IV
Officer Keogh, an hour later, under the white light of the desk lampsover at the ---- Precinct, was telling his story to the desk-sergeantbehind the rail. The desk-sergeant listened disinterestedly until heheard mentioned the name Cradlebaugh. At that juncture he held up hishand, placed a warning finger on his lips, nodded toward the drowsydoorman and toward two of the reserve squad in the room, and lookingKeogh in the eyes, whispered:--
"Officer, speak low."
Keogh, taken aback for the moment, dropped his voice as he went on withhis story. Once more the sergeant stopped him.
"The most important thing is just where the body was found. Be exactnow, if possible; it's important."
Keogh went on to give a minute description, and wound up by saying:--
"The man was dragged, all right, after he was dead."
The desk-sergeant's eyes narrowed to pin points as he demanded:--
"In which direction?"
"To the west."
The desk-sergeant shook his head portentously, and observed:--
"Looks for sure like this was pulled off in Cradlebaugh's."
"_That's_ what _I've_ been telling everybody," returned Keogh, the prideof proper diagnosis resting cheerfully upon him.
The desk-sergeant shot out his forefinger and exclaimed:--
"The least you have to say about the matter the better. This is not acase for you or for me, but for the captain in the morning."
The captain appeared unusually early in the morning with some half-dozenpapers in his hand. Slapping the morning editions, scareheads, uppermostin front of the sergeant, he blurted out:--
"What's this here?"
The sergeant glanced at the topmost sheet and skimmed rapidly over thedetails.
"Don't know where they got the facts, but it looks like they got 'em_right_."
The captain scratched his head, then for the next few minutes he lookedout of the window and watched the passing throng; he was ponderingdeeply. Finally he inquired:--
"What did you do?"
The desk-sergeant grinned.
"Not a bloomin' thing," he answered.
The captain shot a glance of surprised approval at his inferior.
"For once, by gum," he conceded, "you hit the nail upon the head. Thisisn't a case for the police--not yet."
"Then for who?" The desk-sergeant looked dubious.
"For Peter Broderick," said the captain, nodding.
"What's Peter Broderick got to do with it?" inquired the desk-sergeant,still doubtful.
The captain seized the telephone, but paused to explain:--
"Peter Broderick has got everything to do with it, since the people putthis blatherskite Murgatroyd into the prosecutor's office. You know aswell as I do that there's been too many rumpuses in Cradlebaugh's--andMurgatroyd sent word from the court-house that the place would be closedup, cleaned out, if there was any more trouble there."
"And Broderick?" persisted the sergeant.
"Broderick gave me orders to be tipped off hard when anything happens toCradlebaugh's--no matter what. And that," concluded the captain, "isenough for you and me; we've got to obey orders--see?"
He removed the receiver from its hook and was about to talk to Central,but changed his mind, hung up the receiver, wheeled round on thesergeant and asked:--
"Were you going home?"
The other stretched his arms and yawned.
"Yes. Why?"
The captain passed over two black cigars.
"Smoke 'em--they'll keep you awake. And say," he went on, placing hishand soothingly upon the other's arm, "you wouldn't mind looking upChairman Peter Broderick, would you? It isn't everybody I can trust."
He seized a pad and wrote hastily for a moment, and finally handing theslip of paper to the sergeant, added:--
"First, try these four addresses. If he's not at any of these, then tryhis home; you'll be sure to find him there. But see him--don't take nofor an answer, and after you have told him the whole story, get hisorders--see?"
It took an hour and a half to locate Chairman Peter Broderick; thesergeant found him home--in his rooms on the ground floor of theIroquois Club. He waited for some time before he could gain access tothat estimable gentleman, for Peter Broderick's hour for rising was highnoon. The boy who aroused him awakened a slumbering lion; the IroquoisClub cowered when Broderick woke up; others cowered, too. Broderick'sword was law everywhere, and yet he wore no badge of authority, held nooffice--he did not even want one. He was higher than authority, strongerthan civic force: he was power personified. He had attained thatmystical position in the universe, known wherever men cast ballots asChairman of the County Committee, which meant to owe no man a duty, butto demand servitude and fealty from every man. It meant more--it meantto hold the bag! It meant that whatever Peter Broderick wanted he got.
"Well!" roared Broderick to the sergeant; "what in thunder do you want?"
The desk-sergeant briefly set forth his credentials and authority, andthen plunged boldly into the purpose of his presence.
"The captain wants to know what he's to do about this Hargraves murder?"
Broderick stared hard at him.
"Hargraves murder?" he repeated. "What Hargraves?"
The sergeant told him.
"Great Scott! So he's dead. Confound him! He bled me like thunder atdraw the last time I met him!"
The sergeant went on to give him the facts; Broderick the while wasthinking deeply. Finally he interrupted the other with the question:--
"Look here, sergeant, what was there to prevent Hargraves being shotdown by a highwayman or a thug? Can you tell me that?"
"Officer Keogh says----"
"Hang Officer Keogh!" yelled Broderick. "Keogh is going to say nothingbut what he's told to say. Look here--do you know who killed Hargraves?"
"No."
"Does anybody know?"
"Not yet."
"So far so good. Now, then, that's a dark street, isn't it? And otherhouses as well as Cradlebaugh's have an opening on that street, haven'tthey? I say that this thing wasn't pulled off inside of Cradlebaugh's;it was the work of an unknown assassin--a thug. Do you understand?" hedeclared emphatically.
"You want the captain to work it out on that theory! Isn't that it?"
"I don't want the captain to work it out on any theory!" yelledBroderick. "Let the captain sit still--do nothin'!--say nothin'! I'mdoin' this thing--I'll work out all the necessary theories! Do youhear?"
"The captain told me to remind you that Prosecutor Murgatroyd----"
Broderick sprang to his feet and stood glowering over the sergeant.
"Murgatroyd! Nobody has to remind me of Murgatroyd--confound him! I'malways being reminded of him. He's the only office-holder in this burghthat hasn't got the decency to know that what _I_ say goes! Sergeant,"he went on confidentially, "this is a blamed important thing, and beforeI do anything I'm going down-town to consult Mr. Graham Thorne. I'llbring him up to Cradlebaugh's; you tell your captain to meet us there inan hour and a half. That's all he's got to do--all you've got todo--I'll do the rest. Now go!"
Twenty minutes later Broderick waddled into the private office of GrahamThorne, Esquire, counsellor at law.
"Thorne," he exclaimed, lounging back comfortably in a chair, "have youseen about this thing? Do you know what happened _there_ last night?"
Thorne smiled grimly and pointed to the pile of morning papers on hisdesk.
"I knew about it at six o'clock this morning. I've been waiting for youto turn up for the last four hours." There was a note of superiority inhis voice, which, strange to say, Broderick in nowise resented.
Broderick ever since he had met Thorne, had felt an admiration for thistall, handsome, dignified young man, with the grey just commencing tocreep in his hair. Thorne possessed all the qualities that go to make upa clever, astute counsellor at law. Of his antecedents, it is true, noone knew aught; he had merely arrived a few short years before, openedhis big law office, stalke
d into the courts and out of them, into theclubs and out of them. It cannot be denied that he made his bestimpression upon laymen and not upon the lawyers, although even themembers of the Bar conceded that Thorne had ability. That he earned agreat deal of money was quite manifest, for he spent it with a freehand, if a trifle too ostentatiously. He was not a politician in anysense of the word, and yet unquestionably he had the air and theearmarks of the man who some day might become a statesman. He hobnobbedwith the best people, knew everybody worth while, and everybody worthwhile knew him. Broderick felt that if fate could regenerate him heshould like to be Thorne.
"Well," blurted out the politician, "what are you going to do about it?"
"What are _we_ going to do about it?" asked the lawyer in turn.
"I can handle the police," Broderick affirmed.
"That goes without saying; but we're up against something more than thepolice."
"If Tom Martin or Sam Apgar was the prosecutor now," wailed Broderick,"we'd have no trouble. They used to come to me regularly forinstructions----"
Thorne rose slowly, paced the entire length of his long private office,treading noiselessly the thick, green carpet like a cat.
"But," he protested, "Martin isn't prosecutor, neither is Apgar.Murgatroyd is prosecutor, and----"
"Confound the man!" interrupted Broderick. "He's so straight that heleans over backwards. It was he who said six weeks ago that the Tweedalesuicide was the last straw; that if another fracas occurred inside ofCradlebaugh's it would be good-bye to Cradlebaugh's. And now there'sthis blamed murder!"
Thorne looked Broderick in the eye for a moment and asked:--
"Do you know that this murder happened inside of Cradlebaugh's?"
"No; but I'm satisfied it did."
"Have you talked to Pemmican?"
Broderick stared in surprise.
"No; but haven't you?"
Thorne shook his head.
"You forget that I waited here for you. Now that you're here, my idea isto see Pemmican and get the facts."
"The captain of the ---- Precinct will be there," explained Broderick."He understands that you're counsel for Cradlebaugh's--see?"
"Come on," repeated Thorne; "we'll go and see Pemmican."
Broderick remained seated. Presently he said hesitatingly:--
"Just a second, counsellor--I wish you'd draw a cheque for five for me."
"Dollars?"
"No."
"Hundreds?"
"No."
"Five thousand!" Thorne whistled. "Coming it just a bit strong,Broderick."
Broderick vigorously shook his head.
"Now, look here, Thorne, I've got no complaint to make of you, andyou've got no complaint to make of me. You've paid me well, but you'vehad blamed good returns for it, haven't you? Come now!"
"Yes," admitted Thorne. "But----"
"No buts," interrupted Broderick. "This is a crisis."
Thorne drew down the corners of his mouth.
"Do you think that I don't know it's a crisis?" He went back to hisdesk, drew forth a cheque-book and wrote a cheque. Before passing itover to Broderick, he looked him squarely in the eye, and added:--
"Peter, I've always paid you by cheque and taken your receipt."
"Sure!" returned Broderick. "I'm no office-holder. You could publish itin the newspapers; nobody could find fault."
"The point is," continued Thorne, referring to a memorandum, "that I'vepassed over to you a sight of money."
"And you got a sight of influence in return," retorted Broderick.
Thorne passed over the five thousand dollar cheque, seized Broderick bythe arm, marched him out, then he began to relieve his mind.
"Broderick, I want more influence. I've got a pet scheme, a greatambition that is overweening, overwhelming. It won't down; it owns mebody and soul." He paused a moment before finally coming to the point."I want some day to sit in the Senate of the United States."
"Phew!" whistled Broderick. "Nothing stingy about you!"
"I shall want every iota of your influence," Thorne went on; "I shallneed it. And, Peter, I want to know whether I'm going to have it. I wantto know that _now_."
Broderick stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk and shook him by thehand.
"Thorne," he exclaimed, "there isn't a man I'd rather send to the UnitedStates Senate than you! I mean it; there's my hand on it." And pushingThorne into the waiting taxicab he commanded the driver to take them toCradlebaugh's back entrance.
"Quick as you can!" he added, as they drove off.
Once in Cradlebaugh's, the domineering influence of Broderick againasserted itself.
"Where's Pemmican?" he inquired gruffly; and without waiting for ananswer: "send him along right away!"
The liveried man who did his bidding bowed a bit familiarly to him, butvery deferentially to Thorne. The latter he knew as a patron of theplace, but one who did not play.
Almost instantly Pemmican came. His face was haggard, pale, his eyesheavy with sleeplessness, and upon him generally was the air of a manwho had passed through some nightmare that with the dawn had turned outto be hideously true. He took them at once to the private room where thecaptain of police was waiting.
"Captain," said Broderick, "this is my counsel. He's a rattler foradvice when a man's in a tight hole, and I thought I'd just fetch himalong. Captain Whally--Counsellor Thorne." And turning at once uponPemmican, Broderick proceeded to interrogate him.
"Now just where did this thing happen?"
Pemmican looked at the captain, at Broderick and then at Thorne beforeanswering. Then he said:--
"Room A."
"Then it _was_ pulled off in here?"
"Yes."
"And how did he get out there on the street?"
Pemmican rubbed his hands together, looking first to Thorne and then tothe captain for approval.
"I dragged him out."
"Good work!" was Broderick's brief comment.
"Who did this thing?" asked Thorne.
Pemmican gulped. After a second he answered:--
"Challoner."
"Laurie Challoner? You don't say!" ejaculated Broderick. That was allthe surprise manifested. Challoner's proclivities were too well known toeverybody in the room; besides, Cradlebaugh's was always expecting theunexpected to happen.
"Challoner," exclaimed Thorne with a show of satisfaction, "is a clientof mine!"
Broderick's eyes brightened.
"Great! That simplifies matters. You'll defend him?"
"I shall," admitted Thorne, "if he be apprehended."
"But we must fix it so that he won't be," remarked Broderick.
"Or, if apprehended," continued Thorne, "so that he won't be brought totrial." And turning again to Pemmican: "Where is Challoner?"
Pemmican spread his hands apart, shrugged his shoulders and finallyanswered:--
"Gone--nobody knows where."
Just then the telephone bell rang. Pemmican answered it, listened for aninstant and then resigned the receiver as he called:--
"Captain, it's for you."
The captain with some trepidation seized the instrument, and talked inlow tones while the rest remained silent. Finally he hung up thereceiver and announced:--
"It's my office. Murgatroyd is there now." The captain looked worried ashe declared: "He wants to talk to me."
"Let him wait!" Broderick blustered out. Nevertheless a shadowy gloomsettled down upon them all. Thorne was the first to break the silence.
"If Murgatroyd drags Cradlebaugh's into this murder case there'll be thedevil to pay."
"He's got to keep it out," insisted Broderick. "Confound it! If he dragsCradlebaugh's into it, he'll drag into it his own organisation! Hedoesn't know the men who are behind it--its party affiliations, itspatrons. If he makes this case a handle for his confoundedinvestigations--well----"
"He will!" interrupted the captain of police. "See if he don't..."
"What if he does?" protested Broderick. "There is
n't a grand jury everbeen picked that would indict Cradlebaugh's! And there you are!"
"So long as public opinion don't get to work," ventured the captain.
Broderick started.
"You've hit the nail upon the head, captain," he assented, as he smotethe table with his clenched fist. "That's why I'm worried. If publicopinion gets to work, why say, it will----"
"Keep cool now, keep cool," counselled Thorne. "I'll see Murgatroyd," hewent on; "this is the time of all times that he's got to do what we tellhim to do; and if he don't--we'll break him on the wheel!"
Thorne smiled and jerked his head toward Pemmican.
"We even have the sole witness to this tragedy in the hollow of ourhands."
There was a gentle tap on the door. Pemmican opened it and held awhispered conversation with one of the attendants of the house. Then hecame back into the room and looking at the captain, he said:--
"They say down-stairs that two of the prosecutor's men were seen leavingthe 'Elevated' a few minutes ago, and that they were working their wayover to the West."
"Jumpin' Jerusalem!" exclaimed the captain, leaping to his feet."They're coming here. That ends me--I'm off!" He caught up his cap anddisappeared.
Pemmican once more locked the door; then Broderick resumed theconversation.
"By George, that's so!" he said to Thorne. "Pemmican is _the_ witness;we can keep him muzzled."
Pemmican edged forward from his position near the wall. Advancing to thetable he placed both hands upon it and looked at the two menbelligerently.
"But you won't keep me muzzled!" he exclaimed.
Broderick gasped:
"W--what?"
Pemmican drew himself together. Hitherto his attitude had been one offearful deference toward Thorne; now he was defiant.
"You can't keep me muzzled!" he repeated.
Broderick took a long breath and rose as though to throttle Pemmican.Thorne waved him to his seat.
"Pemmican," said Thorne, "you need some sleep."
"I don't need sleep nor coaching either," retorted Pemmican. "I'm goingto tell the truth about this murder."
"Well," said Broderick soothingly; "you've told it--to us."
Thorne fastened Pemmican with his cold, penetrating glance ofdispleasure. Pemmican shivered, but was game.
"This murder," Pemmican maintained desperately, "was committed byChalloner in Room A of this gambling house! I don't care if the housedoes pay me my salary, I don't care if I am in charge here, the housecan't make me lie!" He paused for a moment and then went on:--
"This killing followed a row over a game of cards. I heard the row; Isaw the shooting; and it's up to me to lay my cards down on the table.I'll give up what I know!"
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" said Thorne threateningly.
"I'll do nothing else!" retorted Pemmican hotly.
"If Murgatroyd comes here," suggested Broderick, "or sends for you, youkeep mum--do you understand? That's your game! We'll take care of youthe same as we are going to take care of the captain. He's true blue;and you've got to be true blue." And pointing toward Thorne, he added:--
"There's Thorne--he's your counsel, too. You do as he says, and he'lltake care of you."
"I can take care of myself," returned Pemmican, doggedly, "and I'm goingto do it. I'm going to tell the truth about this thing to Murgatroyd!"
There was another knock upon the door--a short, sharp, curt, commandingknock. Pemmican sprang to the door, unlocked it and threw it open.
Three men entered: One was Mixley; another McGrath--both detectives inthe employ of the prosecutor's office in the court-house; and the thirdman was William Murgatroyd, the newly elected prosecutor of the pleas.
The Red Mouse: A Mystery Romance Page 4
