Читать книгу Whispering Death - Aidan de Brune - Страница 6

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"TOLD me he had a list of rich men of the city of Sydney he expected to contribute to a fund of half-a-million pounds he was raising," Roy spoke indignantly. "Said that he would send on the list to Thomas in a few days and that if these men didn't come up to the scratch he would have to crack the whip. You never heard such bunkum, in all your life!"

"Bunkum? You believe that?"

"Don't you?"

"Dr. Night carries out his threats."

"Yet you and Bob Hardy beat him some years ago."

Inspector Frost did not answer. He sat back in his chair, fiddling with a paper-knife. From under his heavy brows he watched the newspaper man, keenly.

"Well?"

"I asked him about the mystery plane. He said he owned it; that it was immensely powerful—that with it he could lay waste this city. Then he went on to say that he had caused the sleep that overcame the Mirror staff, last night; that he intended that as a warning to Bob Hardy not to interfere."

"Ah!" The detective drew a deep breath of satisfaction. "So he's frightened of Hardy, is he? What does Bob say?"

"Mrs. Hardy objects to him taking over the assignment."

"And, as a rich woman, has a pull with the Mirror management." Frost laughed slightly. "Bob won't like that. I should have thought he would have protested, or that Thomas would? No, perhaps there's something behind it all. Bob is no coward; he doesn't care a damn for all Dr. Night's threats. So, you've taken over the chase. Well, I wish you luck!"

"Mr. Thomas says I'm to work with you, as much as the police regulations will let me." Roy spoke ingenuously.

"You've come to me to know where you kick off?" Frost laughed. "That's more than I can tell you, young fellow. So far, there's not a clue in existence. Why, that message—That—might not have been Dr. Night speaking, after all. Some crook—"

"You believe that?" Roy interrupted.

The detective hesitated. For some moments he sat, playing with the various articles on his desk. At length, he spoke, slowly: "Listen to me, Roy Iston. You came to the Mirror offices last night, to find the staff sound asleep. Bob Hardy tells you that just before he fell asleep he took a strange message referring to a silent airship. He looked up and thought he saw Dr. Night, standing in the doorway. A couple of hours ago you believe you were talking to Dr. Night, over the telephone. He told you that he had selected certain important business men of this city to blackmail. If the money was not forthcoming when and where he demanded, there was going to be trouble. Eh?"

"He spoke of turning the 'Whispering Death' loose, over the city."

"The Whispering Death!" Frost paused. "Did he tell you what he meant by that phrase?"

"No."

"That's all you have to go on." Again the detective paused. "Look here, Roy Iston, all the police have to go on, as yet, is that last night the Mirror staff fell asleep over their work. Do you think that is a sufficient fact to set our organisation to work on? Why—"

"You're not going to infer, Frost, that they fell asleep by natural means?" Roy spoke indignantly.

"And I cannot conceive any means for doping a hundred men without large preparation and apparatus," the Inspector retorted.

"You don't believe my story, then?" The reporter flushed angrily. "Let me tell you that while I was talking to Dr. Night in Mr. Thomas's room Bob Hardy went to the switch and listened in. He says he can swear that it was Dr. Night speaking."

"Well?"

"Well—to you? You want Dr. Night, don't you—for murder?"

"Yes. There's a warrant out for him."

"Then Dr. Night's in Sydney."

"Where?"

Roy was silent. Was the mysterious Asian really in Australia? Bob Hardy believed that he was. He knew that Alphonse Thomas shared that belief. But, Frost was doubting.

"Listen to me," the detective continued. "I'm willing to admit that I had an interview with the Commissioner this morning, after he had had a conversation over the telephone with Mr. Thomas. I am instructed to use my discretion. If Dr. Night is in Australia I am to bring him in. But I haven't a bit of evidence, yet, that the man is in Australia. For all I know, he may be in the heart of Asia."

Roy knew that there was truth in the Inspector's statement. They had no evidence that Dr. Night was in Sydney-only Hardy's belief that just before he fell asleep he recognised the Asian standing at the door; that he had heard his voice over the telephone..

And Alphonse Thomas had assigned him to run down Dr. Night! A bitter smile curved the newspaper-man's lips.

Where was he to start? How was he to proceed? For the first time he realised that from the moment he had accepted the assignment he had relied on Inspector Frost for a lead.

Now the detective was pointing out the difficulties in the plainest language. No—only one difficulty, and that was insurmountable.

If Dr. Night had returned to Sydney, where would he be? Roy's thoughts turned to the mystery 'plane. The report that had been sent in to the Mirror had indicated that the 'plane had come to land from the eastern seas. Where, in the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean, was he to locate Dr. Night?

With a curt nod he turned to the door. As his hand touched the knob, Frost called to him.

"Made up your mind, Roy?"

"What about?"

"Where to commence the search for Dr. Night?"

"I was waiting for a lead from you." The young man spoke ruefully.

Frost laughed. "I haven't one to offer. What now?"

"Guess I'll go back and tell Thomas that I'm a bum journalist. Oh, damn it, Frost. What's the joke?"

For some minutes the detective meditated. At length he looked up.

"I'll help you where I can, Roy," he said, slowly. "But you can't expect me to stir things up on the present evidence—which is not evidence at all. There's just one hint I will offer. Dr. Night makes mistakes—we all do; his mistakes are those of over-confidence. He thinks he's unbeatable. He isn't. Hardy proved that, but Dr Night thinks Hardy's success was a fluke. Maybe it was, I'm not going to give an opinion. Now, I'll give you a tip. Watch Bob Hardy."

"What do you mean?"

The Inspector shook his head and turned to the papers on his desk. Roy hesitated a moment, then left the room and the building.

Watch Bob Hardy! What did the detective mean? On the pavement Roy stopped and pondered. Watch Bob Hardy! But the chief sub. had declined the task of running down Dr. Night. He had said his wife had objected to him taking the assignment.

Was that sufficient reason for Hardy's action? Roy thought of Alphonse's reputation. The managing editor was an autocrat. Although worshipped by his staff, he ruled-them with a rod of iron. He would not tolerate any question to his orders.

Yet he had offered Hardy the assignment, and had quietly acquiesced when the chief sub. had declined it. Roy believed that this was suspicious. Thomas was not the man to allow his subordinates to pick and choose their work. Had he and Hardy an understanding?

Had Hardy's refusal of the assignment been some plot conceived between him and the managing editor? Then—Roy's face flushed as the thought crossed his mind. Thomas's appointment to him to trace down Dr. Night was but part of a scheme to shield Robert Hardy.

The young man's lips set in a straight line. So they intended to use him as a blind. He was to take up the trail of Dr. Night openly, while Hardy worked in secret. In his heart he vowed that he would win through to success, despite his handicap.

He would trace down Dr. Night and bring him to justice. But how? His short talk with Inspector Frost had shown him the difficulties that lay before him. He had nothing to start on. There was not one single clue to guide him on his quest.

Was Frost a party to the scheme evolved between Thomas and Hardy? Roy half-turned to re-enter the Police Headquarters, then swung round and went down to the Mirror offices. What did it matter? Yet he felt very lonely. And but a short half-hour before he had prided himself on the assignment, believing he had behind him the power, influence, and wealth of the Mirror.

In King Street he boarded a tram and went out to South Head. At the lighthouse he found Tom Seeman on duty.

"What of that mystery 'plane, Mr. Seeman?" Roy asked somewhat brusquely. "We didn't get you quite right at the office."

"What mystery 'plane?" The old seaman smiled. "Your people know all I know."

"But you said you didn't telephone through a report of a mystery 'plane coming to Sydney from out sea."

"Neither did I." The man's smile broadened. "But that ain't to say there wasn't one. There was, as it happens."

"But—" Roy stammered. "Oh, damn! Say, Mr. Seeman, was there a 'plane or wasn't there one?"

"There was," Seeman spoke emphatically. "A big 'plane, too. Came in from a point south of east at a tremendous pace. Flying low, too; yet there wasn't a sound from it—just a queer, low, whistling as it passed overhead. I said to my mate. 'That 'plane—'"

"And you didn't telephone a report to the Mirror?"

"I didn't, 'cos why? 'Cos I couldn't get anyone at the Mirror to answer my call. Now, young man, can you tell me if you were all asleep down there?"