Part 35 (1/2)

The boys down here are getting lax and I'm going to make trouble.”

Manton turned back and called to the boy outside. ”Where did you say Wagnalls went?”

”I don't know, sir! Sometimes he goes across to McCann's for a cup of coffee, or maybe he went up to the printing department.”

Manton faced us once more. ”If you'll excuse me just a moment I'm going to see who's responsible for this. Why,” he sputtered, ”if you hadn't called me around the rack I wouldn't have noticed that the door was open and then, if there had been a fire--I--I'll be right back!”

As Manton stormed off Kennedy smiled slightly, then nodded for me to follow. We pa.s.sed through into the rooms for positive storage. These in turn had fireproof connecting doors, all of which were open. In each case Kennedy closed them. Eventually we emerged into the main part of the bas.e.m.e.nt through the farther vault door. Nothing of a suspicious nature had caught our attention. I guessed that Kennedy simply had wished to cover the carelessness of the vault man in leaving the inner doors wide open.

At the entrance which had first admitted us to the negative room, however, Kennedy stooped suddenly. At the very moment he bent forward I caught the glint of something bright behind the heavy steel door, and in the shadow so that it had escaped us before. As he rose I leaned over. It was a cigarette case, a very handsome one with large initials engraved with deep skillful flourish.

”Who is 'J. G.'?” Kennedy asked.

I felt a quiver of excitement. ”Jack Gordon, the leading man.”

”What's an actor doing down in the film vaults?” he muttered.

Slipping the case into his pocket, he glanced about on the floor and something just within the negative room caught his eye. Once more he bent down. With a speculative expression he picked up the cork-tipped stub of a cigarette.

At this instant Manton returned, breathing hard as though his pursuit of the missing Wagnalls had been very determined. The b.u.t.t in Kennedy's fingers attracted his attention at once.

”Did--did you find that here?” he demanded.

Kennedy pointed. ”Right there on the floor.”

”The devil!” Manton flushed red. ”This is no place to smoke. By--by all the wives of Goodwin and all the stars of Griffith I'm going to start firing a few people!” he sputtered. ”Here, sonny!” He jumped at the boy, frightening him. ”Close all these doors and turn the combinations.

Tell Wagnalls if he opens them before he sees me I'll commit battery on his nose.”

Kennedy continued to hold the stub, and as Manton preceded us up the stairs he hung back, comparing it with the few cigarettes left in the case. Unquestionably they were of the same brand.

On the studio floor Mackay was waiting for us. Under his arm was a reel of film in a can. He clutched it almost fondly.

”All ready!” he remarked, to Kennedy.

Kennedy's face was unrevealing as he faced Manton. ”This bit of film is valuable evidence also. I think perhaps it would be safer in that locker.”

”Anything at all we can do to help,” stated Manton, promptly. ”Shall I show you the way again?”

I produced the key, handing it to Kennedy as the four of us arrived in the corridor by the property room. Kennedy slipped the bit of metal into the lock; then simulated surprise very well indeed.

”The lock is broken!” he exclaimed. ”Some one has been here.”

Apparently the traveling bag had been undisturbed as we took it out.

Nevertheless, the paper containing the towel was gone.

”This is no joke, Mr. Kennedy,” protested Manton, in indignation.

”Where can I hire about a dozen good men to hang around and watch--and--and help you get to the bottom of this?”

Mackay, without releasing his grasp of the film, had been inspecting the broken lock.