The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) by Arthur B. Reeve (top 10 motivational books .txt) 📕

Fourteenth Street On Two Wheels,  And At Last Were On Sixth Avenue.

With A Jerk And A Skid We Stopped. There Were The Engines,  The

Hose-Carts,  The Hook-And-Ladders,  The Salvage Corps,  The Police

Establishing Fire Lines--Everything. But Where Was The Fire?

The Crowd Indicated Where It Ought To Be--It Was Stacey's. Firemen

And Policemen Were Entering The Huge Building. Mccormick

Shouldered In After Them,  And We Followed.

"Who Turned In The Alarm?" He Asked As We Mounted The Stairs With

The Others.

"I Did," Replied A Night Watchman On The Third Landing. "Saw A

Light In The Office On The Third Floor Back--Something Blazing.

But It Seems To Be Out Now."

We Had At Last Come To The Office. It Was Dark And Deserted,  Yet

With The Lanterns We Could See The Floor Of The Largest Room

Littered With Torn Books And Ledgers.

Kennedy Caught His Foot In Something. It Was A Loose Wire On The

Floor. He Followed It. It Led To An Electric-Light Socket,  Where

It Was Attached.

"Can't You Turn On The Lights?" Shouted Mccormick To The Watchman.

"Not Here. They're Turned On From Downstairs,  And They're Off For

The Night. I'll Go Down If You Want Me To And--"

"No," Roared Kennedy. "Stay Where You Are Until I Follow The Wire

To The Other End."

At Last We Came To A Little Office Partitioned Off From The Main

Room. Kennedy Carefully Opened The Door. One Whiff Of The Air From

It Was Sufficient. He Banged The Door Shut Again.

"Stand Back With Those Lanterns,  Boys," He Ordered.

I Sniffed,  Expecting To Smell Illuminating-Gas. Instead,  A

Peculiar,  Sweetish Odour Pervaded The Air. For A Moment It Made Me

Think Of A Hospital Operating-Room.

"Ether," Exclaimed Kennedy. "Stand Back Farther With Those Lights

And Hold Them Up From The Floor."

For A Moment He Seemed To Hesitate As If At Loss What To Do Next.

Should He Open The Door And Let This Highly Inflammable Gas Out Or

Should He Wait Patiently Until The Natural Ventilation Of The

Little Office Had Dispelled It?

While He Was Debating He Happened To Glance Out Of The Window And

Catch Sight Of A Drug-Store Across The Street.

"Walter," He Said To Me,  "Hurry Across There And Get All The

Saltpeter And Sulphur The Man Has In The Shop."

I Lost No Time In Doing So. Kennedy Dumped The Two Chemicals Into

A Pan In The Middle Of The Main Office,  About Three-Fifths

Saltpeter And Two-Fifths Sulphur,  I Should Say. Then He Lighted

It. The Mass Burned With A Bright Flame But Without Explosion. We

Could Smell The Suffocating Fumes From It,  And We Retreated. For A

Moment Or Two We Watched It Curiously At A Distance.

"That's Very Good Extinguishing-Powder," Explained Craig As We

Sniffed At The Odour. "It Yields A Large Amount Of Carbon Dioxide

And Sulphur Dioxide. Now--Before It Gets Any Worse--I Guess It's

Safe To Open The Door And Let The Ether Out. You See This Is As

Good A Way As Any To Render Safe A Room Full Of Inflammable

Vapour. Come,  We'll Wait Outside The Main Office For A Few Minutes

Until The Gases Mix."

It Seemed Hours Before Kennedy Deemed It Safe To Enter The Office

Again With A Light. When We Did So,  We Made A Rush For The Little

Cubby-Hole Of An Office At The Other End. On The Floor Was A

Little Can Of Ether,  Evaporated Of Course,  And Beside It A Small

Apparatus Apparently Used For Producing Electric Sparks.

"So,  That's How He Does It," Mused Kennedy,  Fingering The Can

Contemplatively. "He Lets The Ether Evaporate In A Room For A

While And Then Causes An Explosion From A Safe Distance With This

Little Electric Spark. There's Where Your Wire Comes In,

Mccormick. Say,  My Man,  You Can Switch On The Lights From

Downstairs,  Now."

As We Waited For The Watchman To Turn On The Lights I Exclaimed,

"He Failed This Time Because The Electricity Was Shut Off."

"Precisely,  Walter," Assented Kennedy.

"But The Flames Which The Night Watchman Saw,  What Of Them?" Put

In Mccormick,  Considerably Mystified." He Must Have Seen

Something."

Just Then The Lights Winked Up.

"Oh,  That Was Before The Fellow Tried To Touch Off The Ether

Vapour," Explained Kennedy. "He Had To Make Sure Of His Work Of

Destruction First--And,  Judging By The Charred Papers About,  He

Did It Well. See,  He Tore Leaves From The Ledgers And Lighted Them

On The Floor. There Was An Object In All That. What Was It? Hello!

Look At This Mass Of Charred Paper In The Corner."

He Bent Down And Examined It Carefully.

"Memoranda Of Some Kind,  I Guess. I'll Save This Burnt Paper And

Look It Over Later. Don't Disturb It. I'll Take It Away Myself."

Search As We Might,  We Could Find No Other Trace Of The Firebug,

And At Last We Left. Kennedy Carried The Charred Paper Carefully

In A Large Hat-Box.

"There'll Be No More Fires To-Night,  Mccormick," He Said. "But

I'll Watch With You Every Night Until We Get This Incendiary.

Meanwhile I'll See What I Can Decipher,  If Anything,  In This Burnt

Paper."

Next Day Mccormick Dropped In To See Us Again. This Time He Had

Another Note,  A Disguised Scrawl Which Read:

Chief: I'm Not Through. Watch Me Get Another Store Yet. I Won't

Fall Down This Time.

                       A. Spark.

Craig Scowled As He Read The Note And Handed It To Me. "The Man's

Writing This Time--Like The Second Note," Was All He Said.

"Mccormick,  Since We Know Where The Lightning Is Going To Strike,

Don't You Think It Would Be Wiser To Make Our Headquarters In One

Of The Engine-Houses In That District?"

The Fire Marshal Agreed,  And That Night Saw Us Watching At The

Fire-House Nearest The Department-Store Region.

Kennedy And I Were Assigned To Places On The Hose-Cart And Engine,

Respectively,  Kennedy Being In The Hose-Cart So That He Could Be

With Mccormick. We Were Taught To Descend One Of The Four Brass

Poles Hand Under Elbow,  From The Dormitory On The Second Floor.

They Showed Us How To Jump Into The "Turn-Outs"--A Pair Of

Trousers Opened Out Over The High Top Boots. We Were Given Helmets

Which We Placed In Regulation Fashion On Our Rubber Coats,  Turned

Inside Out With The Right Armhole Up. Thus It Came About That

Craig And I Joined The Fire Department Temporarily. It Was A Novel

Experience For Us Both.

"Now,  Walter," Said Kennedy,  "As Long As We Have Gone So Far,

We'll 'Roll' To Every Fire,  Just Like The Regulars. We Won't Take

Any Chances Of Missing The Firebug At Any Time Of Night Or Day."

It Proved To Be A Remarkably Quiet Evening With Only One Little

Blaze In A Candy-Shop On Seventh Avenue. Most Of The Time We Sat

Around Trying To Draw The Men Out About Their Thrilling

Experiences At Fires. But If There Is One Thing The Fireman

Doesn't Know It Is The English Language When Talking About

Himself. It Was Quite Late When We Turned Into The Neat White Cots

Upstairs.

We Had Scarcely Fallen Into A Half Doze In Our Strange

Surroundings When The Gong Downstairs Sounded. It Was Our Signal.

We Could Hear The Rapid Clatter Of The Horses' Hoofs As They Were

Automatically Released From Their Stalls And The Collars And

Harness Mechanically Locked About Them. All Was Stir,  And Motion,

And Shouts. Craig And I Had Bounded Awkwardly Into Our

Paraphernalia At The First Sound. We Slid Ungracefully Down The

Pole And Were Pushed And Shoved Into Our Places,  For Scientific

Management In A New York Fire-House Has Reached One Hundred Per

Cent. Efficiency,  And We Were Not To Be Allowed To Delay The Game.

The Oil-Torch Had Been Applied To The Engine,  And It Rolled Forth,

Belching Flames. I Was Hanging On For Dear Life,  Now And Then

Catching Sight Of The Driver Urging His Plunging Horses Onward

Like A Charioteer In A Modern Ben Hur Race. The Tender With Craig

And Mccormick Was Lost In The Clouds Of Smoke And Sparks That

Trailed Behind Us. On We Dashed Until We Turned Into Sixth Avenue.

The Glare Of The Sky Told Us That This Time The Firebug Had Made

Good.

"I'll Be Hanged If It Isn't The Stacey Store Again," Shouted The

Man Next Me On The Engine As The Horses Lunged Up The Avenue And

Stopped At The Allotted Hydrant. It Was Like A War Game. Every

Move Had Been Planned Out By The Fire-Strategists,  Even Down To

The Hydrants That The Engines Should Take At A Given Fire.

Already Several Floors Were Aflame,  The Windows Glowing Like Open-

Hearth Furnaces,  The Glass Bulging And Cracking And The Flames

Licking Upward And Shooting Out In Long Streamers. The Hose Was

Coupled Up In An Instant,  The Water Turned On,  And The Limp Rubber

And Canvas Became As Rigid As A Post With The High Pressure Of The

Water Being Forced Through It. Company After Company Dashed Into

The Blazing "Fireproof" Building,  Urged By The Hoarse Profanity Of

The Chief.

Twenty Or Thirty Men Must Have Disappeared Into The Stifle From

Which The Police Retreated. There Was No Haste,  No Hesitation.

Everything Moved As Smoothly As If By Clockwork. Yet We Could Not

See One Of The Men Who Had Disappeared Into The Burning Building.

They Had Been Swallowed Up,  As It Were. For That Is The Way With

The New York Firemen. They Go Straight To The Heart Of The Fire.

Now And Then A Stream Of A Hose Spat Out Of A Window,  Showing That

The Men Were Still Alive And Working. About The Ground Floors The

Red-Helmeted Salvage Corps Were Busy Covering Up What They Could

Of The Goods With Rubber Sheets To Protect Them From Water.

Doctors With Black Bags And White Trousers Were Working Over The

Injured. Kennedy And I Were Busy About The Engine,  And There Was

Plenty For Us To Do.

Above The Shrill Whistle For More Coal I Heard A Voice Shout,

"Began With An Explosion--It's The Firebug,  All Right." I Looked

Up. It Was Mccormick,  Dripping And Grimy,  In A High State Of

Excitement,  Talking To Kennedy.

I Had Been So Busy Trying To Make Myself Believe That I Was Really

Of Some Assistance About The Engine That I Had Not Taken Time To

Watch The Fire Itself. It Was Now Under Control. The Sharp And