LITMIR.BIZ

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it—and—oh—I don’t know anything much about mechanics,” he added floundering hopelessly, “but I do know about crime and criminals, and there is some big criminal at work here. That’s in my line, even if I don’t know much about science.”

      “Where were the plans stolen?” asked Kennedy. “Surely not from the Government itself in Washington?”

      “No,” answered Burke. “They were stolen out on Long Island, at Westport. Colonel Sinclair, the retired army engineer, had a model——”

      “Colonel Sinclair?” broke in Kennedy, in turn surprised.

      “Yes. You know him?”

      Burke looked at Craig for a moment as if he were positively uncanny, and perhaps knew all about what the Secret Service man was about to say, even before he had said it.

      Kennedy smiled.

      “Not personally,” he replied. “But I have run across him in connection with a case which I am interested in. I understood that he was a friend of a Madame Valcour who has just been discovered dead up at the Vanderveer. It is a most mysterious case. She——”

      “Madame Valcour?” interrupted Burke, now in turn himself surprised. “What sort of looking woman was she?”

      Kennedy described her briefly, and ran over as much of the case as he felt it prudent to talk about at present.

      “She’s one of the very persons I’m trying to get a line on!” ejaculated Burke. “There’s a sort of colony of Latin-Americans out there, across the bay from Sinclair’s. Sinclair knew her—had been automobiling and motor-boating with her. And she’s dead, you say?”

      Kennedy nodded.

      “Only my old friend the coroner, Dr. Leslie, stands in the way of saying how and by what,” he confirmed impatiently. “What do you know about her?”

      Burke had fallen into a study.

      “I suspected some of those people out there at Seaville,” he resumed slowly. “I found out that when they are in the city they usually drop in at that Mexican cabaret down the street.”

      “We have just come from it,” interjected Kennedy.

      “There seemed to be hardly any of them left out at Seaville,” went on Burke. “If any of them has pulled off anything, they have all come to New York for cover. My people at Washington hurried me up to Westport first, and after I looked over the ground I saw nothing to do but come back to New York to watch these Mexicans. I am told they make a sort of rendezvous out of this cabaret.”

      “That’s strange,” considered Kennedy thoughtfully.

      “Whom did you meet in the cabaret?” asked Burke.

      “We just went in, like any other sightseers,” replied Craig. “There was a Señora Ruiz, dancing there——”

      “Yes,” put in Burke. “She lives out there at Seaville. Has a cottage on the hill back of the hotel which she had leased for the season. Any one else?”

      “There was a man named Sanchez.”

      “Another one,” added Burke excitedly. “He stayed at the hotel—jealous as the the deuce of Valcour, too, they say. She was stopping at the hotel. You can imagine that Sanchez and Sinclair are not—well—just exactly pals,” finished Burke. “Any one else?”

      “Oh, several others,” said Kennedy. “We were introduced and sat next to a Mrs. Hawley.”

      “She’s a peculiar woman, as nearly as I can learn,” remarked Burke. “I don’t think she liked Valcour much. I haven’t been able to make out yet whether it was just because her interests were similar to those of Sinclair or whether there was something more to it, but if the Colonel would only say the word, I guess she wouldn’t stop long in saying ‘Yes.’ You see, I’ve only started on the case—just got into New York and haven’t had a chance to see any of these people yet. I’m giving you only the impressions I got out there from the people I talked to. Sinclair, as nearly as I can make out, ‘loves the ladies,’ to quote the cabaret song to that effect, but I don’t think there is any particular lady.”

      “It’s a peculiar situation,” chimed in Craig. “Señora Ruiz, it seemed to me, thinks that Sanchez is just about right. And he is a rather striking-looking fellow, too. There’s one person, though, Burke, that I didn’t see or hear about, who interests me. Did you hear anything about a chap named Morelos?”

      “Morelos—Morelos,” repeated Burke. “The name is familiar. No—I didn’t hear anything about him, in this case. But—why, yes. He wouldn’t be with these people. He’s one of the Revolutionist junta, here in the city. These people are all Government supporters.”

      “I thought as much,” agreed Kennedy. “But you know him?”

      “I never had anything to do with him,” replied Burke. “But I believe the Government—our Government—has had a good deal of trouble with him about the embargo on arms, since it was reestablished. He has been shipping them down there when he gets a chance. I can find out all about him for you, though.”

      “I wish you would,” said Craig, “but the plans—how did they happen to be in Westport? What connection did Sinclair have with them?”

      “Well, you see, the thing was the invention of Colonel Sinclair,” explained Burke. “I saw him, and although I couldn’t get him to talk much about these people—I suppose he was afraid to, for fear of his interests in Mexico—he was ready enough to talk about his invention. He told me he had never patented it, that it was too valuable to patent. He has been working on it for years, and only recently perfected it. As soon as it seemed likely that there might eventually be hostilities, he took a trip to Washington and gave it outright to the Government.”

      “Mighty patriotic,” I commented.

      “Yes,” agreed Burke. “The Colonel is a big man all right. You see this was one of his hobbies. He has spent thousands of dollars of his own money on it. There were two sets of plans made—one which he took to Washington and one which he kept him self out on his estate on Long Island. His own plans out there are those that have been stolen, not the plans that he gave to the Government.”

      “The Government had accepted them, then?” queried Craig.

      “Yes, indeed. They sent experts up to look at his machine, went over the thing thoroughly. Oh, there is no doubt about it.”

      “You certainly have made a good start,” commented Kennedy.

      “I haven’t had much time, it’s true,” said Burke modestly. “Sinclair had Washington on long-distance as soon as he discovered the theft, and I was taken off a case and hustled up to Westport immediately, without much chance to find out what it was all about.”

      “What did you find up there?” asked Kennedy.

      Burke shook his head.

      “As far as I can make out,” he answered, “it must have been a most remarkable theft. The plans were stolen from Sinclair’s safe, in his own library. And you can imagine that Sinclair is not the sort who would have an old-fashioned, antiquated safe, either. It was small, but one of the latest type.”

      “What did they do—drill it or use soup?” cut in Craig.

      “Neither, as far as I could see,” replied Burke. “That’s perhaps the most remarkable feature of the whole thing. How the fellow got into the safe is more than I can figure out. There wasn’t a mark of violence on it. Yet it had been opened. Not a soul in the world knew the combination except Sinclair, and he says that if he should happen to forget it or to die the safe would have to be drilled open. But they got in, nevertheless, and they seemed to know just what to take and the value that might be attached to it.”

      As Burke proceeded with the

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