The Ear in the Wall

by Arthur B. Reeve

  IX

  THE JURY FIXER

  "Let's visit Farrell's," remarked Craig, after looking over theapparatus and slinging it over his shoulder.

  It was early yet, and the theatres were not out, so that there werecomparatively few people in the famous all-night cafe. We entered thebar cautiously and looked about. Kahn at least was not there.

  In the back of this part of the cafe were several booths, open toconform to the law, yet sufficiently screened so that there was atleast a little privacy.

  Above the booths was a line of transoms.

  "What's back there?" asked Kennedy, under his breath.

  "A back room," returned Carton.

  "Perhaps Kahn is there," Craig suggested. "Walter, you're the one whomhe would least likely recognize. Suppose you just stick your head inthe door and look about as quietly as you can."

  I lounged back, glanced at the records of sporting events posted on thewall at the end of the bar, then, casually, as if looking for someone,swung the double-hinged door that led from the bar into the back room.

  The room was empty except for one man, turned sidewise to the door,reading a paper, but in a position so that he could see anyone whoentered. I had not opened the door widely enough to be noticed, but Inow let it swing back hastily. It was Kahn, pompously sipping somethinghe had ordered.

  "He's back there," I whispered to Kennedy, as I returned, excitedlymotioning toward one of the transoms over the booths back of which Kahnwas seated.

  "Right there?" he queried.

  "Just about," I answered.

  A moment later Kennedy led the way over to the booth under the transomand we sat down. A waiter hovered near us. Craig silenced him quicklywith a substantial order and a good-sized tip.

  From our position, if we sat well within the booth, we were effectuallyhidden unless someone purposely came down and looked in on us. Wewatched Kennedy curiously. He had unslung the little black camera-likebox and to it attached a pair of fine wires and a small pocket storagebattery which he carried.

  Then he looked up at the transom. It was far too high for us to hearthrough, even if those in the back room talked fairly loud. Standing onthe leather wall seats of the booth to listen or even to look over wasout of the question, for it would be sure to excite suspicion among thewaiters, or the customers who were continually passing in and out ofthe place.

  Kennedy was watching his chance, and when the cafe emptied itself afterbeing deluged between the acts from a neighbouring theatre, he jumpedup quickly in the seat, stood on his toes and craned his neck throughthe diagonally opened transom. Before any of the waiters, who were busyclearing up the results of the last theatre raid, had a chance tonotice him, Craig had slipped the little black box into the shadow ofthe corner.

  From it dangled down the fine wires, not noticeable.

  "He's sitting just back of us yet," reported Kennedy. "I don't knowabout that flaming arc light in the middle of the room, but I think itwill be all right. Anyhow, we shall have to take a chance. It looks tome as if he were waiting for someone--didn't it to you, Walter?"

  I nodded acquiescence.

  "He has wasted no time in getting down to work," put in Carton, who hadbeen a silent spectator of the preparations of Kennedy. "What's thatthing you put on the ledge up there--a detectaphone?"

  Kennedy smiled. "No--they're too clever to do any talking, at least ina place like this, I'm afraid," he said, carefully hiding the wires andthe battery beside him in the shadow of the corner of the booth. "Itmay be that nothing will happen, anyhow, but if it does we can at leasthave the satisfaction of having tried to get something. Carton, you hadbetter sit as far back in the booth as I am. The longer we can stayhere unnoticed the better. Let Walter sit on the outside."

  We changed places.

  "Lawyers have been complaining to me lately," remarked Carton in a wellmodulated voice, "about jury fixing. Some of them say it has been goingon on a large scale and I have had several of my county detectivesworking on it. But they haven't landed anything yet,--except rumours,like this one about the Dopey Jack jury. I've had them out posing asjurymen who could be 'approached' and would arrange terms for otherbribable jurymen."

  "And you mean to say that that's going on right here in this city?" Iasked, scenting a possible newspaper story.

  "This campaign I have started," he replied, "is only the beginning ofour work in breaking up the organized business of jury bribing. I meanto put an end to the work of what I have reason to believe is a secretring of jury fixers. Why, I understand that the prices for 'hanging' ajury range all the way from five to five hundred dollars, or evenhigher in an important case. The size of the jury fixer's 'cut' dependsupon the amount the client is willing to pay for having his case madeeither a disagreement or a dismissal. Usually a bonus is demanded for adismissal in criminal cases. But such things are very difficult to--"

  "Sh!" I cautioned, for from my vantage point I saw two men approaching.

  They saw me in the booth, but not the rest of us, and turned to enterthe next one. Though they were talking in low tones, we could catchwords and phrases now and then, which told us that we ourselves wouldhave to be very careful about being overheard.

  "We've got to be careful," one of them remarked in a scarcely audibleundertone. "Carton has detectives mingling with the talesmen in everycourt of importance in the city."

  The reply of the other was not audible, but Carton leaned over to usand whispered, "One of Kahn's runners, I think."

  Apparently Kahn was taking extreme precautions and wanted everything inreadiness so that whatever was to be done would go off smoothly.Kennedy glanced up at the little black leather box perched high aboveon the sill of the partition.

  "The chief says that a thousand dollars is the highest price that hecan afford for 'hanging' this jury--providing you get on it, or any ofyour friends."

  The other man, whose voice was not of the vibrating, penetratingquality of the runner, seemed to hesitate and be inclined to argue.

  "We've had 'em as low as five dollars," went on the runner, at whichCarton exchanged a knowing glance with us. "But in a special case, likethis, we realize that they come high."

  The other man grumbled a bit and we could catch the word, "risky."

  Back and forth the argument went. The runner, however, was a worthyrepresentative of his chief, for at last he succeeded in carrying bothhis point and his price.

  "All right," we heard him say at last, "the chief is in the back room.Wait until I see whether he is alone."

  The runner rose and went around to the swinging door. From the otherside of the transom we could, as we had expected, hear nothing. Amoment later the runner returned.

  "Go in and see him," he whispered.

  The man rose and made his way through the swinging door into the backroom.

  None of us said a word, but Kennedy was literally on his toes withexcitement. He was holding the little battery in his hand and afterwaiting a few moments pressed what looked like a push button.

  He could not restrain his impatience longer, but had jumped up on theleather seat and for a moment looked at the black leather box, thenthrough the half open transom, as best he could.

  "Press it--press it!" he whispered to Carton, pointing at the pushbutton, as he turned a little handle on the box, then quickly droppeddown and resumed his seat.

  "Craig--one of the waiters," I cried hurriedly.

  The outside bar had been filling up as the evening advanced and thesight of a man standing on one of the seats had attracted the attentionof a patron. A waiter had followed his curious gaze and saw Kennedy.

  With a quick pull on the wire, Kennedy jerked the black leather boxfrom its high perch and deftly caught it as it fell.

  "Say--what are youse guys doin', huh?" demanded the waiter pugnaciously.

  Carton and I had risen and stood between the man and Craig.

  The sound of voices in high pitch was enough to attract a crowd everready to watch a scrap. Mindful
of the famous "flying wedge" of waitersat Farrell's for the purpose of hustling objectionable and obstreperouscustomers with despatch to the sidewalk, I was prepared for anything.

  The runner who was sitting alone in the next booth, leaned out andgazed around the corner into ours.

  "Carton!" he shouted in a tone that could have been heard on the street.

  The effect of the name of the District Attorney was magical. For themoment, the crowd fell back. Before the tough waiters or anyone elsecould make up their minds just what to do, Kennedy, who had tucked thebox into his capacious side pocket, took each of us by the arm and weshoved our way through the crowd.

  The head waiter followed us to the door, but offered no resistance. Infact no one seemed to know just what to do and it was all over soquickly that even Kahn himself had not time to get a glimpse of usthrough the swinging door.

  A moment later we had piled into a taxicab at the curb and werespeeding through the now deserted streets uptown to the laboratory.

  Kennedy was jubilant. "I may have almost precipitated a riot," hechortled, "but I'm glad I stood up. I think it must have been at thepsychological moment."

  At the laboratory he threw off his coat and prepared to plunge intowork with various mysterious pans of chemicals, baths, jars, andbeakers.

  "What is it?" asked Carton, as Kennedy carefully took out the darkleather box, shielding it from the glare of a mercury vapour light.

  "A camera with a newly-invented electrically operated between-lensshutter of great illumination and efficiency," he explained. "It hasalways been practically impossible to get such pictures as I wanted,but this new shutter has so much greater speed than anything else everinvented before, that it is possible to use it in this sort ofdetective work. I've proved its speed up to one two-thousandth of asecond. It may or may not have worked, but if it has we've caughtsomeone, right in the act."

  Kennedy had a "studio" of his own which was quite equal to theemergency of developing the two pictures which he had taken with thenew camera.

  Late as it was, we waited for him to finish, just as we would havewaited down in the Star office if one of our staff photographers hadcome in with something important.

  At last Kennedy emerged from his workshop. As he did so, he slappeddown two untoned prints.

  Both were necessarily indistinct owing to the conditions under whichthey had had to be taken. But they were quite sufficient for thepurpose.

  As Carton bent over the second one, which showed Kahn in the very actof handing over a roll of bills to the rather anemic man whom hisrunner had brought to him, Carton addressed the photograph as if it hadbeen Kahn himself.

  "I have you at last," he cried. "This is the end of your secret ring ofjury fixers. I think that will about settle the case of Kahn, if not ofDopey Jack, when we get ready to spring it. Kennedy, make another setof prints and let me lock them in a safe deposit vault. That's asprecious to me as if it were the Black Book itself!"

  Craig laughed. "Not such a bad evening's work, after all," he remarked,clearing things up. "Do you realize what time it is?"

  Carton glanced perfunctorily at his watch. "I had forgotten time," hereturned.

  "Yes," agreed Craig, "but to-morrow is another day, you know. I don'tobject to staying up all night, or even several nights, but theredoesn't seem to be anything more that we can do now, and it may be thatwe shall need our strength later. This is, after all, only a beginningin getting at the man higher up."

  "The man highest up," corrected Carton, with elation as we parted onthe campus, Kennedy and I to go to our apartment.

  "See you in the morning, Carton," bade Kennedy. "By that time, nodoubt, there will be some news of the Black Book."

  We arrived at our apartment a few minutes later. On the floor was somemail which Kennedy quickly ran over. It did not appear to be of anyimportance--that is, it had no bearing on the case which was nowabsorbing our attention.

  "Well, what do you think of that?" he exclaimed as he tore open onediminutive letter. "That was thoughtful, anyhow. She must have sent usthat a few minutes after we left headquarters."

  He handed me an engraved card. It was from Miss Ashton, inviting us toa non-partisan suffrage evening at her studio in her home, to befollowed by a dance.

  Underneath she had written a few words of special invitation, ending,"I shall try to have some people there who may be able to help us inthe Betty Blackwell matter."