Wildly racing through the night, missing other cars
by a breath, the visible car continued its pursuit of - what?
On Lees' quick and clever action depended the life
of "Old Perk" Ferguson, the millionaire manufacturer threatened by
the uncanny, invisible killer.
The inquest into
the mysterious death of Darius Darrow, savant, inventor, recluse and eccentric,
resembled a scientific convention. Men and women of high scientific attainment,
and, in some instances, world fame, attended to hear first hand the strange,
uncanny, unbelievable circumstances as hinted by the newspapers.
Mrs. Susan
Darrow, the widow, was the paramount witness. She appeared a quaint figure as
she took the stand. Tearful, yet alert, this little woman betrayed the
intelligence that had made her one of the world's foremost chemists. She gave
her age as fifty-eight, but if it had not been for her snowy hair she would
have looked much younger. She was small but not frail, and had expressive blue
eyes. She had a firm little nose and chin, and was garbed in black silk
garments of a fashion evidently dating back a decade.
Although not
modern in dress, her answers to questions regarding scientific and business
affairs involved in the mysterious case, proved she was thoroughly abreast of
the times in all other particulars.
"You believe
your husband was murdered?" bluntly asked the examiner at one stage.
"That is my
opinion," she said, then added: "It might have been some scientific
accident, the nature of which I cannot fathom. We were confidential in all
matters except my husband's work. He reserved the right to be secretive about
the scientific problems on which he was working."
"Can you
throw any light on a motive for such a crime?"
"The motive
seems self-evident. He was working on an invention that he said would do away
with war and would make the owner of the device a practical world dictator,
should he choose to exercise such power. The device was completed. The murderer
killed him to secure his device. That all seems plain enough."
"Was
anything else of value taken?"
"We had
nothing else of value about the place. I was never given to jewelry. The furnishings
and equipment were undisturbed. It is quite evident, I think, that the thief
was no ordinary petty burglar."
The attorney
interposed: "I believe we had better let Mrs. Darrow tell this story from
the beginning in her own way. There are only two really important witnesses.
Whatever she can remember to recite might be of value to the authorities. Now,
Mrs. Darrow, how long had you lived at Brooknook? Begin there and just let your
story unfold. Try to control your nerves and emotions."
"I am not emotional.
I am not nervous," said the quaint little woman, bravely. "My heart
hurts, that is all.
"The place
was named by my father. We inherited it at his death, thirty years ago, and
moved in. My two children were born and died there. At first we kept the
servants and maintained all of the thirty-two rooms. But after the children
were gone, we both gave ourselves over to study and we began to close one room
after another, releasing the servants one by one."
"How many
rooms do you occupy now?"
"We lived in
three, a living-room, kitchen and bedroom. The two big parlors were turned into
a laboratory. We both worked there. It was there my husband met his death at
his work. Sometimes we worked
together, sometimes independently. I did all my own housework, except the
laundry, which I sent out. We had no visitors. We lived for each other and our
work."
"Tell us
about the rooms that were not occupied."
"We left
them just as they always had been. I have not been in any of these rooms for
twenty years. Once I looked into the little girl's room - my daughter's room.
It was dusty and cobwebby, but undisturbed by human hand. My husband peered in
over my shoulder. I closed the door. We turned away in each other's arms."
Here the little
old woman fell to weeping softly into her lace handkerchief. Minutes lapsed as
the court waited, respecting her grief.
"Were these
rooms locked?" asked the attorney finally.
"No,"
said the widow, recovering, as she dabbed at her eyes. "We feared no one.
All the rooms were closed, but not locked. The outside doors were seldom
locked. We lived in our own world. For appearance sake we kept up the grounds.
Peck, the gardener, kept the grounds, as you know. He called in outside help
when necessary. This was his affair. We never bothered him. He lived probably a
half mile up the road. The first of each month he would come for his pay. He
was practically our only visitor.
"When it was
necessary to see our attorney or other connections, Peck would drive us. At
first he used to drive our horses. Ten years ago we pastured the horses for
life and bought the small car. We seldom went out. We have no close friends and
no relatives nearer than the Pacific coast. They are distant cousins. You see,
we were rather alone in the world since the children went away - we never spoke
of them as being dead."
Again the court
was hushed. The coroner and the attorney took occasion to blow their noses
rather violently.
"On May
27th, the day your husband died, what happened, as you re-remember it?"
asked the attorney.
"We arose
and had breakfast as usual. I was puttering about the rooms. My husband kissed
me and started for the laboratory. I was in the kitchen. It was about ten
o'clock when I finished in the kitchen and went into the living room which
adjoins the laboratory. I had been rather fretted, something unusual for me. It
seemed I dimly sensed the presence of someone near me, someone I did not know,
an outsider. I thought it was foolish of me and buckled up.
"But when I
went into the living room, it seemed as if some invisible presence were
following me. I could hear the low hum of my husband's device. The door of the
laboratory was open. He called to me and said:
"'Sue dear,
it seems strange, but I made two models of this set and now I can find only
one. You could not have misplaced the other by any chance, could you?'
"I assured
him I knew nothing of it and he said, 'Hum-m, that's funny.' Then he went back
into the library and closed the door. The humming continued. I was more annoyed
than ever, but I did not want to bother my husband. Then a queer thing
happened. I saw the door of the laboratory open and close, but I did not see
anyone. The next instant, I heard my husband's outcry. It was more a groan than
a scream.
"I rushed
into the laboratory. My husband was lying by his slate-topped table. The
device, I noticed, was gone. It was no bigger than a coffee-mill, I thought, as
I bent over my husband. Strange how such a thought could have crowded in at
such a time.
"My
husband's head was bleeding. It was cut, a long gash over the ear, just below
the bald spot. It must have been a frightful blow. I looked in his eyes. My
nurse's and pharmaceutical course gave me knowledge which sent a chill to my
heart. He was dead. I must have fainted.
"When I
recovered I ran for Peck. I found him near the house, coming my way and holding
his right eye.
"'Something
struck me,' he said. Then, seeing me so pale, he said, 'My God! Mrs. Darrow,
what has happened?'
"'Run for
the doctor,' I said. When the doctor came he called the police and coroner.
They told me not to disturb the body. Later they took it away, and the gardener
told me -"
"Never mind
what Peck told you," interrupted the attorney. "We will let him tell
it. Is that all you can tell us about the death itself?"
But the widow was
weeping now, so violently that the court ordered her excused.
The gardener was
called and took the stand displaying a big, black eye, which offered comedy
relief to a pathetic situation.
"On the main
road to the east," he began after preliminary questioning, "was a
small car which had been parked there all morning. I noticed it because it had
no license plates. It was visible from the inside of the grounds, but was
hidden from the road by a hedge. It made me wonder because it was just inside
our grounds.
"I had some
very special red flags which I planted as a border back of pink geraniums. They
were doing fine. I got them from the Fabrish seed house. There are no plants
like Fabrish's - I wouldn't give a snap of my finger for all the other -"
"Just a
minute," interrupted the attorney. He told the gardener to never mind the
geraniums and flags, but to tell just what happened.
"Well, I was
bending over the border bed when I heard sounds like someone running along the
gravel path towards me. I heard a humming like a bumble bee and I jumped to my
feet. Just then something hit me in the eye and knocked me down. Yes sir,
knocked me plumb down, and -"
"Then what
happened? Never mind the asides, the extras - tell us just the simple
facts," instructed the attorney.
"Well, you
won't believe it, but I heard the footsteps leave the road. The geraniums were
badly trampled. I looked at the parked automobile and could hear the hum coming
from there.
"The machine
started and turned into the road -"
"Did you
notice anyone at the wheel?"
"That's what
you're not going to believe. There wasn't anybody in that auto at all. I didn't
see anyone at any time. The auto started itself, and what is more, that auto
only went about a hundred yards when it disappeared altogether - like that - like
a flash."
"Did it turn
off the road?"
"I didn't
turn anywhere. It was in the middle of the road. It just disappeared right in
the middle of the road. It started without a driver, it turned north without a
driver, and went on by itself for about a hundred yards. Then it vanished in
the middle of the road. Just dropped out of sight."
The court-room
was hushed. The audience and court attaches were awe stricken and looked their
incredulity.
"Do you mean
to tell us that auto drove itself?" asked the court sternly.
The witness was
completely confused. The attorney came to his rescue, looked at the court, and
said:
"He has told
that same story a hundred times, and he will stick to it. It seems impossible,
but has not Mrs. Darrow told us she heard this humming and saw nothing? With
the purely perfunctory recitals of the doctor and the constabulary this court
and the jury have heard all there is to hear. We have no more witnesses. That
is all there is.
"The jury
will have to decide from the evidence whether this case is accident or murder.
The doctor and two experts have reported that the wound appeared to have been
made by some blunt instrument, swung powerfully. The skull under the wound and
back of the ear was simply crushed. Death was instantaneous. It all happened in
broad daylight."
After an hour's
deliberation the jury decided the savant came to his death in his laboratory
from a blow on the skull received in some manner unknown.
The crowd filed
out, spiritedly discussing the unusual crime. In the crowd was Perkins
Ferguson, known as "Old Perk," head of the Schefert Engineering
Corporation, who paid royalty on some of the Darrow patents. With him was Damon
Farnsworth, his first vice-president.
"Well, what
do you think of it?" asked Farnsworth, biting into a black cigar.
"Damned
weird, isn't it?" replied "Old Perk." "I have my own
theory, however," he added, "but I am going to know a whole lot more
about this case before I venture it." The pair climbed into Ferguson's car
discussing the Darrow death case with furrowed brows.
What might be
termed an extraordinary meeting of the directors of the Schefert Engineering
Corporation, was held a few days later in a big building in the financial
district.
The rich
furnishings of the directors' room indicated, better than Bradstreet's, the
great wealth of the corporation. Uniformed pages stood at attention at each end
of the long, mahogany table at which were seated the fourteen directors of the
company. All were men of wealth, standing and engineering knowledge. The departed
Darrow often had been summoned to such meetings, and at this one there was a
hush because of his recent demise.
After a batch of
preliminary business had been transacted, Ferguson arose and cleared his
throat. The directors leaned forward in their chairs expectantly. The page boys
lost their mechanical attitude for the instant and fairly craned their necks
around the bulks of the forms in front of them.
"The Darrow
case has taken a sudden and sinister turn," said the president. "I
have a letter. I will read it:
"Old Perk: Get wise to yourself. We
are in a position to destroy you and all the pot-bellies in the Wall Street
crowd. If you want to die of old age, remember what happened to Darrow and
begin declaring us in on Wall Street dividends. If you do not you will follow
Darrow in the same way.
"Our first demand is for $100,000.
Leave this amount in hundreds and fifties in the rubbish can at the corner of
50th Street and Broadway at 10 A. M. next Thursday. If you fail we will break
your damned neck. Bring the police with you if you like.
Invisible Death.
Ferguson passed
the letter around for inspection. It was painstakingly printed, evidently from
the type in a rubber stamp set such as is sold in toy stores.
"I have
decided," said Perkins at length, "to give this case to Walter Lees.
He has never failed us in mechanical, chemical, or any form of scientific
problem. I hope he will not fail in this. He will work independently of the
police, who have requested that we keep the appointment at 50th Street and
Broadway at the hour named. We will deposit a roll of newspapers, around which
has been wrapped a fifty dollar bill and then we will stand by while the
awaiting detectives do their duty."
"You do not
think anyone is going to call for any supposed package of money at one of the
most congested corners in the world in broad daylight?" asked a director
at the end of the table.
"Why
not?" asked Ferguson. "A seedy individual could pick a package from a
rubbish bin at that corner without attracting the least attention."
"I guess
you're right," agreed the doubting one.
"I know I'm
right," said the president. And he usually was.
"I have
already arranged to have Lees instructed in his work," Ferguson
volunteered as a pause came in the buzz of conversation about the table.
"Lees is young, but he is capable." There was general discussion of
the strange case of Darius Darrow; the room filled with the blue haze of many
cigars.
Suddenly a low,
humming sound was heard in the room.
Papers on the
directors' table were bunched as if by unseen hands, and thrown to the ceiling,
from which they descended like flakes of snow and scattered about the room.
A book of minutes
was torn from the hands of a secretary. It was raised and brought down on
vice-president Farnsworth's head. A chair was pulled out from under another
director and he was deposited in an undignified heap on the floor.
Another director
acted as though he had been tripped, and he fell on top of Farnsworth. Two big
vases crashed to the floor in bits. Other decorative objects were scattered
about.
The directors who
had been hurtled to the floor stood up with expressions of comical surprise on
their features. Their chairs catapulted into a far corner of the room, one
after the other.
Startled
expressions resounded from the group.
A small bookcase
fell on its front with a crash of glass. Ferguson's cane jumped in the air and
crashed a window pane.
The humming
ceased suddenly.
The room was a
wreck. The assembled men stood aghast. They were simply nonplussed. Finally
they phoned for the police.
After hearing the
strange recital from so many highly reputable witnesses, a detective sergeant,
who had responded to the call with others, reported to headquarters.
A uniformed
police guard was sent to the place with instructions to remain on duty until
relieved.
Ferguson sent for
Walter Lees, the young engineer of whom he had spoken to the directorate.
Assigned to the task of unraveling the Darrow death mystery, Lees ran true to
form by getting busy at once. This was at midnight of the day of the surprising
directors' meeting. Lees owned a big car; he piled into it and started for the
scene of the crime.
Daybreak found
him examining every inch of the road around the Darrow estate. Then he searched
the hedge along the east road, where the phantom auto had disappeared after the
crime. The brush along the opposite side of the thoroughfare was also gone
over.
Passing autos had
stopped to ask the meaning of his flashlight. Lees explained he had lost a
pocketbook. It was as good an excuse as any and served to keep him from drawing
a crowd. He found nothing to reward his long and painstaking efforts.
At seven A. M. he
decided to interview the Darrow widow, and found her already up and about her
kitchen, weeping softly as she worked.
She bade him be
seated in the living room.
"No, I am
not afraid to stay here alone," she said in reply to Lees' first question.
"Whoever killed my husband did so to get possession of his second model.
They had already stolen the first. I have thought since that they were afraid
that the finding of the second model after his death would aid in their
detection. For some reason they had to have both models."
She agreed to
tell all she knew of the case. Lees listened to the long recital as already
recorded at the coroner's inquest. By adroit questioning Lees gained just one
new fact. Mrs. Darrow remembered that she had called her husband, just before
he retired to his laboratory, to fix a towel hanger in the kitchen. "He
found the pivot needed oiling," explained the widow. "That was all.
He oiled it and went into the laboratory."
The idea of one
of the world's greatest mechanical engineers stopping his work to oil a towel
hanger caused Lees to smile, but Mrs. Darrow did not smile.
"My husband
was a genius at repairing about the house," she said, in all seriousness.
"I can
imagine so," agreed Lees.
The conversation
ceased. Lees sat for a few minutes with his head in his hands, thinking deeply.
Finally he said:
"I am
convinced that someone who was well aware of your husband's habits committed
this crime. Do you believe, positively, that the gardener is above
suspicion?"
"Oh, it
couldn't have been Peck," insisted Mrs. Darrow. "I had seen him down
near the gate from the window. He was too far from the house, and besides, he
was devoted to us both."
"Then it was
somebody from the neighborhood," said Lees.
"Maybe
so," replied Mrs. Darrow, noncommittally.
"Who lives
in the next house south?"
"That is
towards the city," mused the widow. "There are no houses south on
either side of the road for a little further than a mile, when you reach the
town limits of Farsdale. The town line is about half-way between, and marks the
southern end of this estate."
"Who lives
in the first house to the north?"
"That is the
cottage of Peck, the gardener."
"How near is
the next house?"
"That was
the parcel my father sold. It is about three acres, and in the center, or about
the center, is the house built by Adolph Jouret, who bought the land. He lives
there with his daughter. They built a magnificent place. The brook that
traverses our grounds rises at a spring back of his house. Save for two West
Indian servants, they are alone. The servants live in Farsdale and motor back
and forth."
"What do you
know of this - what's his name?" queried Lees, who had assumed the role of
examiner.
"Jouret?
Very little. He is some sort of a circus man or showman, or was before he
retired. He once had wealth, but my husband, some weeks ago, said that because
of ill-advised investments he was not so well rated as formerly. I had the
feeling that he might be forced to give up the place. I just felt that. I never
heard it. I am so sorry because of the daughter. She is a beautiful girl, and
seemed kindly, the one time I saw her. She was about twelve then. I do not like
to say it, but she seemed a little dazed or slow witted, but really
beautiful." Mrs. Darrow fell to smoothing out the folds in her house apron
as Lees asked:
"When was
the only time you saw her?"
"Ten years
ago, about. Just after my father's death. They called on us. We did not care to
continue the friendship, as Jouret seemed a little flamboyant - his circus
nature, I suppose. Anyway, we were quiet folks, and there was no need of close
association with neighbors.
"I
remember," continued the widow, after a pause, "that Jouret, when he
heard my husband was a scientist, simulated an interest in science. He did have
a smattering knowledge of science, but he was plainly affected, so we decided
to just let him drop. No ill-feeling. We just - well, we were not
interested."
"You do not
approve of circus people?"
"It is not
that. Any honest work is honorable. It seems commendable to furnish amusement
for the public. I know little about people of his profession but I am sure they
are perfectly all right. It was Jouret, personally. He seemed noisy and insincere.
The girl was nice. I loved her."
"That is all
you know of the Jourets?"
"That is
all."
"Mrs.
Darrow, I wish to go through this house from attic to basement. Have you any
objections?"
"None
whatever. Make yourself free, but do not attach any significance to what
appears to be a secret passageway and cave. My father was a biological chemist.
He used to experiment much with small animals. He had a cave where he stored
chemicals, and I believe you will find old chemicals stored down there now. I disturbed
nothing."
The widow forced
a smile to her lips. "Will you excuse me?" she concluded. "I am
trying to carry on."
Lees, carrying a
flashlight, began a systematic search of the premises. He made his way up a
winding staircase, through dust and cobwebs to the attic. He found the top
story filled with trunks and bits of furniture of a previous generation. All
was in order, but dust-covered and cobwebby.
"Someone has
been here before me," he said to himself, brushing a mist of cobwebs from
his coat sleeves. "There is a path brushed through the spiderwebs."
Turning his flashlight on the floor, he exclaimed:
"And here
are footprints in the dust. Well I'll be -!"
Then, after some
study, he mused:
"Of course
there has been someone here. The killer of Darrow probably has been here to see
what he could see. It was no great task. The doors were never locked. The
footprints are of no value except to give me the size of his shoes."
He measured the
footprints carefully. Then he went downstairs and phoned the measurements to a
local shoe dealer, asking him to give him the trade size of shoes which would
make such prints.
"They are
number nines," decided the shoe dealer.
Lees then
returned to resume his search in the rooms and corridors.
"Wonder if
Jouret wears nines," he questioned himself. "But what if he does? I
couldn't convict him on that score. However, it might help."
Then he fell to
searching through the old trunks. He found old photographs, articles of
apparel, knickknacks - grandmother's and grandfather's belongings all of them,
and some children's clothes of the days when little boys wore ruffles about
their necks and little girls' pantalettes reached to their ankles.
Carefully each
article was replaced. He made his way down to the third and then the second
floor. Through cobwebby corridors and bedchambers he searched, but found
nothing further to aid his case.
In the unused
rooms on the first floor he found an old spinning-wheel, candle moulds and
utensils used in cooking in the days when housewives cooked over an open fire.
He did not find
the "secret" passageway until Mrs. Darrow came to his aid. Leading
from the basement was a coal chute. This shoot was formed in a triangle with
the point under a trap. It was man-high at the cellar opening and its floor was
a slide for fuel. It had been in use, evidently, quite recently.
At the cellar
wall of this chute, Mrs. Darrow pressed what appeared to be a knot in the old
timber and pushed open a door.
A dank odor
issued forth as the door was opened. Lees entered the passage and Mrs. Darrow
returned upstairs.
Following the
underground passageway, Lees came onto a cave about 14 by 14 feet in size with
a ceiling and walls of arched brick. It had evidently been built before the
days of cement construction.
A long bench and
shelves with carboys and jars of chemicals were the only furnishings. Lees
sounded all the walls, but found nothing further to interest him.
Lees returned to
town at the urgent call of "Old Perk," who had arranged with great
care to keep the appointment at 50th street and Broadway, where the decoy
package was to be left. He had snipers in nearby windows. He had detectives,
dressed in the gay garb of the habitues of the neighborhood, patrolling the
corner, and he and his own guard parked an automobile, against all traffic
rule, at the curb near the rubbish can.
An office boy
sauntered up to the rubbish can, threw in the decoy package, and sauntered
away.
A second later
there was a low humming sound. The decoy package fairly jumped out of the
rubbish can and disappeared in thin air.
The humming sound
seemed to round the corner into 50th Street. Detectives followed on the jump.
The humming approached an auto at the curb and the auto's self starter began to
function. As the police stood near by, enough to have jumped into the auto, the
whole machine, a big touring car, actually disappeared before their eyes.
Consternation is
a mild word when used to describe the result.
All forces set to
trap the extortionists gathered in a group, and in their surprise and
disappointment began discussing the queer case in loud tones. A crowd was
gathering which was blocking traffic.
"Old
Perk" was the first to recover from his surprise.
"Get the
hell out of this neighborhood," he yelled to his working forces. "All
of you get down to my office!"
The working force
dissolved and "Old Perk" drove away.
At "Old
Perk's" office shortly afterward a conference of the defeated forces of
the law and of science was held.
"Old
Perk" stormed and raged and the detective captain in charge fumed and
fussed, but nothing came of it all. One was as powerless as another. Finally
the conference adjourned.
The next morning
in the mail, Perkins Ferguson, president of Schefert Engineering Corporation,
received a letter carefully printed in rubber type. It read:
Thanks for the $50 bill. You cheated us by
$99,950. This will never do. Don't be like that. You poor fools, you make us increase
our demand. We double it. Leave $200,000 for us on your desk and leave the desk
unlocked. We will get it. Every time you ignore one of our demands, one of your
number will die. Better take this matter seriously. Last warning.
Invisible Death.
"Not another dime will they get out of
me," mused Ferguson.
He started
opening the rest of his mail.
A clerk entered
and handed him a telegram. It read:
"Damon Farnsworth struck down at
breakfast table. Family heard humming sound as he fell from his chair. Removed
to Medical Center. Skull reported fractured. May die.
"William Devins, Chief of Police, Larchmont."
Ferguson wildly seized the telephone. "Get me
Farnsworth's house at Larchmont!" he shouted to his operator.
The phone was
answered by Jones, the butler.
"This is
Ferguson."
An agitated voice
replied:
"'Ow sir,
yes sir. It's true, sir. 'E was bleeding at the 'ead, sir. Something 'it 'im."
"Let me talk
to Mrs. Farnsworth."
"They are at
the 'ospital, sir."
"One of the
boys."
"Both are at
the 'ospital, sir."
"Do you
think he will live?"
"An' 'ow
could I say, sir?"
Ferguson called
the Medical Center. They permitted him to talk to a doctor and a nurse. The
nurse referred him to the doctor, who said:
"He is
unconscious. There is a wicked fracture at the base of the brain. He was struck
from the back - a club, I believe. He may die without regaining consciousness.
I am hoping he will rally and that he will be all right."
Ferguson ordered
his car and, with Lees at his heels, jumped in the tonneau. He heard a humming
sound back of him. He looked back and saw nothing. Both he and Lees were too
impressed for words.
"Step on
it," Ferguson ordered the chauffeur. "Drive us to the Medical
Center."
At the world's
largest group of hospitals, Ferguson's worst fears were confirmed. The patient
was reported sinking.
Ferguson, giant
of Wall Street, was a low spirited man as he drove back down town to his
office. With Lees he passed through the outer offices, buzzing with business
and the click of typewriters. Not a head was raised from a desk or machine. It
was a well-drilled force.
Into his private
sanctum he walked or rather dragged himself, and wearily he sat down. He pushed
a pile of papers from him and ran his hand over his hot brow.
Blood pounded at
his temples.
For the first
time in his life he faced a situation which was too deep for his understanding.
Over and over
again he reviewed the uncanny events as Lees sat awaiting orders.
"I cannot
have them killing off my friends like that," he mused finally.
He called a
clerk.
"Go to the
bank and get $200,000 in fifties and one hundreds," he commanded.
When the clerk
returned with the money he laid the package on his desk and left the desk open.
"This might appear cowardly, but it will give us time," he said. Lees
did not offer an opinion.
Ferguson drew a
personal note for $200,000 and sent it to the Schefert Corporation's attorneys.
This amount represented a large part of Ferguson's personal assets, not
involved with any company with which he was connected. He told Lees to go about
his further investigations. Then he left the office and started for his home.
"I'll bank my life Lees will have those crooks lined up within a
week," he assured himself as he lolled in his auto, bound homeward. But
his voice sounded hollow, and the blood still pounded at his temples.
Reaching home, he
found a call from the western plant, at Chicago. He phoned the superintendent
with a foreboding that all was not well.
"This you,
Perk?" sounded the voice on the wire.
"Yes, what's
up?"
"I had not
intended bothering you with this, but in the light of all that has happened I
guess you had better know that one of our engineers went stark mad out here
about three weeks ago. He was a very brainy man but his reason snapped. He
first appeared queer when he began talking of anarchy and cursing capitalists.
Then one afternoon he struck a shop foreman down with a heavy wrench and rushed
out of the plant. We have not seen him since. The police have been looking for
him, but he is still at large."
"That
explains a lot of things," said "Old Perk." "Tell the
police to keep after him. We'll look for him here. File me a complete detailed
report of the incident by telegraph," he instructed. Then he asked:
"How is the
foreman? Badly hurt?"
"He dodged;
it was a glancing blow. The foreman was back to work in a week. But he is
nervous and has armed himself. We have put on extra guards."
"Good,"
commended Ferguson. "Don't hesitate to spend tolls to keep me advised of
any developments."
An hour and a
half later, Ferguson phoned the chief clerk in his offices:
"Go into my
private office," he ordered, "and see if there is a package on my
desk. It is a bank package."
The clerk
returned in a few moments.
"There is no
package on your desk, Mr. Ferguson."
"That is all
I wanted to know," said Ferguson, and hung up the receiver.
Then Ferguson
called up the Darrow home and tried to get in touch with Lees, but was unable
to do so, as Mrs. Darrow said she had not seen him since he had been called
back to the office.
The reason
Ferguson could not reach Lees was because Lees had decided to learn once and
for all if Jouret wore number nine shoes. He had started for Jouret's in his
own car. It was a beautiful country he was traversing, but he had no time to
note that the tree branches almost met over his head and that his way was
bordered with a profusion of wild flowers, displaying a rainbow of colors.
The house of
Jouret, the retired circus performer, sat back far from the road, against the
side of a beautiful hill, and was surrounded by poplars. The landscape was
wilder and more natural than that of the Darrow place adjoining.
The door was
opened by a Porto Rican boy. Lees lost no time. He said bluntly:
"Tell your
master that a gentleman is here to see him on very particular business."
Jouret, himself,
came back with the boy.
"What is
it?" he asked, smiling a welcome.
"I am
working on the case of the death of Mr. Darrow, your neighbor. I believed you
might have seen something. I thought you might aid me."
Jouret betrayed
no surprise.
"Come
in," he said. He led the way to a large reception room and asked his
visitor to be seated. He was the soul of affability. Short, husky and florid.
His eyes large, black and staring. His hair black, quite long and curling
upward at the ears. He was dressed in black, and he had the appearance of a
big, fat crow.
"I am glad
you came," he greeted his guest, "for I have far too few
callers." He switched on a big electric bunch-light in the center of the
room, for it was dusk.
"We have
been told that you are a retired circus man," said Lees, in his usual
frank manner.
"Not
exactly," said Jouret. "I traveled on the continent, finally
journeying to Australia and then to the States. I crossed the country from San
Francisco and settled down here. I was known as 'Elias, the Great.' I had my
own company and property. It was a magic show. It was not a circus, although we
did carry two elephants, three camels, some ponies, snakes, and birds and
smaller animals. That's where the circus report came from.
"When I
retired I sold my stock to a circus. The newspapers regarded it as funny, and
one of them printed a half page story with pictures about the public sale. It
was very much exaggerated. They mentioned giraffes, hyenas, and a lot of other
animals I never possessed. Odd, wasn't it, getting so much publicity after I
was through needing it? However I never, in those days, dodged the
limelight." Jouret ended his speech with a loud and hearty guffaw.
"I will call
my daughter," Jouret appended. "She will be glad to meet you."
He left the room.
Lees had taken
occasion to note the size of Jouret's feet. They were small, almost effeminate.
More likely fives or sixes than nines.
Soon Jouret
returned with a girl in her early twenties. She was blond and radiantly
beautiful.
Doris Jouret
bowed and smiled in a perfectly friendly manner. Lees noted that there was
something about her eyes that made her appear dazed.
Jouret
monopolized the conversation, giving no one a chance to edge in a word.
"This gentleman desires information in
connection with the death of our neighbor Mr., or is it Dr., Darrow? I want you
to assure him, as I will, that we have seen or noted nothing that could
possibly throw light on the strange case."
The girl nodded,
it seemed a little wearily, and Jouret was off on another conversational
flight:
"I too am a
man of scientific attainments," he chattered. "I am a biologist,
toxicologist, doctor of medicine, a geologist, metalurgist, mineralogist, and
somewhat of a mechanic and electrician. I have given long hours to the study of
strange sciences in meta-physics, to which you men give too little attention.
There are sciences which transcend any of this sphere. There is a higher
astronomy. I neglected to say that I am an astronomer."
"Yes?"
drawled Lees.
"Yes!"
said Jouret emphatically.
The girl had
adopted rather a theatrical pose, which disclosed considerable of her nether
charms, and said nothing at all.
"When you
find your man," volunteered Jouret, "you will find a madman." He
said this ponderously and with a gesture meant evidently to be impressive.
"You believe
a madman did it?" asked Lees, as Jouret paused, expecting a question.
"Undoubtedly.
It was a paranoic with delusions of money, grandeur and a strongly developed
homicidal mania. To me, that is the only sensible solution. I am quite sure
that I am correct."
Lees arose to go
and Jouret did not urge him to stay. He bowed Lees out and Doris bowed with
him.
"She is a
beautiful girl," mused Lees once he was outside.
Lees ran over in
his mind the circumstances of his visit to Jouret. There was no doubt in his
mind that Jouret's shoes were too small to be number nines, and he reasoned
that that fact might tend to eliminate Jouret. But he was not satisfied.
"I am going
to get some gas," he told himself, "and then I am going to get two
private detectives to assist me, for I'm going right back there. For the first
time in my life I am going to be a Peeping Tom.
"There is no
moon. The poplars will give us a view of all three floors of that house, if
they leave their blinds up enough, and three of us can watch all three floors
at once."
He phoned
Ferguson that he might be busy for days, joined his pair of operatives from the
detective agency and for some time the three operated on a well conceived plan.
It was probably a
week later that Lees rendered a report to Perkins Ferguson, which for a time
proved one of the strangest documents in the weird case. It read:
"You will
probably think I am crazy, and for this reason I am having this report
subscribed and sworn to, jointly and severally. With my two detectives I have
seen Miss Jouret, the girl I told you about over the phone, in three places at
one and the same time. Not once but twice this has happened.
"Looking
through the windows of the Jouret place at night, we saw the girl on the first,
second and third floor of the house. We believed this due to a clever
arrangement of mirrors. But figure this out:
"The next
day she drove a car to town. We followed. She got out at one theater and
entered. She did not come back, that we could see, but the car drove off. There
was no chauffeur, and we thought we had discovered the driverless auto, until
we looked and saw Miss Jouret still at the wheel.
"She got out
and entered another theater. She did not come back, but the car drove off with
her still at the wheel. She entered a third theater after parking the car and
this time the driver's seat and the tonneau was empty.
"Reverse the
reel and you will see her coming out of three theaters and driving home. That
is what happened. There must be three of her, all identical, but only one shows
at a time. If it's some of Jouret's far-famed magic, I'll say he's some
conjurer. The explanation is not yet forthcoming. We want to shadow Jouret, but
he never goes anywhere. The girl has only been out the one time when she
attended three matinees as described. Believe it or not.
"The next
night we each - the two detectives and I - tried to steal a march on one
another and called her up and asked her to go out. To our individual surprise,
she agreed in each case. To our collective surprise, she kept all three dates
on the same night. She walked through the trees in this vicinity with me. She also
drove down the road in the auto with one of my detectives, and she went dancing
with the other. She was in three places miles apart at one and the same time.
"We each
brought her home within a half hour of the other and we are swearing to that.
Either we are all hypnotized or else there are three identical Misses Jouret.
"Jouret
himself treats us all wonderfully, gives us the run of the house, and tries to
talk us to death."
The strange
document was subscribed by Lees and the two detectives and was held by Ferguson
pending developments.
The next report
from Lees read:
"I had a
chance to prowl around the Jouret house a little while waiting for Miss Jouret
to dress. I met her twice in my ramblings and a few minutes later she met me
again, this time in a different costume.
"I got a
chance to search the woods back of Jouret's house in the evening. I found a
spot where the earth had been disturbed, and dug up a pair of shoes. They were
number nines."
A fourth report
from him read:
"We found
the body of the crazed engineer. He had drowned himself in a lake. This
eliminates him as a murder suspect."
Two weeks passed
with no new developments in the "Invisible Death" case except for the
arrival of a letter demanding $1,000,000 and threatening the life of Perkins
Ferguson if the demand was ignored. It was ignored, and only served to spur
Lees and his detectives on to decisive action.
They decided to
rush the Jouret house and kidnap Jouret with the idea of holding him until he
agreed to explain the presence of the number nine shoes buried back of his
house.
A low moon hung
over the poplars when Lees rang the Jouret front door bell. One detective was
guarding a side door and the other a back door.
Suddenly Jouret
was seen to jump from a second-story window. As he did, a car driven by one of
his Porto Ricans came along the drive and he leaped into it. Lees, first to see
Jouret, called his detectives. They came running. Their car was waiting in the
road.
The Porto Rican
was seen to jump from the Jouret car just as it started south towards New York.
Lees took up the
race. Both cars had plenty of power, but the Jouret car suddenly disappeared as
a low humming noise began to break the stillness of the night.
One of the
detectives was at the wheel. Lees, as usual, was giving orders:
"Keep close
to that hum. Never mind that you cannot see the car. It is there all right. If
you can gain on it enough, drive right into it."
"Righto!"
shouted the detective. "We're wise to him now."
The humming noise
was taking on speed with every second. So was Lees' car. Soon Lees' car was
making sixty miles an hour with the hum just ahead and barely audible.
Past traffic
lights, over bridges and grade crossings the mad chase of the phantom
continued.
Wildly racing
through the night, missing other cars by a breath, the big, visible auto
continued its pursuit of - what?
Careening, Lees'
car rounded a curve, and, above the hum just ahead, they heard the shouted
curses of their quarry. But he could not be seen. Lees could only see the road
marked by his lights.
Mile after mile
the wild, uncanny chase of the phantom continued.
Soon the lights
of New York could be seen in the distance. The cars were forced to slow down
somewhat. Suddenly there was a thundering crash ahead. A car was twisted in a
mass of tangled wreckage.
Feminine and
masculine shrieks blended as Lees' car piled up on the wrecked heap. A third
car, becoming suddenly visible, rolled over and brought up at the edge of the
road. From this car emerged the limping, cursing form of Jouret.
From the wreckage
three painfully injured young men dragged and tore themselves. Then they leaped
- ignoring their hurts - at the limping figure.
The fight was on.
Jouret was heavy and powerful and proved an obstinate fighter, for he knew he
was fighting for his life. He bit and clawed. He kicked with one uninjured leg
and butted with his massive head.
Lees and his
detectives were fighting with no respect for the rules. Lees managed to get his
two hands on the bull-neck of Jouret just as one detective connected a duet of
blows to the man's wind.
Lees' hands
closed in a steely grip, and soon Jouret was limp and helpless.
They held him
there. An ambulance arrived. A few minutes later a police auto with reserves
came on the scene. The police shackled Jouret.
The car that had
been hit by the phantom was a light sedan. It was occupied by two women. Their
bodies were drawn from the wreckage. Both were dead—innocents sacrificed to the
blood madness of a maniac.
Jouret was right
about himself. He was a paranoic with a strongly developed homicidal mania.
In the wreckage
was found a package containing $200,000 and also two twisted and broken
mechanisms. One of these was about the size of an ordinary kitchen coffee-mill,
and the other slightly larger.
Regarding these
machines, Lees wrote in a report:
"While
making a fourth search of Darrow's laboratory, I found the equations,
specifications and what I believe to be the full plans for the last invention
of the ingenious Darius Darrow.
"Many of the
most astounding inventions and discoveries have resulted from theories which
were laughed to scorn at the time they were advanced. Roebling's plans for the
Brooklyn Bridge resulted in a meeting of the foremost engineers of the day. All
agreed that the plans were built on a false premise. They argued that the bridge
would fall of its own weight. Then they all had a good laugh. The bridge still
stands.
"Watching
smoke float over a hill from army camp fires caused an early French scientist
to dream of filling a bag full of smoke and riding with it over the hill. The first
balloon was the answer to this dream.
"James Watt
is said to have gotten his idea for a steam engine from watching a lid on a
tea-kettle dance under steam pressure.
"When
Langley was flying his man-carrying kites the Wright brothers dreamed of hitching
an engine and a propeller to a giant kite. The airplane was the result of these
experiments.
"Darrow got
his idea from watching a rapidly revolving wheel. He noticed that the spokes
and rim blended into a blurred disc when a certain speed was reached. The
entire wheel was practically invisible, under certain lighting conditions, when
a higher speed was attained.
"Darrow went
further and reached the conclusion that there was a rate of vibration that
would produce invisibility. This was accepted in practically all engineering
research plants, long before it was perfected by Darrow.
"The facts
are that any rapidly vibrating object becomes more and more difficult to
outline as its rate of vibration increases. All that was left for Darrow was to
arrive at the exact mathematical time, tone, or rate of vibration producing
invisibility and to construct a vibrator tuned to produce this condition.
"His first
machine produced the vibrations of invisibility in a field with a three-foot
radius in all directions. That is, it caused every solid object, within this
atmospheric field, to vibrate at the rate, tone, or speed of invisibility. This
machine was in no sense rotary. It departed from the original example of a
revolving wheel and entered instead into general vibration in a given or
measured field.
"The
pulsations or vibrations of an ordinary automobile engine will cause every
ounce of metal, or solid, in the automobile - including the driver - to vibrate
at the same rate or momentum. This is a known fact, and it provided the basis
for Darrow's experiments.
"Darrow
built two machines. The first had a field with a radius of three feet on all
sides. This was used by the killer in his murders. Jouret stole this machine
first, thus paving his way for the second robbery.
"With the
first machine in his possession, Jouret was able to commit the Darrow murder
without being seen. He had to have the second and larger machine, however, to
make his auto disappear. He stole the larger machine at the time of the Darrow
murder, and with it he had his auto vanish, as the gardener testified.
"Both
machines were hopelessly smashed in the wreck, but with Darrow's documents at
hand, we might be able to construct another and a larger model. A machine built
on the proper scale will make a plane or a battleship invisible and should, as
Darrow said, make war against this country impossible.
"Digging
into Jouret's history we found that the 'Misses Jouret' were one-cell triplets.
Their mother, Mrs. Doris Nettleton, an English woman, was a member of Jouret's
troupe, as was the father.
"The mother
died at the birth of the triplets. The father died a few years later. The
company was touring Australia at the time. Jouret and the father had the birth
of only one baby recorded. She was named Doris, after the mother. The other
girls also used this one name. They now have only one name among them until the
court gives them individual names.
"Jouret
never let but one girl be seen at a time. The reason was that he and the father
had planned to use the girls, when grown, to create a surprising stage
illusion. In this illusion, one girl was to act as the earthly body and the
other girls as the astral bodies of the same purported individual.
"The father
died, and Jouret retired before he ever got around to staging the illusion.
Jouret continued the deception, however, because it appealed to his showman's
nature.
"The girls,
at all times, were under the hypnotic control of Jouret, and, of course, knew
nothing of his crazed intellect or crimes. Upon his arrest Jouret released the
girls from the spell of years.
"The Misses
Nettleton say that Jouret was always kind to them and was an ethical showman
until his mind gave way.
"I told the
triplets that I might find them employment with our concern, but they prefer to
follow in the footsteps of their mother and father, and return to the
stage."
Ferguson, quite
his normal self once more, since Farnsworth was recovering slowly, twitted Lees
about being in love with one of the triplets. Lees admitted they were most
gorgeous blondes, but insisted he preferred one brunette.
"Then
another thing," added Lees. "Any man who falls in love with one of
the Nettleton triplets will never be sure just which one he fell in love
with."
