Part 8 (2/2)
Morgan remained silent.
”I could not help noticing,” continued Marsh, ”that the man who had been conducting an investigation in this house was keeping watch across the street. Happening to glance back after entering a taxicab yesterday, I observed this man entering another taxi, which followed mine downtown. It was obvious to the most ordinary intelligence that he was following me. After I reached the 'loop' district I was absolutely sure of it. Then, when I returned and found footmarks in my apartment, it was quite evident that someone had been investigating.”
Morgan was stunned. ”Footmarks!” he thought. ”Had Tierney been so clumsy and careless as to enter the flat with muddy shoes?”
Something had to be done to cover an awkward pause, and give him a chance to gather his wits, so Morgan took out the package of cigarettes. After helping himself to one, he tossed the package to Marsh. Morgan noted with satisfaction that the man took one before handing the package back. Marsh smoked cigarettes!
”Why did you follow Miss Atwood?” Morgan suddenly shot at him.
Marsh's face expressed surprise. ”Follow Miss Atwood!” he exclaimed.
”That's what it looked like,” a.s.serted Morgan.
”Well, that WAS a strange coincidence,” commented Marsh.
Morgan found it hard to determine whether this was a reply or an evasion. He decided, however, that matters had gone far enough, and that Marsh must either prove himself innocent, or stay in jail until they could definitely fasten his guilt upon him. To bring matters to a head, he reached into his pocket for the cablegram.
”You said that Mr. Ames, the man who rents the flat upstairs, was a friend of yours.”
”I believe I did,” admitted Marsh.
”Well, I have a cablegram here from Mr. Ames,” stated Morgan, as he brought out the paper. ”Read it.”
Marsh leaned forward, took the cablegram, read it gravely, and returned it to Morgan.
”You have certainly got me tied up,” he said.
”Tight as a drum!” agreed Morgan. ”The game's up, Marsh. You're coming with me to Headquarters.”
”I'm afraid you have sort of spilled the beans, Morgan,” laughed Marsh, rising.
Morgan, however, was used to the last minute plays of cornered criminals. Leaning back in his chair, and smiling encouragingly, his hands, without seeming purpose, were slipped into the side pockets of his coat. The right hand quickly gripped a revolver in readiness.
”Yes,” continued Marsh, ”I had hoped to work quietly, but this incident has upset my plans. Yet, after all, perhaps we can work together with greater success.”
”Now we come to the 'divvy' proposition,” thought Morgan. He remained expectantly silent, however, and his face still wore its encouraging smile.
Marsh came closer and the end of the concealed revolver barrel moved upward just a trifle. The next moment the smile on Morgan's face faded out and his eyes filled with an astonished stare.
Marsh had thrown back his coat, revealing the badge of the United States Secret Service!
CHAPTER VIII
A DEFINITE CLUE
”You can take your hand off that gun now,” suggested Marsh, as he smiled at Morgan and went back to his chair. ”I'll tell you my part of the story, and perhaps we'll find in the end that two heads are better than one.”
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