Part 27 (1/2)
”Where'd you get them?” he asked helplessly.
”In your house,” answered the detective. ”I searched the premises this afternoon.”
Collins looked appealingly from the detective to his friends. They had listened to Britz's recital with impa.s.sive countenances, and their expressions did not change as they met Collins's gaze.
”What right had you to search my house?” demanded Collins. ”I'm not accused of any crime.”
”Not yet,” agreed Britz. ”But the circ.u.mstances which I have mentioned may make it necessary for a formal accusation to be lodged against you.”
Again Collins displayed remarkable recuperative power. A few moments ago he had seemed on the verge of utter collapse. Now he stiffened with a new accession of courage. Britz, studying this weakling, discerned unmistakable signs that Collins's courage was not drawn from any internal spring. It was communicated to him from without, probably by some dominating mind to whose guidance he had agreed to submit. His strength was continually replenished through reliance on someone in whose judgment he had an abiding faith; a faith that even Britz's convincing recital of condemning circ.u.mstances was unable to shake. The detective determined to ascertain who had advised Collins, who had outlined rules for his safe conduct through the tortuous channels into which he had plunged when he announced his intention of killing Whitmore.
”Do you wish to advise with anyone before answering my questions?” asked Britz.
”I won't talk--I won't do anything without the consent of my lawyer.”
”Oh, so you've engaged a lawyer!” sneered Britz, as if he interpreted the hiring of an attorney as additional proof of guilt. ”Who is he?”
”Mr. Thomas Luckstone.” Collins could see no harm in revealing that one of the shrewdest lawyers in the city was looking after his interests.
”And he has advised you to remain silent?”
”I've been around this town long enough to learn the value of silence.
Luckstone didn't have to tell me that.”
”Well, what's the use of trying to give you a chance?” Britz fired at him. ”I've got enough evidence now to convict you. I guess I'll just proceed to lock you up and let Luckstone try to get you out.”
Ever since Whitmore's death Collins had been steeling himself for precisely this situation. He was sufficiently experienced in the ways of the world to know that the police investigation must eventually lead to him. This belief was confirmed daily as he read the developments of the case in the newspapers. Soon or late, the police would demand that he explain his conduct. And failure to do so would be fraught with sure consequences.
Britz, silently a.n.a.lyzing Collins's refusal to unbosom himself, concluded that only some extreme measure could drag the truth from his unwilling lips. It was to be seen that life in jail held no allurements for Collins. Ordinarily he would fight desperately against even temporary detention. That he was ready to submit unprotestingly now, argued an acquiescence in some agreement into which he and the other suspects had entered for mutual safety and protection. Under pressure of third degree methods Collins might falter, but in the end his natural suspicion and dislike for the police, combined with the advice which his lawyer had imparted to him, would prevail over the best efforts of his inquisitors.
At any rate, Britz recognized that the time had not arrived for exerting the full measure of authority over Collins. So he determined to change his tactics, but in a way not to inspire Collins with an exultant sense of victory.
Britz pa.s.sed a wink to Fanwell, who nodded understandingly. Up to this time no glint of recognition had pa.s.sed between them, and they were careful to hide their silent signal from Collins.
Ostentatiously, and with some display of temper, Britz removed the revolver and the other exhibits from the table and restored them to his pockets. After which he produced a pair of handcuffs, opening one of the steel bracelets with a sharp click.
”Collins, extend your wrist!” he commanded, thrusting forward the open ring.
Before Collins had time to obey, Fanwell discarded the air of aloofness with which he had watched the proceedings and stepped between the two men.
”This is an outrage!” he exclaimed, addressing Britz. ”What right have you to come here and question this man, then arrest him without a warrant? I protest against these proceedings! I won't permit Mr. Collins to submit!”
Britz turned fiercely on him.
”Who are you?” he roared, as if aroused to a burning fury.
”I am a friend of Mr. Collins,” returned Fanwell. ”I won't permit a friend of mine to be dragged to prison this way.”
”Be careful--you are interfering with an officer of the law,” cautioned Britz.