American Sherlocks by Nick Rennison (reading like a writer .TXT) 📕

‘I should think we would begin to investigate!’ I replied. ‘What was this gas-mine apparatus?’

‘A huge tank-bomb arrangement for use underground,’ replied Masters. ‘I won’t trouble you with a description of it except to say that it was placed in territory about to be evacuated. When the enemy occupied the position it was exploded. First it gave off terrific clouds of chloropicrin gas: this is an agent that makes every soldier sicker than he was his first trip on the ocean. Naturally every man takes off his gas mask when he gets sick – chloropicrin gets through the mask – and that leaves him an easy mark for the phosgene. The latter gas comes from the mine five minutes after the chloropicrin. Since the inhalation of a microscopic quantity of phosgene is immediately fatal, taking off the masks at this time allows the phosgene to get in its deadly work. Most of the victims of chloropicrin are too sick to care, anyway.’

I shuddered. ‘Ghastly thing, isn’t it?’ I said.

‘Yes.’ Masters shrugged his shoulders. ‘They have found, though, that the only way to fight the Huns successfully is to beat them to it. Because the Germans are learning our secrets as fast as we can invent new machines and methods, though, is exactly the reason you and I are here.’

‘Where are we bound for this morning?’

‘Jaques Corners, Rhode Island,’ answered Masters promptly.

‘Sounds rural,’ I commented. ‘What are we going to find there?’ I noticed that our train had started.

‘Well, I am told that the Weekapang Country Club near there has an excellent golf course.’

‘Oh, don’t be tight!’ I exclaimed. ‘What are we after? Where are these outlandish places?’

Masters smiled. ‘You can find Weekapang on the map, down in the southernmost corner of Rhode Island. The golf course –’

‘Oh, hang that! What about Jakeville, or whatever you called it? Jaques Corners, wasn’t it?’

Masters’s expression became serious. ‘That is a war town, put up entirely by the government for the construction of war machines and munitions. I have traced my skein that far, and I have a hint of the next coil of the strand. I think they call the town by that hick name just to avoid suspicion. I have three men in high positions in our war organization who are going to face a firing squad before another month has passed. It is only because I do not care to let the method go undiscovered that I have not had them court-martialled already. They have confederates and some method of conveying news to Germany that is novel, to say the least. In all the time I have watched them not one of the crowd has sent a wireless message, mailed a letter or engaged in intimate conversation with any people outside their own homes. And I have made certain that members of the family have not carried the messages on.’

‘Then why do you suspect them? They sound blameless.’

‘Yes, entirely too much so!’ Masters’s tone was savage. ‘An innocent man posts a letter now and then. He also gets chummy with other men. These men don’t. Besides – and I’ll admit that this feature occurred to me after I had them nailed down – I have evidence to prove that the specifications of the chloropicrin-phosgene mine passed through these particular hands, not to mention other documents that Hindenburg would pay millions to possess. The last snarl in the thread I am following is a Mr Mesnil Phillips, a government inspector of ordnance. I am convinced that through him the news reaches the Germans, though how he does it I cannot pretend to say just yet.

‘The manner in which I have pinned down these men has not been spectacular in the least. Only five persons saw the specifications of the gas mine before it was taken to the ordnance factory at Jaques Corners. One of these was the President. Another was the Secretary of War.’

‘That leaves three possible suspects.’ I commented.

‘Yes,’ answered Masters in a solemn voice, ‘and it is a dreadful thing to know that individuals even in these lesser positions of trust can prove traitors.’

I moved uneasily. ‘But are you certain?’ I asked. ‘It seems to me that there ought to be plenty of chance for some mechanic or foreman or someone like that out at the manufacturing plant to send on the news.’

Masters shook his head. ‘No, it’s not possible. On the twelfth of November, 1917, the plans of this mine were submitted by one of our greatest military inventors.

‘He had worked alone on the project, and is a man who appreciates thoroughly the fact that secrecy is a prime factor in the success of any new machine. On the twenty-seventh of November the approved plans were placed in a time-lock safe at the factory. On the fourth of January of this year the first of the mines arrived at our front in France. On the evening of the thirteenth of January the Germans exploded an identical mine near St Mihiel. Making every allowance for the transmission of the plans, the lesser time required for transporting from Essen or Brandenburg, the finger points unerringly at the fifteen-day period elapsing before the plans reached the factory.’

‘Sounds a little shaky!’ I remarked dubiously.

‘In one case, yes,’ returned Masters. ‘I have followed through the gas mine with you because I mentioned it first. The infrangible part of the reasoning rests in the law of averages, however. I have established the same chain in no less than four other important instances. Even at that I never would dare to prefer charges of this sort without having every loophole covered. In the past three months I have directed a body of sixty picked secret-service agents. These have made it their business to know every movement during every second of waking time of all of the individuals who even might have obtained access to the plans at any time, but with negative results. I have data in hand to