The Diamond Master
Page 12
CHAPTER XII
THE THIRD DEGREE
Some years ago a famous head of the police department clearlydemonstrated the superiority of a knock-out blow, frequentlyadministered, as against moral suasion, and from that moment the"third degree" became an institution. Whatever sort of criticismmay be made of the "third degree," it is, nevertheless, amazinglyeffective, and beyond that, affords infinite satisfaction to theadministrator. There is a certain vicious delight in brutallysmashing a sullen, helpless prisoner in the face; and the "thirddegree" is not officially in existence.
Red Haney was submitted to the "third degree." His argument that hefound the diamonds, and that having found them they were his untilthe proper owner appeared, was futile. Ten minutes after havingpassed into a room where sat Chief Arkwright, of the Mulberry Streetforce, and three of his men, and Steven Birnes, of the BirnesDetective Agency, Haney remembered that he hadn't found the diamondsat all--somebody had given them to him.
"Who gave them to you?" demanded the chief.
"I don't know the guy's name, Boss," Haney replied humbly.
"This is to remind you of it."
Haney found himself sprawling on the floor, and looked up, with apleading, piteous expression. His eyes were still red and bleary,his motley face shot with purple, and the fumes of the liquor stillclouded his brain. The chief stood above him with clenched fist.
"On the level, Boss, I don't know," he whined.
"Get up!" commanded the chief. Haney struggled to his feet anddropped into his chair. "What does he look like--this man who gavethem to you? Where did you meet him? _Why_ did he give them toyou?"
"Now, Boss, I'm goin' to give you the straight goods," Haney pleaded."Don't hit me any more an' I'll tell you all I know about it."
The chief sat down again with scowling face. Haney drew a longbreath of relief.
"He's a little, skinny feller, Boss," the prisoner went on toexplain, the while he thoughtfully caressed his jaw. "I meets himout here in a little town called Willow Creek, me havin' swung off afreight there to git somethin' to eat. He's just got a couple ofhandouts an' he passes one to me, an' we gits to talkin'. He gits totellin' me somethin' about a nutty old gazebo who lives in the nexttown, which he had just left. This old bazoo, he says, has a hatfulo' diamonds up there, but they ain't polished or nothin' an' he'sthere by hisself, an' is old an' simple, an' it's findin' money, hesays, to go over an' take 'em away from him. He reckoned there must'a' been a thousan' dollars' worth altogether.
"Well, he puts the proposition to me," Haney continuedcircumstantially, "an' I falls for it. We're to go over, an' I'm topipe it all off to see it's all right, then I'm to sort o' hang aroun'an' keep watch while he goes in an' gives the old nut a gentle tap onthe coco, an' cops the sparks. That's what we done. I goes up an'takes a few looks aroun', then I whistles an' he appears from theback, an' goes up to the kitchen for a handout. The old guy opensthe door, an' he goes in. About a minute later he comes out an'gives me a handful o' little rocks--them I had--an' we go away. Hecatches a freight goin' west, an' I swings one for Jersey City."
"When was this?" demanded Chief Arkwright.
"What's to-day?" asked Haney in turn.
"This is Sunday morning."
"Well, it was yesterday mornin' sometime, Saturday. When I gits toJersey I takes one o' the little rocks an' goes into a place an'shows it to the bar-keep. He gives me a lot o' booze for it, an' Iguess I gits considerable lit up, an' he also gives me some money topay ferry fare, an' the next thing I knows I'm nabbed over in thehock-shop. I guess I _was_ lit up good, 'cause if I'd 'a' been rightI wouldn't 'a' went to the hock-shop an' got pinched."
He glanced around at the five other men in the room, and he readbelief in each face, whereupon he drew a breath of relief.
"What town was it?" asked the chief.
"Little place named Coaldale."
"Coaldale," the chief repeated thoughtfully. "Where is that?"
"About forty or fifty miles out'n Jersey" said Haney.
"I know the place," remarked Mr. Birnes.
"You are sure, Haney?" said the chief after a pause. "You are sureyou don't know this other man's name?"
"I don't know it, Boss."
"Who was the man you robbed?"
"I don't know."
The chief arose quickly, and the prisoner cringed in his seat.
"I don't know," he went on protestingly. "Don't hit me again."
But the chief had no such intention; it was merely to walk back andforth across the room.
"What kind of man was he--a tramp?"
Haney faltered and thoughtfully pulled his under-lip. The cunningbrain behind the bleary eyes was working now.
"I wouldn't call him a tramp," he said evasively. "He had on collaran' cuffs an' good clothes, an' talked sort o' easy."
"Little, skinny man you said. What color was his hair?"
The chief turned in his tracks and regarded Haney with keen, inquiringeyes. The prisoner withstood the scrutiny bravely.
"Sort o' blackish, brownish hair."
"Black, you mean?"
"Well, yes--black."
"And his eyes?"
"Black eyes--little an' round like gimlet holes."
"Heavy eyebrows, I suppose?"
"Yes," Haney agreed readily. "They sort o' stuck out."
"And his nose? Big or little? Heavy or thin?"
Haney considered that thoughtfully for a moment before he answered.Then:
"Sort o' medium nose, Boss, with a point on it."
"And a thin face, naturally. How much did he weigh?"
"Oh, he was a little feller--skinny, you know. I reckon he didn'tweigh no more'n a hundred an' twenty-five or thirty."
Some germ had been born in the fertile mind of Mr. Birnes; now itburst into maturity. He leaned forward in his chair and staredcoldly at Haney.
"Perhaps," he suggested slowly, "perhaps he had a scar on his face?"
Haney returned the gaze dully for an instant, then suddenly he noddedhis head.
"Yes, a scar," he said.
"From here?" Mr. Birnes placed one finger on the point of his chinand drew it across his right jaw.
"Yes, a scar--that's it;" the prisoner acquiesced, "from his chinalmost around to his ear."
Mr. Birnes came to his feet, while the official police stared. Thechief sat down again and crossed his fat legs.
"Why, what do _you_ know, Birnes?" he queried.
"I know the _man_, Chief," the detective burst out confidently. "I'dgamble my head on it. I knew it! I knew it!" he told himself. Againhe faced the tramp: "Haney, do you know how much the diamonds youhad were worth?"
"Must 'a' been three or four hundred dollars."
"Something like fifty thousand dollars," Mr. Birnes informed himimpressively; "and if you got fifty thousand dollars for your sharethe other man got a million."
Haney only stared.