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

Exploded It In The Regular Way With A Battery And A Fulminate Cap.

I Doubt If It Did Much More Than Discolour The Metal At First.

Still,  With The True Persistency Of His Kind,  He Probably Repeated

The Dose,  Using More And More Of The 'Soup' Until The Joint Was

Stretched A Little,  And More Of An Opening Made So That The 'Soup'

Could Run In.

"Again And Again He Must Have Repeated And Increased The Charges.

Perhaps He Used Two Or Three Cups At A Time. By This Time The

Outer Door Must Have Been Stretched So As To Make It Easy To

Introduce The Explosive. No Doubt He Was Able To Use Ten Or Twelve

Ounces Of The Stuff At A Charge. It Must Have Been More Like

Target-Practice Than Safe-Blowing. But The Chance Doesn't Often

Come--An Empty House And Plenty Of Time. Finally The Door Must

Have Bulged A Fraction Of An Inch Or So,  And Then A Good Big

Charge And The Outer Portion Was Ripped Off And The Safe Turned

Over. There Was Still Two Or Three Inches Of Manganese Steel

Protecting The Contents,  Wedged In So Tight That It Must Have

Seemed That Nothing Could Budge It. But He Must Have Kept At It

Until We Have The Wreck That We See Here," And Kennedy Kicked The

Safe With His Foot As He Finished.

Blake Was All Attention By This Time,  While Maloney Gasped,  "If I

Was In The Safe-Cracking Business,  I'd Make You The Head Of The

Firm."

"And Now," Said Craig,  "Let Us Go Back To New York And See If We

Can Find Mrs. Branford."

"Of Course You Understand," Explained Blake As We Were Speeding

Back,  "That Most Of These Cases Of Fake Robberies Are Among Small

People,  Many Of Them On The East Side Among Little Jewellers Or

Other Tradesmen. Still,  They Are Not Limited To Any One Class.

Indeed,  It Is Easier To Foil The Insurance Companies When You Sit

In The Midst Of Finery And Wealth,  Protected By A Self-Assuring

Halo Of Moral Rectitude,  Than Under Less Fortunate Circumstances.

Too Often,  I'm Afraid,  We Have Good-Naturedly Admitted The

Unsolved Burglary And Paid The Insurance Claim. That Has Got To

Stop. Here's A Case Where We Considered The Moral Hazard A Safe

One,  And We Are Mistaken. It's The Last Straw."

Our Interview With Mrs. Branford Was About As Awkward An

Undertaking As I Have Ever Been Concerned With. Imagine Yourself

Forced To Question A Perfectly Stunning Woman,  Who Was Suspected

Of Plotting So Daring A Deed And Knew That You Suspected Her.

Resentment Was No Name For Her Feelings. She Scorned Us,  Loathed

Us. It Was Only By What Must Have Been The Utmost Exercise Of Her

Remarkable Will-Power That She Restrained Herself From Calling The

Hotel Porters And Having Us Thrown Out Bodily. That Would Have Put

A Bad Face On It,  So She Tolerated Our Presence. Then,  Of Course,

The Insurance Company Had Reserved The Right To Examine Everybody

In The Household,  Under Oath If Necessary,  Before Passing On The

Claim.

"This Is An Outrage," She Exclaimed,  Her Eyes Flashing And Her

Breast Rising And Falling With Suppressed Emotion,  "An Outrage.

When My Husband Returns I Intend To Have Him Place The Whole

Matter In The Hands Of The Best Attorney In The City. Not Only

Will I Have The Full Amount Of The Insurance,  But I Will Have

Damages And Costs And Everything The Law Allows. Spying On My

Every Movement In This Way--It Is An Outrage! One Would Think We

Were In St. Petersburg Instead Of New York."

"One Moment,  Mrs. Branford," Put In Kennedy,  As Politely As He

Could. "Suppose--"

"Suppose Nothing," She Cried Angrily. "I Shall Explain Nothing,

Say Nothing. What If I Do Choose To Close Up That Lonely Big House

In The Suburbs And Come To The City To Live For A Few Days--Is It

Anybody's Business Except Mine?"

"And Your Husband's?" Added Kennedy,  Nettled At Her Treatment Of

Him.

She Shot Him A Scornful Glance. "I Suppose Mr. Branford Went Out

To Arizona For The Express Purpose Of Collecting Insurance On My

Jewels," She Added Sarcastically With Eyes That Snapped Fire.

"I Was About To Say," Remarked Kennedy As Imperturbably As If He

Were An Automaton,  "That Supposing Some One Took Advantage Of Your

Absence To Rob Your Safe,  Don't You Think The Wisest Course Would

Be To Be Perfectly Frank About It?"

"And Give Just One Plausible Reason Why You Wished So Much To Have

It Known That You Were Going To Palm Beach When In Reality You

Were In New York?" Pursued Maloney,  While Kennedy Frowned At His

Tactless Attempt At A Third Degree.

If She Had Resented Kennedy,  She Positively Flew Up In The Air And

Commenced To Aviate At Maloney's Questioning. Tossing Her Head,

She Said Icily: "I Do Not Know That You Have Been Appointed My

Guardian,  Sir. Let Us Consider This Interview At An End. Good-

Night," And With That She Swept Out Of The Room,  Ignoring Maloney

And Bestowing One Biting Glance On Blake,  Who Actually Winced,  So

Little Relish Did He Have For This Ticklish Part Of The

Proceedings.

I Think We All Felt Like Schoolboys Who Had Been Detected Robbing

A Melon-Patch Or In Some Other Heinous Offence,  As We Slowly Filed

Down The Hall To The Elevator. A Woman Of Mrs. Branford's Stamp So

Readily And Successfully Puts One In The Wrong That I Could Easily

Comprehend Why Blake Wanted To Call On Kennedy For Help In What

Otherwise Seemed A Plain Case.

Blake And Maloney Were Some Distance Ahead Of Us,  As Craig Leaned

Over To Me And Whispered. "That Maloney Is Impossible. I'll Have

To Shake Him Loose In Some Way. Either We Handle This Case Alone

Or We Quit."

"Right-O," I Agreed Emphatically. "He's Put His Foot In It Badly

At The Very Start. Only,  Be Decent About It,  Craig. The Case Is

Too Big For You To Let It Slip By."

"Trust Me,  Walter. I'll Do It Tactfully," He Whispered,  Then To

Blake He Added As We Overtook Them: "Maloney Is Right. The Case Is

Simple Enough,  After All. But We Must Find Out Some Way To Fasten

The Thing More Closely On Mrs. Branford. Let Me Think Out A Scheme

To-Night. I'll See You Tomorrow."

As Blake And Maloney Disappeared Down The Street In The Car,

Kennedy Wheeled About And Walked Deliberately Back Into The

Grattan Inn Again. It Was Quite Late. People Were Coming In From

The Theatres,  Laughing And Chatting Gaily. Kennedy Selected A

Table That Commanded A View Of The Parlour As Well As Of The

Dining-Room Itself.

"She Was Dressed To Receive Some One--Did You Notice?" He Remarked

As We Sat Down And Cast Our Eyes Over The Dizzy Array Of Inedibles

On The Card Before Us. "I Think It Is Worth Waiting A While To See

Who It Is."

Having Ordered What I Did Not Want,  I Glanced About Until My Eye

Rested On A Large Pier-Glass At The Other End Of The Dining-Room.

"Craig," I Whispered Excitedly,  "Mrs. B. Is In The Writing-Room--I

Can See Her In That Glass At The End Of The Room,  Behind You."

"Get Up And Change Places With Me As Quietly As You Can,  Walter,"

He Said Quickly. "I Want To See Her When She Can't See Me."

Kennedy Was Staring In Rapt Attention At The Mirror. "There's A

Man With Her,  Walter," He Said Under His Breath. "He Came In While

We Were Changing Places--A Fine-Looking Chap. By Jove,  I've Seen

Him Before Somewhere. His Face And His Manner Are Familiar To Me.

But I Simply Can't Place Him. Did You See Her Wraps In The Chair?

No? Well,  He's Helping Her On With Them. They're Going Out.

Garcon,  L'addition--Vite"

We Were Too Late,  However,  For Just As We Reached The Door We

Caught A Fleeting Glimpse Of A Huge New Limousine.

"Who Was That Man Who Just Went Out With The Lady?" Asked Craig Of

The Negro Who Turned The Revolving-Door At The Carriage Entrance.

"Jack Delarue,  Sah--In 'The Grass Widower,' Sah," Replied The

Doorman. "Yes,  Sah,  He Stays Here Once In A While. Thank You,

Sah," As Kennedy Dropped A Quarter Into The Man's Hand.

"That Complicates Things Considerably," He Mused As We Walked

Slowly Down To The Subway Station. "Jack Delarue--I Wonder If He

Is Mixed Up In This Thing Also."

"I've Heard That 'The Grass Widower' Isn't Such A Howling Success

As A Money-Maker," I Volunteered. "Delarue Has A Host Of

Creditors,  No Doubt. By The Way,  Craig," I Exclaimed,  "Don't You

Think It Would Be A Good Plan To Drop Down And See O'connor? The

Police Will Have To Be Informed In A Few Hours Now,  Anyhow. Maybe

Delarue Has A Criminal Record."

"A Good Idea,  Walter," Agreed Craig,  Turning Into A Drug-Store

Which Had A Telephone Booth. "I'll Just Call O'connor Up,  And

We'll See If He Does Know Anything About It."

O'connor Was Not At Headquarters,  But We Finally Found Him At His

Home,  And It Was Well Into The Small Hours When We Arrived There.

Trusting To The First Deputy's Honour,  Which Had Stood Many A

Test,  Craig Began To Unfold The Story. He Had Scarcely Got As Far

As Describing The Work Of The Suspected Hired Yeggman,  When

O'connor Raised Both Hands And Brought Them Down Hard On The Arms

Of His Chair.

"Say," He Ejaculated,  "That Explains It!"

"What?" We Asked In Chorus.

"Why,  One Of My Best Stool-Pigeons Told Me To-Day That There Was

Something Doing At A House In The Chatham Square District That We

Have Been Watching For A Long Time. It's Full Of Crooks,  And To-

Day They've All Been As Drunk As Lords,  A Sure Sign Some One Has

Made A Haul And Been Generous With The Rest,  And One Or Two Of The

Professional 'Fences' Have Been Acting Suspiciously,  Too. Oh,  That

Explains It All Right."

I Looked At Craig As Much As To Say,  "I Told You So," But He Was

Engrossed In What O'connor Was Saying.

"You Know," Continued The Police Officer,  "There Is One Particular

'Fence' Who Runs His Business Under The Guise Of A Loan-Shark's

Office. He Probably Has A Wider Acquaintance Among The Big

Criminals Than Any Other Man In The City. From Him Crooks Can

Obtain Anything From A Jimmy To A Safe-Cracking Outfit. I Know

That This Man Has Been Trying To Dispose Of Some Unmounted Pearls

To-Day Among Jewellers In Maiden Lane. I'll Bet He Has Been

Disposing Of Some Of The Branford Pearls,  One By One. I'll Follow

That Up. I'll Arrest This 'Fence' And Hold Him Till He Tells Me

What Yeggman Came To Him With The Pearls."

"And If You Find Out,  Will You Go With Me To That House Near

Chatham Square,  Providing It Was Some One In That Gang?" Asked

Craig Eagerly.

O'connor Shook His Head. "I'd Better Keep Out Of It. They Know Me

Too Well. Go Alone. I'll Get That Stool-Pigeon--The Gay Cat Is His

Name--To Go With You. I'll Help You In Any Way. I'll Have Any

Number Of Plain-Clothes Men You Want Ready To Raid The Place The

Moment You Get The Evidence. But You'll Never Get Any Evidence If

They Know I'm In The Neighbourhood."

The Next Morning Craig Scarcely Ate Any Breakfast Himself And Made

Me Bolt My Food Most Unceremoniously. We Were