Harvey Winston, paying teller of the First National
Bank of Chicago, stripped the band from a bundle of twenty dollar bills,
counted out seventeen of them and added them to the pile on the counter before
him.
The teller turned
to the stacked pile of bills. They were gone! And no one had been near!
"Twelve
hundred and thirty-one tens," he read from the payroll change slip before
him. The paymaster of the Cramer Packing Company nodded an assent and Winston
turned to the stacked bills in his rear currency rack. He picked up a handful
of bundles and turned back to the grill. His gaze swept the counter where, a
moment before, he had stacked the twenties, and his jaw dropped.
"You got
those twenties, Mr. Trier?" he asked.
"Got them?
Of course not, how could I?" replied the paymaster. "There they are..."
His voice trailed
off into nothingness as he looked at the empty counter.
"I must have
dropped them," said Winston as he turned. He glanced back at the rear rack
where his main stock of currency was piled. He stood paralyzed for a moment and
then reached under the counter and pushed a button.
The bank
resounded instantly to the clangor of gongs and huge steel grills shot into
place with a clang, sealing all doors and preventing anyone from entering or
leaving the bank. The guards sprang to their stations with drawn weapons and
from the inner offices the bank officials came swarming out. The cashier,
followed by two men, hurried to the paying teller's cage.
"What is it,
Mr. Winston?" he cried.
"I've been
robbed!" gasped the teller.
"Who by?
How?" demanded the cashier.
"I - I don't
know, sir," stammered the teller. "I was counting out Mr. Trier's
payroll, and after I had stacked the twenties I turned to get the tens. When I
turned back the twenties were gone."
"Where had
they gone?" asked the cashier.
"I don't
know, sir. Mr. Trier was as surprised as I was, and then I turned back,
thinking that I had knocked them off the counter, and I saw at a glance that
there was a big hole in my back racks. You can see yourself, sir."
The cashier
turned to the paymaster.
"Is this a
practical joke, Mr. Trier?" he demanded sharply.
"Of course
not," replied the paymaster. "Winston's grill was closed. It still
is. Granted that I might have reached the twenties he had piled up, how could I
have gone through a grill and taken the rest of the missing money without his
seeing me? The money disappeared almost instantly. It was there a moment
before, for I noticed when Winston took the twenties from his rack that it was
full."
"But someone
must have taken it," said the bewildered cashier. "Money doesn't walk
off of its own accord or vanish into thin air -”
A bell
interrupted his speech.
"There are
the police," he said with an air of relief. "I'll let them in."
The smaller of
the two men who had followed the cashier from his office when the alarm had
sounded stepped forward and spoke quietly. His voice was low and well pitched
yet it carried a note of authority and power that held his auditors' attention
while he spoke. The voice harmonized with the man. The most noticeable point
about him was the inconspicuousness of his voice and manner, yet there was a
glint of steel in his gray eyes that told of enormous force in him.
"I don't
believe that I would let them in for a few moments, Mr. Rogers," he said.
"I think that we are up against something a little different from the
usual bank robbery."
"But, Mr.
Carnes," protested the cashier, "we must call in the police in a case
like this, and the sooner they take charge the better chance there will be of
apprehending the thief."
"Suit
yourself," replied the little man with a shrug of his shoulders. "I
merely offered my advice."
"Will you
take charge, Mr. Carnes?" asked the cashier.
"I can't
supersede the local authorities in a case like this," replied Carnes.
"The secret service is primarily interested in the suppression of
counterfeiting and the enforcement of certain federal statutes, but I will be
glad to assist the local authorities to the best of my ability, provided they
desire my help. My advice to you would be to keep out the patrolmen who are
demanding admittance and get in touch with the chief of police. I would ask
that his best detective together with an expert finger-print photographer be
sent here before anyone else is ad[261]mitted. If the patrolmen are allowed to
wipe their hands over Mr. Winston's counter they may destroy valuable
evidence."
"You are
right, Mr. Carnes," exclaimed the cashier. "Mr. Jervis, will you tell
the police that there is no violence threatening and ask them to wait for a few
minutes? I'll telephone the chief of police at once."
As the cashier
hurried away to his telephone Carnes turned to his companion who had stood an
interested, although silent spectator of the scene. His companion was a marked
contrast to the secret service operator. He stood well over six feet in height,
and his protruding jaw and shock of unruly black hair combined with his massive
shoulders and chest to give him the appearance of a man who labored with his hands
- until one looked at them. His hands were in strange contrast to the rest of
him. Long, slim, mobile hands they were, with tapering nervous fingers - the
hands of a thinker or of a musician. Telltale splotches of acid told of hours
spent in a laboratory, a tale that was confirmed by the almost imperceptible
stoop of his shoulders.
"Do you
agree with my advice, Dr. Bird?" asked Carnes deferentially.
The noted
scientist, who from his laboratory in the Bureau of Standards had sent forth
many new things in the realms of chemistry and physics, and who, incidentally,
had been instrumental in solving some of the most baffling mysteries which the
secret service had been called upon to face, grunted.
"It didn't
do any harm," he said, "but it is rather a waste of time. The thief
wore gloves."
"How in
thunder do you know that?" demanded Carnes.
"It's merely
common sense. A man who can do what he did had at least some rudiments of
intelligence, and even the feeblest-minded crooks know enough to wear gloves
nowadays."
Carnes stepped a
little closer to the doctor.
"Another
reason why I didn't want patrolmen tramping around," he said in an
undertone, "is this. If Winston gave the alarm quickly enough, the thief
is probably still in the building."
"He's a good
many miles away by now," replied Dr. Bird with a shrug of his shoulders.
Carnes' eyes opened
widely. "Why? - how? - who?" he stammered. "Have you any idea of
who did it, or how it was done?"
"Possibly I
have an idea," replied Dr. Bird with a cryptic smile. "My advice to
you, Carnes, is to keep away from the local authorities as much as possible. I
want to be present when Winston and Trier are questioned and I may possibly
wish to ask a few questions myself. Use your authority that far, but no
farther. Don't volunteer any information and especially don't let my name get
out. We'll drop the counterfeiting case we were summoned here on for the
present and look into this a little on our own hook. I will want your aid, so
don't get tied up with the police."
"At that, we
don't want the police crossing our trail at every turn," protested Carnes.
"They won't,"
promised the doctor. "They will never get any evidence on this case, if I
am right, and neither will we - for the present. Our stunt is to lie low and
wait for the next attempt of this nature and thus accumulate some evidence and
some idea of where to look."
"Will there
be another attempt?" asked Carnes.
"Surely. You
don't expect a man who got away with a crime like this to quit operations just
because a few flatfeet run around and make a hullabaloo about it, do you? I may
be wrong in my assumption, but if I am right, the most important thing is to
keep all reference to my name or position out of the press reports."
The cashier
hastened up to them.
"Detective-Captain
Sturtevant will be here in a few minutes with a photographer and some other men,"
he said. "Is there anything that we can do in the meantime, Mr.
Carnes?"
"I would
suggest that Mr. Trier and his guard and Mr. Winston go into your office,"
replied Carnes. "My assistant and I would like to be present during the
questioning, if there are no objections."
"I didn't
know that you had an assistant with you," answered the cashier.
Carnes indicated
Dr. Bird.
"This
gentleman is Mr. Berger, my assistant," he said. "Do you
understand?"
"Certainly.
I am sure there will be no objection to your presence, Mr. Carnes,"
replied the cashier as he led the way to his office.
A few minutes
later Detective-Captain Sturtevant of the Chicago police was announced. He
acknowledged the introductions gruffly and got down to business at once.
"What were
the circumstances of the robbery?" he asked.
Winston told his
story, Trier and the guard confirming it.
"Pretty thin!" snorted the detective when
they had finished. He whirled suddenly on Winston.
"Where did
you hide the loot?" he thundered.
"Why - uh - er
- what do you mean?" gulped the teller.
"Just what I
said," replied the detective. "Where did you hide the loot?"
"I didn't
hide it anywhere," said the teller. "It was stolen."
"You had
better think up a better one," sneered Sturtevant. "If you think that
you can make me believe that that money was stolen from you in broad daylight
with two men in plain sight of you who didn't see it, you might just as well
get over it. I know that you have some hiding place where you have slipped the
stuff and the quicker you come clean and spill it, the better it will be for
you. Where did you hide it?"
"I didn't
hide it!" cried the teller, his voice trembling. "Mr. Trier can tell
you that I didn't touch it from the time I laid it down until I turned
back."
"That's
right," replied the paymaster. "He turned his back on me for a
moment, and when he turned back, it was gone."
"So you're
in on it too, are you?" said Sturtevant.
"What do you
mean?" demanded the paymaster hotly.
"Oh nothing,
nothing at all," replied the detective. "Of course Winston didn't
touch it and it disappeared and you never saw it go, although you were within
three feet of it all the time. Did you see anything?" he demanded of the
guard.
"Nothing
that I am sure of," answered the guard. "I thought that a shadow
passed in front of me for an instant, but when I looked again, it was
gone."
Dr. Bird sat
forward suddenly. "What did this shadow look like?" he asked.
"It wasn't exactly a shadow," said the guard. "It was
as if a person had passed suddenly before me so quickly that I couldn't see
him. I seemed to feel that there was someone there, but I didn't rightly see
anything."
"Did you
notice anything of the sort?" demanded the doctor of Trier.
"I don't
know," replied Trier thoughtfully. "Now that Williams has mentioned
it, I did seem to feel a breath of air or a motion as though something had
passed in front of me. I didn't think of it at the time."
"Was this
shadow opaque enough to even momentarily obscure your vision?" went on the
doctor.
"Not that I
am conscious of. It was just a breath of air such as a person might cause by
passing very rapidly."
"What made
you ask Trier if he had the money when you turned around?" asked the
doctor of Winston.
"Say-y-y,"
broke in the detective. "Who the devil are you, and what do you mean by
breaking into my examination and stopping it?"
Carnes tossed a
leather wallet on the table.
"There are
my credentials," he said in his quiet voice. "I am chief of one
section of the United States Secret Service as you will see, and this is Mr.
Berger, my assistant. We were in the bank, engaged on a counterfeiting case,
when the robbery took place. We have had a good deal of experience along these
lines and we are merely anxious to aid you."
Sturtevant
examined Carnes' credentials carefully and returned them.
"This is a
Chicago robbery," he said, "and we have had a little experience in
robberies and in apprehending robbers ourselves. I think that we can get along
without your help."
"You have
had more experience with robberies than with apprehending robbers if the papers
tell the truth," said Dr. Bird with a chuckle.
The detective's
face flushed.
"That will
be enough from you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he said. "If you open your
mouth again, I'll arrest you as a material witness and as a possible
accomplice."
"That sounds
like Chicago methods," said Carnes quietly. "Now listen to me,
Captain. My assistant and I are merely trying to assist you in this case. If
you don't desire our assistance we'll proceed along our own lines without
interfering, but in the meantime remember that this is a National Bank, and
that our questions will be answered. The United States is higher than even the
Chicago police force, and I am here under orders to investigate a
counterfeiting case. If I desire, I can seal the doors of this bank and allow
no one in or out until I have the evidence I desire. Do you understand?"
Sturtevant sprang
to his feet with an oath, but the sight of the gold badge which Carnes
displayed stopped him.
"Oh
well," he said ungraciously. "I suppose that no harm will come of
letting Winston answer your fool questions, but I'll warn you that I'll report
to Washington that you are interfering with the course of justice and using
your authority to aid the getaway of a criminal."
"That is
your privilege," replied Carnes quietly. "Mr. Winston, will you
answer Mr. Berger's question?"
"Why, I
asked him because he was right close to the money and I thought that he might
have reached through the wicket and picked it up. Then, too -”
He hesitated for
a moment and Dr. Bird smiled encouragingly.
"What
else?" he asked.
"Why, I
can't exactly tell. It just seemed to me that I had heard the rustle that bills
make when they are pulled across a counter. When I saw them gone, I thought
that he might have taken them. Then when I turned toward him, I seemed to hear
the rustle of bills behind me, although I knew that I was alone in the cage.
When I looked back the money was gone."
"Did you see
or hear anything like a shadow or a person moving?"
"No - yes - I
don't know. Just as I turned around it seemed to me that the rear door to my
cage had moved and there may have been a shadow for an instant. I don't know. I
hadn't thought of it before."
"How long
after that did you ring the alarm gongs?"
"Not over a
second or two."
"That's
all," said Dr. Bird.
"If your
high and mightiness has no further questions to ask, perhaps you will let me
ask a few," said Sturtevant.
"Go ahead,
ask all you wish," replied Dr. Bird with a laugh. "I have all the
information I desire here for the present. I may want to ask other questions
later, but just now I think we'll be going."
"If you find
any strange finger-prints on Winston's counter, I'll be glad to have them
compared with our files," said Carnes.
"I am not
bothering with finger-prints," snorted the detective. "This is an
open and shut case. There would be lots of Winston's finger-prints there and no
others. There isn't the slightest doubt that this is an inside case and I have
the men I want right here. Mr. Rogers, your bank is closed for to-day. Everyone
in it will be searched and then all those not needed to close up will be sent
away. I will get a squad of men here to go over your building and locate the
hiding place. Your money is still on the premises unless these men slipped it
to a confederate who got out before the alarm was given. I'll question the
guards about that. If that happened, a little sweating will get it out of
them."
"Are you
going to arrest me?" demanded Trier in surprise.
"Yes,
dearie," answered the detective. "I am going to arrest you and your
two little playmates if these Washington experts will allow me to. You will
save a lot of time and quite a few painful experiences if you will come clean
now instead of later."
"I demand to
see my lawyer and to communicate with my firm," said the paymaster.
"Time enough
for that when I am through with you," replied the detective.
He turned to
Carnes.
"Have I your
gracious permission to arrest these three criminals?" he asked.
"Yes indeed,
Captain," replied Carnes sweetly. "You have my gracious permission to
make just as big an ass of yourself as you wish. We're going now."
"By the way,
Captain," said Dr. Bird as he followed Carnes out. "When you get
through playing with your prisoners and start to look for the thief, here is a
tip. Look for a left-handed man who has a thorough knowledge of chemistry and
especially toxicology."
"It's easy
enough to see that he was left-handed if he pulled that money out through the
grill from the positions occupied by Trier and his guard, but what the dickens
led you to suspect that he is a chemist and a toxicologist?" asked Carnes
as he and the doctor left the bank.
"Merely a
shrewd guess, my dear Watson," replied the doctor with a chuckle. "I
am likely to be wrong, but there is a good chance that I am right. I am judging
solely from the method used."
"Have you
solved the method?" demanded Carnes in amazement. "What on earth was
it? The more I have thought about it, the more inclined I am to believe that
Sturtevant is right and that it is an inside job. It seems to me impossible
that a man could have entered in broad daylight and lifted that money in front
of three men and within sight of a hundred more without some one getting a
glimpse of him. He must have taken the money out in a grip or a sack or
something like that, yet the bank record shows that no one but Trier entered
with a grip and no one left with a package for ten minutes before Trier
entered."
"There may
be something in what you say, Carnes, but I am inclined to have a different
idea. I don't think it is the usual run of bank robbery, and I would rather not
hazard a guess just now. I am going back to Washington to-night. Before I go
any further into the matter, I need some rather specialized knowledge that I
don't possess and I want to consult with Dr. Knolles. I'll be back in a week or
so and then we can look into that counterfeiting case after we get this
disposed of."
"What am I
to do?" asked Carnes.
"Sit around
the lobby of your hotel, eat three meals a day, and read the papers. If you get
bored, I would recommend that you pay a visit to the Art Institute and admire
the graceful lions[265] which adorn the steps. Artistic contemplations may well
improve your culture."
"All
right," replied Carnes. "I'll assume a pensive air and moon at the
lions, but I might do better if you told me what I was looking for."
"You are
looking for knowledge, my dear Carnes," said the doctor with a laugh.
"Remember the saying of the sages: To the wise man, no knowledge is
useless."
A huge Martin
bomber roared down to a landing at the Maywood airdrome, and a burly figure
descended from the rear cockpit and waved his hand jovially to the waiting
Carnes. The secret service man hastened over to greet his colleague.
"Have you
got that truck I wired you to have ready?" demanded the doctor.
"Waiting at
the entrance; but say, I've got some news for you."
"It can
wait. Get a detail of men and help us to unload this ship. Some of the cases
are pretty heavy."
Carnes hurried
off and returned with a gang of laborers, who took from the bomber a dozen
heavy packing cases of various sizes, several of them labelled either
"Fragile" or "Inflammable" in large type.
"Where do
they go, Doctor?" he asked when the last of them had been loaded onto the
waiting truck.
"To the
First National Bank," replied Dr. Bird, "and Casey here goes with
them. You know Casey, don't you, Carnes? He is the best photographer in the
Bureau."
"Shall I go
along too?" asked Carnes as he acknowledged the introduction.
"No need for
it. I wired Rogers and he knows the stuff is coming and what to do with it.
Unpack as soon as you get there, Casey, and start setting up as soon as the
bank closes."
"All right,
Doctor," replied Casey as he mounted the truck beside the driver.
"Where do we
go, Doctor?" asked Carnes as the truck rolled off.
"To the
Blackstone Hotel for a bath and some clean clothes," replied the doctor.
"And now, what is the news you have for me?"
"The news is
this, Doctor. I carried out your instructions diligently and, during the
daylight hours, the lions have not moved."
Dr. Bird looked
contrite.
"I beg your
pardon, Carnes," he said. "I really didn't think when I left you so
mystified how you must have felt. Believe me, I had my own reasons, excellent
ones, for secrecy."
"I have
usually been able to maintain silence when asked to," replied Carnes
stiffly.
"My dear
fellow, I didn't mean to question your discretion. I know that whatever I tell
you is safe, but there are angles to this affair that are so weird and
improbable that I don't dare to trust my own conclusions, let alone share them.
I'll tell you all about it soon. Did you get those tickets I wired for?"
"Of course I
got them, but what have two tickets to the A. A. U. track meet this afternoon
got to do with a bank robbery?"
"One trouble
with you, Carnes," replied the doctor with a judicial air, "is that
you have no idea of the importance of proper relaxation. Is it possible that
you have no desire to see Ladd, this new marvel who is smashing records right
and left, run? He performs for the Illinois Athletic Club this afternoon, and
it would not surprise me to see him lower the world's record again. He has
already lowered the record for the hundred yard dash from nine and three-fifths
to eight and four-fifths. There is no telling what he will do."
"Are we
going to waste the whole afternoon just to watch a man run?" demanded
Carnes in disgust.
"We will see
many men run, my dear fellow, but there is only one in whom[266] I have a deep
abiding interest, and that is Mr. Ladd. Have you your binoculars with
you?"
"No."
"Then by all
means beg, borrow or steal two pairs before this afternoon. We might easily
miss half the fun without them. Are our seats near the starting line for the
sprints?"
"Yes. The
big demand was for seats near the finish line."
"The start
will be much more interesting, Carnes. I was somewhat of a minor star in track
myself in my college days and it will be of the greatest interest to me to
observe the starting form of this new speed artist. Now Carnes, don't ask any
more questions. I may be barking up the wrong tree and I don't want to give you
a chance to laugh at me. I'll tell you what to watch for at the track."
The sprinters
lined up on the hundred yard mark and Dr. Bird and Carnes sat with their
glasses glued to their eyes watching the slim figure in the colors of the
Illinois Athletic Club, whose large "62" on his back identified him
as the new star.
"On your
mark!" cried the starter. "Get set!"
"Ah!"
cried Dr. Bird. "Did you see that Carnes?"
The starting gun
cracked and the runners were off on their short grind. Ladd leaped into the
lead and rapidly distanced the field, his legs twinkling under him almost
faster than the eye could follow. He was fully twenty yards in the lead when
his speed suddenly lessened and the balance of the runners closed up the gap he
had opened. His lead was too great for them, and he was still a good ten yards
in the lead when he crossed the tape. The official time was posted as eight and
nine-tenths seconds.
"Another
thirty yards and he would have been beaten," said Carnes as he lowered his
glasses.
"That is the
way he has won all of his races," replied the doctor. "He piles up a
huge lead at first and then loses a good deal at the finish. His speed doesn't
hold up. Never mind that, though, it is only an additional point in my favor.
Did you notice his jaws just before the gun went?"
"They seemed
to clench and then he swallowed, but most of them did some thing like
that."
"Watch him carefully
for the next heat and see if he puts anything into his mouth. That is the
important thing."
Dr. Bird sank
into a brown study and paid no attention to the next few events, but he came to
attention promptly when the final heat of the hundred yard dash was called.
With his glasses he watched Ladd closely as the runner trotted up to the
starting line.
"There,
Carnes!" he cried suddenly. "Did you see?"
"I saw him
wipe his mouth," said Carnes doubtfully.
"All right,
now watch his jaws just before the gun goes."
The final heat
was a duplicate of the first preliminary. Ladd took an early lead which he held
for three-fourths of the distance to the tape, then his pace slackened and he
finished only a bare ten yards ahead of the next runner. The time tied his
previous world's record of eight and four-fifths seconds.
"He crunched
and swallowed all right, Doctor," said Carnes.
"That is all
I wanted to be sure of. Now Carnes, here is something for you to do. Get hold
of the United States Commissioner and get a John Doe warrant and go back to the
hotel with it and wait for me. I may phone you at any minute and I may not. If
I don't, wait in your room until you hear from me. Don't leave it for a
minute."
"Where are
you going, Doctor?"
"I'm going
down and congratulate Mr. Ladd. An old track man like me can't let such an
opportunity pass."
"I don't
know what this is all about, Doctor," replied Carnes, "but I know you
well enough to obey orders and to keep my mouth shut until it is my turn to
speak."
Few men could
resist Dr. Bird when he set out to make a favorable impression, and even a
world's champion is apt to be flattered by the attention of one of the greatest
scientists of his day, especially when that scientist has made an enviable
reputation as an athlete in his college days and can talk the jargon of the
champion's particular sport. Henry Ladd promptly capitulated to the charm of
the doctor and allowed himself to be led away to supper at Bird's club. The
supper passed off pleasantly, and when the doctor requested an interview with
the young athlete in a private room, he gladly consented. They entered the room
together, remained for an hour and a half, and then came out. The smile had
left Ladd's face and he appeared nervous and distracted. The doctor talked
cheerfully with him but kept a firm grip on his arm as they descended the
stairs together. They entered a telephone booth where the doctor made several
calls, and then descended to the street, where they entered a taxi.
"Maywood
airdrome," the doctor told the driver.
Two hours later
the big Martin bomber which had carried the doctor to Chicago roared away into
the night, and Bird turned back, reentered the taxi, and headed for the city
alone.
When Carnes
received the telephone call, which was one of those the doctor made from the
booth in his club, he hurried over to the First National Bank. His badge
secured him an entrance and he found Casey busily engaged in rigging up an
elaborate piece of apparatus on one of the balconies where guards were normally
stationed during banking hours.
"Dr. Bird
said to tell you to keep on the job all night if necessary," he told
Casey. "He thinks he will need your machine to-morrow."
"I'll have
it ready to turn on the power at four A.M.," replied Casey.
Carnes watched
him curiously for a while as he soldered together the electrical connections
and assembled an apparatus which looked like a motion picture projector.
"What are
you setting up?" he asked at length.
"It is a
high speed motion picture camera," replied Casey, "with a telescopic
lens. It is a piece of apparatus which Dr. Bird designed while he was in
Washington last week and which I made from his sketches, using some apparatus
we had on hand. It's a dandy, all right."
"What is
special about it?"
"The speed.
You know how fast an ordinary movie is taken, don't you? No? Well, it's sixteen
exposures per second. The slow pictures are taken sometimes at a hundred and
twenty-eight or two hundred and fifty-six exposures per second, and then shown
at sixteen. This affair will take half a million pictures per second."
"I didn't
know that a film would register with that short an exposure."
"That's
slow," replied Casey with a laugh. "It all depends on the light. The
best flash-light powder gives a flash about one ten-thousandth of a second in
duration, but that is by no means the speed limit of the film. The only trouble
is enough light and sufficient shutter speed. Pictures have been taken by means
of spark photography with an exposure of less than one three-millionth of a
second. The whole secret of this machine lies in the shutter. This big disc
with the slots in the edge is set up before the lens and run at such a speed
that half a million slots per second pass before the lens. The film, which is
sixteen millimeter X-ray film, travels behind the lens at a speed of nearly
five miles per second. It has to be gradually worked up to this speed, and
after the whole thing is set up, it takes it nearly four hours to get to full
speed."
"At that
speed, it must take a million miles of film before you get up steam."
"It would,
if the film were being exposed. There is only about a hundred yards of film all
told, which will run over these huge drums in an endless belt. There is a
regular camera shutter working on an electric principle which remains closed.
When the switch is tripped, the shutter opens in about two thirty-thousandths
of a second, stays open just one one-hundredth of a second, and then closes.
This time is enough to expose nearly all of our film. When we have our picture,
I shut the current down, start applying a magnetic brake, and let it slow down.
It takes over an hour to stop it without breaking the film. It sounds
complicated, but it works all right."
"Where is
your switch?"
"That is the
trick part of it. It is a remote control affair. The shutter opens and starts
the machine taking pictures when the back door of the paying teller's cage is
opened half an inch. There is also a hand switch in the line that can be opened
so that you can open the door without setting off the camera, if you wish. When
the hand switch is closed and the door opened, this is what happens. The
shutter on the camera opens, the machine takes five thousand pictures during the
next hundredth of a second, and then the shutter closes. Those five thousand
exposures will take about five minutes to show at the usual rate of sixteen per
second."
"You said
that you had to get plenty of light. How are you managing that?"
"The camera is
equipped with a special lens ground out of rock crystal. This lens lets in
ultra-violet light which the ordinary lens shuts out, and X-ray film is
especially sensitive to ultra-violet light. In order to be sure that we get
enough illumination, I will set up these two ultra-violet floodlights to
illumine the cage. The teller will have to wear glasses to protect his eyes and
he'll get well sunburned, but something has to be sacrificed to science, as Dr.
Bird is always telling me."
"It's too
deep for me," said Carnes with a sigh. "Can I do anything to help?
The doctor told me to stand by and do anything I could."
"I might be
able to use you a little if you can use tools," said Casey with a grin.
"You can start bolting together that light proof shield if you want
to."
"Well,
Carnes, did you have an instructive night?" asked Dr. Bird cheerfully as
he entered the First National Bank at eight-thirty the next morning.
"I don't see
that I did much good, Doctor. Casey would have had the machine ready on time
anyway, and I'm no machinist."
"Well,
frankly, Carnes, I didn't expect you to be of much help to him, but I did want
you to see what Casey was doing, and a little of it was pretty heavy for him to
handle alone. I suppose that everything is ready?"
"The motor
reached full speed about fifteen minutes ago and Casey went out to get a cup of
coffee. Would you mind telling me the object of the whole thing?"
"Not at all.
I plan to make a permanent record of the work of the most ingenious bank robber
in the world. I hope he keeps his word."
"What do you
mean?"
"Three days
ago when Sturtevant sweated a 'confession' out of poor Winston, the bank got a
message that the robbery would be repeated this morning and dared them to
prevent it. Rogers thought it was a hoax, but he telephoned me and I worked the
Bureau men night and day to get my camera ready in time for him. I am afraid
that I can't do much to prevent the robbery, but I may be able to take a
picture of it and thus prevent other cases of a like nature."
"Was the
warning written?"
"No. It was
telephoned from a pay station in the loop district, and by the[269] time it was
traced and men got there, the telephoner was probably a mile away. He said that
he would rob the same cage in the same manner as he did before."
"Aren't you
taking any special precautions?"
"Oh, yes,
the bank is putting on extra guards and making a lot of fuss of that sort,
probably to the great amusement of the robber."
"Why not
close the cage for the day?"
"Then he
would rob a different one and we would have no way of photographing his
actions. To be sure, we will put dummy money there, bundles with bills on the
outside and paper on the inside, so if I don't get a picture of him, he won't
get much. Every bill in the cage will be marked as well."
"Did he say
at what time he would operate?"
"No, he
didn't, so we'll have to stand by all day. Oh, hello, Casey, is everything all
right?"
"As sweet as
chocolate candy, Doctor. I have tested it out thoroughly, and unless we have to
run it so long that the film wears out and breaks, we are sitting pretty. If we
don't get the pictures you are looking for, I'm a dodo, and I haven't been
called that yet."
"Good work,
Casey. Keep the bearings oiled and pray that the film doesn't break."
The bank had been
opened only ten minutes when the clangor of gongs announced a robbery. It was
practically a duplicate of the first. The paying teller had turned from his
window to take some bills from his rack and had found several dozens of bundles
missing. As the gongs sounded, Dr. Bird and Casey leaped to the camera.
"She
snapped, Doctor!" cried Casey as he threw two switches. "It'll take
an hour to stop and half a day to develop the film, but I ought to be able to
show you what we got by to-night."
"Good
enough!" cried Dr. Bird. "Go ahead while I try to calm down the bank
officials. Will you have everything ready by eight o'clock?"
"Easy,
Doctor," replied Casey as he turned to the magnetic brake.
By eight o'clock
quite a crowd had assembled in a private room at the Blackstone Hotel. Besides
Dr. Bird and Carnes, Rogers and several other officials of the First National
Bank were present, together with Detective-Captain Sturtevant and a group of
the most prominent scientists and physicians gathered from the schools of the
city.
"Gentlemen,"
said Dr. Bird when all had taken seats facing a miniature moving picture screen
on one wall, "to-night I expect to show you some pictures which will, I am
sure, astonish you. It marks the advent of a new departure in transcendental
medicine. I will be glad to answer any questions you may wish to ask and to
explain the pictures after they are shown, but before we start a discussion, I
will ask that you examine what I have to show you. Lights out, please!"
He stepped to the
rear of the room as the lights went out. As his eyes grew used to the dimness
of the room he moved forward and took a vacant seat. His hand fumbled in his
pocket for a second.
"Now!"
he cried suddenly.
In the momentary
silence which followed his cry, two dull metallic clicks could be heard, and a
quick cry that was suddenly strangled as Dr. Bird clamped his hand over the
mouth of the man who sat between him and Carnes.
"All right,
Casey," called the doctor.
The whir of a
projection machine could be heard and on the screen before them leaped a
picture of the paying teller's cage of the First National Bank. Winston's
successor was standing motionless at the wicket, his lips parted in a smile,
but the attention of all was riveted on a figure who moved at the back of the
cage. As the picture started, the figure was bent over an opened suitcase,
stuffing into it bundles of bills. He straightened up and reached to the rack
for more bills, and as he did so he faced the camera full for a moment. He
picked up other bundles of bills, filled the suitcase, fastened it in a
leisurely manner, opened the rear door of the cage and walked out.
"Again,
please!" called Dr. Bird. "And stop when he faces us full."
The picture was
repeated and stopped at the point indicated.
"Lights,
please!" cried the doctor.
The lights
flashed on and Dr. Bird rose to his feet, pulling up after him the wilted
figure of a middle-aged man.
"Gentlemen,"
said the doctor in ringing tones, "allow me to present to you Professor
James Kirkwood of the faculty of the Richton University, formerly known as
James Collier of the Bureau of Standards, and robber of the First National
Bank."
Detective-Captain
Sturtevant jumped to his feet and cast a searching glance at the captive.
"He's the
man all right," he cried. "Hang on to him until I get a wagon
here!"
"Oh, shut
up!" said Carnes. "He's under federal arrest just now, charged with
the possession of narcotics. When we are through with him, you can have him if
you want him."
"How did you
get that picture, Doctor?" cried the cashier. "I watched that cage
every minute during the morning and I'll swear that man never entered and stole
that money as the picture shows, unless he managed to make himself
invisible."
"You're
closer to the truth than you suspect, Mr. Rogers," said Dr. Bird. "It
is not quite a matter of invisibility, but something pretty close to it. It is
a matter of catalysts."
"What kind
of cats?" asked the cashier.
"Not cats,
Mr. Rogers, catalysts. Catalysts is the name of a chemical reaction consisting
essentially of a decomposition and a new combination effected by means of a
catalyst which acts on the compound bodies in question, but which goes through
the reaction itself unchanged. There are a great many of them which are used in
the arts and in manufacturing, and while their action is not always clearly
understood, the results are well known and can be banked on.
"One of the
commonest instances of the use of a catalyst is the use of sponge platinum in
the manufacture of sulphuric acid. I will not burden you with the details of
the 'contact' process, as it is known, but the combination is effected by means
of finely divided platinum which is neither changed, consumed or wasted during
the process. While there are a number of other catalysts known, for instance
iron in reactions in which metallic magnesium is concerned, the commonest are
the metals of the platinum group.
"Less is
known of the action of catalysts in the organic reactions, but it has been the
subject of intensive study by Dr. Knolles of the Bureau of Standards for
several years. His studies of the effects of different colored lights, that is,
rays of different wave-lengths, on the reactions which constitute growth in
plants have had a great effect on hothouse forcing of plants and promise to
revolutionize the truck gardening industry. He has speeded up the rate of
growth to as high as ten times the normal rate in some cases.
"A few years
ago, he and his assistant, James Collier, turned their attention toward
discovering a catalyst which would do for the metabolic reactions in animal
life what his light rays did for plants. What his method was, I will not
disclose for obvious reasons, but suffice it to say that he met with great
success. He took a puppy and by treating it with his catalytic drugs, made it
grow to maturity, pass through its entire normal life span, and die of old age
in six months."
"That is very interesting, Doctor, but I fail
to see what bearing it has on the robbery."
"Mr. Rogers,
how, on a dark day and in the absence of a timepiece, would you judge the
passage of time?"
"Why, by my
stomach, I guess."
"Exactly. By
your metabolic rate. You eat a meal, it digests, you expend the energy which
you have taken into your system, your stomach becomes empty and your system
demands more energy. You are hungry and you judge that some five or six hours
must have passed since you last ate. Do you follow?"
"Certainly."
"Let us
suppose that by means of some tonic, some catalytic drug, your rate of
metabolism and also your rate of expenditure of energy has been increased six
fold. You would eat a meal and in one hour you would be hungry again. Having no
timepiece, and assuming that you were in a light-proof room, you would judge
that some five hours had passed, would you not?"
"I expect
so."
"Very well.
Now suppose that this accelerated rate of digestion and expenditure of energy
continued. You would be sleepy in perhaps three hours, would sleep about an
hour and a quarter, and would then wake, ready for your breakfast. In other
words, you would have lived through a day in four hours."
"What
advantage would there be in that?"
"None, from
your standpoint. It would, however, increase the rate of reproduction of cattle
greatly and might be a great boom to agriculture, but we will not discuss this
phase now. Suppose it were possible to increase your rate of metabolism and
expenditure of energy, in other words, your rate of living, not six times, but
thirty thousand times. In such a case you would live five minutes in one
one-hundredth of a second."
"Naturally,
and you would live a year in about seventeen and one-half minutes, and a normal
lifespan of seventy years in about twenty hours. You would be as badly off as
any common may-fly."
"Agreed, but
suppose that you could so regulate the dose of your catalyst that its effect
would last for only one one-hundredth of a second. During that short period of
time, you would be able to do the work that would ordinarily take you five
minutes. In other words, you could enter a bank, pack a satchel with currency
and walk out. You would be working in a leisurely manner, yet your actions
would have been so quick that no human eye could have detected them. This is my
theory of what actually took place. For verification, I will turn to Dr.
Kirkwood, as he prefers to be known now."
"I don't
know how you got that picture, but what you have said is about right,"
replied the prisoner.
"I got that
picture by using a speed of thirty thousand times the normal sixteen exposures
per second," replied Dr. Bird. "That figure I got from Dr. Knolles,
the man who perfected the secret you stole when you left the Bureau three years
ago. You secured only part of it and I suppose it took all your time since to perfect
and complete it. You gave yourself away when you experimented on young Ladd. I
was a track man myself in my college days and when I saw an account of his
running, I smelt a rat, so I came back and watched him. As soon as I saw him
crush and swallow a capsule just as the gun was fired, I was sure, and got hold
of him. He was pretty stubborn, but he finally told me what name you were
running under now, and the rest was easy. I would have got you in time anyway,
but your bravado in telling us when you would next operate gave me the idea of
letting you do it and photographing you at work. That is all I have to say.
Captain Sturtevant, you can take your prisoner whenever you want him."
"I reckoned without you, Dr. Bird, but the end
hasn't come yet. You may send me up for a few years, but you'll never find that
money. I'm sure of that."
"Tut, tut,
Professor," laughed Carnes. "Your safety deposit box in the
Commercial National is already sealed until a court orders it opened. The bills
you took this morning were all marked, so that is merely additional proof, if
we needed it. You surely didn't think that such a transparent device as
changing your name from 'James Collier' to 'John Collyer' and signing with your
left hand instead of your right would fool the secret service, did you?
Remember, your old Bureau records showed you to be ambidextrous."
"What about
Winston's confession?" asked Rogers suddenly.
"Detective-Captain
Sturtevant can explain that to a court when Mr. Winston brings suit against him
for false arrest and brutal treatment," replied Carnes.
"A very
interesting case, Carnes," remarked the doctor a few hours later. "It
was an enjoyable interlude in the routine of most of the cases on which you
consult me, but our play time is over. We'll have to get after that
counterfeiting case to-morrow."
