ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
The Secret Toll. Thorne Mabel
Читать онлайн.Название The Secret Toll
Год выпуска 0
isbn
Автор произведения Thorne Mabel
Издательство Public Domain
"All right," laughed the Chief. "Play around if you want to, but for the love of Mike, don't get under our feet." The Chief and Forrester exchanged friendly good-byes and the young man passed out into La Salle Street.
Forrester reflected that Prentice was right. While the detective chief had maintained an encouraging attitude, it was clear that this was merely to "save the face" of the Department so far as it was possible. Between the lines of the Chief's words Forrester had read the helpless and hopeless position in which the police were placed. It seemed like pure egoism for him to attempt to accomplish something in which experienced detectives had failed, yet Forrester felt that he should make some effort to solve the mystery behind this menace. After all, he reasoned, could the solution to this problem be so much more difficult than many of the engineering problems which he had attacked and mastered.
It now occurred to him that he had not thought to ask Prentice if any private detective agencies had ever been put on the case. So far as his present knowledge of the matter went the problem had been left entirely in the hands of the police, and yet he knew that in many instances private agencies had been successful where the police had failed. Forrester decided, therefore, that his next step would be to consult with one of these agencies. He went to a nearby cigar store and consulted the classified telephone directory. Under the heading of "Detectives" he found a long list of agencies and independent operatives. Several famous names stood out in this list, but Forrester fancied that these big agencies would merely put an ordinary operative on the case, while he felt that the matter needed the attention of a bigger man. Obviously, by going to a smaller agency, it would be easier to get the head of the agency to do the work. While these thoughts were passing through his mind, Forrester's eye caught a small advertisement in the center of the page.
Forrester decided to call on Mr. Green.
He found "Green's National Detective Agency" to consist of two small rooms. In the outer room he was met by a woman of uncertain age and colorless personality who immediately ushered him into Mr. Green's office. Green was a large, strongly built man with thin black hair, carefully brushed over a bald spot, and a bristling black mustache. The detective was in his shirt sleeves, a half-burned, unlit cigar gripped in the corner of his mouth, and a well-polished badge gleaming on the left breast of his unbuttoned waistcoat.
"How-do," he said, rising to greet Forrester, and added, "Have a chair," pushing one in the direction of Forrester with his foot.
The two men sat down and after Green had shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth, he inquired, "What can I do for you?"
"Ever hear of the 'Friends of the Poor'?" inquired Forrester, going straight to the point.
Green sat up in his chair with a jerk.
"You been gettin' one o' them notices?" he asked.
Forrester took out the warning message and laid it on Green's desk. The detective's eyes sparkled as he leaned over and closely examined it.
"Gee!" he exclaimed, at length. "I've just been dyin' to get onto this case. So you're one o' them rich guys they're after, eh?"
"I gather from what you say, Mr. Green, that you know something about the matter," said Forrester.
"Do I?" cried Green. "I'll show you how I've been followin' that thing up." He reached into a drawer of his desk, drew out a folder and opened it before him. Forrester saw that it contained newspaper clippings and various hand-written notes.
"I'll tell you, Mister," said Green, "I've been followin' this here case right from the start. I've got some theories, too, that I ain't been tellin' to nobody. I've just been itchin' to get busy on it, but you know us guys have to make a livin' – we can't work on a case for nothin'."
"Well," informed Forrester, "I'm going to give you a chance to see what you can do." Forrester was not wholly taken with Green's personality, but the man certainly seemed to know something about the case, and the fact that he already had theories was a hopeful sign. "There's the notice," continued Forrester, "which I received in the mail this morning. It gives me until Saturday at midnight to pay over the money or take the consequences. Now, I'd rather present you with the ten thousand dollars than give up to these people."
Green bounced in his chair.
"Do you mean that?" he gasped.
"Certainly," answered Forrester. "You bring these men to justice and the ten thousand is yours. In the meantime, I'll pay you your regular fees and expenses."
Green ran a finger around inside of his collar and stared at Forrester for a minute or two. It was quite evident that he was thoroughly stunned at the offer which had just been made to him. Then, realizing that he was making a poor showing before an important client, he straightened up in his chair and assumed the dignified attitude which he thought in keeping with his profession and the handling of such a momentous case.
"I'm glad to see that you have such a complete record there," commented Forrester. "I'm anxious to get the full details and history of this affair."
Green laid his dead cigar on the edge of the desk and pulled his chair closer, clearing his throat as he did so.
"The case o' the 'Friends o' the Poor'," he announced, "first became known to the public about this time a year ago. Here we have the matter o' one Frederick Prentice." Green picked up the first clipping.
"Yes, I know all about that case," interrupted Forrester. "Prentice is an old friend of mine."
"Ah – h – h!" breathed Green, looking much impressed as he laid the clipping and a few others aside. "Maybe you knew this guy, too – Booth Warren, the banker?"
"Yes, I knew him very well," returned Forrester.
"Ah – h – h!" sighed Green, expressively. Never before had he floated into such an environment of millionaires.
"But," added Forrester, "I don't know the details of his case. In fact, I had not heard of his death."
Green cleared his throat once more.
"Booth Warren," he explained, referring to his notes and clippings, "was vice-president o' the La Salle National Bank. In July o' last year this criminal organization demanded twenty-five thousand dollars, which he refused to pay, placin' the matter in the hands o' the police." At this mention of the police Green gave Forrester a ponderous wink. Then he continued, "After ignorin' three notices, Warren was found by the roadside one mornin' just beyond Evanston. The police surgeon o' the Evanston Police Department could find no signs o' violence, or any evidence as to how the man had been killed. He said he would diagnoose the case as one o' – " Green paused a moment over the pronunciation of the word – "asphyxia."
Green thumbed over his clippings.
"Then followed three cases where the guys lost their nerve and paid up. I guess you're chiefly interested in the guys that got killed, though," added Green, turning to Forrester.
"Yes, I think so," answered Forrester. "I want to know just what happens to a man who turns these people down."
"Well, he gets his– that's all I can say," replied Green, emphatically. "That is," he added, realizing his slip, "unless he comes to me."
"Then it is to be expected that I shall escape?" said Forrester, smiling.
"I said I had some theories, Mister," returned Green, assuming a wise expression. "I ain't tellin' all I know, but you can bet your life I'll be on the job between now and midnight Saturday.
"The next case o' a death," Green resumed, taking up another clipping, "is that of James Ingraham, capitalist and director of the Cook County Trust Company. He was ordered to pay fifteen thousand dollars, and ignored the demand – except for reportin' it as usual