Ashton-Kirk, Criminologist

by John Thomas McIntyre

  CHAPTER XIV

  ASHTON-KIRK VISITS HEADQUARTERS

  For a moment Bat Scanlon stood looking at the disguised investigator, anexpression of almost incredulity upon his face.

  "I see it's you!" spoke he. "But, just the same, I feel like denyingit."

  Ashton-Kirk smiled. However, he made no reply, but stepped up on thechair which Scanlon had just vacated and looked through the transom.When he got down there was an amused look upon his face.

  "Your friend, the burglar, seems quite a capable person," said he. "Thathole he's making in the wall is a very neat job. But," and he shruggedhis shoulders, "he will have his labor for his pains."

  "How do you know?" asked Bat.

  "Because I went through the room they are breaking into an hour ago--andthe thing they are looking for is not there."

  Bat mopped his forehead.

  "Well," said he, "I'll admit this is all a kind of a whirligig to me.I'm in it, and I'm losing none of the motion, but what's turning thething is more than I can make out." He looked at Ashton-Kirk. "Whatplace is this?" he asked.

  "It's a lodging-house, kept by a Mrs. Dolan. And it happened thatseveral lines of action converged here. But," and he took the automaticfrom the bed where he had thrown it and thrust it into his pocket,"there is nothing more to be done here, so we may just as well go whilethe gentlemen across the hall are still absorbed."

  He put on a shabby coat, and with a worn hat pulled well down upon hishead, he opened the door and took a look out into the hall.

  "Quick, now!" said he to Scanlon. "It's important that you should not beseen, for your acquaintance with these people may be valuable still."

  Bat slipped through the doorway and down the hall, and when Ashton-Kirkfollowed a few moments later, he found the big man awaiting him in theshadows of the alley.

  "Where to?" asked Bat.

  "There is a taxi station near here," said the investigator; "we'll needa cab."

  They walked through the silent street and finally saw the illuminatedsign of a garage; they got into a cab, Ashton-Kirk saying:

  "Police headquarters."

  The taxi rolled rapidly on its way; block after block was passed. Batendeavored to reopen the matter of his finding the investigator in thehouse they had just left, but Ashton-Kirk did not seem disposed to talk;he sat in one corner of the cab, apparently deep in thought. At lengththey brought up before the enormous pile in which the police, togetherwith other municipal departments, had their headquarters. Their feetechoed hollowly as they walked through the marble corridor; a drowsyelevator man ran them up to the desired floor, and in a moment more theywere in the department devoted to the detective branch of the police.

  A man with a deeply-marked face and iron-gray hair sat at a desk.

  "Hello, Scanlon!" greeted he, affably.

  "How are you, Sarge?" replied Bat. "Doing your little night trick, eh?"

  "Yes." The old plain-clothes man yawned a little. "Nothing exciting init, either; hasn't been a thing stirred since I came on." Then with anindication of interest: "But maybe you've got something that'll helpkeep us awake."

  "Osborne," said Ashton-Kirk. "Is he here?"

  The old headquarters man bent his brows at the shabby figure; theslouch, the leering look, the head aggressively thrust forward, markedit plainly as of the class against which he had been pitted for years.

  "Yes," he replied, briefly.

  "We'd like to see him."

  "Right through the door," said the veteran detective.

  The two passed through the door indicated, and saw the burly figure ofOsborne, comfortably installed in an easy chair, reading a newspaper.

  "Hello," said he, sitting erect. "That you, Scanlon?"

  "Me, with a friend." Bat grinned, highly entertained. "He wants to havea little talk with you, I think."

  Osborne examined the figure before him attentively. Ashton-Kirk leanedagainst the office rail, his hands in his pockets, the rat-like thief tothe life. The detective examined him carefully, but no ray ofrecognition came into his face. Then, like throwing off a garment,Ashton-Kirk allowed the mannerisms he had assumed to drop from him.Osborne at once sat erect with a laugh of pleasure at his own lack ofpenetration.

  "Good!" said he. "You almost fooled me." He arose and shook thecriminologist's hand. "But what's the idea?"

  "I've just been paying a little visit," replied Ashton-Kirk. He seatedhimself upon the edge of a desk. "Anything new?" he asked.

  "Not much. We've still got young Burton, of course, but he's about asclose-mouthed a proposition as I ever had anything to do with. He sayshe isn't guilty, but that's all he _will_ say. We've given our evidenceto the district attorney's office, and they'll pass it on to the GrandJury in a few days."

  "You've still got it in your mind that he's the person you want, haveyou?"

  Osborne crossed one leg over the other and put his thumbs in thearmholes of his vest.

  "I have," acknowledged he. "I've had a good bit of experience in thesethings, and it looks pretty straight to me. We've got the motive, allright, and it's a strong one. I think a good case can be built up aroundthat, the candlestick and the testimony of the maid and nurse. As amatter of fact," with professional complacence, "I've seen more than oneman go to the chair with less evidence against him."

  "But suppose there were some other little points to be taken intoconsideration?" asked Ashton-Kirk. "As I see it, you are restrictingyourself to a very narrow field. The sort of life the Bounder led iswell known to every one. Do you suppose he was without enemies? Is itnot possible that others may have had motives for dealing the blow thatended his life?"

  Osborne nodded his head, but his comfortable attitude did not change.

  "Sure," said he. "That's so. I've no doubt that Tom Burton, in histime, double-crossed a dozen 'guns' that would have been only too gladof a chance to 'get' him. But they didn't do it; no one but the manwe've got had the chance that night. They weren't near enough."

  The investigator bent toward the speaker, his eyes steadily upon hisface.

  "How sure are you of that?" said he.

  Osborne took his thumbs from the armholes of his vest

  "I'm certain," he replied. "There wasn't any one around but them we knowof. And that being the case there couldn't be----"

  But Ashton-Kirk stopped him.

  "Just one moment! Don't you think you are rather offhand in saying 'andthat being the case'? Are you quite sure that it is the case?"

  Osborne pulled himself up straight in his chair and stared at theinvestigator. Bat Scanlon, watching and listening, felt a little stir ofexcitement as he realized what his friend was about.

  "He's getting him worked up into a state of doubt," was Bat's opinion."In a minute he'll have him so he won't know what he believes."

  However, there was more than this in the big athlete's thoughts. The wayAshton-Kirk took to bring doubt to the mind of the headquarters manawoke a vague distrust in that of Scanlon. The question of motive filledhim with uneasiness--that as to the likelihood of a person other thanyoung Burton being near enough to strike the death blow, turned him coldand helpless.

  "You've got something on your mind," said Osborne to the investigator.He arose to his feet and stood with shoulders squared and legs very wideapart. "What's it all about?"

  From his coat pocket Ashton-Kirk drew a glittering little revolver.

  "I picked this up on the lawn at No. 620 Duncan Street the morning Iwent over the place," said he, quietly.

  The big headquarters man almost snatched the weapon from his hand, sodisturbed was he at this announcement. With greedy eyes he inspected it.

  "Smith & Wesson," said he. "Twenty-two calibre, five chambers, allloaded." He stood weighing the revolver in his hand and looking at theinvestigator. "Anything more?" he asked.

  "I saw undoubted indications of a woman's presence--a woman who had beenlurking outside the house and peering in at the window of the room inwhich the Bounder was killed."

&n
bsp; "A woman!" Quick excitement was in Osborne's face. "Why, one of thefirst things I said when the news came in was----" He stopped, a frownwrinkled his brow and he shook his head. "Indications are one thing, butproof is another," he said. "Suppose it was shown that a woman _was_hanging around outside the house that night?--suppose she carried thisgun? What would that get us? She wasn't inside--therefore she couldn'thave killed the Bounder. And then, again, the man was killed by a blowon the head. He wasn't shot."

  Ashton-Kirk shrugged his shoulders with the air of one who had relievedhimself of a responsibility.

  "I'm merely pointing out these facts to you," he said. "Of course youcan do with them what you like."

  With a nod to Scanlon, he was ready to go. Osborne stopped them at thedoor and asked a half dozen questions, all bearing pointedly upon whatthe investigator had just told him.

  "All right," said he. "Thanks. This looks as though it'd be of littleuse; but then it doesn't do any harm to know all you can about a case."

  Bat Scanlon heard the investigator chuckle as they got into the waitingtaxi.

  "It would be a safe gamble that he will be out at Stanwick in themorning looking over those places he has neglected heretofore," laughedAshton-Kirk, as the driver slammed the door shut after them and startedtoward the destination given him.

  Bat, anxious of eye, and with lips grimly pressed together, was silentfor a space, and then he said:

  "What was the idea of telling the 'bulls' those things? You don't giveyour clues away as a rule."

  Again Ashton-Kirk laughed.

  "I don't think headquarters will go very far on what indications theyget from the lawn at this stage," said he, drily. "So I don't anticipatemuch interference from them. And," with a nod of the head which toldScanlon everything and nothing, "I have a little theory which I desireto try out. And I expect an answer within twenty-four hours."