Part 39 (1/2)
Mackay had rejoined us in time to hear the explanation. ”Ingenious,” he murmured. ”As ingenious as the methods used to murder the girl and her director.”
Breathless, Wagnalls returned with the collodion. We watched curiously as Kennedy poured it over the charred remains of the second order on the spindle. It seemed almost inconceivable that the remnants of the charred paper would even support the weight of the liquid, yet Kennedy used it with care, and slowly the collodion hardened before us, creating a tough transparent coating which held the tiny fibers of the slip together. At the same time the action of the collodion made the letters on the order faintly visible and readable.
”A little-known bank trick!” Kennedy told us.
Then he held the slip up to the light and the words were plain.
Wagnalls had been correct. The order from Manton was unmistakable. The can was to be kept in the negative vault for a week without being opened, until a certain party unnamed was to come to watch the development of the film.
The promoter wet his lips, uneasily. ”I--I never wrote that! It--it's my writing, all right, and my signature, but it's a forgery!”
XXIX
MICROSCOPIC EVIDENCE
Kennedy made some efforts to preserve the forged order which he had restored with the collodion, but I could see that he placed no great importance upon its possession. Gradually the yard of the studio had cleared of the employees, who had returned to their various tasks.
Under the direction of one stout individual who seemed to possess authority the fire apparatus had been replaced in a portable steel garage arranged for the purpose in a farther corner, and now several men were engaged in cleaning up the dirt and litter caused in the excitement.
Except in the bas.e.m.e.nt there were few signs of the blaze. Manton accompanied the fire chief to his car, then hurried up into the building without further notice of us. Mackay went to McGroarty's machine to claim the traveling bag containing our evidence. Kennedy and I started for the dressing rooms.
”I want to get blood smears of s.h.i.+rley and Marilyn,” he confided in a low voice. ”I shall have to think of some pretext.”
Neither of the two we sought were in their quarters and so we continued on into the studio. Here we found Kauf at work; at least he was engaged in a desperate attempt to get something out of his people.
”Ye G.o.ds, Gordon!” we heard him exclaim, as we made our way through the debris of the banquet set to the ballroom now dazzlingly bright under the lights. ”What if you do have to wear a bandage around your head?
It's a masked ball, isn't it? You've got a monk's cowl over everything but your features, haven't you?”
It struck me that the faces had never been more ghastly, although my reason convinced me it was simply the usual effect of the Cooper-Hewitt tubes. But there was no question but that the explosion had given everyone a bad fright, that not an actress or actor but would have preferred to have been nearly anywhere else but under the heat of the gla.s.s roof, now a constant reminder of the accident because of the gaping hole directly above them.
Marilyn was in the center of the revelers in the set, already in costume. s.h.i.+rley I saw close to the camera men, standing uneasily on shaky legs, s.h.i.+elding his eyes with one hand while he clung to a ma.s.sive sideboard for support with the other. He had not yet donned his carnival clothes, nor essayed to put on a make-up.
Enid Faye, the only one in sight whose spirits seemed to have rallied at all, was offering him comfort of a sort.
”You'll get by, all right, Merle, if you can keep on your pins, and I'll say you deserve credit for trying it. There's”--she stepped back a bit to study him--”there's just one thing. Your eyes show the result of all that smoke and vapor--no color or l.u.s.ter at all. I--I wonder if belladonna wouldn't brighten them up a bit and--well, get you by, for to-day?”
”I'll go out and get some at lunch.” He smiled weakly. ”I'll try anything once.”
”That's the spirit!” She patted him on the shoulder, then danced on into the center of the set, stopping to direct some barbed remark at Marilyn.
Kauf took his megaphone to call his people around him. There seemed to be a certain essential competence about the little man, now that Manton and Phelps and Millard were not about to bother him. While we watched he succeeded in photographing one of the full shots of the general action or atmosphere of the dance. Then he hurried to the side of s.h.i.+rley, to see if the heavy man felt equal to the task of resuming his make-up once more.
I found the time dragging heavy on my hands and I wished that Kennedy would return to the laboratory or decide upon some definite action.
Though I racked my brain, I failed to think of a device whereby Kennedy could get blood smears of s.h.i.+rley or Marilyn without their knowledge.
Once more my reflections veered around to the matter of the stolen towel and I wondered if that had been wasted effort on Kennedy's part; if the fire had thrown out his carefully arranged plans to trap whoever took it.
Suddenly I realized that Kennedy was following a very definite procedure, that his seeming indifference, his apparent idle curiosity concerning the scene taking, masked a settled purpose. When Phelps entered he approached him casually and turned to him with skilled nonchalance, holding up a finger.
”Will you lend me a pocket knife for a moment?” he asked, ”to get a hang-nail?”
Phelps produced one, rather grudgingly. Kennedy promptly went over to the window, as though seeking better light. Thereafter he avoided Phelps. Soon the banker had forgotten the incident.