Part 49 (1/2)

”No, you can't help me,” he said, simply. ”My time has come, Mary....

And I can save you a lot of trouble.”

”He's right there,” Burke e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”We've got him cold. So, what's the use of dragging you two into it?”

”Then, they go clear?” Garson exclaimed, eagerly. ”They ain't even to be called as witnesses?”

Burke nodded a.s.sent.

”You're on!” he agreed.

”Then, here goes!” Garson cried; and he looked expectantly toward the stenographer.

The strain of it all was sapping the will of the girl, who saw the man she so greatly esteemed for his service to her and his devotion about to condemn himself to death. She grew half-hysterical. Her words came confusedly:

”No, Joe! No, no, no!”

Again, Garson shook his head in absolute refusal of her plea.

”There's no other way out,” he declared, wearily. ”I'm going through with it.” He straightened a little, and again looked at the stenographer. His voice came quietly, without any tremulousnesss.

”My name is Joe Garson.”

”Alias?” Burke suggested.

”Alias nothing!” came the sharp retort. ”Garson's my monaker. I shot English Eddie, because he was a skunk, and a stool-pigeon, and he got just what was coming to him.” Vituperation beyond the mere words beat in his voice now.

Burke twisted uneasily in his chair.

”Now, now!” he objected, severely. ”We can't take a confession like that.”

Garson shook his head--spoke with fiercer hatred, ”because he was a skunk, and a stool-pigeon,” he repeated. ”Have you got it?” And then, as the stenographer nodded a.s.sent, he went on, less violently: ”I croaked him just as he was going to call the bulls with a police-whistle. I used a gun with smokeless powder. It had a Maxim silencer on it, so that it didn't make any noise.”

Garson paused, and the set despair of his features lightened a little.

Into his voice came a tone of exultation indescribably ghastly. It was born of the eternal egotism of the criminal, fattening vanity in gloating over his ingenuity for evil. Garson, despite his two great virtues, had the vices of his cla.s.s. Now, he stared at Burke with a quizzical grin crooking his lips.

”Say,” he exclaimed, ”I'll bet it's the first time a guy was ever croaked with one of them things! Ain't it?”

The Inspector nodded affirmation. There was sincere admiration in his expression, for he was ready at all times to respect the personal abilities of the criminals against whom he waged relentless war.

”That's right, Joe!” he said, with perceptible enthusiasm.

”Some cla.s.s to that, eh?” Garson demanded, still with that gruesome air of boasting. ”I got the gun, and the Maxim-silencer thing, off a fence in Boston,” he explained. ”Say, that thing cost me sixty dollars, and it's worth every cent of the money.... Why, they'll remember me as the first to spring one of them things, won't they?”

”They sure will, Joe!” the Inspector conceded.

”n.o.body knew I had it,” Garson continued, dropping his braggart manner abruptly.

At the words, Mary started, and her lips moved as if she were about to speak.

Garson, intent on her always, though he seemed to look only at Burke, observed the effect on her, and repeated his words swiftly, with a warning emphasis that gave the girl pause.