Part 9 (1/2)
Clancy gave some telephonic instruction to the man on night duty at headquarters. He even dictated a paragraph for the press. Then he went straight to bed, for the hardiest detectives must sleep, and he had a full day's work before him when next the sun rose over New York.
He summed up Meiklejohn's action correctly. The Senator did not communicate with Mulberry Street during the night, so Clancy was an early visitor at his apartment.
”The Senator is ill and can see no one,” said the valet.
”No matter how ill he may be, he must see me,” retorted Clancy.
”But he musn't be disturbed. I have my orders.”
”Take a fresh set. He's going to be disturbed right now, by you or me.
Choose quick!”
The law prevailed. A few minutes later Senator Meiklejohn entered the library sitting-room, where the little detective awaited him. He looked wretchedly ill, but his sufferings were mental, not physical. Examined critically now, in the cold light of day, he was a very different man from the spruce, dandified politician and financier who figured so prominently among Van Hofen's guests the previous evening. Yet Clancy saw at a glance that the Senator was armed at all points. Diplomacy would be useless. The situation demanded a bludgeon. He began the attack at once.
”Why didn't you ring up Mulberry Street last night, Senator?” he said.
”I was too upset. My nerves were all in.”
”You told the patrolman at Eighty-sixth Street that you were hurrying away to break the news to Mrs. Tower, yet you did not go near her?”
Meiklejohn affected to consult Clancy's card to ascertain the detective's name.
”Perhaps I had better get in touch with the Bureau now,” he said, and a flush of anger darkened his haggard face.
”No need. The Bureau is right here. Let us get down to bra.s.s tacks, Senator. A woman named Rachel met you outside the Four Hundred Club at eight o'clock as you were coming out. You had just spoken to Mrs. Tower, when this woman told you that you must meet two men who would await you at the Eighty-sixth landing-stage at nine. You were to bring five hundred dollars. At nine o'clock these same men killed Mr. Tower, and you yourself admitted to me that they mistook him for you. Now, will you be good enough to fill in the blanks? Who is Rachel? Where does she live? Who were the two men? Why should you give them five hundred dollars, apparently as blackmail?”
Clancy was exceedingly disappointed by the result of this thunderbolt.
Any ordinary man would have shrivelled under its crus.h.i.+ng impact. If the police knew so much that might reasonably be regarded as secret, of what avail was further concealment? Yet Senator Meiklejohn bore up wonderfully. He showed surprise, as well he might, but was by no means pulverized.
”All this is rather marvelous,” he said slowly, after a long pause. He had avoided Clancy's gaze after the first few words, and sank into an armchair with an air of weariness that was not a.s.sumed.
”Simple enough,” commented the detective readily. Above all else he wanted Meiklejohn to talk. ”I was on duty outside the club, and heard almost every word that pa.s.sed between you and Rachel.”
”Well, well.”
The Senator arose and pressed an electric bell.
”If you don't mind,” he explained suavely, ”I'll order some coffee and rolls. Will you join me?”
This was the parry of a skilled duelist to divert an attack and gain breathing-time. Clancy rather admired such adroitness.
”Sorry, I can't on principle,” he countered.
”How--on principle?”
”You see, Senator, I may have to arrest you, and I never eat with any man with whom I may clash professionally.”
”You take risks, Mr. Clancy.”