The Dream Doctor

by Arthur B. Reeve

  XIII

  THE KLEPTOMANIAC

  Quickly Kennedy outlined, with Donnelly's permission, the story we hadjust heard. The two store detectives saw the humour of the situation,as well as the seriousness of it, and fell to comparing notes.

  "The professional as well as the amateur shop-lifter has alwayspresented to me an interesting phase of criminality," remarked Kennedytentatively, during a lull in their mutual commiseration. "Withthousands of dollars' worth of goods lying unprotected on the counters,it is really no wonder that some are tempted to reach out and take whatthey want."

  "Yes," explained Donnelly, "the shop-lifter is the department-store'sgreatest unsolved problem. Why, sir, she gets more plunder in a yearthan the burglar. She's costing the stores over two million dollars.And she is at her busiest just now with the season's shopping in fullswing. It's the price the stores have to pay for displaying theirgoods, but we have to do it, and we are at the mercy of the thieves. Idon't mean by that the occasional shoplifter who, when she gets caught,confesses, cries, pleads, and begs to return the stolen article. Theyoften get off. It is the regulars who get the two million, those knownto the police, whose pictures are, many of them, in the Rogues'Gallery, whose careers and haunts are known to every probation officer.They are getting away with loot that means for them a sumptuous living."

  "Of course we are not up against the same sort of swindlers that youare," put in Bentley, "but let me tell you that when the big jewelersdo get up against anything of the sort they are up against it hard."

  "Have you any idea who it could be?" asked Kennedy, who had beenfollowing the discussion keenly.

  "Well, some idea," spoke up Donnelly. "From what Bentley says Iwouldn't be surprised to find that it was the same person in bothcases. Of course you know how rushed all the stores are just now. It ismuch easier for these light-fingered individuals to operate during therush than at any other time. In the summer, for instance, there isalmost no shop-lifting at all. I thought that perhaps we could discoverthis particular shoplifter by ordinary means, that perhaps some of theclerks in the jewellery department might be able to identify her. Wefound one who said that he thought he might recognise one of the womenif he saw her again. Perhaps you did not know that we have our ownlittle rogues' gallery in most of the big department-stores. But theredidn't happen to be anything there that he recognised. So I took himdown to Police Headquarters. Through plate after plate of picturesamong the shoplifters in the regular Rogues' Gallery the clerk went. Atlast he came to one picture that caused him to stop. 'That is one ofthe women I saw in the store that day,' he said. 'I'm sure of it.'"

  Donnelly produced a copy of the Bertillon picture.

  "What?" exclaimed Bentley, as he glanced at it and then at the name andhistory on the back. "Annie Grayson? Why, she is known as the queen ofshoplifters. She has operated from Christie's in London to the littlecurio-shops of San Francisco. She has worked under a dozen aliases andhas the art of alibi down to perfection. Oh, I've heard of her manytimes before. I wonder if she really is the person we're looking for.They say that Annie Grayson has forgotten more about shoplifting thanthe others will ever know."

  "Yes," continued Donnelly, "and here's the queer part of it. The clerkwas ready to swear that he had seen the woman in the store at some timeor other, but whether she had been near the counter where the necklacewas displayed was another matter. He wasn't so sure about that."

  "Then how did she get it?" I asked, much interested.

  "I don't say that she did get it," cautioned Donnelly. "I don't knowanything about it. That is why I am here consulting Professor Kennedy."

  "Then who did get it, do you think?" I demanded.

  "We have a great deal of very conflicting testimony from the variousclerks," Donnelly continued. "Among those who are known to have visitedthe department and to have seen the necklace is another woman, of anentirely different character, well known in the city." He glancedsharply at us, as if to impress us with what he was about to say, thenhe leaned over and almost whispered the name. "As nearly as I cangather out of the mass of evidence, Mrs. William Willoughby, the wifeof the broker down in Wall Street, was the last person who was seenlooking at the diamonds."

  The mere breath of such a suspicion would have been enough, without hisstage-whisper method of imparting the information. I felt that it wasno wonder that, having even a suspicion of this sort, he should be indoubt how to go ahead and should wish Kennedy's advice. EllaWilloughby, besides being the wife of one of the best known operatorsin high-class stocks and bonds, was well known in the society columnsof the newspapers. She lived in Glenclair, where she was a leader ofthe smarter set at both the church and the country club. The group whopreserved this neat balance between higher things and the world, theflesh and the devil, I knew to be a very exclusive group, which, underthe calm suburban surface, led a sufficiently rapid life. Mrs.Willoughby, in addition to being a leader, was a very striking womanand a beautiful dresser, who set a fast pace for the semi-millionaireswho composed the group.

  Here indeed was a puzzle at the very start of the case. It was in allprobability Mrs. Willoughby who had looked at the jewels in both cases.On the other hand, it was Annie Grayson who had been seen on at leastone occasion, yet apparently had had nothing whatever to do with themissing jewels, at least not so far as any tangible evidence yetshowed. More than that, Donnelly vouchsafed the information that he hadgone further and that some of the men work-ing under him hadendeavoured to follow the movements of the two women and had found whatlooked to be a curious crossing of trails. Both of them, he had found,had been in the habit of visiting, while shopping, the same littletea-room on Thirty-third Street, though no one had ever seen themtogether there, and the coincidence might be accounted for by the factthat many Glenclair ladies on shopping expeditions made this tea-room asort of rendezvous. By inquiring about among his own fraternityDonnelly had found that other stores also had reported losses recently,mostly of diamonds and pearls, both black and white.

  Kennedy had been pondering the situation for some time, scarcelyuttering a word. Both detectives were now growing restless, waiting forhim to say something. As for me, I knew that if anything were said ordone it would be in Kennedy's own good time. I had learned to haveimplicit faith and confidence in him, for I doubt if Craig could havebeen placed in a situation where he would not know just what to doafter he had looked over the ground.

  At length he leisurely reached across the table for the suburbantelephone book, turned the pages quickly, snapped it shut, and observedwearily and, as it seemed, irrelevantly: "The same old trouble againabout accurate testimony. I doubt whether if I should suddenly pull arevolver and shoot Jameson, either of you two men could give a strictlyaccurate account of just what happened."

  No one said anything, as he raised his hands from his habitual thinkingposture with finger-tips together, placed both hands back of his head,and leaned back facing us squarely.

  "The first step," he said slowly, "must be to arrange a 'plant.' Asnearly as I can make out the shoplifters or shoplifter, whichever itmay prove to be, have no hint that any one is watching them yet. Now,Donnelly, it is still very early. I want you to telephone around to thenewspapers, and either in the Trimble advertisements or in the newscolumns have it announced that your jewellery department has onexhibition a new and special importation of South African stones amongwhich is one--let me see, let's call it the 'Kimberley Queen.' Thatwill sound attractive. In the meantime find the largest and mostperfect paste jewel in town and have it fixed up for exhibition andlabelled the Kimberley Queen. Give it a history if you can; anything toattract attention. I'll see you in the morning. Good-night, and thankyou for coming to me with this case."

  It was quite late, but Kennedy, now thoroughly interested in followingthe chase, had no intention of waiting until the morrow before takingaction on his own account. In fact he was just beginning the evening'swork by sending Donnelly off to arrange the "plant." No less interestedin the case than himsel
f, I needed no second invitation, and in a fewminutes we were headed from our rooms toward the laboratory, whereKennedy had apparatus to meet almost any conceivable emergency. From ashelf in the corner he took down an oblong oak box, perhaps eighteeninches in length, in the front of which was set a circular metal diskwith a sort of pointer and dial. He lifted the lid of the box, andinside I could see two shiny caps which in turn he lifted, disclosingwhat looked like two good-sized spools of wire. Apparently satisfiedwith his scrutiny, he snapped the lid shut and wrapped up the boxcarefully, consigning it to my care, while he hunted some copper wire.

  From long experience with Kennedy I knew better than to ask what he hadin mind to do. It was enough to know that he had already, in those fewminutes of apparent dreaming while Donnelly and Bentley were fidgetingfor words, mapped out a complete course of action.

  We bent our steps toward the under-river tube, which carried a few latetravellers to the railroad terminal where Kennedy purchased tickets forGlenclair. I noticed that the conductor on the suburban train eyed usrather suspiciously as though the mere fact that we were not travellingwith commutation tickets at such an hour constituted an offence.Although I did not yet know the precise nature of our adventure, Iremembered with some misgiving that I had read of police dogs inGlenclair which were uncomfortably familiar with strangers carryingbundles. However, we got along all right, perhaps because the dogs knewthat in a town of commuters every one was privileged to carry a bundle.

  "If the Willoughbys had been on a party line," remarked Craig as westrode up Woodridge Avenue trying to look as if it was familiar to us,"we might have arranged this thing by stratagem. As it is, we shallhave to resort to another method, and perhaps better, since we shallhave to take no one into our confidence."

  The avenue was indeed a fine thoroughfare, lined on both sides withlarge and often imposing mansions, surrounded with trees and shrubbery,which served somewhat to screen them. We came at last to the Willoughbyhouse, a sizable colonial residence set up on a hill. It was dark,except for one dim light in an upper story. In the shadow of the hedge,Craig silently vaulted the low fence and slipped up the terraces, asnoiselessly as an Indian, scarcely crackling a twig or rustling a deadleaf on the ground. He paused as he came to a wing on the right of thehouse.

  I had followed more laboriously, carrying the box and noting that hewas not looking so much at the house as at the sky, apparently. It didnot take long to fathom what he was after. It was not a star-gazingexpedition; he was following the telephone wire that ran in from thestreet to the corner of the house near which we were now standing. Amoment's inspection showed him where the wire was led down, on theoutside and entered through the top of a window.

  Quickly he worked, though in a rather awkward position, attaching twowires carefully to the telephone wires. Next he relieved me of the oakbox with its strange contents, and placed it under the porch where itwas completely hidden by some lattice-work which extended down to theground on this side. Then he attached the new wires from the telephoneto it and hid the connecting wires as best he could behind the swayingrunners of a vine. At last, when he had finished to his satisfaction,we retraced our steps, to find that our only chance of getting out oftown that night was by trolley that landed us, after many changes, inour apartment in New York, thoroughly convinced of the disadvantages ofsuburban detective work.

  Nevertheless the next day found us out sleuthing about Glenclair, thistime in a more pleasant role. We had a newspaper friend or two outthere who was willing to introduce us about without asking too manyquestions. Kennedy, of course, insisted on beginning at the veryheadquarters of gossip, the country club.

  We spent several enjoyable hours about the town, picking up a good dealof miscellaneous and useless information. It was, however, as Kennedyhad suspected. Annie Grayson had taken up her residence in an artisticlittle house on one of the best side streets of the town. But her namewas no longer Annie Grayson. She was Mrs. Maud Emery, a dashing youngwidow of some means, living in a very quiet but altogether comfortablestyle, cutting quite a figure in the exclusive suburban community, aleading member of the church circle, an officer of the Civic League,prominent in the women's club, and popular with those to whom theestablished order of things was so perfect that the only new bulwark oftheir rights was an anti-suffrage society. In fact, every one wastalking of the valuable social acquisition in the person of thisattractive young woman who entertained lavishly and was bracing up anotherwise drooping season. No one knew much about her, but then, thatwas not necessary. It was enough to accept one whose opinions andactions were not subversive of the social order in any way.

  The Willoughbys, of course, were among the most prominent people in thetown. William Willoughby was head of the firm of Willoughby & Walton,and it was the general opinion that Mrs. Willoughby was the head of thefirm of Ella & William Willoughby. The Willoughbys were good mixers,and were spoken well of even by the set who occupied the social stratumjust one degree below that in which they themselves moved. In fact,when Mrs. Willoughby had been severely injured in an automobileaccident during the previous summer Glenclair had shown real solicitudefor her and had forgotten a good deal of its artificiality in genuinehuman interest.

  Kennedy was impatiently waiting for an opportunity to recover the boxwhich he had left under the Willoughby porch. Several times we walkedpast the house, but it was not until nightfall that he considered itwise to make the recovery. Again we slipped silently up the terraces.It was the work of only a moment to cut the wires, and in triumph Craigbore off the precious oak box and its batteries.

  He said little on our journey back to the city, but the moment we hadreached the laboratory he set the box on a table with an attachmentwhich seemed to be controlled by pedals operated by the feet.

  "Walter," he explained, holding what looked like an earpiece in hishand, "this is another of those new little instruments that scientificdetectives to-day are using. A poet might write a clever little verseen-titled, 'The telegraphone'll get you, if you don't watch out.' Thisis the latest improved telegraphone, a little electromagnetic wizard ina box, which we detectives are now using to take down and 'can'telephone conversations and other records. It is based on an entirelynew principle in every way different from the phonograph. It wasdiscovered by an inventor several years ago, while experimenting intelephony.

  "There are no disks or cylinders of wax, as in the phonograph, but twolarge spools of extremely fine steel wire. The record is not mademechanically on a cylinder, but electromagnetically on this wire. Smallportions of magnetism are imparted to fractions of the steel wire as itpasses between two carbon electric magnets. Each impression representsa sound wave. There is no apparent difference in the wire, no surfaceabrasion or other change, yet each particle of steel undergoes anelectromagnetic transformation by which the sound is indeliblyimprinted on it until it is wiped out by the erasing magnet. There areno cylinders to be shaved; all that is needed to use the wire again isto pass a magnet over it, automatically erasing any previous recordthat you do not wish to preserve. You can dictate into it, or, withthis plug in, you can record a telephone conversation on it. Even rustor other deterioration of the steel wire by time will not affect thiselectromagnetic registry of sound. It can be read as long as steel willlast. It is as effective for long distances as for short, and there iswire enough on one of these spools for thirty minutes of uninterruptedrecord."

  Craig continued to tinker tantalisingly with the machine.

  "The principle on which it is based," he added, "is that a mass oftempered steel may be impressed with and will retain magnetic fluxesvarying in density and in sign in adjacent portions of its mass. Thereare no indentations on the wire or the steel disk. Instead there is adeposit of magnetic impulse on the wire, which is made by connecting upan ordinary telephone transmitter with the electromagnets and talkingthrough the coil. The disturbance set up in the coils by the vibrationof the diaphragm of the transmitter causes a deposit of magneticimpulse on the wire, the coils bein
g connected with dry batteries. Whenthe wire is again run past these coils, with a receiver such as I havehere in circuit with the coils, a light vibration is set up in thereceiver diaphragm which reproduces the sound of speech."

  He turned a switch and placed an ear-piece over his head, giving meanother connected with it. We listened eagerly. There were no foreignnoises in the machine, no grating or thumping sounds, as he controlledthe running off of the steel wire by means of a foot-pedal.

  We were listening to everything that had been said over the Willoughbytelephone during the day. Several local calls to tradesmen came first,and these we passed over quickly. Finally we heard the followingconversation:

  "Hello. Is that you, Ella? Yes, this is Maud. Good-morning. How do youfeel to-day?"

  "Good-morning, Maud. I don't feel very well. I have a splittingheadache."

  "Oh, that's too bad, dear. What are you doing for it?"

  "Nothing--yet. If it doesn't get better I shall have Mr. Willoughbycall up Dr. Guthrie."

  "Oh, I hope it gets better soon. You poor creature, don't you think alittle trip into town might make you feel better? Had you thought ofgoing to-day?"

  "Why, no. I hadn't thought of going in. Are you going?"

  "Did you see the Trimble ad. in the morning paper?"

  "No, I didn't see the papers this morning. My head felt too bad."

  "Well, just glance at it. It will interest you. They have the KimberleyQueen, the great new South African diamond on exhibition there."

  "They have? I never heard of it before, but isn't that interesting. Icertainly would like to see it. Have you ever seen it?"

  "No, but I have made up my mind not to miss a sight of it. They say itis wonderful. You'd better come along. I may have something interestingto tell you, too."

  "Well, I believe I will go. Thank you, Maud, for suggesting it. Perhapsthe little change will make me feel better. What train are you going totake? The ten-two? All right, I'll try to meet you at the station.Good-bye, Maud."

  "Good-bye, Ella."

  Craig stopped the machine, ran it back again and repeated the record."So," he commented at the conclusion of the repetition, "the 'plant'has taken root. Annie Grayson has bitten at the bait."

  A few other local calls and a long-distance call from Mr. Willoughbycut short by his not finding his wife at home followed. Then thereseemed to have been nothing more until after dinner. It was a call byMr. Willoughby himself that now interested us.

  "Hello! hello! Is that you, Dr. Guthrie? Well, Doctor, this is Mr.Willoughby talking. I'd like to make an appointment for my wifeto-morrow."

  "Why, what's the trouble, Mr. Willoughby? Nothing serious, I hope."

  "Oh, no, I guess not. But then I want to be sure, and I guess you canfix her up all right. She complains of not being able to sleep and hasbeen having pretty bad headaches now and then."

  "Is that so? Well, that's too bad. These women and theirheadaches--even as a doctor they puzzle me. They often go away assuddenly as they come. However, it will do no harm to see me."

  "And then she complains of noises in her ears, seems to hear things,though as far as I can make out, there is nothing--at least nothingthat I hear."

  "Um-m, hallucinations in hearing, I suppose. Any dizziness?"

  "Why, yes, a little once in a while."

  "How is she now?"

  "Well, she's been into town this afternoon and is pretty tired, but shesays she feels a little better for the excitement of the trip."

  "Well, let me see. I've got to come down Woodridge Avenue to see apatient in a few minutes anyhow. Suppose I just drop off at your place?"

  "That will be fine. You don't think it is anything serious, do you,Doctor?"

  "Oh, no. Probably it's her nerves. Perhaps a little rest would do hergood. We'll see."

  The telegraphone stopped, and that seemed to be the last conversationrecorded. So far we had learned nothing very startling, I thought, andwas just a little disappointed. Kennedy seemed well satisfied, however.

  Our own telephone rang, and it proved to be Donnelly on the wire. Hehad been trying to get Kennedy all day, in order to report that atvarious times his men at Trimble's had observed Mrs. Willoughby andlater Annie Grayson looking with much interest at the Kimberley Queen,and other jewels in the exhibit. There was nothing more to report.

  "Keep it on view another day or two," ordered Kennedy. "Advertise it,but in a quiet way. We don't want too many people interested. I'll seeyou in the morning at the store--early."

  "I think I'll just run back to Glenclair again to-night," remarkedKennedy as he hung up the receiver. "You needn't bother about coming,Walter. I want to see Dr. Guthrie a moment. You remember him? We methim to-day at the country club, a kindly looking, middle-aged fellow?"

  I would willingly have gone back with him, but I felt that I could beof no particular use. While he was gone I pondered a good deal over thesituation. Twice, at least, previously some one had pilfered jewelleryfrom stores, leaving in its place worthless imitations. Twice theevidence had been so conflicting that no one could judge of its value.What reason, I asked myself, was there to suppose that it would bedifferent now? No shoplifter in her senses was likely to lift the greatKimberley Queen gem with the eagle eyes of clerks and detectives onher, even if she did not discover that it was only a paste jewel. Andif Craig gave the woman, whoever she was, a good opportunity to getaway with it, it would be a case of the same conflicting evidence; orworse, no evidence.

  Yet the more I thought of it, the more apparent to me was it thatKennedy must have thought the whole thing out before. So far all thathad been evident was that he was merely preparing a "plant." Still, Imeant to caution him when he returned that one could not believe hiseyes, certainly not his ears, as to what might happen, unless he wasunusually skilful or lucky. It would not do to rely on anything sofallible as the human eye or ear, and I meant to impress it on him.What, after all, had been the net result of our activities so far? Wehad found next to nothing. Indeed, it was all a greater mystery thanever.

  It was very late when Craig returned, but I gathered from the stillfresh look on his face that he had been successful in whatever it washe had had in mind when he made the trip.

  "I saw Dr. Guthrie," he reported laconically, as we prepared to turnin. "He says that he isn't quite sure but that Mrs. Willoughby may havea touch of vertigo. At any rate, he has consented to let me come outto-morrow with him and visit her as a specialist in nervous diseasesfrom New York. I had to tell him just enough about the case to get himinterested, but that will do no harm. I think I'll set this alarm anhour ahead. I want to get up early to-morrow, and if I shouldn't behere when you wake, you'll find me at Trimble's."