The Ear in the Wall

by Arthur B. Reeve

  XVII

  THE SOCIETY SCANDAL

  Nothing else was talked about at the suffrage reception at MissAshton's that evening, not even suffrage, as much as the strange fatethat seemed to have befallen Murtha.

  And, as usual with an event like that, stories of all sorts, even thewildest improbabilities, were current. Some even went so far as toinsinuate that Dorgan had purposely quickened the pace of life forMurtha by the dinners at Gastron's in order to get him out of the way,fearing that with his power within the organization Murtha might becomea serious rival to himself.

  Whether there was any truth in the rumour or not, it was certain thatDorgan was of the stamp that could brook no rivals. In fact, that hadbeen at the bottom of the warfare between himself and Langhorne.Certain also was it that the dinners and conferences at the now famoussuite of the Silent Boss were reputed to have been often verging on, ifnot actually crossing, the line of the scandalous.

  Miss Ashton's guests assembled in force, coming from all classes ofsociety, all parties in politics, and all religions. Her object hadbeen to show that, although she personally was working with the ReformLeague, suffrage itself was a broad general issue. The two or threehundred guests of the evening surely demonstrated it and testified tothe popularity of Miss Ashton personally, as well.

  She had planned to hold the meeting in the big drawing-room of theAshton mansion, but the audience overflowed into the library and otherrooms. As the people assembled, it was interesting to see how for themoment at least they threw off the bitterness of the political campaignand met each other on what might be called neutral ground. Dorganhimself had been invited, but, in accordance with his custom of neverappearing in public if he could help it, did not come. Langhorne waspresent, however, and I saw him once talking to a group of labour unionleaders and later to Justice Pomeroy, an evidence of how successful themeeting was in hiding, if not burying, the hatchet.

  Carton, naturally, was the lion of the evening, though he tried hard tokeep in the background. I was amused to see his efforts. In fleeingfrom the congratulations of some of his own and Miss Ashton's societyfriends, he would run into a group of newspaper men and women who werelying in wait for him. Shaking himself loose from them would result infinding himself the centre of an enthusiastic crowd of Reform Leaguers.

  Mrs. Ogleby was there, also, and both Kennedy and I watched hercuriously. I wondered whether she might not feel just a little relievedto think that Murtha was seemingly out of the way for the present. Herknowledge of the Black Book which had first given the tip to Carton hadalways been a mystery to Kennedy and was one of the problems which Iknew he would like to solve to-night. She was keenly observant ofCarton, which led us to suppose that she had not yet got out of hermind the idea that somehow it was he who had been responsible for thedetectaphone record which so many of those present were struggling toobtain. Though Langhorne studiously avoided her, I noticed that eachkept an eye on the other, and I felt that there was something common toboth of them.

  It was with an unexpressed air of relief to several members of theparty that Miss Ashton at last rapped for order and after a short,pithy, pointed speech of introduction presented the several speakers ofthe evening. It was, like the audience, a well-balanced programme,which showed the tactfulness and political acumen of Miss Ashton. Ishall pass over the speeches, however, as they had no direct bearing onthe mystery which Kennedy and I found so engrossing.

  The meeting had been cleverly planned so that in spite of itsaccomplishing much for the propaganda work of the "cause," it did notbecome tiresome and the speaking was followed by the entrance of one ofthe best little orchestras for dance music in the city.

  Instantly, the scene transformed itself from a suffrage meeting to asocial function that was unique. Leaders of the smart set rubbedelbows, and seemed to enjoy it, with working girls and agitators.Conservative and radical, millionaire and muckraker succumbed to thespell of the Ashton hospitality and the lure of the new dances. It wasa novel experience for all, a levelling-up of society, as contrasted tosome of the levelling-down that we had recently seen.

  Kennedy and I, having no mood as things stood for the festivities, drewaside and watched the kaleidoscopic whirl of the dancers. Across fromus was a wide doorway that opened into a spacious conservatory, a nookof tropical and temperate beauty. Several couples had wandered in thereto rest and, as the orchestra struck up something new that seemed tohave the "punch" to its timeful measures, they gradually rejoined thedancers.

  It had evidently suggested an idea to Kennedy, for a moment later heled me toward the coat room and uncovered the package which he hadbrought consisting of the two oaken boxes I had seen him adjusting inthe laboratory.

  We managed to reach the conservatory and found in a corner a veritablebower with a wide rustic seat under some palms. Quickly Kennedydeposited in the shadow of one of them an oaken box, sticking into itthe plugs on the ends of the wires that I had brought. It was an easymatter here in the dim half light to conceal the wire behind the plantsand a moment later he tossed the end through a swinging window in theglass and closed the window.

  Casually we edged our way out among the dancers and around to the roominto which he had thrown the wire. It was a breakfast room, I think,but at any rate we could not remain there for it was quite easy to seeinto it through the crystal walls of the conservatory. There was,however, what seemed to be a little pantry at the other end, and tothis Kennedy deftly led the wires and then plugged them in on the otheroaken box.

  He turned a lever. Instantly from the wizard-like little box issuedforth the strains of the dance music of the orchestra and the rhythmicshuffle of feet. Now and then a merry laugh or a snatch of gayconversation floated in to us. Though we were effectually cut off fromboth sight and hearing in the pantry, it was as though we had beensitting on the rustic bench in the conservatory.

  "What is it?" I asked in amazement, gazing at the wonderful littleinstrument before us.

  "A vocaphone," he explained, moving the switch and cutting off thesound instantly, "an improved detectaphone--something that can be usedboth in practical business, professional, and home affairs as a loudspeaking telephone, and, as I expect to use it here, for special casesof detective work. You remember the detectaphone instruments which wehave used?"

  Indeed I did. It had helped us out of several very tightsituations--and seemed now to have been used to get the organizationinto a very tight political place.

  "Well, the vocaphone," went on Kennedy, "does even more than thedetectaphone. You see, it talks right out. Those little apertures inthe face act like megaphone horns increasing the volume of sound." Heindicated the switch with his finger and then another point to which itcould be moved. "Besides," he went on enthusiastically, "this machinetalks both ways. I have only to turn the switch to that point and avoice will speak out in the conservatory just as if we were thereinstead of talking here."

  He turned the switch so that it carried the sounds only in ourdirection. The last strains of the dance music were being followed bythe hearty applause of the dancers.

  As the encore struck up again, a voice, almost as if it were in thelittle room alongside us, said, "Why, hello, Maty, why aren't youdancing?"

  There was an unmistakable air of familiarity about it and about thereply, "Why aren't you, Hartley?"

  "Because I've been looking for a chance to have a quiet word with you,"the man rejoined.

  "Langhorne and Mrs. Ogleby," cried Craig excitedly.

  "Sh!" I cautioned, "they might hear us."

  He laughed. "Not unless I turn the switch further."

  "I saw you down at the Criminal Courts Building this morning," went onthe man, "but you didn't see me. What did you think of Carton?"

  I fancied there was a trace of sarcasm or jealousy in his tone. At anyrate, woman-like, she did not answer that question, but went on to theone which it implied.

  "I didn't go to see Carton. He is nothing to me, has not been formonths. I was only amusing my
self when I knew him--leading him on,playing with him, then." She paused, then turned the attack on him."What did you think of Miss Ashton? You thought I didn't see you, butyou hardly took your eyes off her while I was in the hallway waiting tohear the verdict."

  It was Langhorne's turn to defend himself. "It wasn't so much MargaretAshton as that fellow Carton I was watching," he answered hastily.

  "Then you--you haven't forgotten poor little me?" she inquired with asincere plaintiveness in her voice.

  "Mary," he said, lowering his voice, "I have tried to forgetyou--tried, because I had no right to remember you in the old way--notwhile you and Martin remained together. Margaret and I had always beenfriends--but I think Carton and this sort of thing,"--he waved his handI imagined at the suffrage dancers--"have brought us to the parting ofthe ways. Perhaps it is better. I'm not so sure that it isn't best."

  "And yet," she said slowly, "you are piqued--piqued that another shouldhave won where you failed--even if the prize isn't just what you mightwish."

  Langhorne assented by silence. "Hartley," she went on at length, "yousaid a moment ago you had tried to forget me--"

  "But can't," he cut in with almost passionate fierceness. "That waswhat hurt me when I--er--heard that you had gone with Murtha to thatdinner of Dorgan's. I couldn't help trying to warn you of it. I knowMartin neglects you. But I was mad--mad clean through when I saw youplaying with Carton a few months ago. I don't know anything aboutit--don't want to. Maybe he was innocent and you were tempting him. Idon't care. It angered me--angered me worse than ever when I saw laterthat he was winning with Margaret Ashton. Everywhere, he seemed to becrossing my trail, to be my nemesis. I--I wish I was Dorgan--I wish Icould fight."

  Langhorne checked himself before he said too much. As it was I saw thatit had been he who had told Mrs. Ogleby that the Black Book existed. Hehad not told her that he had made it, if in fact he had, and she hadlet the thing out, never thinking Langhorne had been the eavesdropper,but supposing it must be Carton.

  "Why--why did you go to that dinner with Murtha?" he asked finally,with a trace of reproach in his tone.

  "Why? Why not?" she answered defiantly. "What do I care about Martin?Why should I not have my--my freedom, too? I went because it was wild,unconventional, perhaps wrong. I felt that way. If--if I had felt thatyou cared--perhaps--I could have been--more discreet."

  "I do care," he blurted out. "I--I only wish I had known you as well asI do now--before you married--that's all."

  "Is there no way to correct the mistake?" she asked softly. "Mustmarriage end all--all happiness?"

  Langhorne said nothing, but I could almost hear his breathing over thevocaphone, which picked up and magnified even whispers.

  "Mary," he said in a deep, passionate voice, "I--I will defendyou--from this Murtha thing--if it ever gets out. I know it is alwayson your mind--that you couldn't keep away from that trial for fear thatCarton, or Murtha, or SOMEBODY might say something by chance or dropsome hint about it. Trust me."

  "Then we can be--friends?"

  "Lovers!" he cried fiercely.

  There was a half-smothered exclamation over the faithful littlevocaphone, a little flurried rustle of silk and a long, passionate sigh.

  "Hartley," she whispered.

  "What is it, Mary?" he asked tensely.

  "We must be careful. Carton MUST be defeated. He must not have thepower--to use that--record."

  "No," ground out Langhorne. "Wait--he shall not. By the way, aren'tthose orchids gorgeous?"

  The encore had ceased and over the vocaphone we could hear gailychatting couples wandering into the conservatory. The two conspiratorsrose and parted silently, without exciting suspicion.

  For several minutes we listened to snatches of the usual vapid chatterthat dancing seems to induce. Then the orchestra blared forth withanother of the seductive popular pieces.

  Kennedy and I looked at each other, amazed. From the underworld up tothe smart set, the trail of graft was the same, debauching and bluntingall that it touched. Here we saw the making of a full-fledged scandalin one of the highest circles.

  We had scarcely recovered from our surprise at the startlingdisclosures of the vocaphone, when we heard two voices again above themusic, two men this time.

  "What--you here?" inquired a voice which we recognized immediately asthat of Langhorne.

  "Yes," replied the other voice, evidently of a young man. "I came inwith the swells to keep my eye peeled on what was going on."

  The voice itself was unfamiliar, yet it had a tough accent whichdenoted infallibly the section of the city where it was acquired. Itwas one of the gangsters.

  "What's up, Ike?" demanded Langhorne suspiciously.

  Craig looked at me significantly. It was Ike the Dropper!

  The other lowered his voice. "I don't mind telling you, Mr. Langhorne.You're in the organization and we ain't got no grudge against you. It'sCarton."

  "Carton?" repeated Langhorne, and one could feel the expectant catch inhis breath, as he added quickly: "You mean you fellows are going to tryto get him right?"

  "Bet your life," swaggered Ike, believing himself safe. "How?"

  The gangster hesitated, then reassured by Langhorne, said: "He'sordered a taxicab. We got it for him--a driver who is a right guyand'll drive him down where there's a bunch of the fellows. They ain'tgoner do nothing serious--but--well, he won't campaign much from ahospital cot," he added sagely. "Say--here he comes now with that girl.I better beat it."

  Langhorne also managed to get away apparently, or else Carton and MissAshton were too engrossed in one another to notice him, for we heard noword of greeting.

  A moment later Carton's and Miss Ashton's voices were audible.

  "Must you go?" she was saying.

  "I'm afraid so," he apologized. "I've a speech to prepare for to-morrowand I've had several hard days. It's been a splendid evening, MissAshton--splendid. I've enjoyed it ever so much and I think it hasaccomplished more than a hundred meetings--besides the publicity itwill get for the cause. Shall I see you to-morrow at headquarters?"

  "I shall make it a point to drop in," she answered in a tone asunmistakable.

  "Mr. Carton--your cab is waiting, sir," announced a servant with anapology for intruding. "At the side entrance, sir, so that you can getaway quietly, sir."

  Carton thanked him.

  I looked at Kennedy anxiously. If Carton slipped away in this fashionbefore we could warn him, what might not happen? We could hardly expectto get around and through the press of the dancers in time.

  "I hate to go, Miss Ashton," he was adding. "I'd stay--if I saw anyprospect of the others going. But--you see--this is the first timeto-night--that I've had a word with you--alone."

  It was not only an emergency, but there were limits to Kennedy'seavesdropping propensities, and spying on Carton's love affairs wasquite another thing from Langhorne's.

  Quickly Craig turned the lever all the way over.

  "Carton--Miss Ashton--this is Kennedy," he called. "Back of the bigpalm you'll find a vocaphone. Don't take that cab! They are going tostick you up. Wait--I'll explain all in a moment!"