The Crevice Part 36

"Having seen me, Carlis, will you kindly state your business and go?

This promises to be one of my busiest days. What can I do for you?"

Blaine leaned back in his chair, with a bland smile of pleased expectancy.

"It ain't what you _can_ do; it's what you're _goin'_ to do, and no mistake about it!" the other glowered. "You're goin' to keep your mouth shut as tight as a trap, and your hands off, from now on! Oh, you know what I mean, right enough. Don't try to work the surprised gag on me!"

He added the latter with a coa.r.s.e sneer which further distorted his inflamed visage. Blaine, with an expression of sharp inquiry, had whirled around in his swivel chair to face his excited visitor, and as he did so, his hand, with seeming inadvertence, had for an instant come in contact with the under ledge of his desk-top.

"I'm afraid, much as I desire not to prolong this unexpected interview, that I must ask you to explain just what it is that I must keep my hands off of, as you say. We will go into the wherefore of it later."

Carlis glanced back of him into the empty hallway, then closed the door and came forward menacingly.

"What's the good of beating about the bush?" he demanded, in a fierce undertone. "You know d--n' well what I mean: you're b.u.t.ting in on the Lawton affair. You've bitten off more than you can chew, and you'd better wise yourself up to that, here and now!"

"Just what is the Lawton affair?"

"Oh, stow that bluff! You know too much already, and if I followed my hunch, I'd scrag you now, to play safe. Dead men don't blab, as a rule--though one may have, last night. I came here to be generous, to give you a last chance. I've fought tooth and nail, myself, for my place at the top, and I like a game sc.r.a.pper, even if he is on the wrong side. You've tried to get me for years, but as I knew you couldn't, I didn't bother with you, any more than I would with a trained flea, and I bear no malice. D--d if I don't like you, Blaine!"

"Thank you!" The detective bowed in ironic acknowledgment of the compliment. "Your friendship would be considered a valuable a.s.set by many, I have no doubt, but--"

"Look here!" The great political boss had shed his bulldozing manner, and a shade of unmistakable earnestness, not unmixed with anxiety, had crept into his tones. "I'm talking as man to man, and I know I can trust your word of honor, even if you pretend you won't take mine. Is anyone listening? Have you got any of your infernal operatives spying about?"

Blaine leaned forward and replied with deep seriousness.

"I give you my word, Carlis, that no human ear is overhearing our conversation." Then he smiled, and added, with a touch of mockery: "But what difference can that make? I thought you came here to issue instructions. At least, you so announced yourself on your arrival!"

"Because I'm going to make a proposition to you--on my own." Even Carlis' coa.r.s.e face flushed darkly at the base self-revelation.

"Pennington Lawton died of heart-disease."

He paused, and after waiting a full minute, Blaine remarked, quietly, but with marked significance:

"Of course. That is self-evident, isn't it?"

"Well, then--" Carlis stepped back with a satisfied grunt. "He didn't have a soul on earth dependent on him but his daughter. His great fortune is swept away, and that daughter left penniless. But ain't there lots of girls in this world worse off than she? Ain't she got good friends that's lookin' out for her, and seein' that she don't want for a thing? Ain't she goin' to marry a young fellow that loves the ground she walks on--a rich young fellow, that'll give her everything, all her life? What more could she want? _She's_ all right.

But the big money--the money Lawton made by grinding down the ma.s.ses--wouldn't you like a slice of it yourself, Blaine? A nice, fat, juicy slice?"

"How?" An interested pucker appeared suddenly between the detective's expressive brows, and Carlis laughed.

"Oh, we're all in it--you may as well be! You're on the inside, as it is! The play got too high for Rockamore, and he cashed in; you've bluffed old Mallowe till he's looking up sailing dates for Algiers, but I knew you'd be sensible, when it came to the scratch, and divide the pot, rather than blow your whistle and have the game pulled!"

"But it was old Mallowe"--Blaine's tone was puzzled--"who succeeded in transferring all that worthless land he'd acquired to Lawton, when Lawton wouldn't come in and help him on that Street-Railways grab, which would have made him practically sole owner of all the suburban real estate around Illington, wasn't it?"

"Sure it was!" laughed Carlis, ponderously. "But who made it possible for Mallowe to palm off those miles of vacant lots--as improved city property, of course--on Lawton, without his knowledge, and even have them recorded in his name, but me? What am I boss for, if I don't own a little man like the Recorder of Deeds?"

"I see!" Blaine tapped his finger-tips together and smiled slowly, in meditative appreciation. "And it was your man, also, Paddington, who found means to provide the mortgage, letter of appeal for a loan, note for the loan itself, and so forth. As for Rockamore--"

"Oh, he fixed up the dividend end, watered the stock and kept the whole thing going by phony financing while there was a chance of our hoodwinking Lawton into going into it voluntarily. He was one grand little promoter, Rockamore was; pity he got cold feet, and promoted himself into another sphere!"

"All things considered, it may not be such a pity, after all!" Blaine rose suddenly, whirling his chair about until it stood before him, and he faced his amazed visitor from across it. "Now, Carlis, suppose you promote yourself from my office!"

"Wh-what!" It was a mere toneless wheeze, but breathing deep of brute strength.

"I told you when you first came in that this promised to be one of my busiest days. You're taking up my time. To be sure, you've cleared up a few minor points for me, and testified to them, but you haven't really told me anything I didn't know. The game is up! Now--get out!"

He braced himself, as he spoke, to meet the mountain of flesh which hurled itself upon him in a blind rush of Berserk rage--braced himself, met and countered it. Never had that s.p.a.cious office--the scene of so many heartrending appeals, dramatic climaxes, impa.s.sioned confessions and violent altercations--witnessed so terrific a struggle, brief as it was.

"I'll kill you!" roared the maddened brute. "You'll never leave your office, alive, to repeat what I've told! I'll kill you, with my bare hands, first, d--n you!"

But even as he spoke, his voice ended in a surprised scream of agony, which told of strained sinews and ripped tendons, and he fell in a twisted, crumpled heap of quivering, inert flesh at the detective's feet, the victim of a scientific hold and throw which had not been included in his pugilistic education.

Instantly Blaine's hand found an electric bell in the wall, and almost simultaneously the door opened and three powerful figures sprang upon the huge, rec.u.mbent form and bound him fast.

"Take him away," ordered the detective. "I'll have the warrant ready for him."

"Warrant for what?" spluttered Carlis, through bruised and bleeding lips. "I didn't do anything to you! You attacked me because I wouldn't swear to a false charge. I got a legal right to try to defend myself!"

"You've convicted yourself, out of your own mouth," retorted Blaine.

The other looked into his eyes and quailed, but bl.u.s.tered to the end.

"n.o.body heard, but you, and my word goes, in this town! What d'you mean--convicted myself?"

For answer Blaine again touched that little spring in the protruding under-ledge of his desk, and out upon the trenchant stillness, broken only by the rapid, stertorous breathing of the manacled man, burst the strident tones of that same man's voice, just as they had sounded a few minutes before:

"'But the big money--the money Lawton made by grinding down the ma.s.ses--wouldn't you like a slice of it yourself, Blaine--a nice, fat, juicy slice.... Oh, we're all in it, you may as well be!... The play got too high for Rockamore, and he cashed in; you've bluffed old Mallowe till he's looking up sailing dates for Algiers, but I knew you'd be sensible, when it came to the scratch, and divide the pot, rather than blow your whistle and have the game pulled.... Who made it possible for Mallowe to palm off those miles of vacant lots--as improved city property, of course--on Lawton without his knowledge, and even have them recorded in his name, but me? What am I boss for, if I don't own a little man like the Recorder of Deeds?'"

"What is it?" gasped the wretched Carlis, in a fearful whisper, when the voice had ceased. "What is that--infernal thing?"

"A detectaphone," returned Blaine laconically. "You've heard of them, haven't you, Carlis? When you asked me if we were alone, if any of my operatives were spying about, I told you that no human ear overheard our conversation. But this little concealed instrument--this unseen listener--recorded and bore witness to your confession; and this is a Recorder you do not own, and cannot buy!"

CHAPTER XX

THE CREVICE

"But I don't understand"--Guy Morrow's voice was plaintive, and he eyed his chief reproachfully, as he stood before Blaine's desk, twisting his hat nervously--"why you didn't nail him! You've got the goods on him, all right; and now, just because you only had him arrested on a charge of a.s.sault with intent to kill, he's gone and used his influence, and got himself released under heavy bail. Oh, why won't you go heeled or guarded? We can't afford to lose you, sir, any of us, and now he'll do for you, as sure as shooting!"

"Who--Carlis?" Blaine spoke almost absently, as if the portentous scene of two hours before had already almost slipped from his memory.

"Oh, he won't get away, and I'm not afraid of him! I let him go for the same reason that I didn't have Mallowe arrested this morning--for the same reason why I haven't stopped Paddington's philandering with the French girl, Fifine: because a link is still missing in the chain; the sh.e.l.l, the exterior of the whole conspiracy is in the hollow of my hand, but I can't find the c.h.i.n.k, the crevice into which to insert my lever and split it apart, lay the whole dastardly scheme irrefutably open to the light of day. I want to complete my case: in other words, Guy--I want to win!"

"And you will, sir; you've never failed yet! Only I--I don't have any luck!" The young man's haggard face grew wistful. "I want Emily Brunell; I need her--and I seem farther from finding her than ever!"

"I didn't know that was your job!" the detective objected, with a brusqueness which was not unkind. "I told you I'd take care of that, in my own way. I thought I a.s.signed you to the task of finding out who fired at you, from the darkened window of your own room, when you were in Brunell's house across the street; also I wanted a line on those two mysterious boarders of Mrs. Quinlan's."

"Nothing doing on either count, sir," Morrow returned, ruefully. "I can't get a glimpse of them, or a line on either of them; and as for who tried to plug me--well, there isn't an iota of evidence, that I can discover, beyond the bare fact. I didn't come to report, for there's nothing to say, except that I'm sticking at it, and if I don't get a sight of those two before long I'm going to burn a red sulphur light some fine night, and yell 'fire!' I bet that'll bring the old codger out, for all his rheumatism!"

"Not a bad idea," Blaine commented, adding dryly: "What did you come for, then, Guy?"