“By the use of a substitute for hydrocyanic acid gas,” replied Carson, “a thing with a rather heady punch to it, so far as I can gather, but without the lethal effects.” He turned his head, and his glance fell on a telephone which stood on a stand near the wall. “May I first use your phone?”
“Go ahead,” nodded van Twillingham. “I want time to think about this thing anyway.”
Whereupon Carson raised the receiver and called a number which was safely ensconced in the back of his mind, that of Dr. Byerly, his physician during the past few years. The ring at the Cleveland Avenue residence was answered at once by a maid, and in short order the crisp, yet friendly, tones of Dr. Herman Byerly were on the wire.
“Dr. Byerly,” Carson informed him, “this is Clifford Carson.”
“Ah there, Cliff, my boy. How are you?”
“Fine — but in need just now of some detailed information. Dr. Byerly, tell me something of this new Ethine about which I have read fragments here and there in the Journal of the American Medical Association.”
“Ethine?” returned the physician curiously over the phone. “Well — it’s Burmeister’s new emergency anaesthetic. Burmeister, you know, is the New York surgeon who’s doing so much splendid research and experimental work in the science. As for Ethine, it’s a combination of ethyl-bromide in gaseous form, carbon monoxide, and a new organic vapor the name of which I don’t recall at this moment.” He paused. “Well — what more can I tell you?”
“Tell me something of its action. How quick is it?”
“So quick,” replied Dr. Byerly with a laugh, “that I’m afraid it’s going to be only a passing vogue. One whiff of it puts the patient under so fast he hasn’t time even to object. The effects of a good lungful last about three minutes. While Burmeister really invented it for surgery, I think personally it will wind up in dentistry, if it is adopted at all by the profession; although, to be quite fair, for quick emergency operations such as — say — a man pinioned under a street car whose leg must be amputated immediately — it is unparalleled.”
“I see.” Carson paused. “Who are the Chicago agents for Ethine, Doctor? That is, who is putting it up in this city? And likewise just how is it put up?”
“All the emergency hospitals are carrying it,” replied the physician. “But not many physicians, however, in spite of the fact that it is put out also in a tiny nickel-plated cylinder that can be carried in a medical valise. But let’s see — you asked for the Chicago agents, didn’t you? Now — let me think — yes, that’s it — Grosbrenner and Company, Chemists, on West Lake Street. Perfectly stable combination Ethine is, you know, and will keep indefinitely at any temperature.”
“Is it stored in high-pressure cylinders?”
“Oh yes,” said Byerly. “Of course, when used directly on a patient it is first released into the anaesthetist’s balloon to lower the pressure. As for the cylinders — the usual four-foot ones — eighty pounds pressure per square inch.”
“Dr. Byerly, I’m going to ask a very unusual favor of you. For a good many years you’ve known me now, and I don’t believe I need any references with you. I’m conducting some peculiar experiments, and I’m going to ask you if you will call up Grosbrenner and Company — providing you don’t get another ring from me within ten minutes cancelling the order — and have one of the largest cylinders of Ethine taken out before six o’clock tonight to number 5720 St. Giles Lane by two special messengers and taxicab. The entire transaction will be charged to you, but I will settle with you for it within twenty-four hours.”
Dr. Herman Byerly appeared to be a bit staggered by this request. “Well — why — Great Scott, Cliff — you don’t expect to do any surgical operations, do you? And why — why you don’t want a huge tank of it, do you? Are you thinking of working on a dog? Or do you — ”
Carson laughed a bit desperately. “Not exactly, Doctor. It’s too long a story to tell you over the wire. All I can say just now is that I want the largest cylinder and the highest pressure they carry. Won’t you trust me, Doctor? I can’t get it through my own name, I realize that.”
Byerly thought for a moment. “Well, Cliff, I’ll do it. If this Ethine were any more than a purely temporary knockout, my boy, I wouldn’t trust you with it even though you are the cool head I know you to be. But for Heaven’s sake, promise me that you’ll keep your own nose away from the spigot of that cylinder. If you’ve any idea of trying something new in exterminating rats, don’t go and lay yourself out flat with your experiment. The stuff isn’t dangerous, but be careful anyway.” He paused. “All right. That number once more? 5720 St. Giles Lane? All right. I’ve got it. If I don’t hear from you within a quarter of an hour, I’ll phone in the order. But watch that step of yours.”
Carson hung up and turned to van Twillingham who had been an attentive listener to the conversation. “There, Mr. van Twillingham, I guess you heard the chief part of the conversation. My doctor says that Ethine is a new combination that is almost like a Westerner’s hip-draw for speed in knocking out a patient — but that it hasn’t any dangerous points nor any value in keeping the patient unconscious for a protracted period of time. Now this is what I propose to do — and so confident was I that you would grasp the golden opportunity of watching this demonstration of an idea which, unaltered, is a real man-trap, that I’ve even ordered the cylinder of Ethine. I propose to substitute at once — before seven o’clock tonight — the Cary Desmond man-trap for the Amos Todd and Sons safe which this St. Paul lawyer and this woman, Kate Barwick, looked over last night. In dimensions the two safes are identical, for the reason that the outer measurements of one were taken directly for the casting patterns of the other.
“There is a slight difference between the diameters of the dial faces,” Carson continued, “but this will not be noted on account of the resemblance in other respects. That resemblance will be clinched by trademark lettering which I will have my fiancée duplicate letter for letter, on the unlettered safe. By means of quick-drying gold paint with quick-drying red for the outline of the letters, and a little scratching up and smudging over with dust afterward, we will achieve the appearance of age on that trademark.
“We have the necessary apparatus,” Carson went on, “for exhausting the man-trap through the valve in the inner safe floor, and by the time this is done we will have connected up the tank of Ethine from the ceiling of the cellar below and make the two systems one. When this woman handcuff expert comes tonight to open the safe by her superior knowledge of safe mechanisms, you may see with your own eyes that that knowledge is of no avail; that once she has pierced that outer shell and released the eighty pounds of gas pressure, she cannot by any manner or means stop the flow — whether she tries to get the drill back into the hole or uses her thumb, her efforts will be useless against such a high-pressure jet. And if we don’t put her to sleep for a period of about three minutes, during which time someone of us will go downstairs and turn off the cylinder in the cellar below — well — what more can I offer? The idea, and a practical demonstration of it under actual conditions!”
“Hm.” van Twillingham sat staring at the pointed toes of his expensive shoes. “I’m glad you spoke of that one point which I consider the weak point in the whole scheme: and that’s whether a cracksman can get next to the trap in time to stop the flow of the gas with his drill or his thumb. I’ve had no experience with such things as high-pressure gases, and I know nothing about ‘em, but it seems to me that I could stop it some way.” He sat for a moment. “Well, your proposition’s a rare one, my friend. And I’m frank to say it’s a sporting one too. In fact, I’ll take you up on it. If she gets that drill of hers back against that flow of gas, or holds it back even with the ball of her finger, and saves her life — theoretically, of course — well the deal is off. The thing, from my point of view, isn’t a man-trap then. All right. Now a question: how are we all going to watch this affair?”
“I would say the thing to do is for me to knock th
ree generously sized holes in the wall of the room which adjoins this little library, one for your use, one for Cary Desmond’s, and one for mine. Over them we’ll hang pictures, lithographs, calendars, with a torn spot where the holes give into the library. Remember the house will be in darkness, and she will operate beyond any doubt only by the light of her electric torch. In that way we should have nothing less than a box seat at this performance in which a man-trap traps a real human being.”
Van Twillingham rose and paced up and down the room. “It’s ripping,” he said, his enthusiasm mounting by leaps and bounds at Carson’s picturization of the means by which they might witness the drama. “It’s a ripping proposition all around — upon my word it is.” He turned suddenly. His lean face all alight with the anticipation of the game suddenly clouded up. “But when is this Madame Mercedes or whatever her right name is supposed to be, to arrive there?”
Carson’s face too clouded. “You leave for Honolulu at twelve-five tonight?”
“Positive,” nodded van Twillingham emphatically. “The train carrying my special coach pulls out from the Northwestern depot at that moment. As it is, we’re making the boat at Seattle with but the shortest of margins. So far as the train-time goes, I can board the train and join Mrs. van Twillingham, of course, at the last Chicago stop — the Jefferson Park station — which would be somewhere out in the general region of 5720 St. Giles Lane. It stops there at twelve-twenty, and allowing five minutes to go from 5720 St. Giles Lane to the Jefferson Park station in my limousine, leaves me up till about roughly twelve-fifteen tonight to be in this affair. If this Madame Mercedes doesn’t come and sit in the game before that — well — we’ll simply have to call matters all off. Mrs. van Twillingham and I anticipate taking a long trip, and we may go to Japan from Honolulu. I don’t know when, if ever, I shall be able to take this matter up again.”
Carson sat chin in hand. “The St. Paul lawyer,” he said at length, “assured me the woman was to come shortly around eleven o’clock. As I told you, she is supposed to know that the house is absolutely untenanted — but she is to receive furthermore a signal from the old shack across the street that everything is ?. K. She may be delayed, but I don’t believe she will. It seems to me that if she comes, she should make it in plenty of time to fit in with your plans.”
Van Twillingham looked at his watch. “All right,” he pronounced with an air of finality. “Go to it. Fix the whole matter up. Rig up the entire affair just as you’ve described, peepholes and all. I’ll be out at that St. Giles Lane address at around ten o’clock tonight. I’ve got to superintend a lot of packing between now and then, and I’ll have my hands full. I’m ready to see this thing through with you, and if it works out as efficiently as it sounds in words, I think we’ll have time to go into details about the transference of the legal rights in it. To save time, pending the outcome of the experiment, better have an assignment of the full rights in the thing made out in my favor and duly signed.”
Carson arose. A clock on the mantel chimed the quarter hour. It was five-fifteen. “I’ll have to work fast,” he said smiling. “Good-bye for the present, Mr. van Twillingham. We’ll expect you without fail.”
“And I’ll be there,” said the aristocratic scion of wealth, evidently all keen for the unique fox-and-hound feat that was promised him.
Once out of the van Twillingham residence, Carson lost no time in calling up Marcia at the first drugstore. In a few terse sentences he instructed her to phone the Kildare exchange and tell them she could not be on duty that night and that they would have to put on a substitute supervisor. Then he flagged the first taxicab passing and gave the driver the St. Giles Lane number for a destination. On the smooth-bowling wheels he reached the Desmond cottage exactly thirty-three minutes later and paid a good stiff taxicab bill for the expeditiousness with which he had crossed Chicago’s great northwest section. Marcia herself, clad in a black silk house gown that set off her black ringlets and deep brown eyes like the frame of a bewitching old-fashioned portrait, greeted him in the doorway. Cary’s blond face hovered back of her in the hallway. Once inside the parlor, Carson faced them both.
“Now, kids,” he said, with no loss of time, “I’ve got to tell you something that will be unpleasant news; something which I’ve hardly had a chance to realize myself yet. And here it is: That twenty thousand dollars which we thought we received from your father was not from your father at all. It was stolen money.”
They gazed at him wide-eyed. He motioned them each to a seat on the sofa. He sat down between them — the brother and the sister — the boy who had been to Carson like a brother, yet withal not one — the girl who had been more than a sister, a dear delightful sweetheart. And to them each he recounted rapidly the developments of the day, giving them for their inspection the blotter which had pierced the iridescent bubble of their plans. Concluding, he said:
“And there we are. We have fallen into a neat trap of fate. We thought we had heard from your father. Instead we were tricked into a false hypothesis by the doings of a faker a thousand miles away out in North Dakota. Tomorrow morning your father is declared legally dead and Matthias Smock takes possession of that Outer Ravenswood tract. There is no way now by which we can get one penny out of that valuable estate — for we threw our last chance away Tuesday when we killed Smock’s negotiations by withholding the quitclaim. We’ve lost a thousand dollars apiece that you two might have had. This is unfortunate enough, but to my mind there is still one more thing which is even more so.”
He turned to Cary Desmond.
“Cary, that twenty thousand dollar gold note with half of which we fixed up your defalcations and with half of which we squared up your promissory note given to me because of that Texas Helium stock you accidentally let get away from you, was no more ours to use than the man in the moon. We are morally responsible for that money — and that little bank of Bixburg, North Dakota, will have to foot the bill for your misdeeds — perhaps even go to the wall for your misdeeds. Or for part of your misdeeds. I say that because it is too late now to get the half of it back that your employers got — the Midwest Trust and Savings — for even if they believed the story and gave their part up, it would simply mean that you would have to go to prison. As for the half you paid me — well — I’ve got to stop payment on that check I issued Mrs. Galioto this afternoon, and return that portion to the Bixburg bank. Which means that I’m ousted from my bureau within twenty-four hours, and ousted for good, for the Galioto tribe in addition to calling in a half dozen lawyers will be furious, wild, crazy, as all Sicilians can be when they think they’re being tricked and defrauded. All this, unless we can turn the tide tonight by the most drastic and dramatic experiment ever attempted. For it is surely clear to both of you that we must unwillingly make of this circus woman a subject — a temporary victim — for tonight’s exhibition of the man-trap, if we hope at all to get the prize which van Twillingham is well able to pay and to whom the idea and the publicity should be well worth the money. Only by that disagreeable, but not dangerous, expedient can Cary square up the North Dakota bank and both of us climb out on the right side of the ledger. Now what do you two think?”
CHAPTER XX
AT THE HOUR OF MIDNIGHT
AT CARSON’S blunt declaration of the situation, Cary leaned forward. “Cliff — so help me — I’ll do anything that I can to right this thing. So far as feeling that you have cheated us out of a thousand dollars apiece through your misinterpretation of that first blotter, forget it. Anyone would have done the same — backed up as it was with a twenty thousand dollar gold note. Cliff, if you can convince this sporting van Twillingham that here is an idea worthy of the prize he has hung up, twenty thousand of it goes to reimburse the North Dakota bank for the stolen money — which leaves your check to Mrs. Galioto valid — and the balance goes to you and Marcia for a wedding present. You’ve been a real friend.”
“Oh, Cary,” expostulated Carson, “that matter of the wedding gift isn�
�t necessary. I don’t want your money. I want to help you.”
“Doesn’t make any difference,” declared that young man desperately. “Your salesmanship is bringing van Twillingham out here tonight, and you’ve sewed up the whole affair and everything. You ought to get the whole twenty-five thousand — but unfortunately only five of it would be velvet. Now I won’t even sit in and help unless you and Marcia promise to accept it.”
The girl turned her eyes on her brother. “We’ll accept, Cary,” she said, “because I’m more than aware that five thousand dollars would do you more harm than good. Cliff, accept Cary’s proposition and let us all work together and at once to accomplish the end.” She paused. “We are morally obligated to one other party in this case — I refer to the poor old colored woman who brought the Zuri snake here — and she has been calling the house by phone both today and yesterday. She has done her part of the bargain, and we have not completed ours.”
“Marcia is right,” agreed Carson. He turned to Cary. “All right, Cary. At least we’ll be trustees for any velvet that comes out of this. Now I’ll work a bit harder than ever to convince van Twillingham with a purse of four thousand dollars net hung up.” He shook a warning forefinger. “But he’s treating it as a sporting proposition. Remember that. He says that if this woman succeeds in suspecting that the pierced hole is a trap of some sort and stops it up, the idea has failed with him. Now for some reason I’m not so much afraid of that as that she may suspect a change in the safes. So we’ve got to do careful work. We’ve — hello — what’s that?”
They glanced out of the window. A taxicab had drawn up to the curbing in front of the house. And two men emerged from the machine, bundled out a heavy steel cylinder with a hand-valve on the end of it, and putting one end on each of their right shoulders marched lockstep fashion up the walk and rang the bell.
The Riddle of the Yellow Zuri Page 26
