Within the Law [70]
to the desk when he was lieutenant. His heavy jaw shot forward aggressively as he spoke.
"Think I'm going to let that girl make a joke of the Police Department? Why, I'm here to get her--to stop her anyhow. Her gang is going to break into your house to-night."
"What?" Gilder demanded. "You mean, she's coming here as a thief?"
"Not exactly," Inspector Burke confessed, "but her pals are coming to try to pull off something right here. She wouldn't come, not if I know her. She's too clever for that. Why, if she knew what Garson was planning to do, she'd stop him."
The Inspector paused suddenly. For a long minute his face was seamed with thought. Then, he smote his thigh with a blow strong enough to kill an ox. His face was radiant.
"By God! I've got her!" he cried. The inspiration for which he had longed was his at last. He went to the desk where the telephone was, and took up the receiver.
"Give me 3100 Spring," he said. As he waited for the connection he smiled widely on the astonished Gilder. " 'Tain't too late," he said joyously. "I must have been losing my mind not to have thought of it before." The impact of sounds on his ear from the receiver set him to attention.
"Headquarters?" he called. "Inspector Burke speaking. Who's in my office? I want him quick." He smiled as he listened, and he spoke again to Gilder. "It's Smith, the best man I have. That's luck, if you ask me." Then again he spoke into the mouthpiece of the telephone.
"Oh, Ed, send some one up to that Turner woman. You have the address. Just see that she is tipped off, that Joe Garson and some pals are going to break into Edward Gilder's house to-night. Get some stool-pigeon to hand her the information. You'd better get to work damned quick. Understand?"
The Inspector pulled out that watch of which Aggie Lynch had spoken so avariciously, and glanced at it, then went on speaking:
"It's ten-thirty now. She went to the Lyric Theater with some woman. Get her as she leaves, or find her back at her own place later. You'll have to hustle, anyhow. That's all!"
The Inspector hung up the receiver and faced his host with a contented smile.
"What good will all that do?" Gilder demanded, impatiently.
Burke explained with a satisfaction natural to one who had devised something ingenious and adequate. This inspiration filled him with delight. At last he was sure of catching Mary Turner herself in his toils.
"She'll come to stop 'em," he said. "When we get the rest of the gang, we'll grab her, too. Why, I almost forgot her, thinking about Garson. Mr. Gilder, you would hardly believe it, but there's scarcely been a real bit of forgery worth while done in this country for the last twenty years, that Garson hasn't been mixed up in. We've never once got him right in all that time." The Inspector paused to chuckle. "Crooks are funny," he explained with obvious contentment. "Clever as he is, Garson let Griggs talk him into a second-story job, and now we'll get him with the goods.... Just call your man for a minute, will you, Mr. Gilder?"
Gilder pressed the electric button on his desk. At the same moment, through the octagonal window came a blinding flash of light that rested for seconds, then vanished. Burke, by no means a nervous man, nevertheless was startled by the mysterious radiance.
"What's that?" he demanded, sharply.
"It's the flashlight from the Metropolitan Tower," Gilder explained with a smile over the policeman's perturbation. "It swings around this way about every fifteen minutes. The servant forgot to draw the curtains." As he spoke, he went to the window, and pulled the heavy draperies close. "It won't bother us again."
The entrance of the butler brought the Inspector's thoughts back to the matter in hand.
"My man," he said, authoritatively, "I want you to go up to the roof and open the scuttle. You'll find some men waiting up there. Bring 'em down here."
The servant's usually impassive face showed astonishment, not unmixed with dismay, and he looked doubtfully
"Think I'm going to let that girl make a joke of the Police Department? Why, I'm here to get her--to stop her anyhow. Her gang is going to break into your house to-night."
"What?" Gilder demanded. "You mean, she's coming here as a thief?"
"Not exactly," Inspector Burke confessed, "but her pals are coming to try to pull off something right here. She wouldn't come, not if I know her. She's too clever for that. Why, if she knew what Garson was planning to do, she'd stop him."
The Inspector paused suddenly. For a long minute his face was seamed with thought. Then, he smote his thigh with a blow strong enough to kill an ox. His face was radiant.
"By God! I've got her!" he cried. The inspiration for which he had longed was his at last. He went to the desk where the telephone was, and took up the receiver.
"Give me 3100 Spring," he said. As he waited for the connection he smiled widely on the astonished Gilder. " 'Tain't too late," he said joyously. "I must have been losing my mind not to have thought of it before." The impact of sounds on his ear from the receiver set him to attention.
"Headquarters?" he called. "Inspector Burke speaking. Who's in my office? I want him quick." He smiled as he listened, and he spoke again to Gilder. "It's Smith, the best man I have. That's luck, if you ask me." Then again he spoke into the mouthpiece of the telephone.
"Oh, Ed, send some one up to that Turner woman. You have the address. Just see that she is tipped off, that Joe Garson and some pals are going to break into Edward Gilder's house to-night. Get some stool-pigeon to hand her the information. You'd better get to work damned quick. Understand?"
The Inspector pulled out that watch of which Aggie Lynch had spoken so avariciously, and glanced at it, then went on speaking:
"It's ten-thirty now. She went to the Lyric Theater with some woman. Get her as she leaves, or find her back at her own place later. You'll have to hustle, anyhow. That's all!"
The Inspector hung up the receiver and faced his host with a contented smile.
"What good will all that do?" Gilder demanded, impatiently.
Burke explained with a satisfaction natural to one who had devised something ingenious and adequate. This inspiration filled him with delight. At last he was sure of catching Mary Turner herself in his toils.
"She'll come to stop 'em," he said. "When we get the rest of the gang, we'll grab her, too. Why, I almost forgot her, thinking about Garson. Mr. Gilder, you would hardly believe it, but there's scarcely been a real bit of forgery worth while done in this country for the last twenty years, that Garson hasn't been mixed up in. We've never once got him right in all that time." The Inspector paused to chuckle. "Crooks are funny," he explained with obvious contentment. "Clever as he is, Garson let Griggs talk him into a second-story job, and now we'll get him with the goods.... Just call your man for a minute, will you, Mr. Gilder?"
Gilder pressed the electric button on his desk. At the same moment, through the octagonal window came a blinding flash of light that rested for seconds, then vanished. Burke, by no means a nervous man, nevertheless was startled by the mysterious radiance.
"What's that?" he demanded, sharply.
"It's the flashlight from the Metropolitan Tower," Gilder explained with a smile over the policeman's perturbation. "It swings around this way about every fifteen minutes. The servant forgot to draw the curtains." As he spoke, he went to the window, and pulled the heavy draperies close. "It won't bother us again."
The entrance of the butler brought the Inspector's thoughts back to the matter in hand.
"My man," he said, authoritatively, "I want you to go up to the roof and open the scuttle. You'll find some men waiting up there. Bring 'em down here."
The servant's usually impassive face showed astonishment, not unmixed with dismay, and he looked doubtfully