

  as about half a dozen floors. He had fixed the numbers in his mind, for

  positive reference, by the time they reached the top.

  The door slid back; Ralph found himself in a large rectangular room which

  was windowless and had a very low ceiling.

  The whole place was pervaded by a greenish glow that gave the scene a

  ghoulish touch. All about were odd-shaped tanks, small vats, large beakers,

  coils of hollow glass tubes, and other items of chemical equipment.

  Under Ralph's feet was a steel floor; his feet made metallic clicks as he

  walked. In one place, only a short way from the elevator, which was at the rear

  of the laboratory, Ralph thought that he noted the clink of loose rivets in the

  metal flooring.

  Ghastly colors showed from bubbling liquids that Ralph saw in enormous

  test tubes. He realized that their hues were due to the greenish glow, for when

  he looked at Glenny's face beside him, he could not recognize it. His chunky

  acquaintances looked odd, too. Their features were nothing but square green

  blurs.

  At the front of the lab, Ralph saw a man waiting to receive them. From his

  chuckly welcome, that came in a forced voice, Ralph knew that he was meeting

  crime's chief.

  He heard Glenny's prompting whisper: "Mr. Dean." Ralph bowed, muttered a

  greeting, then tried to make out the face in front of him. It was impossible.

  Like the others, the mysterious Mr. Dean had a visage that was merely a

  mass of green, but Ralph noted that it formed a long oval and that it was very

  large. He was thereby acquainted with one fact regarding the master crook.

  R. G., as Glenny addressed him, had a head far out of proportion to his

  body; probably one big enough to contain his giant brain. Gauging that head

  again. Ralph decided that R. G. could be classed as deformed. That would be a

  valuable point to remember in describing him.

  The master criminal was speaking. His forced tone, though unnatural, was

  persuasive.

  "You are welcome here," he chortled. "All are welcome who serve me. Like

  others, you understand that my transactions are legitimate. You are paid well

  to aid me, and later, you will receive a great reward - if you continue to be

  faithful.

  "My plans are many. Soon" - there was confidence in the rising cackle - "I

  shall control the entire chemical industry! My wealth
shall mount to millions,

  and far beyond, until no one can hope to compete with me!"

  Ralph nodded. Dean seemed pleased for he gave a chuckle. Then, his tone

  lowered to a cluck, he added:

  "We did not fail tonight. Look" - he spread the bundle of cash and bonds,

  as Glenny passed them to him - "and then decide who was victor."

  Ralph noted that the crisp sheaves seemed pale, their green printing

  merging with the glow of the laboratory. He heard Glenny buzz something to the

  master crook. Then came the chuckly voice.

  "Glenny says that you can be fully trusted in the future. He has suggested

  that I show you our latest experiment, with what I term my sleep gas, something

  that will prove a boon to humanity."

  IT was Glenny who conducted Ralph to a coffin-shaped object in the corner

  of the laboratory. Ralph saw that the device was fitted with gas pipes that led

  from a large tank. Glenny drew aside a roller cloth that covered the top.

  Through a sheet of thick glass, Ralph saw what he mistook for a waxwork

  imitation of a woman's figure, so perfectly was it molded. Resting peacefully

  in the satin-lined box, the life-sized form had the slightly olive hue that the

  laboratory lights gave to person's faces.

  Glenny pressed a switch; tiny white lights shone within the glass-topped

  casket. Ralph's eyes moved toward the head of the box. As he saw the figure's

  face plainly, he gasped the name:

  "Alicia!"

  "She is asleep," purred Glenny, "and will remain so for days - or weeks.

  There is nothing harmful about the chief's new gas. I tried a whiff of it

  myself. But if the supply is cut off -"

  "She will die from lack of air in the coffin!" The croak came from the

  crime chief. "But I prefer that she remain alive, to prove the value of my

  harmless sleep gas."

  "That depends on you," added Glenny, in Ralph's ear. "We still need you in

  our business, Atgood."

  Ralph was tense. He still believed that the figure might be a waxwork

  imitation. As he watched, he saw blue eyes open, then close again. He noticed a

  slight rise and fall of the figure's breast, which indicated a slow, but steady

  breathing. Even then, he tried to doubt.

  "It's a mechanical figure!" Ralph exclaimed, hoarsely. "It can't be

  Alicia!"

  Glenny rolled the cloth top over the oblong box. He produced a flashlight,