Part 24 (2/2)

”I wish to speak with Mr. Sands,” he said. ”This is Police Headquarters.”

The attorney came to the wire.

”This is Lieutenant Britz,” said the detective. ”I believe you were one of the attorneys for Mr. Whitmore.”

”I did a very small part of his legal work,” came the reply.

”You drew his will, didn't you?”

”Yes.”

”Where was the will signed?”

”In my office.”

”Who, beside you and Mr. Whitmore knew the provisions of the will?”

”No one that I am aware of. Mr. Whitmore was especially anxious that the utmost secrecy should be observed with regard to it. The witnesses to the doc.u.ment are clerks in my office, and they were not permitted to read the will. After it was executed it was sealed in a heavy envelope and carried away by Mr. Whitmore. I believe he intrusted it to his confidential secretary.”

”Thank you!” said Britz, returning the receiver to the hook. ”The seals were intact when we opened the envelope,” he recalled to the chief. ”I don't believe the contents of that doc.u.ment were communicated to anyone before we read the will. That eliminates the theory that Ward, or Collins, or Mrs. Collins killed Whitmore in order to obtain the inheritance.”

”And except to get the fortune, what possible motive could Mrs. Collins or Ward have for seeking Whitmore's death?” asked the chief.

”I don't know.” Britz shrugged. ”As the case stands, Collins appears to be the only one with sufficient motive for the crime. Yet I am fully convinced that Collins didn't do it.”

CHAPTER XVI

At a window of the Cosmos Club, overlooking Fifth avenue, two men were seated. It was dusk, and thick shadows filled the unlighted clubroom, concealing the faces of the men from the countless eyes of the men and women pa.s.sing in parade beneath the window.

From where they sat the two men could observe the endless procession in the street, while keeping an eye on the door leading from the room into the main corridor of the big clubhouse. One of the men--the younger of the two--appeared uneasy over something, even rebellious at times. His sallow complexion had taken on a muddy hue in the semi-darkness of the room, giving his face the appearance of a compact shadow outlined against the heavy brown leather chair in which he sat. From beneath a slightly receding forehead two l.u.s.terless eyes peered apprehensively about the room, and each time the door opened the man started violently in his seat.

The occupant of the second chair was a middle-aged man of somewhat ruddy complexion, smooth-shaven, with an expression habitually alert, yet concealed by a free-and-easy manner and an ingratiating smile that seemed to stamp him as one of those genial souls in whom no harm can reside. Yet the younger man appeared to regard him with sullen fear.

”It's a sort of dirty, underhand thing to do, Fanwell,” he was protesting to his companion. ”Not a bit clubby.”

Fanwell remained entirely unabashed beneath this surly reproof.

”Look here, Cooper!” He moved his chair a trifle closer. ”You don't have to do it--I can't make you. But you know the consequences. You know as well as I that the chief isn't doing favors for nothing. He let you stay out of jail because he figured on using you some day. Your day of usefulness has arrived. If I could rope Collins without you I'd do it.

But I can't play a waiting game. You've got to introduce me and stand by until I tip you off to go!”

Cooper squirmed in his seat. He might revolt at the other's a.s.sumption of authority over him, but he was aware that in the end he would surrender. He was not in a position to incur the displeasure of the police.

Thomas Taylor Cooper was one of those men-about-town, without visible means of support, who always manage to maintain an outward show of wealth. No club is so exclusive that it does not contain one or more members of the Cooper type. Their pedigrees are without blemish. Their social position is secure through a long line of honorable ancestors.

But their means of livelihood are precarious. Friends and fellow club members may wonder where they obtain the money for their dues, but somehow their curiosity seldom inspires them to investigate.

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