X lifted the woman into the car and got in beside her. Winton went around and slid in under the wheel. Dora Winton was mumbling like a delirious person. Hysterical laughter and sobs made her words incomprehensible.
“Thought you and Mrs. Winton were on the outs with each other,” said X in the voice of Sergeant Keegan.
“You might call it that,” replied Winton dryly. He started the car and let it roll from the drive. “But I did think she might know something about what had become of her father.”
“That’s all you know about it—he just disappeared?”
WINTON nodded. “Burks put a couple of men to work on it. I left before he had had any report.” He steered the car a few hundred feet down the street and turned into the neighborhood property. As they passed through the gate. Dora Winton laughed again. “Fence,” she choked out.
“Good Lord!” gasped Winton. “Is she going mad?”
“Diamonds,” gasped Dora. “Oodles of diamonds. Hempstead….” Then she began to cry like a little child.
“It isn’t madness,” X explained as he lifted her from the car in front of Dr. Janes’ door. “She’s a woman whose nerves have been strained to the breaking point. Then the attempt on her life tonight was the last straw.”
“You mean some one tried to kill her?”
X rang the doctor’s bell. “The woman in black. And very nearly succeeded, too.” And the two men stood in silence, listening to the woman’s frightened sobs.
A sleepy servant ushered them in. Dr. Janes put in his appearance a few minutes later. X told him briefly what had happened.
“You deserve a medal for this, Sergeant,” the doctor told him. “This is the first survivor of what the newspapers call the ‘strang-ling death.’ If I were the police, I would have looked in the Mills house the very first thing. A strange man, Mills. Very strange.”
“Then Dora will recover?” asked Winton.
“Oh, undoubtedly. Needs rest mostly. My wife will put her to bed here. I’ll give her a sedative just as soon as I have made certain that the dangerous results of the gas have passed. If the sergeant hadn’t thought quickly—well, where is he?” Janes looked bewilderedly about the hall. Agent X had disappeared.
Birds—always birds. A bird on the plane that had turned into a flying morgue. A bird feather, that had evidently clung to the voluminous skirts of the woman in black, found at the scene of the death trap set for Betty Dale. Dead birds in Dora Winton’s drawing room. And X hurried through the darkness, across lots to the Mills home, hunting birds.
By the time he had reached the Mills house, he felt it safe to enter Dora’s drawing room. The gas, he had reason to believe, was an unstable compound. After a brief, deadly life, the poison gas seemed to unite with some element in the air, forming other harmless compounds. But before it dissipated, it killed. And it had killed every canary in the room.
X went from cage to cage, taking out the dead birds, removing yellow feathers from the still, little bodies. At last, he had a whole heap of downy yellow in the center of his handkerchief. He formed the handkerchief into a bag and slipped it into his pocket. By microscopic comparison, by careful analysis, he hoped to prove that the canary that had been carried by the woman in black had come from the Mills house.
His list of possible suspects was beginning to narrow down. The killer’s moves, some of which he had thought maniacal, were beginning to indicate a terrible sanity. The killer knew what he was doing. And he was doing it well—killing as the coward kills because fear compels him to.
At the present moment, everything seemed to center about Dr. Mills. “A strange man,” Dr. Janes had called him. Why had he suddenly disappeared when Burks had wanted to confer with him? Had the man a guilty conscience?
Winton had been very hazy about Dr. Mills’ disappearance. Perhaps they would know more at police headquarters. There was one way for X to find out: he could go to police headquarters and ask. It was a bold stroke, but results might be extremely gratifying. X felt that he was on the point of a solution to the whole affair. He was willing to take any risk that would bring the matter to a head. A fear-killer, he knew, was the most dangerous kind. There was no telling where the next blow would fall.
CHAPTER VIII
Death At Headquarters
BETTY DALE was returning from a news assignment that had kept her working late. She had parked her car in a garage near the apartment and was hurrying along the sidewalk when a large machine slid along the curb beside her.
“Betty,” a voice said quietly.
Betty stopped, turned quickly, saw in the shadowy rear compartment of the big sedan, the head and shoulders of a man. It was a figure familiar to her, and her heart bounded with sudden terror. The man in the rear of the car was Tony Lizio. What she should have done at the moment was to call for the police. But why had she been called by name? Lizio did not know her. Then, of course, the figure in the back seat must be Agent X.
She stepped to the door of the car. The man in the rear seat made no move. If he were X, why hadn’t he made one of his secret signs? From the first moment she had sighted the car, she had been so fascinated by the figure in the back seat that she had not noticed that the driver of the car had slipped out as soon as the car had stopped. Now, she noticed that the driver’s seat was empty. Betty took her foot from the running board, started to turn around. Something jabbed cruelly into her back. An arm reached around her and opened the rear door of the car.
“Get in,” the soft voice ordered. Then, when she would have hesitated, a hand seized her roughly and thrust her into the car.
Betty fell back against the motionless figure in the back seat. A chill of terror passed over her entire body. She screamed then, or tried to. A shadowy figure bent over her. A black silk veil brushed her cheek. Then something struck her a sharp, stunning blow on the head….
An hour later, as the first gray light of morning tinged the sky, a man entered a long, low, river-front shack that extended out over the water. He wore a visored chauffeur’s cap that helped to support the black silken veil that covered his face. A woman met him in the front of the building. The woman was Fay October.
“Why did you come here?” the man demanded in a soft, chill voice.
Fay October’s graceful shoulders shrugged insolently. “You used to be glad enough to see me.” She took a cigarette from an enameled case. The match flame shivered when she tried to light a smoke. “Have you seen anything of Lizio?” she asked.
The man shook his head. “Have you?”
“No, thank heaven.” The girl’s dark eyes grew suddenly narrow as she studied the black veil that served the man for a face. “How did Lizio know that the Turneys had framed him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
“Some one must have told him,” replied the man. “The same some one who helped him to escape from prison.”
“You couldn’t have told him, could you?”
The man laughed harshly. “Don’t get imaginative. I put him in prison. I had to, even if I didn’t approve of his being framed.”
The girl nodded. “You had to keep peace in the gang. And Lizio got his revenge on the Turneys for the frame-up. Or did he? I’ve been thinking about that. Lizio’s vengeance made it rather convenient for you, didn’t it? The Turneys weren’t satisfied with their split of the Jonalden ransom money. They were beginning to threaten you. Then Lizio removed them—or did he?”
“Lizio and some one else.”
“You think anyone would have killed Lolly Turney just to help Lizio with his revenge? That wholesale murder on the plane was a risky job.”
“You’re forgetting the Hempstead diamonds,” said the man.
The girl shook her head. “No, I’m not. And I’m not forgetting the fact that there was a G-man on that plane. And he might have known something that would have made Lolly talk—talk about you.”
“Look here, Fay,” said the man harshly, “what are you getting at? Weren’t you satisfied with what yo
u got out of the Jonalden job? I took most of the risk. I killed Jonalden. Why should you expect more than a grand for what you did?”
The girl came closer to the veiled man. Her expression softened. Her arms twined in his. “It’s not the money,” she said quietly. “I would have done my part for you and you alone. But I’m afraid, just as the two Turneys were afraid. And the Turneys died, horribly. They were afraid. A person who is afraid sometimes squeals. And the Turneys were murdered.
“Morgan, that reporter, found out how I lured Jonalden into the net you had prepared for him.”
“And Morgan is dead,” the man declared.
THE GIRL shook her head. “I’m not sure. It’s never appeared in the papers. He might have been rescued. What about the girl reporter? Oh, I’m not going to take any chances. If my part in the kidnaping gets out, I’ll talk. And I’ll talk about you and the murder and the other crimes. Enough to send you to the chair a dozen times. I’ll talk, because they’d let me off on a shorter stretch if they could get you for the chair. Don’t you see, you’ve got to protect me. Protect me from the police—and from Lizio.”
“I am doing just that,” said the man softly. “The reporter, Betty Dale, is here now.”
The girl started back. “Here? Now? Dead?”
“No, she is alive.”
“Alive? You’ve got to kill her. Oh, you can’t take chances like that. You can’t take chances with me, for your own sake. You’ve got to kill her.”
“Never mind. She shan’t escape. No need to kill her just yet. There’s something more important just now. There’s a man across the street. He’s hiding. Two detectives have been following him. If they find him, I’ll have to act. No, the girl will have to live for a while.”
“Oh.” Fay October drew away from him, watched him coldly. Her eyes were perfectly dry, yet there was a quivering about her red, well-formed lips that suggested that she was on the verge of tears. “She’s very beautiful, this Betty Dale, isn’t she?”
The man sighed as though exasperated. “Really, I hadn’t noticed.”
The girl put her hand on the door knob. “But you will,” she said in a scarcely audible whisper. “You always do.” And she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
The veiled man seemed not to notice her exit. He was standing beside a metal smoke pipe that reached up through the roof from the top of a small, iron stove. He had removed a metal plate from the rounded surface of the pipe, revealing an opening where a piece of mirror glass slanted across the interior of the pipe. He took the pipe in both hands, turned it, moved it up and down, until the front of a little tavern across the street appeared in the mirror of the disguised periscope. A car pulled up in front of the building. Two men got out. A sound like the click of a steel trap from behind the killer’s veil. There was no mistaking the two men. They were plain-clothes police.
IN THE GUISE of Detective Sergeant Keegan, X entered the headquarters building without difficulty that morning. He proceeded at once to the office of Inspector Burks, opened the door quietly, and saw that the inspector’s broad back was toward the door. Burks was using the phone. X entered to discover that Burks had another visitor—Sergeant Keegan himself.
But at the moment, Keegan was staring up at the sky, visible through one long window in the office. X slipped soundlessly into a coat closet and pulled the door partway shut behind him. As soon as Keegan was gone he intended to get the information he desired from Inspector Burks either by force or by bluff.
By the time Burks had hung up, Lawyer Winton came into the office. Winton was all smiles and his hair was polished to a jetty gleam.
Burks turned round, drummed on his desk and said: “I wish they’d quit bothering me with Lizio. That was some one else who has seen Lizio riding around with a blonde woman. It’s the style, seeing Lizio, these days. And they all think they have to give me their information personally…. What are you grinning about, Mr. Winton?”
“It’s Sergeant Keegan, inspector,” declared Winton. “He is a damned capable man. Did he tell you what he did last night?”
“What, in particular?” asked Burks.
“Why, he saved the life of the woman who was once my wife. But what I’m here about is Dr. Mills. Any trace of him yet?”
Burks shook his head. “No trace. And it looks funny…. But what about Keegan playing hero?”
“Yeah,” said Keegan from his position at the window. “I’m interested to know that myself.”
Winton told a puzzled sergeant and a puzzled inspector what had happened to Mrs. Winton at Dr. Mills’ house.
“Well, it’s not the first time,” said Keegan when Winton had concluded.
“What do you mean?” asked Winton.
“Keegan means,” Burks interpreted, “that the man you found stooping over your wife was none other than Agent X. In all probability he was trying to kill her instead of save her.”
Winton said that he would be damned. He glanced at his watch. “Let me know if you hear anything from Dr. Mills. I’ve got an appointment.” He hurried from the office.
“Look here, sir,” Keegan addressed his superior, “if Lizio is out to get square with somebody, why take it out on Mrs. Winton? That dame isn’t mixed up in any kidnap gang.”
“Nobody said Lizio was trying to get square.” Burks picked up his phone. “Get me Dr. Janes’ residence,” he ordered. To Keegan: “And there have been fancy dames mixed up with crime before. And the more I think of it the more firmly I’m convinced that Dr. Mills has had plenty to do with this.”
Keegan nodded. “Why did he run out when you asked him to come down here?”
Burks got in touch with Dr. Janes. He talked for a few minutes and then put down the phone. He pointed a thick finger at Keegan. “Send some men over there right away. Mrs. Winton is still unconscious. Dr. Janes is keeping her under the influence of dope until she can rest up. Nerves shot and generally out of her head. She may have something to say when she comes to. Anyway, if there’s been one attempt made on her life, there may be another.”
“Okeh.” Keegan started for the door. “Say, what about this X guy impersonating me? We ought to do something about that.”
Burks groaned. “Just let me get my hands on that guy. First thing we know, the people will wake up and find Agent X in the White House disguised as the President…. But you get out.”
KEEGAN left reluctantly. From the closet door, X watched Burks closely. Just as soon as Burks’ back was turned, he intended to come out of the closet, cross the office to the door, slam the door and pretend to be Keegan returned on some pretext.
But X was given no opportunity to carry out his plan. A few minutes after Keegan had left, two men burst into the office. Burks paused in the act of lighting his morning cigar. “Well,” he rapped, “let’s have it. And if you two have come back with empty hands and a vacuum in your heads, you’ll be pounding a beat inside of twelve hours.”
The two detectives both started to talk at once. The result was an incomprehensible scramble of excited words.
“Shut up!” Burks stamped across the floor, lighted his cigar, and apparently calmed himself down. “I tell you, if somebody doesn’t find that Tony Lizio I’m going to take myself off to a padded cell. I get called up about every ten minutes by some one who’s seen Lizio. Dancing at the Central Park Casino, driving a WPA truck, or playing the races at Belmont—it doesn’t make any difference to a panicky public. I’ll bet I’ve got half the force out chasing Lizios that always turn out to be men that look something like Lizio.” Burks stopped, mopped his brow and nodded at the two detectives. “Go on. Had to blow up. I guess I’m going nuts. Let’s hear your story, but one man at a time.”
“Well, we’ve got him,” said one of the detectives with some pride.
“Not Lizio,” said the other dick. “Doc Mills.”
Burks sighed. “Thank heaven there’s some men on the force you can send out for one man and not have them bring in somebody else…. Where�
�d you put Mills?”
“Well, we didn’t bring him in exactly,” one of the detectives admitted a little lamely. “It’ll take a whole squad to do that. Dr. Mills is the second cousin to a maniac. He’s surrounded by a regular arsenal and he says the first man to step into his room gets the gong. The man’s crazy with fear.”
“Didn’t you tell him you were from headquarters?” demanded Burks.
“Sure, but Mills says he don’t come to headquarters or jail, or any place else. He says he wouldn’t feel safe from the killer.”
“Then he knows something,” Burks decided emphatically.
“He does that. But imagine him bein’ scared of gettin’ bumped off in police headquarters. That’s what I call a laugh. You can send a squad out to get him. The point is, though, that he not only knows the stuff that’s doing the killing, but he’s got a darn good reason to suspect the man behind it. What was it that Mills said was being used to gas the people?”
“Thanatogen,” replied the other dick. “The point is, Mills traced the Hempstead diamonds, or rather he happened upon them accidently.”
Neither Burks nor his two men were in a position to watch the office door, but Agent X was. While he had been listening intently to all that went on, his dangerous position kept him on the alert. So it was that X saw the door of the office open, saw a hand that opened it, and saw the two fragile globes of glass that had the power to turn his blood to ice. Instantly, X knew that he had been called upon to make the greatest sacrifice of his career to save a man who had good reason to hate him and had made a vow to send him to the electric chair. For the figure that appeared for a brief moment in the door was that of the treacherous, cowardly killer, the woman in black.
Across the room, the hand of the killer simply released the fragile flasks that X knew contained the deadly thanatogen. They burst. The door slammed. And instantly the office of Inspector Burks was converted into a lethal chamber.
Secret Agent X - The Complete Series Volume 7 Page 8