 Chapter 7 of the Black Eagle Mystery This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mike Overby, Parkland, Washington Dedicated to UNI We've got a lot more characters next week I loved it Chapter 7 of the Black Eagle Mystery By Geraldine Bonner Molly tells the story Murder Will I ever forget that night when Babitz told me The two of us shut in our room I can see his face now, thrust out towards me All strained and staring, his voice almost a whisper As for me, I guess I look like the village idiot With my mouth dropped open And my eyes bold so you could cut him off with a shingle The next day, the same word went out to us that had been given to Mrs. Meager Silence Not a whisper, not a breath Neither the public nor the press nor the police must get an inkling All that was to go upon was the story of a child And until this could be confirmed by other facts The outside world was to know nothing If corroborative evidence were found It would be the biggest sensation the Whitney office had ever had Babitz was promised a scoop, but if he gave away a thing before the time was ripe It would be the end of us, as far as Whitney and Whitney went Sick shared the secret The Whitney's, father and son The Babitz's, husband and wife Jack Reddy and O'Malley In 24 hours Mrs. Meager and Danny were spirited off to a farm upstate And the old man had a seance with Meager, the Dre man And shut his mouth tighter than a gag The six of us were organized into a sort of band to work on the case It seemed to me we were like moles Tunneling along underground, not a soul on the surface knowing we were there And if they'd found it out, not able to make a guess what we were after O'Malley and I were the only two that were put right on the scene of the crime I was to stay on the black eagle switchboard to pick up all I could from Troop The boy who operated the one elevator, which was running that night To find out about the people he had taken up or down from the 17th floor between 5 and 630 O'Malley was commissioned to examine the Azalea Woods Estates offices And get next to Mrs. Hansen, cleaner of the top floors And see if she had seen anything on the evening of January 15th What we ferreted out, I'll put down as clearly and quickly as I can It may not be interesting, but to understand a case that was interesting, it's necessary to know it O'Malley got busy right off, quicker than I, but he knew better how to do it The Azalea Woods Estates was vacated, and that was easy His search only gave up one thing, two dark spots on the floor of the private office close to the window With a chisel, he shaved off the wood on which they were, and was sent to a chemist, who analyzed the spots as blood What he heard from Mrs. Hansen was even more important, and he did it well Warming it out of her in easy talk about the suicide I'll boil it down to simple facts, not as I heard him tell it in Mr. Whitney's den With bits about Mrs. Hansen that you couldn't help but laugh at On the night of January 15th, she was at work on the 17th floor at half past 5 Behind the elevators, around on the side corridor where the service stairs go down, is a sink closet Where the cleaners kept their brooms and dusters Having finished with the rear office, she went into this closet to empty and refill her pails, at a little before 6 While in there, she could hear nothing because of the running water, but when she turned it off, she heard steps coming down the stairs on the Broadway side She had moved out into the hall when the steps stopped And rounding the corner by the elevators, she saw Mr. Harlan standing at the door of the Azalea Woods Estates offices He was in profile and didn't see her and didn't hear her, she said, because she wore old soft shoes that made no sound Just as she caught sight of him, she remembered she'd left her duster in the sink closet and went back for it When she returned to the main corridor, he was gone, and she went into the Hudson Electrical Company's offices, staying there till 6.20 She noted the time by a nickel clock on one of the desks She decided to do the Azalea Woods Estates rooms next, but on trying to door found it locked This didn't bother her, as she had found it so once or twice before during the past month She then went down the hall into a rear suite in which she was shut when the suicide occurred This fixed the fact that Harlan had gone straight from his own office down the stairs on the Broadway side into the Azalea Woods Estates And that he, or somebody in there, had locked the door Who had let him in? What man had access to these offices? Can you see me as I sat listening to Amali and thinking of the fresh guy who'd wanted to take me out to dinner? Lord, I felt queer And I felt queerer, considerable queerer When the day after that, I got hold of Troop And, information Wait till I tell you Mr. Whitney had told me to take my time, there was no rush And above all things, not to raise a ghost of suspicion in Troop's mind So I went about it very foxy, lying alone in my little den behind the elevators But when I'd see Troop lounging in the door of his car, I'd flash a smile at him and get a good natured grin back The evening after Amali brought in his stuff, I thought the time was ready to gather in mine So after I put on my hat and coat, I stood loitering by the desk, keeping one eye on the door Troop came off duty at half past six, and regular, a few minutes after that, I'd see him sprinting down the hall for the main entrance As it came in sight, I took up my purse, and he, looking in, as I knew he would, caught me just right Thera was staring, distracted into it, and scrabbling round in the inside, pulling out handkerchiefs and samples and buttons and latch keys Hello? says he, drawing up You look like you'd lost something Oh Mr. Troop, I answered How fortunate you happened along I have lost something, my car fare, and I ain't got another cent but a ten dollar bill Will you come across with a nickel till tomorrow? Sure I will, and more too, uh, which way do you go? Uptown? Uptown? said I Neither he nor anyone else in the building knew where I lived, or who I was Miss Mork and Thou, temporarily in charge, was all they had on me That's my direction, uh, 159th Street, Subway Now I didn't see myself sleuthing as I hung from the strap in the sub, but in this world you gotta grab your chance when it comes So The Subway for mine! I said, speaking in a cheerful, unmarried voice, and out we trod it into the street He was the thick of the rush hours, and we were in the thick of the rush Like we were leaves on a deraging torrent, we were whirled through the gate, swept on to the platform, and carried into the car Then the conductor came and pressed on us, leaned and squeezed, and when he'd mashed us in, slid the door shut for fear we'd burst out and flood the platform Troop got hold of a strap, and I got hold of Troop And, dangling together like a pair of chickens hung up to grow tender, I opened on a familiar subject of the Harland suicide It wasn't as hard as I thought, for what with people clawing their way out and prying their way in, questions and answers were bound to be straight with no trimmings Where were you when it happened? I said, getting a jiu-jitsu grip on the front of his coat In the car, halfway down, didn't know a thing till I got round to the ground floor and saw the stampede What did you do? Ran for the street, forgot my job, forgot there was only one car running, forgot everything, and made a break Every passenger did the same, seized us all same as a panic, all racing and hollering I was right behind Mr. Ford It was sooner than I expected The jump I gave was lost in that crush, just as a look that started out on my face wouldn't be noticed Or, if it was, be set down to a stamp on my toe Was he in the car with you? Yes, I'd just gone up to the 17th floor for him Here, you may want to get a firm hold on me or you'll be swept away I'm holding, I gasped, and believe me I was For a line of people coming out like a bit of the Johnstown flood Was like to tear me loose for my moorings Then he must have been in the elevator when Mr. Harlan jumped That's it, it was his ring brought me up to the 17th floor He got in and it was while we were going down The body fell, struck the street a few minutes before he reached the bottom We were whizzing through the blackness of the tunnel to Times Square The overflow that had drained off at 42nd Street had loosened things up a little I unwrapped myself from around Troop, taking hold of the strap over his hand And pigeonholing what he said In that boiling pack of people, I was cold and shivery down the spine Did Mr. Ford run out in the street like the rest? Did he? He'd done a marathon I couldn't make a dent in the crowd, but he shoved through And when he came back, he was all broke up What do you make of that, says he There's a man committed suicide and they say it's Rawlings Harlan Broke up? I shouldn't wonder He was in the office late, wasn't he? Till half by six? He was that night And he had been once or twice before this last month Told me he was working overtime Though if you ask me, I'd have said he wasn't the kind to do more than his salary called for No, I said, thinking hard underneath Seems sort of low forish Well, I wouldn't say that, but easy, good humored, you know the sort But lately he's been on the job, busy, I guess, getting ready for the collapse The night of the suicide he left early, soon after Miss Barry And a little after six, ten or fifteen minutes maybe He came bustling back saying he'd forgotten some papers And for me to shoot him up quick We slowed up for 69th Street And two girls in the middle of the car began a football rush for the door It was a good excuse to be quiet, to get it straight in my head Ford left early, came back, went into the office after Harlan Left probably three or four minutes before the body was flung from the window This is the way I was thinking while we hung easy from our strap Swinging out sideways like the woman in curfew shall not ring tonight Clinging to the tongue of the bell Now that was real conscientious of him I said, suspended over a large fat man and crushing down the paper he was trying to read Coming back for the papers he'd forgotten It sure was, said Troop Many a man would have let them wait The fat man dropped the paper and raised his eyes to me With a look like he was determined to be patient But why did I do it? Pardon me, sir, says I But it's not me that's spoiling your homeward journey It's the congested condition of the Empire City And then to Troop, pleasant and regretful Dear, dear, that's a lesson not to pass judgment on your fellow creatures He must have a strong sense of duty, I suppose you waited for him Uh, not me, said Troop That's the time I'm on the jump with all the offices emptying And especially that night with the other elevator out of commission Besides, it wouldn't have been no use For he was in there quite a while It wasn't till nearly half past six he rang for the car Pity he didn't wait a few minutes longer Maybe if Harlan had seen him, he'd have given up the idea of suicide I've thought of that myself For according to the inquest, Harlan was around that corner for a half hour Like as not pacing up and down while Ford was sitting in the office nearby Strange, ain't it? The way things that happened in this world? It was A great deal stranger than he thought For a moment I didn't say anything I was kind of quivering In my insides with the excitement of it O'Malley hadn't got anything to beat this We swung lazily back and forth, my hand clasped below Troops And a fat man giving up in despair Only when my wristbag caught him on the hat He gave me one reproachful look And then settled the hat hard on his head to show me what he was suffering The train began to slow up White tile walls gilded past the windows And the conductor opened up the door and yelled 96th Street It had worked out just right I had my information, and here was where I got off I thanked Troop for the ride I'd had off him Told him I'd give him his nickel tomorrow And forging to the door like the Oregon going ground Cape Horn I scrambled out Himself wasn't at home to tell things to He was one of his late nights So I took a call from Mr. Whitney's office And told him I'd got the stuff for him Real stuff He said to come down that evening at half past eight They'd all be there And after a glass of milk and a soda cracker I hadn't had time or appetite for more Out I lit, as excited as if I was going to a six reel movie I was late And ran panting up the steps of the big grand house in the West 50s I'd been there before, and as I stood waiting in the vestibule I couldn't but smile thinking of that at the time when I was so scared In himself, he was Mr. Rabbits then Had to had to jolly me up He didn't know me as well then, as he does now Bless his dear, faithful heart The unnatural solemn butler wasn't on the job tonight Mr. George opened the door for me And showed me into that same room off the hall With the gold-mounted furniture and the pale-colored rugs And the lights and crystal bunches along the walls A fire was burning in the grate Its red reflection leaping along the uncovered spaces of floor Polished and smooth as ice On the center table, all guilt and glass, was a common student lamp Looking cheap and mean in that quiet, rich, glittering room And besides it were some sheets of paper in several pencils Old Mr. Whitney and George were there Also Jack Reddy, but O'Malley hadn't come yet I told them what Troop had said, and they listened as silent as the grave Not batting an eye while I spoke You didn't have to guess what they thought He was in the air The first real move had been made When I finished, Mr. George, who had been making notes on one of his bits of paper Threw down his pencil and gave a long, swift whistle The old man, sitting by the fire looking into it His hands clasped loosely together The fingers moving round each other Which was the way he had when he was sinking Said very quiet Thank you, Mollie You've done well This puts it forward in the center of the stage Said Mr. George And then turning to his father Exclusive, eh, Governor? The old man grunted without looking up His face in the firelight Heavy and brooding Jack rose and leaning over George's shoulder Looked at the scribbled notes Left soon after the very girl Came back around 6.15 And went to the Azalea Woods Estates' offices That would have been about 15 to 20 minutes after Haaland Came out about half past six And was in the elevator when the body fell Positive proof that he was in the rooms with Haaland Said Mr. George And equally positive proof that he was not the man Seen by the meager child Evidently, two men Said Jack Two men Echoed Mr. George Then he turned to me Where was Ms. Whitehall? Did this troop fellow say anything about when she left? Jack looked up from the notes And cast a quick sharp glance at me She'd gone already, of course Yes, she'd gone I answered Anyway, old O'Berry said she always went for six Then, he answered to Mr. George I didn't ask Troop anything about her I didn't think there was any need And I was afraid I'd get him curious if I wanted to know too much Good girl Came from the old man In a rumbling growl At that moment there was a ring at the bell With an exclamation of O'Malley, Mr. George jumped up And went into the hall It was O'Malley Read as a lobster And with an important role to his walk He stood in the door And looked at the old man in the triumphant way To eat supposed he'd got the murderer outside Chained to the door handle Babitz, who'd come to know him well On the trip to Rochester Said he was a first rate chap And was as sharp as a needle If he could get over his taking himself So dead serious When he heard my story Some of the starch was taken out of him But I will say he was so interested that After the first shock He forgot to be jealous And was as keen as mustard Two men sure enough He agreed And two men who operated together One of them in that back room How do you make that out? Asked Jack I'll show you I've been busy this afternoon He looked around Selected a gold-legged chair And pulling it to the table Sat down and taking a fountain pen from his pocket Drew a sheet of paper towards him Right next to the church As you may remember There were three houses, dwellings The one nearest the church is occupied by a private party The two behind have been thrown together And are run as a boarding house The last two has a rear extension Built out at the end of the lot The day we examined the Azalea Woods Estates I saw that the windows of that extension Commanded the sidewall of the Black Eagle Building This afternoon, I went to the boarding house Said I was a writer looking for a quiet place to work And asked if they had an empty room in the extension They had one Not yet vacated But 2B, in February It was occupied by an old lady, Miss Darnley Who, being there, gave me permission to see it Now here's where I get busy He drew the paper towards him And began marking it with long straight lines And little squares Miss Darnley is a nice old lady and some talker We got gas and, as natural as could be On the horrible suicide of Mr. Harlan So close by She took me to the window And showed me where his offices were And told me how it was her habit Every evening as night fell To sit in that window and watch the lights start out Especially in the Black Eagle Building I sat there always till half past six When the first gong sounded for dinner And if I took the room I was to be sure And go down then The food was better She always did She was skillful, jolly And mostly surprised at her powers of observation and memory I got from her some significant facts About the lights of the 17th floor of the Black Eagle Building On the night of January 15th The Harlan suite She located it from her papers Was lit Till she went down to dinner Wonderful how she remembered How was the floor below? Bet a hat she could remember that But she could And proud as a peacock she gave a demonstration All dark as it usually was at six Then a light in the fourth window A zoo was a sate, private office Then that goes out and the three front windows are bright Just before she goes down to dinner She notices that every window on the whole sweep of the 17th floor is dark Except that fourth one A zoo was a sate, private office He stopped And pushed the paper he'd been drawing on across to George Here it is With the time as I make it marked on each window Jack and Mr. George leaned down studying the diagram And Mr. Whitney slowly rose And coming up behind them looked at it over their shoulders All their faces clear in the lamp light With O'Malley's red and proud Glancing sideways at the drawing Were intent in frowning Let's see how this thing works out Said Mr. George Taking of a pencil and pulling a sheet of paper towards him Mr. Whitney straightened up with a sort of tired snort And slouched back to his seat by the fire Mr. George began figuring on the paper The Ozirty Wood states were cleared at six All lights out At a few minutes after Harlan came down the stairs and entered them Going through to the private office and switching on the light Or meeting someone there who switched it on as he came Some 10 or 15 minutes later Ford came in That's evidently the moment, according to your old lady When the private office was dark and the other two lit up Just before 6.30, time when Ford left The front rooms were all dark again Good deal of a mess to me He tilted back in his chair so he could see his father What do you make of it, Governor? Let's hear what O'Malley has to say first Said Mr. Whitney They couldn't see his face, which was turned to the fire But I could And it had a slight, amused smile on it O'Malley sprawled back in his chair with his chest thrown out Well, I don't like to commit myself so early in the game But there are a few things that seem pretty clear Though the Ozirty Wood states were dark when Mr. Harlan came down Somebody was there Who? asked Jack O'Malley looked sort of pitying at him He's a murderer? This man didn't attempt the job alone Must have held Harlan in talk in the private office till later When Tony Ford came in and helped If he didn't do the actual killing When that was over, Ford went Leaving the other man to carry out the sensational denouement What could have been Ford's motive? Said Mr. George Did he know Harlan? O'Malley grinned Oh, we'll find a motive alright Wait till we've turned up the earth in his tracks Wait a few days This other man, O'Malley Said Mr. Whitney Have you any ideas about him? There you got me stumped Said the detective Of course we don't know Harlan's inner life Had he an enemy? And if so, who? But he paused And let his glance move over to the faces of the two young men If the thing hadn't been physically impossible I would have turned my searchlight eye on Johnston Barker Barker? Explained George But Barker was O'Malley interrupted him with a wave of his hand I said It was physically impossible The man got up, shaking himself like a big drowsy animal And came forward into the lamp light Nevertheless, gentlemen He said quietly I'm convinced that it was Johnston Barker They all gasped at him I think for the first moment they thought he had some information they hadn't heard And waited to open mouth for him to give it to them But he stood there, smiling a little His eyes moving from one to the other Sort of quizzical as their surprise tickled him Now, father Said Mr. George What's the sense of saying that When we know that Barker was on the floor above Unable to get out without being seen I know George I know Said his father mildly I'm perfectly willing to admit it But in that room On the floor above There had been a quarrel between the two men Since the disappearance of Barker There's been a good deal of speculation That's the nature of that quarrel That is The public has speculated I Have felt sure After the disappearance of that quarrel As far as I could see Had only one interpretation The lawyer had discovered the profanity of his associate And threatened exposure And we all know That the only silent man is a dead man That's all very well Said O'Malley But it doesn't get round the fact that Barker couldn't possibly have been there to instigate the murder Or help in murder Or commit a murder himself Quite true Said the old man As far as we know at present But you will see we know very little We can speak with more authority When we've made a second examination Of the White Hole Offices And a first one of the Harlan Suite That's up to you O'Malley As soon as you can manage it There's another important matter But I can't see my way clear to getting it just yet For its own explanation of his movements that evening I'm curious to hear what he has to say But that'll have to wait till He paused And Mr. George cut in We landed in jail Which I hope will be soon Presently Presently Said his father turning to the fire And now gentlemen I think we'll end this little seance Just look out George And see if the limousine's there for O'Malley It was And they all drifted out Talking as they went Making the date and arranging the plan For the examination of the two offices I'd said goodbye to the old man And was following them into the hole Standing by the arm and Drawing me back from the door Said very low You'll be on duty at the Black Eagle Building For a few days more Try and get Troop again And ask him what time Miss Whitehall left that night Don't say a word of what he tells you to anyone But as soon as you get it Let me know End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of the Black Eagle Mystery This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information And to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mike Overby Parkland, Washington Dedicated to Unie We should finish the case Because Unie hasn't gotten to display Her amazing acting skills yet Oh my gosh Okay, so 1-7-7 then Yeah And it's for data quality Who cares Chapter 8 of the Black Eagle Mystery By Geraldine Bonner Molly tells the story For the next few days My mulling was stopped Troop was down with Grip And a substitute in his place There was nothing to do But sit in my little hole by the elevators Passing the time with a novel And a traycloth that was embroidering At night, when himself and I had to meet up I'd hear from him How O'Malley was getting on in his tunnel Babbits kept in close touch with him For he had the promise of being along When they made the inspection of the offices It took some days to arrange for that And while O'Malley was laying His wires for a midnight search His men were tracking back over Tony Ford's trail It didn't take them long And there was nothing much brought to light When you considered the kind of man Tony Ford must be For the last three years He'd held clerkships in New York and Albany And once for six months in Detroit From some he'd resigned From others been fired Not for anything bad But because he was slack and lazy Though bright enough The only thing they turned up That was shady was over two years before In Syracuse When he'd been in a small real estate business With a partner And was said to have absconded With some of the funds Nobody knew much of this And the man he'd been in with Couldn't be found The detective said it was so vague They didn't put much reliance in it Though maybe it might be spite work Anyway, he wasn't the record of a desperado And they'd have been sort of baffled To fit his past actions with his present If it hadn't been for one thing That, according to their experience Was very significant In the last two months He'd spent a lot more money than his salary As Miss Whitehall's managing clerk He'd been paid 65 dollars a week And he had been living At the rate of a man who has hundreds It wasn't in his place That was simple enough A back room in a lodging house But he'd been a spender in the white lights of Broadway At expensive restaurants and lobster palaces He'd become a familiar figure The gambling houses knew him And he'd written round In motives like a capitalist By the swath he's been cutting Said Babbitt You'd suppose he had an income of five figures Oh, soapy I said, horrified They don't think he was paid for it Himself looked solemnly at me and nodded That's exactly what they do think, morning dew He was paid and evidently paid high Whoever the other man was He could afford to be extravagant in his accomplice Their ideas that Ford was engaged for his superior strength And demanded a big retainer in advance What a terrible man I murdered And thought of him standing in the doorway smiling at me Like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth He's a regular gunman Worse than a gunman For he's educated Said Babbitt Gee, wasn't it a lucky thing I only got out of that place? The morning after that conversation I bid Babbitt's goodbye As if he was going to the South Pole For that was the night They'd selected to examine the two offices Three of them were in on it O'Malley, Babbitts, and one of O'Malley's men A chap named Stevens Himself would turn up for breakfast, if he could But if there was anything pressing at the paper Or more developed than they expected I wasn't to look for him till the evening of the next day I went down to my work And had a dull time For a troop was still sick And there was nothing to do But now and then jack in for a call And sew on my traycloth No Babbitts that night And no Babbitts for breakfast And me piling downtown for another eight hours In that dreary room With troop not yet back And not a soul to speak to If, when I came home that evening I'd found Babbitt still away I believe I'd have forgotten I was a lady sleuth And started a general alarm for him But thank goodness I didn't need to For there he was on the Davenport With his muddy boots on the best plush cushion Sound asleep I didn't intend to wake him But creeping round to our room Looking at him as I crept I ran into the Victrola with a crash And up he sat, wide awake Thanking me sarcastically for having roused him In such a delicate, tactful manner In a minute I was sitting on the edge of the Davenport You'll know how I felt when I tell you I forgot his feet on the cushion Squeezed up against him and staring into his face Quick, go ahead, did you find anything? We did, morning dew Did you get any nearer to who the other man is? We got next The chief was right It's Johnston Barker Barker? But soapy! He raised a finger and pointed in my face Don't begin with any bots till you know Now if you'll be quiet and listen like a nice little girl You'll see This is what he told me as I sat, pressed up against him Every now and then giving myself a hitch To keep from sliding off Too eager listening to rise up and get a chair They gained access to both offices without any trouble O'Malley flashing his bag at the nightmare Whom he'd already seen and fixed with the story That he was after important papers for the Copperpool men They tried the Harland offices first A cursory inspection showing nothing It wasn't until O'Malley himself got busy in the rear room That they began to move forward A mark on the window sill was what started him It was a circular shape, about as round as a butter plate And was made, he said, by the heel of a man's boot Then he turned his attention to the window casing The ledge in the outside frame He used a small pocket search light Also matches, dropping them as they burned down And examining every inch of the surface The first thing he lit upon was the cleat To which the awning rope was fastened in summer It is always screwed securely down to the woodwork And has to be strong and firm to hold the awnings in heavy winds Especially at that height The cleat outside the window was loosened And between its base and the wood were a few torn Threads of rope that had caught in the head of the upper screw These threads, carefully untangled and preserved Were from a new rope, clean and yellow Not the grey wind and weather worn shreds That would have been left from the summer Below the cleat were scratches Some long and deep, some wide, zigzagging scrapes By the colour of these he said they had been recently made From there they descended to the Whitehall Suite Here O'Malley wasted little time on the front rooms And went direct to the rear office and began on the window Babbets and Stevens were ordered to search the floors and walls Which was easy as the furniture was gone And the place was bare except for the radiator and the wash stand I may as well put here that their investigations proved nothing But O'Malley's did He went to work just as he had on the floor above This cleat was secure But on the sill were more scratches, several long deep ones And on the stone ledge that same round circular mark But what he found there that was the vital thing was a button It was lodged in a corner made by one of the small wooden rims That go up the window casing parallel with the window Anyone could have overlooked it Hardly visible in this little angle Where it might have been sent by the cleaner's duster As she flicked about the sill and the ledge It was a metal button of the kind used on men's clothes To fasten their braces to And it bore round it and raised letters the name of a fashionable Taylor By the time they had done all this It was coming on for morning They slipped out of the building and went to an all night restaurant nearby to wait for daylight When O'Malley had decided to make an inspection of the church He and Babbets would do this While Stevens, as soon as the day was far enough advanced Was commissioned to go to the Taylor whose name was on the button And find out when and for whom he had made any suits having that button upon them Meantime, the day had broken into mourning With a caution to Babbets to stay where he was O'Malley sauntered off to see about fixing things for getting on the roof of the church Babbets was left wondering whether they were going to be plumbers Or tin workers or members of the congregation Admiring the sacred edifice But when O'Malley came back He'd got a new one on soapy For he depicted them to the sexton as an architect and builder from the west Who were so struck by the dome They wanted to get up on the roof and study its proportions Fortunately it was a black, heavy day The kind when the lights shine out in dark offices And people come to the windows and yank up the shades If anyone did notice them They'd have looked like a couple men searching for a leak Especially as they were busy in one spot The space below the two windows marked by the burnt end of the match So O'Malley had dropped And here, with the scattered matches all around it Caught in the ledge just above the gutter They made the greatest find of all The scarf pin It was a star sapphire Set in a twist of gold and platinum An hour after they had it in their possession It was identified by George and Mr. Whitney As one they had seen on Johnston Barker the morning of January 15th From the tailor came further testimony He identified the button as made from a new mold The first consignment of which he had received late in December So far he had only used it on two suits One for a mining man from Nevada And the other for Johnston Barker A dark brown Chevyot with a reddish line This had been the suit Barker had on when he visited the Whitney office that morning When he came to the end of all this I was balanced on the edge of the sofa With my feet braced on the floor to keep him sliding off And my eyes glued on my loving spouse The amene came down from one window to the other soapy? Bevitz nodded Lowering himself by a rope fastened to the upper cleat Which his weight loosened But My goodness I was aghast at the idea A man of Barker's age dangling down Along the wall that you could see for miles? You couldn't have seen him twenty feet off The wall's dark and it was a black dark night If you'd been watching with a glass You couldn't have made out anything at that height And at that hour But the danger of it He was on a desperate job and had to take chances Besides, it's not as risky as it sounds The distance he had to drop was short The ceilings are low on those office buildings And the awning supports have to be manually strong Because of the summer storms And then the man himself was small and light And is known to have kept himself in the pink of condition With a strong rope thrown over the cleat He could easily have swung himself to the story below Stood on the stone ledge which his feet scratched And pushed up the window which Ford had previously left slightly raised The whole thing was a plot? A consummate plot Not a murder committed on the spur of the moment But a murder carefully planned Whitney thinks Barker had sent to Harlan's suspicions Long before they broke out in the quarrel In fact that he had provoked it To give color to the suicide theory When Barker went up that afternoon The rope was under his coat When Ford left the Azalea Woods estates early He knew every move he was to make From that time till he boarded the elevator There were only two weak spots in it The open window on the 17th floor And the length of time that Harlan was supposed to have been In the corridor The two points upon which Whitney had based his suspicions I was silent for a minute Turning it over in my mind Then it said slowly When Barker was coming down that way It would have taken some time wouldn't it? Harlan must have been in the front office Yes O'Malley's puzzled over that point What kept him there? Looks like he might have had a date with someone I said pondering Ford of course But nobody can imagine what he wanted to see Ford about Oh there's a lot of broken links in the chain yet I looked at the floor Frowning and thoughtful It's awful strange I'd like to know what made him come down there What was put up to him to lure him that way to his death End of chapter 8 Chapter 9 of the Black Eagle Mystery This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information Or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Read by Mike Overby, Parkland, Washington Dedicated to UNI But it is pretty strange Ever since you've come back The voice seems like an entirely different person Well, that's kind of a given what would really be a different person Chapter 9 of the Black Eagle Mystery By Geraldine Bonner Jack tells the story With the fitting of the murder on Johnston Barker The office of Whitney and Whitney drew its breath Took a cinch in its belt And went at the work with a quiet, deadly zest It was the most sensational and one of the biggest cases that had ever come their way No one on the inside could have failed to see the thrill of it The horror of the crime And the excitement of the subterranean chase for the criminal I was as keen as the rest of them But there was one feature of the secret investigations that I detested The dragging in of Carol Whitehall's name It couldn't be helped The affair had taken place in her offices But it was hateful of me to hear her mentioned in our conferences Even though it was merely as an outside figure A person as ignorant of the true state of the case As Troop, or Mrs. Hansen The tapped phone message and the subsequent trip to Rochester Had given me no end of a jar Up till then, I couldn't imagine her as caring for Barker Everybody admitted that his private life had been beyond reproach Entirely free from entanglements with women But even so, I couldn't picture the girl I'd met in New Jersey in love with... Him He was between 50 and 60, more than twice her age George said it was his money But George has lived among the fashionable rich Women who'd marry an octogenarian for a house on Fifth Avenue And a string of pearls Out of stake, my last dollar she was in that kind Proud and pure as Diana Only giving herself where her heart went first But if it had been hard to imagine her as fond of Barker the magnate What was it now when he was Barker the murderer? It made me sick All I could hope for was that we'd get him and save the unfortunate girl By showing her what he was And while we were doing this, he was up to us to keep her out of it Shield her and protect her in every possible way She was a lady The kind of woman that every man wants to keep aloof from anything Sorted and brutal I was thinking this one morning, a few days after our last séance On my way to the office I had been detained on work uptown and was late Entering upon a conference of the chief, George and O'Malley When I heard what they'd been evolving, I didn't show the expected enthusiasm Miss Whitehall was to be asked to come to Whitney and Whitney's that afternoon The hope being to trap or beguile her into some information about Barker's whereabouts It was the chief's plan, a poor one I thought, and said so But he was as enigmatic as usual, remarking that whether it succeeded or not He wanted to see her It didn't add to my good humor that, as I knew the girl, they'd selected me for their messenger Not being able to strike straight at their subject, they'd framed up a story One that would give them scope for questions and be a sufficiently plausible excuse to get her there It seemed to me absurd But the old man was satisfied with it Everybody now knew that Harland had been her silent partner Their story was that they'd heard Barker was also in the enterprise She'd had a double backing His visits to her office gave color to the rumor and so forth and so on I left the office while they were conning it over As I mounted the stairs to her apartment, I felt a good deal of a cad If it had been anyone else, or any other kind of woman But that fine, high-spirited creature A group of men trying to make a fool of her Beastly Why had I said I'd do it? That devil had she got mixed up in such an ugly business A servant opened the door and showed me a hall into the parlor She was there, sitting at a desk littered with papers And rose with a faint, surprised smile when she saw me As we sat down and I made my apologies for intruding, I had a chance to observe her And was struck by the change in her It was less than a year since we last met And she looked singularly different Handsome, of course, she'd always be that But another kind of woman At first I thought it was because she was paler and thinner She'd been a radiant, blooming Amazon in the country But after a few minutes I saw it was something... How can I express it? More of a spirit than of the body The joyousness and gaiety had gone out of her And the spontaneity I noticed that especially I could feel constraint in her composure As if she was on her dignity As I explained my mission, I couldn't say much And felt uncomfortable while I was doing it She listened with an expressionless, polite attention When I had finished, she made no comment Merely saying she would be only too happy To do anything for Mr. Whitney Then passed on to her own affairs Mentioning the failure of the Azalea Woods Estates And that she thought she and her mother Would return to the country I was on the verge of offering to finance her in a new deal And then I remembered I was there as an emissary Not as a friend It rattled me And the rattling wasn't helped when I met her eyes Brown and soft But with something scrutinizing and watchful Under their velvety darkness I stayed longer than I meant to Longer than I needed to Someway or other Our talk shifted round to Azalea and Longwood To Fire Hill And the people we knew all through there I forgot about the matter, I'd come on And she brightened up too And there was a gleam of the girl I'd met a year ago But when I rose to leave The other woman was back The reserved, poised woman Who seemed shut in a shell of conventional politeness She said she'd come that afternoon about five She had work to do that would keep her till then In the doorway she suddenly smiled and held at her hand The feel of it, soft and warm Was in mind when I got out into the street I went back to the office feeling meaner than a yellow dog Think heaven, I'd not have to do that again They'd get all they could out of her And that would be the last time Whitney and Whitney would want to see her Later on in a week or two maybe I could call on her again The ice was broken And anyway I didn't see but what it was my duty Someone ought to help her to get on her feet again And as she'd know man in her own family The least I could do was offer my services At five The chief, George and I were waiting for her She was a little late and as she came in I noticed that she had more color than she'd had in the morning She looked splendid In a dark fur coat and some kind of a close fitting hat With her black hair curling out below the edge Her manner was cool and tranquil Not a hint about her, of surprise or uneasiness Only that heightened color which I set down To the hurry she'd been in getting there The chief was as gracious as if he'd been welcoming her As a guest in his house Full of apologies waving her to an armchair Suggesting she'd take off her coat as the room was warm No outsider would have guessed what was going on In that astute and subtle mind A feeling of indignant pity rose in me She seemed so unsuspecting but no It's better for me to describe the scene as it occurred To try and make you see it as I did When the necessary politenesses were disposed of The old man very delicately with all his tact and finesse Started on the frame up He did it admirably Finishing on a sort of confidential note As the attorney for the copper pole group He would have facilitated matters if he knew all of Barker's activities The information, the slightest, would be helpful She answered readily, without surprise Almost as if she might have heard the story before You've been misinformed, Mr. Whitting Mr. Barker had no interest in the Azalea Woods Estates He had nothing to do with it The old man pursed out his lips and raised his brows I see One of those groundless rumors that gather about a sensational event It probably started from the fact Mentioned in the papers that Barker was in your office that afternoon Probably He came to see me about a house he was going to build in the tract Of course, that's all ended In nothing now He looked at her from under his bushy brows A kind, fatherly glance I was very sorry to hear, Miss Whitehall That you were one of the sufferers And in this double disaster we're trying to settle Oh, I She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders I wiped out He shook his head, frowning and resentful These men can knife each other Pirates in a buccaneer warfare But when it comes to dragging down women I'd like to see them all strung up Her eyes gave a flash It was like a spark, struck from a flint There and then gone As if it had surprised her And she was determined to guard against its return The calm of her face intensified Into an almost mask-like quiet She answered softly I can't go as far as to say that, Mr. Whitney I'm sure there's some explanation As to Bacher, I mean I hope so Said the chief For your sake, if for no other I hope he'll come back and make the restitution He owes his associates and discharge That obligation about the house and lot He looked at her smiling A rallying smile that said his plain words He knew such hopes to be groundless She did not smile back Simply raised her eyebrows and gave a slight nod George, who was facing her Leant forward and said as if he had just met her At a pink tea and was being gallantly sympathetic It was rather hard on you, Miss Whitehall Having those two men at your place that day The press must have made your life a burden It wasn't so bad Some reporters called me up When they found how little I knew they left me alone I hadn't anything exciting to say Both interviews were nothing but business But let me ask you a question Not for publication this time Just as a thing I'm curious about It was only a few hours after you saw him That Harlan killed himself Wasn't there anything unusual in his manner Anything to suggest that he was not himself She looked down at the purse she was holding In her lap and said slowly Clasping and unclasping the catch I didn't notice anything Unless perhaps he was a little more irritable And nervous I certainly never would have thought He was in a state of a man contemplating suicide And you would have known Said the chief He turned to George in explanation As Harlan's partner, Ms. Whiteholm Would have known him well enough to notice any marked change in him I was watching her closely And as the glances of the two men met I saw uneasiness well up through the quietude in her face Then for the first time I suspected that she was not as composed as she seemed Her words confirmed the suspicion They came quickly in hurried denial No, I didn't know him well I saw him very seldom We were not in the least what you'd call friends Or even close acquaintances It was all purely business The chief nodded A slight Mandarin-like teetering of his head Which gave the impression of a polite agreement In a matter that didn't interest him Purely business He murmured Then again turned to George What Ms. Whiteholm says would bear out the general idea That it was that last interview which drove Harlan to desperation As they spoke, she looked from one to the other A glance that passed over both faces As quick as a lightning flash Before they could turn, he was gone And her eyes had a dense, dead look As if she had dropped some inner veil over them Then I knew that the brain behind that smooth, white forehead Was something more than alert It was on its guard, wary and watchful The knowledge made me suddenly speak I wanted to see I had to see If that careful control would hold under a direct question about her lover How about Barka? How did he act when you saw him that afternoon? She shifted slightly to see me better Oh, perfectly naturally There was nothing in the least unusual about him Barka was a man of iron, said the chief His mental disturbances didn't show on the outside Besides, he gave a wave of his hand towards her This young lady knew him only slightly He turned quickly to her I'm right, am I not? Perfectly She fixed her eyes on him and kept them there Black and unfathomable My acquaintance with him was simply that Of an agent with a customer For a moment I couldn't look at her I got up and going to the window fumbled with the blind The man she tried to run away with And telling her lie with that smooth steadiness It was only love could give such nerve Behind me I heard the old man's voice A horrible affair It was fortunate for you you escaped the sight of it It was a sound of shuttering protest That would have been too much I knew nothing of it till I saw the papers the next morning It made me ill I was at home for several days Well, said he I'm in hopes we're going to straighten things out before long I turned from the window and moved back Wondering what he was going to say She was looking again at her purse Snapping and unsnapping the clasp How can you do that? She asked Haven't you read in the papers that Barker's been seen in Philadelphia? Ah yes She murmured her glance still on the purse But nobody's found him yet Give us time These vanishing gentlemen like a change of air They don't stay long under our hospitable flag Their goal is Canada For a moment she had no reply You could see it You could see the effort with which she held her statue compost But a deep breath lifted her breast And the edge of her teeth showed on her underlip Canada, said the old man With a comfortable role in his big chair Is our modern American equivalent Of a medieval sanctuary She got her nerve back I never saw such grit She gave him a smile, not jolly like his, but defiant Of course She said A sort of cave of a delim Then she rose and looking at him from under her eyelids added But if a man's clever enough to get to the cave of a delim I should think he'd be too clever to stay there She turned and took her coat from the chair back George made a jump to help her And the old man heaved himself up Breaking out with renewed apologies for the trouble he'd given her They were like people separating after a social function He bland and courteous She gracious and deprecating If I could be of any service to you I'd be only too glad, but She gave that little shrug of her shoulders I'm so unimportant A poor working woman whose orbit happened by chance To cross those of two great luminaries There's nothing for anybody to do but us, said George Standing behind her and holding out her coat And we'll do it You'll see some warning in the paper that we've got our hands on Barker The High Class Sneak He and his father worked so well together That he told me afterwards he knew the old man would be watching her He was, and so was I And at those words I saw the rich color spread to her forehead And again, that flash, like a leap of flame Shined in her eyes She knew it too and dropped her lids over it But the color she couldn't control And it glowed in crimson on her cheeks As she answered with a sort of soft tolerance Oh, Mr. Whitney, hunting criminals has made you unjust Then, as the coat slipped on, she flashed a look at him over her shoulder But I don't think it's real The profession requires a pose George was quite bold over He had no answer and she knew it Turning from him with a smile and moving toward the door Halfway there the old man stopped her Oh, by the way, one more thing that nearly slipped my memory You no doubt saw on the papers that Harland is supposed to have Spent the half hour before he jumped in the corridor of your floor Did you see him there? As you left, I mean She raised her eyebrows and artless, surprised query No, I'd gone before he came down I left about six or maybe a little before Um, he nodded You were probably in the elevator Yes, probably Her purse dropped from her hand to the floor We all started forward to pick it up But she was too quick for us And had it before any of us could reach it As she righted herself from the sudden stop Her face was deeply flushed Yes, of course, it must have been in the elevator She finished with a slight gasp As if the quick movement had impeded her breathing I see, of course Agreed the chief Moving beside her to the door It merely interested me as a student of morbid psychology I'd like to have known how a man of Harland's type looked Moved, comported himself While such a struggle went on in his mind At the door there were general goodbyes A very cordial parting all around I slipped out behind her to escort her Through the hall to the elevator As we brushed along side by side She said nothing, and glimpsing down at her face I saw it set in a still pondering Spinks like it seemed to me Waiting for her car I set a few civil common places to which she made short Conventional answers Biting her lip, her eyes on the ground She looked preoccupied, impatient I thought, for the car to come I wanted to ask her if I could see her again But it didn't there She seemed so indifferent, so shut away In her own brooding At the elevator and the gate shut I saw her through the grill work Looking at me for behind that iron barrier And the sight stirred me like a hand clasped on my heart It wasn't only the expression of her face Which was sad, almost tragic But it was a strange and eerie suggestion That it was like a face looking through the bars of a prison The thought haunted me as I walked back In the office George and the chief were talking over the interview They'd noted every tone of her voice Every change of her color Not surprised them, she had had to lie Must love the old rascal to death George commented The chief rose lumberingly And moved his cigar box on the mantelpiece I understand now why Parker Who was never known to care for a woman Finally fell She's a splendid preacher Brains and beauty Both to burn George agreed, you couldn't get much out of her All I wanted just now Said his father, striking a match I was going to ask him what Mori expected When a clerk opened the door and said Mrs. Babus is outside to see Mr. Whitney The chief squared round like a flash The lit match dropping to the hearth His face, unusually heavy and stolen Lit into an almost avid eagerness Show her in He ordered, and the clerk disappeared What are you expecting to get from Molly? George asked Isn't she finished? Not quite The old man's eyes were on the floor His cigar unlit in his hand I hadn't often seen him so openly in the key vive Molly said further orders What? You'll see What's the answer? Molly entered with the cold of the night still around her Her long coat was buttoned wrong Her hat on one side Haste was written all over her Haste in that bright eyed, jubilant exhilaration That took possession of her when things were moving her way She was like a little game dog on the scent And had often heard the old man say She'd make the best woman detective he'd ever known He was awfully fond of her And took a sort of paternal pride in her nerve and cleverness Just as he did in George's Well, Molly He said, got that stuff for me She nodded, her little body seeming To radiate a quivering energy Today at the lunch hour, I came the minute I got off Go ahead I said not to tell anybody till you told me first Were you gonna tell me first now? Standing by the table Her eyes bright on the old man, she said slowly and clearly Troop says He never took Miss Whitehall down from her Offices on the night of January the 15th George gave a smothered ejaculation And started forward I was transfixed, not believing my ears Only the chief looked unmoved Leaning against the mantelpiece Holding Molly's glance with his Go on He growled He says he was there later than usual Until eight, because of the accident Before that, he took down The two Azalea Woods Estates clerks Iola Berry and Tony Ford But not Miss Whitehall After the accident, he ran into the street And when he came back, the people were on Every landing ringing the bells and wild Because the elevator didn't come He went up and took them off But Miss Whitehall wasn't among them He said that he heard some of them got tired of waiting And went by the stairs He thought Miss Whitehall went that way Yes, it was the only way she could have gone He supposed she'd got impatient or hysterical And just rushed Palmao down Did Trooper anyone else see her In the lower hall or leaving the building? No, I questioned him Careful about that He thought she'd seen the excitement on Broadway And run down and maybe met someone who told her what had happened And not wanting to get in it She'd gone out the side door Anyway, he said she wasn't in the ground floor hall Or out in the street with the others Or he'd have seen her There was a pause Like figures in a picture I saw George amazed, petrified Staring at his father Molly looking from one to the other And the chief with his brows low down And his head drooped, gazing at the fire In a moment They would burst into speech The speech that was withheld While that astounding revelation found acceptance in their minds To hear what they said To listen to what I couldn't believe And yet couldn't contradict Was more than I could stand just then Unnoticed by any of them, I slipped out Fled down the hall into the elevator And out to the street It was cold, a sharp frosty night With a few stars shining in the deep blue sky Dark masses of men flowed out of the doors Of skyscrapers and drained away down the subway entrances I jostled through them Elbowing them right and left Instinctively turning my face uptown Deft to the curses that followed me Blind to the lights that stretched in a spangled vista in front What did it mean? What could it mean? I'd understood the lie about Barker, but now those other lies? She had said she went down about six In the elevator I'd heard her, there was no getting away from it Was that the reason the old man had wanted to see her? Suddenly I saw again his look of hungry expectation When Molly was announced And with a stifled sound I stopped short As lightning plays upon a dark landscape For a moment showing its plane I had a clear glimpse of the line of thought he'd been pursuing The horror of it held me rooted there Rigid as a dead man In the midst of the hurrying crowd Incredible Hideous Unbelievable Association with criminals had warped and diseased his judgment And then, like a sinister shadow Creeping on me dark and mominous Rows the memory of her guarded face The flame of color she couldn't hide And dropped purse I started out again fighting the shadow But all I had to fight with was my belief in her She couldn't It was impossible, I'd die swearing it In battering against that belief came questions Insistent, maddening Why couldn't she speak out? Why didn't she admit the truth? Say that Barker was her lover and have done with it Why had she lied about him About the time she left About everything else she could have frankly admitted If, if When I got there I could go no farther Cursing under my breath I forged along the air ice cold On the sweat that was damp on my forehead End of chapter 9 Chapter 10 Of The Black Eagle Mystery This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information Or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mike Overby Midland Washington Dedicated to UNI The Black Eagle Mystery By Geraldine Bonner Chapter 10 Molly tells the story Into Mr. Whitney And he knew then for the first time Why he wanted it Gee, it was an awful thought As I sat there between him and Mr. George Jack Reddy went away, I don't know why With neither of them saying a word I saw, like it was a vision The Harland case spreading out black and dreadful It made me think of ink spilled on a map Running slow but sure Over places that were bright and clean Trickling away in directions no one ever thought it would take I left soon after Jack As I could see they wanted to get rid of me Before I went, the old man said To try and get a line on the White Hall's servant I might work at the Reola And find out what time Miss White Hall came home The night of January 15th If I couldn't manage it, I was to let him know And it could be passed on to O'Malley But he thought I had the best chances That, as far as he knew now Was the last he'd need of me My work at the Black Eagle was done The next day would be my last one there Say nothing to anyone about it Simply drop out The reappearance of Miss McAlmont was his affair In the next 24 hours Things became swift As they do in these cases You'll have a long spell with the wires dead Then suddenly they'll begin to hum And you've got to be ready when it happens Jump quick as lightning I learned that in the Hasketh case The first chance came that night Was sitting in the parlor when I reached home Iola, she had the hope of a new job A good one Naturally, being Iola, couldn't go unless I came along and held the sponge It was so Pat you'd think fate had fixed it And it worked out as Pat as it began While Iola was in the parlor Getting her letter, I stayed in the kitchen Very meek and humble And when the servant came back, Delia was her name Started in to help her with the dishes We grew neighborly over the work She was washing and eye-wiping And what was more natural than that We'd work around to the affairs of the ladies They'd lost all their money and Delia was going to leave How did that happen now? Sure, it's the feller that killed himself done it Didn't I know? I only had to let her talk She was the flannel-mouth Irish kind Here are the facts as they went in to Whitney and Whitney the next day Miss Whitehall was generally very punctual Always getting home about half past six On the night of January 15th She didn't get back till a quarter to eight Such a delay was evidently not expected As Mrs. Whitehall became extremely nervous Couldn't keep still or settle to anything At a quarter to eight Hearing the key inserted in the door Delia had gone into the hall And seen Miss Whitehall enter She was very pale and agitated Delia had never seen her look so upset She walked up the passage Met her mother and without a word They went into a bedroom and shut the door At dinner she ate nothing and hardly spoke at all Looked and acted as if she was sick The next morning when she read On the Harlan suicide on the paper She nearly fainted and after that Was in bed for three days She was frustrated by the shock She told Delia I guess this would be my last piece of work On the Harlan case and it wasn't sorry There was an awfulness coming over it That was too much for me But it wasn't, not by a long shot I was in deeper than I knew So deep, but that comes later I'll go on now to tell what happened That last night I was in the Black Eagle Building It was coming on for closing time And I was making ready to go I had cleared up all my little belongings Using the traycloth, careful into my satchel When I heard a step stop at the door And a cheerful voice sing out Just in the nick of time Spreading her wings, ready for flight There in the doorway, filling it up With his big shape was Tony Ford For the first moment I got a sort of setback Mightened anyone Thinking of home and husband And finding yourself face to face with a gunman With one hand still in the satchel I stood, eyeing him Not a word out of me It didn't faze him a bit Teetering from his heels to his toes A grin on him like a slit in a post box He stood there as calm as if he'd never come near a murder Then dispel it in the fourth grade It came to me A few moments ago As I was passing by here that The prettiest and smartest Hello girl in New York Mightened to have gone home yet He said, now if you're Experienced with men and take it from me Hello girls are Leave a word, a chap like Tony Ford Hands out, but hearing those words And looking at his broad conceded face It came to me that these were true He'd been passing, suddenly thought of me And dropped in to see if I was there Well I answered, here I am What of it? First of it, he said Is how long are you going to be there? Till I get this satchel closed I said, and pressing hard on the catch It snapped shut And second of it, he went on Is where are you going afterward? My first thought Was that I was going to get away from him As fast as the inner borough system could take me And then I had a second thought Why had Tony Ford Dropped in so opportune at my closing hour To ask me to dinner And why couldn't I Hire to do work for Whitney & Whitney Do a little extra for good measure I knew they wanted to hear Ford's own account Of what he did that evening of January 15th But they couldn't get it What's the matter with me? Molly Bavitz, getting it for them It flashed into my head like lightning And it didn't flash out again Frightened? Not a bit Kied up through, like your blood begins to run quick I'd taken some risky dares in my time But it was a new one on me To dine with a murderer But honest, besides the pleasure Of doing something for the old man There was a creepy sort of thrill about it That strung up my nerves and made me feel Like shooting Niagara in a barrel Going home, eh? Said he It's a long, cold ride home That's the first truth you've said I answered And for showing me you can do it I'll offer you my grateful thanks I began to put on my gloves He's standing in the doorway watching To break the journey with a little bit of dinner Might be a good idea It might I said All day What's the good in having it if you haven't got the price I picked up my satchel and looked cool And pitying at him Unless you're calculating to take me to the breadline There you wrong me He answered Nothing but the best for you And putting his hand into his best pocket He drew out a roll of bills folding them back One by one and giving each a name Canvas back Terrapin, champagne Oyster crabs, alligator pairs Anything the lady calls for Those green backs Flirted over so carelessly by a strong Brown fingers gave me the horrors Blood money I drew back If he hadn't been blocking up the entrance I think I'd have quit it and made a break for the open He glanced up and saw my face And I guessed it looked queer What are you staring so for? They're not counterfeit The feeling passed And anyway I couldn't get out without squeezing by him I don't want to touch him any more than I would a spider I was calculating how much of it I could eat I said My folks don't like me to dine out so When I do I try to catch up with all the times I've refused Come along then He said, stepping back from the doorway I know a bully little joint not far from here You can catch up there if you've been refusing dinner Since the first telephone was installed So off we trotted Into the night I and the murderer Can you see into my mind He was boiling with thoughts like a homom Bath with steam What would Soapy say? He'd be raging but after all He couldn't do anything more than rage You can't divorce a woman for dining with a murderer Especially if she only does it once Mr. Whitney'd be alright If I got what I intended to get He'd pass me compliments that would take O'Malley's pride down several pegs As for myself 24 wouldn't want to murder me There was nothing in it And judging by the pleasant things he said To me alive and well was the dearest wish of his heart The restaurant was one of those quiet foreign ones In an old dwelling house Sandwiched in among shops and offices It was a decent place I'd been there for lunch with Iola In the daytime full of business people And at night having the sort of crowd That gathers where boarding houses And downtown apartments and hotels For foreigners give up their dead We found a table in the corner of the front room With the wall to one side of us And the long curtains of the window behind me There were a lot of people And a few waiters, one of whom Mr. Ford Summoned with a haughty jerk of his head Then he sprawled grandly in his chair With menus and wine lists Telling the waiter how to serve things that were hot And ice things that were cold Till you'd suppose he'd been a chef along with all his other jobs He put on a great deal of side Like he was a cattle king from Chicago Trying to impress a pilgrim father from Boston The only way it impressed me Was to make me think a gunman With blood on his soul And a decent clerk With nothing to trouble him but the bill at the end As he was doing this I took off my veil and gloves Careful to pull off my wedding ring I wasn't going to have that side-tracking him And thinking how I'd begin We were through the soup and on the fish When I decided the time was ripe To ring the bell and start I did it quietly I guess you've got a new place No, I'm still one of the unemployed Don't I act like it? Pleased he'd got the Hello Girl guessing You act to mean like the young millionaire Cutting his teeth on Broadway He lifted his glass of white wine and sipped it I inherited some money this winter From an Uncle Upstate You're not drinking your wine Don't you like it? In his tone and a shifting of his eyes To the next table, I caught a suggestion Of something not easy, put on Maybe if you hadn't known what I did You wouldn't have noticed what was playing to me He didn't like the subject I never touched wine I answered, I don't want to speak unfeelingly But it was mighty convenient Your uncle died just as your business failed Wasn't it too bad about Miss Whitehall? Very unfortunate, poor girl Bad for me, but worse for her She had no idea it was coming, I suppose He looked up, sudden and sharp What was coming? His small grey eyes Sent a glance piercing into mine Full of a thick, arrested attention What, the ruin of Mr. Harland? Oh, that, he was easy again I thought you meant the suicide I don't know whether she knew or not Waiter, he turned And made one of those grandstand plays to the waiter Take this away and bring on the next She'd have known, that night As soon as she heard he was dead But, I guess she was so paralyzed She didn't think of herself I don't know what she thought of She wasn't in the office I dropped my eyes to my plate It lies a crossing on the ice She picked her steps Oh, she'd gone before it happened? Yes I left early myself that night before she did I was halfway home when I remembered some papers I said I'd go over and had to hike back for them She was gone when I got there And just think how gruesome it was When I was going down in the elevator Harland jumped, struck the street a few minutes before I reached the bottom Could you beat it? Knowing what had been done in that closed office Knowing what was going to be done while he was sliding down Story to story, and then getting it off that way As smooth as cream A sick feeling rose up inside me I wanted to get away from him and see an honest face And feel the cold, fresh air Dining with a gunman wasn't as easy as I'd thought Tony Ford, leading across his plate Tapped on the cloth with his knife handle To emphasize his words He must have been up that side corridor Waiting And when he heard the gate shut and the cargo down He came out, walked to the hall window And jumped He gave a wriggling movement with his broad shoulders That takes nerve I suppose sometimes in crowds He passed murderers But you don't know them for what they are Probably never again if I lived to be a hundred Would I sit this way, not only conversing with one But conversing about his crime It wasn't what you'd look back on afterward As one of the happy memories of your life But it was a red letter experience I had a vision of telling my grandchildren How once when I was young I talked with one of the blackest criminals of his day On the subject of the deed he'd helped commit It's a fortunate thing he left no family It was something to say And I had to keep him moving along the same line You'd suppose he'd have married again Being wealthy and handsome Mr. Ford, who was Lighting a cigarette, smiled to himself and said So you would And I guess he could have had his pick Maybe he cared for someone who didn't reciprocate He threw away the match and lulled back in his chair Maybe Maybe he said With a meaning, secret air It wouldn't have taken a girl just landed at Ellis Island To see that he wanted to be questioned He was out of him like a rash So not to disappoint him And also being curious, I asked Was he in love with someone? He said nothing But blew a smoke ring into the air Staring at it as it floated away I waited while he blew another ring The look on his face as conscious as an actor Is when he was in the middle of the stage Woke in a weighty tone Harlan was in love Madly in love This was news to me I hadn't looked for it and I didn't know where it might lead I didn't have to hide my interest He expected it, was gratified when he saw me open mouth But he had to do a little more acting In tapping on his wine glass with his four finger Said, languid, to the waiter Fill it up, the lady won't take any Then His eyes following the smoke rings Nobody had an idea of it Nobody but me I knew Harlan better than many who consider themselves as friends You knew him It came out of me before I'd thought Or I'd never have put the accent on the you that way I knew him Well He'd taken rather a fancy to me I couldn't say anything The man he'd killed Fortunately he didn't notice me The wine he'd taken was beginning to make him less sharp Not that he was under the influence But he was not so clear headed The natural vanity was coming up plainer every minute He went on I met him quite casually In the black eagle building and then Well, something about me attracted him Anyway, we grew friendly and That's how I stumbled on his secret His love? He inclined his head majestically You can see how it was possible when I tell you The lady was Miss Whitehall Believe me, I got a thrill There was a second when I had to bite on my upper lip To keep an exclamation from bursting out Something that no one had a suspicion of Something that my lead I couldn't follow it then That time what I had to do Was to find out everything he knew Are you sure? I breathed out incredulous Perfectly He was daffy about her You just guessed it He suddenly wheeled at his chair And looked at me with that same piercing almost fierce look I'd seen before The wine he'd been drinking showed red in his face As a roughness that was new Of course I guessed it A man like Harlan doesn't go around telling you he's in love But I'm a pretty sharp chap Many things won't escape me He didn't have to tell me I was on the spot and I saw Why didn't Iola see? She was on the spot too And when it came to romance No man that breathes has anything on Iola I ventured as carefully as if I was walking on the subway tracks And didn't know which was the third rail He tried to keep it a secret And I guess he did except from little Tony What did she feel? In his white hall about him Not the way he did Perhaps there was someone else? A meaning look came over his face and he said softly Perhaps there was Who? I didn't know whether it was an interest that stole into my voice without my knowledge Or some instinct that warned him But suddenly he pulled himself up The lounging swagger dropped from him And he gave me a look from under his eyebrows Solid and questioning Then, like a big animal Restless and uneasy, he glanced over the littered up table Pushing his napkin in among the glasses And muttering something about the wine I didn't want him to know I was watching And hunted in my lap for my gloves But to say I was keen isn't the word For I could see into him as if his chest was plate glass And what I saw was that he was scared He'd said too much How should I know? He suddenly exclaimed as if there'd been no pause I don't know anything about Miss Whitehall Just happening to be around the office Miss Whitehall's infatuation Anyone would She may have a dozen strings to her bow For all I know or care He gave me an investigating look How was I taking it? And I smiled innocently back That reassured him And he twisted around in his chair Snapping his fingers at the waiter Here, lively Mike Bill Don't keep us waiting all night The waiter who'd been hovering around He was more at ease but not all right yet As his words proved Don't you go quoting me now As having said anything about Harland and Miss Whitehall He's in the grave, poor chap And I don't like the figure as having talked over His private affairs Doesn't look well, you know Sure, I said comfortably I'm on Mr. Ford leaning his eyebrows on the table Was looking at me with what he thought was a romantic gaze Long and deep In my opinion he looked like a fool Men mostly do when they're trying to be sentimental On a heavy meal But I wasn't worrying about that What was engaging me was how I could shake him Without telling him who I was or where I lived In the first excitement of corralling him I'd never thought of it Now the result of my rash act was upon me If you ever die with a murderer take my advice When you start in lay your pipes for getting out As we waited for that bill I was as uncomfortable as if I had to pay it Suppose I couldn't escape And he followed me home To be like the mad elephant in the zoo And from what I knew of Tony Ford He might draw a pistol and make me a widow Have you enjoyed your dinner, little one? He said, soft and slushy Fine, I answered Pulling my coat off the chair back We've got to be good friends, haven't we? Pals, I said Don't you think we know each other well enough For you to tell me your name? They say there's a great charm about the unknown I answered And I want to be as charming as it's possible With the restrictions nature puts upon me You don't need any extra trimmings He said, you might as well tell me For I can always find out at the black eagle building Could he? I was Miss Morgenthau there And today was positively my last appearance If I could get away from him now I was safe from his ever finding me The waiter brought the bill With murmurings that it was to be paid at the desk We rose, Mr. Ford feeling in his pocket The waiter trying to look listless As if money was no treat to him I moved across the room and reconnitured The desk with a fat gray-haired woman Sitting behind it was close by the door That led into the hall Several people were out there putting on coats And hats and jabbering together in a foreign lingo I sauntered carelessly through the doorway Seeing out of the tail of my eye Mr. Ford put down a $20 bill on the counter The gray-haired woman began to pull out Little drawers and make change One of the people in the hall opened the front door And they began filing out I went with them Slow on their heels at first Then fast, dodging between them Then, like a streak down the steps And up the street It was an awful place to hide in All lights and show windows A fish might as well try to conceal itself In a parlor aquarium There wasn't a niche that you could have squeezed a cat into And I had to get somewhere Suddenly I saw a narrow flight of stairs With a large set of teeth hanging over them And up to that I went, stumbling on my skirt I reached the landing and flattened it back against the dentist's door It was locked Or I would have gone in, so scared I was of that man Gone in, and if the price of concealment Had been a set of false teeth I make no doubt I'd have ordered them After a while I ventured down Took a look out and stole away Dodging along the dark side streets and round corners With my muff up against my face Till I struck a cab stand Not a word came out of me till I was safe inside a taxi And then I almost whispered my address to the chauffeur As we sped along I quieted down I had to think, going over what he'd said Connecting things up And as I thought, bouncing around in that empty vehicle Like one small piano pod that was too big I saw it planer and planer As if one veil after another was being lifted Harland was in love with her She'd not gone down in the elevator She'd stayed there, she'd been there We went over a chuck hole and I bounced up Nearly to the roof But the smothered cry that came for me wasn't because of that It was because I saw, the whole thing as clear as daylight She'd been the lure That brought him to the Azalea Woods Estates She'd been the person that kept him in the front office While Barker came down from the story above End of chapter 10 Chapter 11 of the Black Eagle Mystery This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information Or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mike Overby Midland Washington Dedicated to UNI The Black Eagle Mystery By Geraldine Bonner Chapter 11 Jack tells the story The account of Molly's dinner With Tony Ford was given Sunday morning By Molly herself to George and the Chief In the Whitney Home I went there in the afternoon Dread of possible developments drew me like a magnet And heard the news It was more ominous than even I Stealed and primed for ill tidings had expected Much There was no use in showing my disbelief Besides, if they suspected its strength There was a possibility of their confidence being withheld for me I had to hear everything Be familiar with every strand in the net They were weaving around the woman of whose guilt They were now certain George was going to call somewhere on Fifth Avenue And I walked up with him For the pleasure of his company, he supposed In reality to hear in detail how he and the Chief Had pieced into logical sequence The broken bits of information Said he, it's this way Barker was the brains of the combination Ford and Miss Whitehall the instruments he used Ford did the killing and was paid Miss Whitehall's part Which was puzzling before Is now clear She takes her place as the woman in the case The spider that decoyed the fly into the web He paused for me to answer But I could say nothing It was one of the most ingenious plots I've ever come up against A mastermind conceived it And must have been days perfecting it Think of the skill with which every detail Was developed And those two alibis, Ford and Barker's How carefully they were carried out That afternoon visit of Harland to Miss Whitehall Was planned Barker followed it and heard that all was ready The trap set and the quarry coming Then he went up to the floor above Establishing his presence there And knowing, when Harland left That the girl was waiting below to meet him And hold him in the front room Then comes Tony Ford That the murder was committed there As proved by the two blood spots Ford established his alibi by leaving Barker's is already established He's in the room above Unable to get out without being seen Even if the crime had been discovered They were both as safe from suspicion As if they'd been in their own homes Miss Whitehall and Barker stay in the Isle Woods Estates Office Till the excitement in the streets subsides They're perfectly safe there The police when they come are going to go to the floor above Dispersed as they leave by the service stairs She first Barker a short while afterward The building and the street are deserted But even if he is seen Nobody knows enough at that time To question his movements After that, it all goes without a hitch Even the arrest of the chauffeur was all to the good As it delayed the search for two days When it's known that he has voluntarily disappeared What's the explanation? He's welched on his associates and found it best To take to the tall timber To get to success There's just one thing that so far he hasn't been able to accomplish Get his girl I walked along, not answering He was pretty sickening to hear how straight they had it But there was one weak spot At least, I thought it was weak Just why do you think a girl like Miss Whitehall A woman without a spot of stain on her Would lend herself to an affair like that Perfectly simple, he answered She expects to marry Barker Whether she loves him or his money Her actions prove that she is ready to join him He tells her, he's a tremendous personality Stronger than she, and he's bent her to his will A rot, I said He can't bend a perfectly straight woman To help in such a crime unless he's bent that way by nature And she isn't He grinned in a complacent, maddening way I guess Barker could He's as subtle as the serpent in Eden Besides, how can you be so sure What kind of a girl she is? Who knows anything about these Whitehall's They came from the west two years ago And settled on a farm, quiet, lady-like women But not a soul has any real information About them or their antecedents And they haven't given out much They've been curiously secretive all along the line I'm not saying the girl's a natural-born criminal She doesn't look the part, but you'll have to admit Her speech and her actions are not those of a simple-minded, rustic beauty In my opinion, she's fallen under Barker's spell And he's molded her to his purpose He's the one, he's the brain She and Ford were only the two hands We'd reached the place he was bound for And I was glad to break away I wanted to think, and the more I thought The more wild and fantastic and incredible it seemed A week ago, a girl like any other girl And today suspected of complicity In a primitively savage crime I thought of the case they were building up against her And I thought of her in her room that morning And it seemed the maddest nightmare Then her face, that day in the Whitney office Rose on my memory The stealthily watching eyes with the leaping Fires, the equivocations, the lies I walked for the rest of the afternoon Miles somewhere out in the country My brain was dried like a sponge in the sun I came home, I couldn't get anywhere Couldn't get beyond that fundamental conviction That it wasn't true I think if she'd confessed it with her own lips I'd have gone on persisting she was innocent Two days after that, a chain of events began That put an end to all in action And plunged the Harlan case deeper than ever Into sinister mystery I will write them down in the order in which they occurred The first was on Tuesday The Tuesday night following Molly's dinner with Tony Ford That night, an unknown man attacked Ford in his room Leaving him for dead For some years, Ford had lived in a lodging house On the east side, near Stoyvescent Park The place was decent and quiet Run by a widow and her daughter The inmates of a shabby Gentile class Rather an odd place for a man of Ford's proclivities To house himself It was one of those old fashioned brownstone fronts Set back from the street behind a little square of garden A short flagged path leading to the front door On the evening of the attack Ford had come in about half past eight And, after a few words with his landlady In the reception room, had gone upstairs A little after ten, as they were closing up for the night There was a ring at the bell And the door was opened by the servant, a swede The widow was as economical with her gas As lodging keepers usually are And the swede said she could only dimly see the figure Of a man in the vestibule He asked for Mr. Anthony Ford And she told him Mr. Ford was in And directed him to a room on the third floor back Without more words, he entered and went up the stairs After locking the door She followed him, being on her way to bed When she reached the third floor He was standing at Ford's door And, as she ascended to the fourth She heard his knock and Ford's voice from the inside Call out Hello, who's that? When the police asked her about the man's appearance Her description was meager He had worn the collar of his overcoat turned up And kept on his hat All that she could make out in the brief moment When he crossed the hall to the stairs Was that his eyes looked bright and dark That he wore glasses She thought he had a white mustache But on this point was uncertain As the upturned collar hid the lower part of his face Babbage Who reported the affair for the dispatch And for the Whitney office on the side Questioned the girl carefully She was stupid, not long-landed And could only be sure of the nosing the glasses But one thing he elicited from her Was an important touch in this impressionist picture The man was small When he passed her in the hall She noticed that he was not so tall as she was She looked at him closely and lightly as he went up the stairs On the third floor front were two rooms One vacant, one occupied by a boy named Salinger A clerk in a nearby publishing house Salinger came in At half past ten And as he passed Ford's door heard in the room Men's voices, one loud, one low A sentence in the raised voice It did not sound like Ford's Caught his ear, the tone denoted anger Likewise the words I've come for something more than talk I've had enough of that Knowing Ford was out of work He supposed he was having a round with a done And passed on to his own room Where he went to bed and read a novel He was so engrossed in this that he said he would not have heard anyone Come out and go in the hall But the landlady, who with her daughter occupied The parlor on the ground floor At a little before eleven heard steps descending the stairs And the front door open and close It wasn't till nearly two in the morning that Salinger Was wakened by a feeble knocking He jumped up and before he could reach the door Heard a heavy fall in the passage There, prostrate by the sill Lay Ford, unconscious His head laid open by a deep wound Salinger dragged it back to his room Then roused the landlady who sent for a doctor He told Babitz that the place gave no evidence of a struggle The drop light was burning The chair drawn close to it And a book lying face down on the table As if Ford had been reading them when the stranger interrupted him On the floor near a desk Standing between the two windows A trickle of blood showed where Ford had fallen Suggesting that the attack had been made from behind as he stood over the desk The doctor pronounced the injury serious The blow had been delivered on the back of the head And Ford's condition was critical When the police turned up They could find nothing to give them a clue to the assailant No fingerprints, no foot marks, no weapon, or implement Ford had been stricken down by one violent blow Falling on him suddenly and evidently unexpectedly He was taken to the hospital, unconscious No one knowing whether he would die Before they could get a statement out of him The cause of the assault was at first puzzling Robbery seemed improbable As a man in Ford's position was not likely to have much money And as his gold watch and chain Were found in full view on the table But when the first excitement quieted down One of the women in the house came forward with a story That a few days before Ford had told her he had recently been left a legacy By an uncle upstate And in proof of this newly acquired wealth Had shown her two $50 bills This put a different face on the matter If Ford had carried such sums on him It was probable the fact had become known And burglary had been the motive of the attack The police looked over the papers In his wallet and desk But found nothing that threw any light on the mystery Babbage was present at this search And found three letters Tossed aside by the city detectives as having no bearing On the subject that he knew must be seen by Whitney and Whitney He and the precinct captain Had hobnob together over many cases And a few sentences in the hall Resulted in the transfer of the papers to Babbage's breast pocket With a promise to return them the next day I'll give you these letters later on When we poured over them in the old man's private office In the hospital Ford came back to consciousness long enough To make an anti-mortem statement It was short and explicit Satisfying the authorities who didn't know That the victim himself was a criminal with matters In his own life to hide Here it is, copied from the evening paper I don't know who the man was I never saw him before He had some story that he knew me and asked for money I tried to send him off But when he got threatening not wanting him to make a row in the house I went to the desk where I had a few loose bills in the drawer It was while I was standing there with my back to him That he struck me I don't know what he did it with Something he had under his coat When I came to myself later I got to Salinger's door That's all I know A week ago I had some money on me Part of a small legacy But I'd banked it a few days before He must have heard of it some way and was after it That settled the question as far as the police and the general public went That the watch and chain were not touched Nor the few dollars in the desk drawer Was pointed to as positive proof That Ford's assailant was no common sneak thief Or second-story man He was not wasting his time on small change Or articles difficult to dispose of For a few days the police hunted him But not a trace of him was to be found An old hand, they had it Dropped back into the darkness of the underworld There was not a detective or reporter in New York Who connected that half-seen figure Stealing by night into a sheep lodging house With the financier whose disappearance Had been the nine days wonder of the season On Wednesday evening We read some of the letters to the Whitney office We were all there but Molly And sat round the table passing the papers from hand to hand One was on a sheet of Harlan's business stationery And was in Harlan's writing Which both George and the chief knew It was dated January 2nd And ran as follows Dear Ford, excellent If possible I'll try and see you tomorrow I'll be going down to lunch about one Yours, HH As a document in the case It had no special value As he had told Molly on friendly terms with the lawyer The others were of vital significance They were on small oblongs of white paper The finely nicked upper edge indicating They had been attached to a writing tablet Both were in ink And in the same hand, rapid and scratchy The words trailing off in unfinished scrolls Neither had any address But both bore dates One for December 27th And the other, January 10th Here is the first December 27th Dear girl, thanks for your note Things begin to look more encouraging That I must stand back and let you do so much Win our way by your cleverness and persuasion Is a trial to my patience But my time will come later JWB The signature was a hurried scratch Babbit said the police had glanced at the letter Said it down as the copy of a note Ford had written To some girl and thrown it aside Those half-formed initials might have been Anything to the casual uninterested eye The second, dated January 10th Was a little longer Dearest, I hoped to see you today But couldn't make it So our end seems to be in sight At last approaching after our planning and waiting What a sensation we're both going to make But it won't touch us We're strong enough to dare anything When our happiness is at stake JWB We agreed with O'Malley when he sized these letters up As copies in Ford's hand He had samples of it, of notes written by Barker To Carol Whitehall And ordered to guess with our knowledge of the gunman's character It shows him up as a pretty tough specimen Said the detective A stride on a chair with a big black cigar in the corner of his mouth He wasn't going to lose a trick While he was working for Barker He was gathering all the evidence against his employer That his position in the Whitehall office Gave him access to Laying the plans for blackmail Said George, that's it He had an eagle eye trained on the future When Barker and his girl were feeling safe In some secluded corner The letters, documentary testimony to the plot Could be used as levers To extort more money Do you suppose Barker was on to it And decided to get him out of the way Before he had a chance to use them? Said Babbit Nah, I don't see it that way There was no indication in the room of a search I guess Barker acted on the principle That the fewer people share a secret The easier it is to keep Looks to me, said George As if Ford had made some move Back that way into the house full of people Considering the circumstances he took a mighty big risk Not as big a one as having Ford at large Answered O'Malley You've got to remember that not one of the three Knows the murder has been discovered They think they're as safe as bugs in a rug With Ford out of it The only menace to Barker's safety is removed I look at this as a last, perfecting touch A coping stone on the edifice The chief, who had been silently pacing back and forth Across the end of the room Slouching to the table and picked up the longer of the two letters Holding it to the light, he read it over murmuringly Then dropped it and said Curious that a man who had conceived such a plot Would allude to it in writing I spoke up What seemed to me the first rational words of the meeting Had gave me my cue What makes you so sure the thing alluded to in these letters Is a matter I was standing back between the window and the table They all squared round in their chairs to stare at me O'Malley and bending his head to level a scornful glance Below the shade of the electric standard What else could they allude to? He said, I don't know Nobody, not a person here, knows all that existed Between Barker and Miss Whitehall There's no reason to take for granted that the plan, Scheme, whatever you like to call it Those letters indicate it was the killing of Harland O'Malley gave an exasperated grunt And cast an eye of derisive question at the chief It enraged me and my hands gripped together Oh, Lord Jack, you're nutty, said George We know Barker and Miss Whitehall were in love And we know Barker committed the murder And we know she helped That was enough to occupy their minds Without going off on side mysteries Nature has accursed me with a violent temper During the last two years, since the dark days Of the Hesketh tragedy, I've thought it was conquered A leashed beast of which I was the master Now suddenly it rose, pulling at its chain I felt the old forgotten stir of it The rush of boiling blood that in the end Made me blind I had since enough left to know I'd got to keep it down, and I did it But if there'd been no need for restraint For dissimulation, it would have burst out As it had in the past Burst against O'Malley with a fist In the middle of his cock-shore, sneering face I heard my voice, husky but steady As I said That's all very well, but what about what the chief had just said Why should Barker write when he could say what he wanted Why did he, so cautious in every other way Do a thing a green boy would have known a danger of You're building up your whole case on the vagus tamizes O'Malley took his cigar out of his mouth His eyes narrowed in full of an ugly fire I suppose the initial fact that a murder's been committed is surmise Now, I came nearer the table The blood singing in my ears It's your evidence against the woman that you twist and encolor And to match your preconceived theories There's not an attempt been made to reconcile her previous record With the villainous act of which you accuse her There's a gulf there, you can't bridge Why don't you go down into the foundations of the thing Instead of putting your intention on surface indications Why don't you go into the psychology of it Build on that, not the material facts that a child could see I don't believe one of them guessed the state I was in Took my vehemence as an enthusiasm for impartial justice But a few minutes more of it in the old fury would have broken loose I saw O'Malley's face, red through a red mist Saw he was mad, mad straight through, enraged At the aspersions on his ability He got up, ready to answer And Lord knows what would have happened A roughened tumble round the room probably If the door hadn't opened and a clerk put in his head with the announcement A gentleman on the phone wants Mr. O'Malley The words transformed the detective His anger vanished as if it had never been Quick as a wink he made for the door Flinging back over his shoulder I told them at the office if anything turned up I'd be here There's something doing A hush fell on the rest of us The tents quiet of expectancy The fire in me died like a flame when a bell has dropped News, any news, might bring help for her Exonerate her, wipe away the stain Of the suspicions that no one but we six would ever know The door opened and O'Malley entered His face was illuminated Shining with an impressive triumph His movements quick and instinctively stealthy Pushing the door to behind him He said as softly as if the walls had ears They've got Barker in Philadelphia End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of the Black Eagle Mystery This is LibriVox Recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mike Overby, Parkland, Washington Dedicated to UNI The Black Eagle Mystery by Geraldine Bonner Chapter 12 Jack tells the story Inside an hour, O'Malley, Babitz and I Were on our way to Philadelphia All friction was forgotten A bigger issue had extinguished the sparks That had come near bursting into flame A mutual desire united us The finding of Barker The train and express seemed to crawl like a tortoise But the way I felt, I guess the flight of an airplane Would have been slow I had hideous fears that he might give us a slip But O'Malley was confident One of his men had got a lead on Barker Through a vendor of newspapers From whom the capitalists twice in the last week Had purchased the big New York dailies It had taken several days to locate his place of hiding A quiet boarding house Far removed from the center of the city Which was now under surveillance As we swung through the night Shut close in a smog filled compartment We speculated as to whether he would try and throw a bluff Or see the game was up and tell the truth At the station, O'Malley's man met us And the four of us piled into a taxi And started on a run across town It was moonlight, and going down those quiet streets Lined with big houses, and then with little houses Still, dwindling vistas sleeping in the silver radiance Seemed to me the longest drive I'd ever taken in my life As we sped, the detective gave us further particulars By his instructions, the new-stand man Who left the morning papers at the boarding house Had got into communication with the servant, a colored girl From her, he had learned that Barker He passed under the name of Joseph Samus Had been away for twenty-four hours And had come back that morning so ill That a doctor had been called in The doctor had said the man's heart was weak And that his condition looked like the result of a strain or shock Question further, the girl had said he was A pleasant, civil-spoken old gentleman Giving no trouble to anybody He went out very little, sitting in his room Most of the time, reading the papers He received no mail there But that he did get letters she had found out As she had seen one on his table Addressed to the general delivery The house was on a street, quiet and deserted At this early hour, one of a row all built alike As we climbed out of the taxi, the moon was bright The shadows lying like black velvet across the lonely roadway On the opposite side, loadering slow, was a man Who, raising a hand to his hat Passed on into the darkness along the area railings Though it was only a little after nine Many of the houses showed the blankness of unlit windows But in the place where we had stopped A fan light over the door glowed in a yellow semicircle As the taxi moved off, we three, O'Malley's detective Slipped away into the shadow like a ghost Walked up a little path to the front door Where I pulled an old-fashioned bell handle I could hear the sound go jingling through the hall Loud and cracked, and then steps Languid and dragging Come from somewhere in the rear I was to act as spokesman My cue being to ask for Mr. Samus On a matter of urgent business The door was opened by the colored girl Who looked at us stupidly And then said she'd call Miss Graves, the landlady As she didn't think anyone could see Mr. Samus Standing back from the door She led us into a hall with a hat rack on one side And a flight of stairs going up the back The light was dim, coming from a globe Held aloft by a figure that crowned the Newell post The paper on the walls, some dark stripe pattern Seemed to absorb what little radiance there was And the whole place smelled musty And was as quiet as a church The colored girl had disappeared down a long passage And presently a door opened back there And a woman came out, tall and thin In a skimpy black dress She approached us as we stood in a group By the hat rack, leaning forward near sightedly And blinking at us through silver-rimmed spectacles My maid says you want to see Mr. Samus She said, in an unameable voice Yes, I answered I came from New York and it's imperative we see him this evening But you can't She snapped He's sick The doctor says he mustn't be disturbed Talking it over afterward We all confessed that we were seized by the same idea That this lanky old spinster might be in the game And Barker's illness was a fake Feeling as I did, I was ready to leap forward Grab her and lock her in her own parlor While the others chased up the stairs I could sense the slight, uneasy stir Of the two men beside me And I tried to inject a determination into my voice That while it was civil, it was also informing I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary That we transact our business with him now Can't you give me a message? She demurred, squinting her eyes up behind the glasses I'll see that it's delivered in the morning No, madam This is important and it can't wait We won't be long We only have to consult with him for a few minutes She gave a shrug as much as to say Well, this is your affair And drawing back, pointing to the stairs He's up there Fourth floor front Second door to your left To each of us, the suspicion that she was in with Barker Had grown with every minute The idea once lodged in our minds possessed them And we went up those stairs, slow at first And then, as we got out of earshot Faster and faster It was a run on the second flight And a gallop on the third On this landing there was no gaslet But a window at the end of the passage Led in a square of moonlight that lay bright on the floor And showed us the hull's dim length And the outlines of closed doors It was the second of these on the left-hand side And creeping toward it we stood for a moment getting our wind The place was very cold, as if a window was open And there was not a sound Standing by the door, O'Malley knocked, softly There was no answer In that half-lit passage, chilled with the icy breath of the winter night And held in a strange stillness I was seized by a grisly sense of impending horror If I'd been a small boy, my teeth would have begun to chatter At thirty years of age, that doesn't happen But I doubt whether anyone whose body was supplied with an ordinary Active nervous system would not have felt something sinister In that cold, dark place In the silence behind that closed shut door O'Malley knocked again and again There was no answer Try it, I whispered And the detective turned the handle Locked, he breathed back then Stand away there I'm going to break it, there's something wrong here He turned sideways, bracing his shoulder against the door There was a cracking sound and the lock Embedded in old soft wood, gave way The door swinging in with O'Malley hanging to the handle The room was unlit, but for the silver moonlight that came from the window Uncurtained and open At that sight, the same thought seized the three of us The man was gone O'Malley, fumbling in his pocket for matches, broken to furious profanity I had a box, and as I dug round for it, took a look about And saw the shapes of a chair with garments hanging over it An open desk, and, against the opposite wall, the bed It was only a pale oblong, and looked irregular As if the clothes were heaped on it as the man had thrown them back I could have joined O'Malley in his swearing Gone, when our fingers were closing on him Then I found the matches and the gas burnt over our heads My eyes were on the bed, and O'Malley's must have been For simultaneously I gave an exclamation, and he leaped forward There, asleep, under the covers, lay a man Quick as a flash of lightning, the detective was beside him Bending to look close at the face Then he drew back with a sound, a cry of amazement, disbelief And pulling off the bedclothes, laid his hand on the sleeper's chest God in heaven, he gasped, turning to us He's dead! Babitz and I made a rush for the bed Eye to the head, where I leaned low to make sure Staring into the gray, pale face with its prominent nose and sunken eyes Then it was my turn to cry out, to stagger back Looking from one man to the other, aghast at what I'd seen It's not vodka at all! For a moment we stared at one another Jaws fallen, eyes stony Not a word came from one of us The silence broken by the hissing rush of the gas turned up full cock in the sputtering ribbon of flame I came to myself first, turned from them back to the dead face Its marble calm and strange contrast to the stunned consternation of the living faces It's not he, I repeated I've often seen him It's not the man W-w-well Stammered O'Malley, coming out of his stupor Who on earth is it? How do I know? Samus, I suppose It's like him, the nose and the eyes and the eyebrows and the mustache But I looked at them Gazing like two stupefied animals at the head on the pillow It's not Johnston Baca O'Malley, with a groan of baffled desperation Fell into a chair, his hands hanging over the arms His feet limp on the floor before him Babbitt stood paralyzed, leaning on the foot of the bed It was an extraordinary situation Three live men, hot on the chase of a fourth And in the moment of victory faced by the most inscrutable and solemn thing that life holds A dead man We couldn't get over it, couldn't seem to think or act Grouped round the bed with the whistling rush of the gas, loud on the silence Then suddenly, another and more distant sound broke up our stupification Someone was coming up the stairs It jerked us back to life and I made a run for the door O'Malley's whisper, hissing after me If it's that woman, keep her away for a while I want to go over the room It was Miss Graves, ascending slowly with the help of the balustrade I caught her on the landing and told her what we'd found She was not greatly surprised, the doctor had warned her I explained the broken door by telling her that we had been alarmed by the silence and had forced our way in And that too, she took quietly and turned away Cliding shadow-like down the stairs to send out the servant for the doctor When I re-entered the room, its aspect was changed A sheet covered the dead man, and O'Malley and Babitz, with all the burners and the chandelier blazing Had started looking over the room The detective was already at work on the papers in the desk Babitz going through the clothes over the chair, and a few others that hung in the cupboard Hustling get busy, said O'Malley, as he heard me coming in If this isn't Johnston Barker, it's the man we've been trailing And I'm pretty sure it's the one that attacked Ford There was a table by the bedside, with a reading lamp and some books on it Moving these, I came upon two newspaper clippings, relating to the suicide of Harland In both, Anthony Ford was mentioned The reporter had evidently spoken to him that night on the street, gleaning any fragments of information they could One alluded to the fact that he was employed in the office below Harlands, the Azalea Woods Estates Those words were heavily underlined in pencil Looks like it from this, I said Showing the clipping to O'Malley Going back to his inspection on a sheaf of papers he had found in one of the desk prison holes Meantime, Babitz had found in the coat that hung over the chair a wallet Containing a hundred dollars A tailor's bill for a suit and coat, receded and bearing a New York address And Tony Ford's house and street number written in pencil on a neatly folded sheet of note paper Besides these, there was one letter, dated January 13th Typed and bearing no signature Its content was as follows Enclosed, please find one hundred dollars and two bills of fifty We'll send the same amount on the same date next month if work should be still delayed We'll communicate further later The envelope, also addressed in type writing, was directed to Joseph Samus General Delivery, Philadelphia, and bore a New York postmark We were working too quickly for much comment, but Babitz held out the paper with Ford's address on it toward O'Malley This bears it out too, he said O'Malley looked at it and snapped the elastic back on the documents he'd been going over From what I've seen here, he said, Samus was the man Ford was with in the real estate business These are all contracts, bills, and some correspondence The records of a small venture that went to smash He pushed the roll back in his pigeonhole Not another thing There's not another thing in the room, I answered Except two novels, and a sack of New York papers on the floor there by the bureau Hiss, quiet There were feet coming up the stairs In a twinkling everything was as it had been Babitz and O'Malley withdrew through the window and I went out to see who was coming It was Miss Graves and the doctor I explained the situation and found the doctor brusting business like a matter of fact It was what might have been expected When he had been called in that morning he had found Mr. Samus a very sick man Suffering from angina pectoris and in general condition of debility and exhaustion He had asked him if he had been subjected to any recent exertion or strain But had been told no other than a trip the day before to Washington Miss Graves said it was undoubtedly this trip that had done the damage He had been well when he started on Tuesday morning But on returning 24 hours later had been so weak and enfeebled That one of the other lodges had had to assist him to his room An examination proved that he had been dead some hours Who his relations were or where he came from Miss Graves had no idea and would turn the matter over to the authorities It was close on midnight when we left and there being no vehicle in sight We walked up the street The moon was as bright as day and swinging along between those two lines of black houses With here and there a light shining yellow in an upper window We were silent, each occupied by his own thoughts I could guess those of the other two Babbitt's chagrin at once again losing his big story O'Malley's sullen indignation having followed a clue that led to such a blind alley But the disappointment and bitterness were nothing to mine All my hopes gone again And this last puzzle hoping in no way In no way as I then count to help End of chapter 12