Part 19 (1/2)
”Seems kind of dangerous, under the circ.u.mstances,” remonstrated Morgan.
”On the contrary, the man who fired that shot is probably miles away by this time. He is doubtless laughing to think of fat policemen crawling around over the benches up there right now.”
”They would have been,” admitted Morgan, ”if I had been alone. As it was, I left it to you to do what you thought best.”
”I have a special reason, however, for lighting the lamp and pulling down the shades,” explained Marsh. ”It is just possible that another member of the gang is watching out there for me to leave. Pulling down the shades and lighting up will lead him to think I am still here. In the meantime, I am about to slip down your back stairs.”
”Where are you going to stay tonight?” inquired Morgan.
”Home, of course.”
”I admire your nerve!” exclaimed Morgan. ”Sleeping up in that place all alone, with these fellows hot on your trail.”
Marsh laughed. ”Seems to me they're pretty close to your house, too, Morgan. Aren't you going to sleep at home?”
”Yes,” said Morgan, grinning, ”but somehow or other that big, half-furnished place of yours seems more dismal and open to the enemy than my little home here with a police station only a couple of blocks away.”
”You forget that I have two policemen on guard up there. They've not been ordered off yet. If I were to let my imagination scare me to death, Morgan, I would have been out of the Government service long ago. This experience is no worse than some of the things I went through during the war.”
”Now, before I go, there are two matters I should like you and Tierney to look up for me. First, locate a man named Nolan, who was formerly Mr. Merton's chauffeur. Find out what he has been doing for the last week or two; particularly where he was last Monday night.
Nolan is the man who is supposed to have telephoned Merton.”
”Then try to get a line on Gilbert Hunt; how long he has been with Merton, and things of that sort. I will look for you at my apartment Monday evening. If anything important should happen in the meantime, try to get me on the telephone. Now, I'm going.”
As they pa.s.sed through the apartment, Morgan said, ”I'm sorry you didn't meet my mother. She never interrupts conferences, and has gone to bed by this time.”
”There will be many other opportunities, I hope,” returned Marsh.
By this time they had reached the back door, and after a silent handshake, Marsh slipped quietly down the rear stairs, then through the alley to Addison Street, where he boarded an elevated train and went home.
He was re-a.s.sured by the careful way in which the officer on duty in front of his house scrutinized him as he pa.s.sed, and went upstairs and straight to bed. It had been a busy day and Marsh had many half-formed plans for the morrow.
CHAPTER XVI
THE CLOSED COUNTRY HOUSE
Sunday morning was gray and dark, with low-hanging clouds and a frosty snap in the air that gave the city its first touch of real autumn weather. Returning from breakfast, Marsh lit the gas logs in his fireplace and sat down before their cheery blaze to smoke and think.
Step by step he a.n.a.lyzed and strove to connect the developments of the last few days. The case was strange in many ways. With numerous clues, suspicions circ.u.mstances and half-identified people on every hand, there was no one feature upon which definite action could be taken. Atwood was the most elusive criminal he had ever pursued.
Never at any time had the man become an actual personality. Like a will-o'-the-wisp, he was ever in sight, yet just beyond reach. While the detectives struggled along tangled paths that led nowhere, Atwood's long arm continually reached out to strike back.
As he thought along these lines, an explanation slowly took form in Marsh's mind. In some of its features it seemed weird and unreal.
This, perhaps, was due to the fact that the few definite pieces of information in his possession had to be largely supported and connected by theories and deductions. Strange as the explanation might seem, it nevertheless gave birth to a well-defined plan of action.
In this way the morning slipped by and Marsh was surprised, on looking at his watch, to find that it was nearly noon. He went to his telephone, called the Monmouth Hotel, and asked to speak to Miss Atwood. When the girl answered the telephone, Marsh inquired if she would care to have dinner with him. The invitation was accepted with quite evident pleasure on the girl's part, and Marsh soon left to keep his appointment with her. On his way to the hotel, Marsh stepped into a cigar store, looked up Gilbert Hunt's telephone number, and made an appointment for the evening. Marsh took this precaution of telephoning Hunt from a pay station because a telephone call is easily traced, and he had not yet decided to advise Hunt of his real address.
Jane Atwood joined Marsh in the lobby of the hotel, and the friendliness of her greeting made him glad of his decision to take her on the trip he had planned for the afternoon.