CHAPTER II.
THE HEADQUARTERS MAN.
Nick Carter took in with a few swift glances those important features of the scene already mentioned. Instead of immediately beginning a more careful inspection, however, he turned to the headquarters man and said:
“Am I to understand, Phelan, that things are about as you found them?”
“Yes. Nothing has been disturbed, Nick, of any importance.”
“Was the woman lying in that position?”
“Yes. I have not touched the body. I saw that writing on the wall, and——”
“One moment,” Nick interposed. “Who discovered the crime?”
“A girl who lives in the second flat. She came down about eight o’clock to go out to work, and she saw spots of blood on the hall floor near the door of this flat.”
“I noticed them when I entered.”
“She tried the door, and found it locked. It has an automatic lock. She then rang repeatedly, being acquainted with Miss Lancey, but she could get no response.”
“Does this woman live alone here?”
“Yes, so I am told, except when entertaining her friends.”
“I see.”
“The girl then called her mother, and they hunted for Gilroy, who is on this beat. He entered through the kitchen window, forcing it open, and he then saw what had occurred. I happened to be in the precinct station when he telephoned,” added Phelan, pointing to a telephone on a stand in one corner. “I came here with Kennedy, taking temporary charge of the case, and I soon found evidence enough to warrant sending him to arrest Mr. Gordon.”
“You mean that writing on the wall?”
“Yes, partly.”
“What else?”
“I found this letter in the wastebasket,” said Phelan, taking it from his pocket. “It must have been written by Gordon, for it is on a letter sheet bearing his business heading, as does the envelope in which it came.”
“Let me see them.”
“It was mailed at two o’clock yesterday. It contains only a single line addressed to Miss Lancey, stating that Gordon would call to see her here at eleven o’clock. That must have been eleven o’clock last evening.”
Nick glanced at the brief pen-written letter. He was familiar with Gordon’s writing, and he immediately recognized it. The letter seemed to corroborate all of Phelan’s statements.
“Did you think that was evidence enough to warrant arresting Gordon?” Nick again inquired.
“I thought it enough for a starter, Nick, at least,” Phelan bluntly asserted. “I reckon I have not shot very wide of the mark.”
“Why so?”
“Because Kennedy has phoned me of other facts.”
“Namely?”
“He met Dennis Regan, a detective from the precinct station, just before he arrived at the Gordon residence,” Phelan proceeded to disclose. “He told Regan what had occurred and whom he was after. Regan decided he would not butt in, knowing I was on the case, but he waited in the grounds south of the house while Kennedy went in to see Gordon.”
“Well?”
“While he was out there, pacing up and down the gravel walk, he noticed that one of the small branches of a clump of shrubbery was partly broken off and hanging down, as if something had recently been thrown in among the shrubs, disturbing the dry leaves that had fallen from them.”
“He went to examine them, I infer.”
“That’s what. He found under the dry leaves a double-jointed jimmy. It was parted at the socket each section being about eight inches long, and both were badly stained with blood.”
“Quite a remarkable discovery,” Nick observed, with brows knitting slightly. “Anything more?”
“Well, as far as that goes, this desk evidently was forced open with just such a jimmy,” Phelan continued, turning to the desk. “Here are marks on the wood, showing plainly where the curving, wedge-shaped point was forced under the top to pry it up and break the lock.”
“I see,” Nick nodded. “That’s very evident, Phelan, indeed.”
“The jimmy found by Regan has just that kind of a point.”
“Still more evidence, eh?”
“I think so, Nick. It’s a safe bet, too, that this woman’s head was broken with the same jimmy. The fractures and gashes show plainly that a bludgeon of that kind was used.”
“I agree with you,” said Nick, crouching to inspect the several terrible wounds. “Both the fractures and gashes could have been caused only with a bludgeon having one or more edges. The jimmy is probably octagonal in shape.”
“Very likely. I did not inquire about that.”
“Well, what followed?”
“Regan then decided to dip into the case,” Phelan continued. “He went into the house and found that Kennedy had discovered other evidence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“To begin with, Nick, Gordon refused to say where he was at eleven o’clock last night. Kennedy then told him about the murder and placed him under arrest. To make a long story short, for I have not all of the details, Gordon’s evening suit, which he admits having worn last night, was found spattered with blood.”
“H’m, is that so?”
“There are stains of blood in one pocket of his overcoat, also, as if the jimmy was disjointed and thrust into it after the murder. You can see for yourself that the weapon used by the assassin is missing.”
“Yes, so I have noticed.”
“In the other pocket of Gordon’s overcoat was a disguise, a false beard and mustache. They——”
“One moment,” Nick interrupted. “Gordon saw all of this evidence, I suppose.”
“Yes, certainly.”
“What did he say about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“He refused positively to make any statements whatever,” Phelan explained. “He said he would not do so until after he had conferred with you. Regan then allowed him to telephone to you, and, while waiting for Gordon to get ready to accompany him, he phoned these facts to me.”
“Where is Gordon now?”
“On his way to police headquarters, if not already there,” said Phelan. “Both Regan and Kennedy went with him.”
“Taking the evidence mentioned.”
“Yes, certainly.”
“And that’s all you know about the case?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Phelan asked bluntly. “What more would you have? It tells the story plainly enough.”
“What story?” inquired Nick tentatively. “What is your theory?”
“It can be told with a breath,” Phelan declared. “Gordon came here to get something from this woman. His letter shows that he had an appointment with her at eleven last night. She refused to give him what he wanted, evidently something which he knew was in this desk. He came prepared to get it at any cost.”
“I follow you,” Nick nodded.
“When he found that she would not give it up, he killed her with the jimmy and then broke open the desk with it. Here are stains of blood on the desk, showing that it was forced after the murder was committed.”
“That appears probable,” Nick allowed.
“Gordon probably found what he wanted, and then fled,” Phelan went on. “The woman afterward revived sufficiently to realize the situation, also that she was near her end. She must have been too weak to rise, or to make herself heard. But she dragged herself near enough to the wall to write these few words on it with the tip of her finger, dipped in the pool of blood. The smooches of blood on the carpet show plainly that she dragged herself over the floor. She evidently died, or fainted, before she could complete what she would have written. That’s my theory, Carter.”
“Very good,” said Nick, a bit dryly. “All that seems very logical, Phelan, and you’re some theorist. I will look around a bit, however, and see what more I can find.”
“Go ahead,” Phelan nodded. “The day is young.”
It then was only half past nine.
Instead of immediately doing so, however, Nick abruptly changed his mind. He turned to Chick and said:
“I first must see Gordon and see what he has to say. His statements may be of aid in making an investigation. I can run down to headquarters with my car and be back here in half an hour.”
“Easily.”
“Let nothing be disturbed until I return. Admit no one, Phelan, nor give out anything for publication. Gordon is in a position to be ruined politically by this affair. I know he is the last man in the world, however, to have committed such a crime as this.”
“I agree with you, Nick, to that extent.”
“And that leads me to think it may be a frame-up, that some one is out to turn him down. I want his side of the story. I will return within an hour.”
“We’ll wait,” nodded Phelan.
“In the meantime, Chick, have a look at the back door and windows, also those in the basement, as well as the basement stairs,” Nick then directed. “Seek evidence, aside from that left by Gilroy, denoting that others were here last night and that the flat was stealthily entered.”
“I understand,” said Chick, removing his overcoat. “You go ahead and see Gordon. I’ll make sure that nothing is tampered with before you return.”
Nick hastened out by the way he had entered.
The reporter, Hawley, still was waiting in the vestibule.
“Well, Mr. Carter, what may I——” he began eagerly.
“Nothing doing,” Nick interrupted, pausing only for a moment. “The less you publish at present, the better I shall like it.”
“You mean——”
“That’s all I mean, and all I can remain to say. Bear it in mind, Mr. Hawley, and be governed accordingly.”
Nick did not wait for an answer, nor to note the effect of his somewhat curt remarks. He at once ran down the steps and entered his touring car.
“To police headquarters, Danny, at top speed,” he directed. “We have a rapid-fire case on our hands.”
Hawley came out on the steps and gazed after the speeding car. He now was frowning darkly. There was an anxious gleam and glitter deep down in the narrowed eyes back of his gold-bowed spectacles. His pointed beard twitched and quivered perceptibly while he bit his lower lip.
After a moment, nevertheless, he turned calmly to the policeman and asked, with curious coolness:
“Where has he gone?”
“Give it up,” said Gilroy tersely. “He never tells where he’s going, nor what he has up his sleeve. Nick Carter isn’t that kind.”
“He might have said, at least, whether I could enter the flat and——”
“Rats!” Gilroy growled. “Did you want it written down with a slate and pencil? He as much as said you couldn’t enter. There’s nothing for you in waiting.”
Hawley waited, nevertheless.