Within the Law [104]
window. Consternation beset him. He knew that, somehow, he had bungled fatally. A groan of distress burst from him, and he fled the place in ignominious rout.
There was another whose spirit was equally desirous of flight--Burke! Yet once again, he was beaten at his own game, his cunning made of no avail against the clever interpretation of this woman whom he assailed. He had no defense to offer. He did not care to meet her gaze just then, since he was learning to respect her as one wronged, where he had regarded her hitherto merely as of the flotsam and jetsam of the criminal class. So, he avoided her eyes as she stood by the window regarding him quizzically. In a panic of confusion quite new to him in his years of experience, he pressed the button on his desk.
The doorman appeared with that automatic precision which made him valuable in his position, and the Inspector hailed the ready presence with a feeling of profound relief.
"Dan, take her back!" he said, feebly.
Mary was smiling still as she went to the door. But she could not resist the impulse toward retort.
"Oh, yes," she said, suavely; "you were right on the level with me, weren't you, Burke? Nobody here but you and me!" The words came in a sing-song of mockery.
The Inspector had nothing in the way of answer--only, sat motionless until the door closed after her. Then, left alone, his sole audible comment was a single word--one he had learned, perhaps, from Aggie Lynch:
"Hell!"
CHAPTER XXIII. THE CONFESSION.
Burke was a persistent man, and he had set himself to getting the murderer of Griggs. Foiled in his efforts thus far by the opposition of Mary, he now gave himself over to careful thought as to a means of procedure that might offer the best possibilities of success. His beetling brows were drawn in a frown of perplexity for a full quarter of an hour, while he rested motionless in his chair, an unlighted cigar between his lips. Then, at last, his face cleared; a grin of satisfaction twisted his heavy mouth, and he smote the desk joyously.
"It's a cinch it'll get 'im!" he rumbled, in glee.
He pressed the button-call, and ordered the doorman to send in Cassidy. When the detective appeared a minute later, he went directly to his subject with a straightforward energy usual to him in his work.
"Does Garson know we've arrested the Turner girl and young Gilder?" And, when he had been answered in the negative: "Or that we've got Chicago Red and Dacey here?"
"No," Cassidy replied. "He hasn't been spoken to since we made the collar.... He seems worried," the detective volunteered.
Burke's broad jowls shook from the force with which he snapped his jaws together.
"He'll be more worried before I get through with him!" he growled. He regarded Cassidy speculatively. "Do you remember the Third Degree Inspector Burns worked on McGloin? Well," he went on, as the detective nodded assent, "that's what I'm going to do to Garson. He's got imagination, that crook! The things he don't know about are the things he's afraid of. After he gets in here, I want you to take his pals one after the other, and lock them up in the cells there in the corridor. The shades on the corridor windows here will be up, and Garson will see them taken in. The fact of their being there will set his imagination to working overtime, all right."
Burke reflected for a moment, and then issued the final directions for the execution of his latest plot.
"When you get the buzzer from me, you have young Gilder and the Turner woman sent in. Then, after a while, you'll get another buzzer. When you hear that, come right in here, and tell me that the gang has squealed. I'll do the rest. Bring Garson here in just five minutes.... Tell Dan to come in."
As the detective went out, the doorman promptly entered, and thereat Burke proceeded with the further instructions necessary to the carrying out of his scheme.
"Take the chairs out of the office, Dan," he directed, "except mine and one other--that one!" He indicated a chair standing a little
There was another whose spirit was equally desirous of flight--Burke! Yet once again, he was beaten at his own game, his cunning made of no avail against the clever interpretation of this woman whom he assailed. He had no defense to offer. He did not care to meet her gaze just then, since he was learning to respect her as one wronged, where he had regarded her hitherto merely as of the flotsam and jetsam of the criminal class. So, he avoided her eyes as she stood by the window regarding him quizzically. In a panic of confusion quite new to him in his years of experience, he pressed the button on his desk.
The doorman appeared with that automatic precision which made him valuable in his position, and the Inspector hailed the ready presence with a feeling of profound relief.
"Dan, take her back!" he said, feebly.
Mary was smiling still as she went to the door. But she could not resist the impulse toward retort.
"Oh, yes," she said, suavely; "you were right on the level with me, weren't you, Burke? Nobody here but you and me!" The words came in a sing-song of mockery.
The Inspector had nothing in the way of answer--only, sat motionless until the door closed after her. Then, left alone, his sole audible comment was a single word--one he had learned, perhaps, from Aggie Lynch:
"Hell!"
CHAPTER XXIII. THE CONFESSION.
Burke was a persistent man, and he had set himself to getting the murderer of Griggs. Foiled in his efforts thus far by the opposition of Mary, he now gave himself over to careful thought as to a means of procedure that might offer the best possibilities of success. His beetling brows were drawn in a frown of perplexity for a full quarter of an hour, while he rested motionless in his chair, an unlighted cigar between his lips. Then, at last, his face cleared; a grin of satisfaction twisted his heavy mouth, and he smote the desk joyously.
"It's a cinch it'll get 'im!" he rumbled, in glee.
He pressed the button-call, and ordered the doorman to send in Cassidy. When the detective appeared a minute later, he went directly to his subject with a straightforward energy usual to him in his work.
"Does Garson know we've arrested the Turner girl and young Gilder?" And, when he had been answered in the negative: "Or that we've got Chicago Red and Dacey here?"
"No," Cassidy replied. "He hasn't been spoken to since we made the collar.... He seems worried," the detective volunteered.
Burke's broad jowls shook from the force with which he snapped his jaws together.
"He'll be more worried before I get through with him!" he growled. He regarded Cassidy speculatively. "Do you remember the Third Degree Inspector Burns worked on McGloin? Well," he went on, as the detective nodded assent, "that's what I'm going to do to Garson. He's got imagination, that crook! The things he don't know about are the things he's afraid of. After he gets in here, I want you to take his pals one after the other, and lock them up in the cells there in the corridor. The shades on the corridor windows here will be up, and Garson will see them taken in. The fact of their being there will set his imagination to working overtime, all right."
Burke reflected for a moment, and then issued the final directions for the execution of his latest plot.
"When you get the buzzer from me, you have young Gilder and the Turner woman sent in. Then, after a while, you'll get another buzzer. When you hear that, come right in here, and tell me that the gang has squealed. I'll do the rest. Bring Garson here in just five minutes.... Tell Dan to come in."
As the detective went out, the doorman promptly entered, and thereat Burke proceeded with the further instructions necessary to the carrying out of his scheme.
"Take the chairs out of the office, Dan," he directed, "except mine and one other--that one!" He indicated a chair standing a little