Part 15 (1/2)

De Moche glanced at his watch. ”I have a lecture at this hour,” he remarked, evidently glad of an excuse to terminate the interview.

As he left, Kennedy accompanied him to the door, careful himself to step over the mat.

”h.e.l.lo, what's new?” we heard a voice in the hall.

It was Lockwood, who had come up from downtown. Catching sight of de Moche, however, he stopped short. The two young men met face to face.

Between them pa.s.sed a glance of unconcealed hostility, then each nodded stiffly.

De Moche turned to Kennedy as he pa.s.sed down the hall. ”Perhaps it may have been sent to divert suspicion--who can tell?” he whispered.

Kennedy nodded appreciatively, noting the change.

At the sound of Lockwood's voice both Norton and I had taken a step further after them out into the hall, Norton somewhat in advance. As de Moche disappeared for his lecture, Kennedy turned to me from Lockwood and caught my eye. I read in his glance that fell from me to the mat that he wished me quietly to abstract the piece of paper which he had placed under it. I bent down and did so without Lockwood seeing me.

”Why was he here?” demanded Lockwood, with just a trace of defiance in his voice, as though he fancied the meeting had been framed.

”I have been showing this to every one who might help me,” returned Kennedy, going back into the laboratory after giving me an opportunity to dispose of the shoe-prints.

He handed the anonymous letter and the other warnings to the young soldier of fortune, with a brief explanation.

”Why don't they come out into the open, whoever they are?” commented Lockwood, laying the papers down carelessly again on the table. ”I'll meet them--if they mean me.”

”Who?” asked Kennedy.

Lockwood faced Norton and ourselves.

”I'm not a mind reader,” he said significantly. ”But it doesn't take much to see that some one wants to throw a brick at me. When I have anything to say I say it openly. Inez Mendoza without friends just now would be a mark, wouldn't she?”

His strong face and powerful jaw were set in a menacing scowl. He would be a bold man who would have come between Lockwood and the lady under the circ.u.mstances.

”You are confident of Mr. Whitney?” inquired Kennedy.

”Ask Norton,” replied Lockwood briefly. ”He knew him long before I did.”

Norton smiled quietly. ”Mr. Kennedy should know what my opinion of Mr.

Whitney is, I think,” replied Norton confidently.

”I trust that you will succeed in running these blackmailers down,”

pursued Lockwood, still standing. ”If I did not have more than I can attend to already since the murder of Mendoza I'd like to take a hand myself. It begins to look to me, after reading that letter, as though there was nothing too low for them to attempt. I shall keep this latest matter in mind. If either Mr. Whitney or myself get any hint, we'll turn it over to you.”

Norton left shortly after Lockwood, and Kennedy again picked up the letter and scanned it. ”I could learn something, I suppose, if I a.n.a.lyzed this printing,” he considered, ”but it is a tedious process.

Let me see that envelope again. H-m, postmarked by the uptown sub-station, mailed late last night. Whoever sent it must have done so not very far from us here. Lockwood seemed to take it as though it applied to himself very readily, didn't he? Much more so than de Moche.

Only for the fact that the fibres show it to be on paper similar to the first warnings, I might have been inclined to doubt whether this was bona fide. At least, the sender must realize now that it has produced no appreciable effect--if any was intended.”

Kennedy's last remark set me thinking. Could some one have sent the letter not to produce the effect apparently intended, but with the ultimate object of diverting suspicion from himself? Lockwood, at least, had not seemed to take the letter very seriously.