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Updated: May 31, 2025
I'm from the West, but thank goodness! I have unlimited credit here. I know where to obtain bail in any amount." "The charge against this man is murder in the first degree," Britz retorted. "The crime is not bailable." The information seemed to stagger Fanwell.
"Are you the officer in charge of this investigation?" suddenly asked Ward. "I am." "Then perhaps you will tell me why you arrested my sister?" Ward spoke resentfully, turning an indignant countenance on the detective. "I arrested her because the evidence warranted it," Britz returned. "It is preposterous!" exclaimed Ward. "My sister a murderess! Why, you don't believe that yourself!"
The Whitmore case would not take rank among the unsolved murder mysteries of the city. In fact, to Britz it was no longer a mystery. The detective entered Headquarters in a happy frame of mind. He was in control of the situation, had mastered all the complexities of the case.
"That's what I thought," beamed the coroner. "The murderer entered and left through the door. And some of those clerks, if not all of them, must have seen him or her. I tell you they're in a conspiracy to shield the murderer." Britz extended a hand toward the glass partition. "Look down this room," he said.
Britz contemplated the scene about him with a feeling of growing depression. Then, suddenly recalling the high hopes which he had based on his expected meeting with Ward, he asked: "Has Ward been here to-day?" "No," replied the receiver. "He seems to have abandoned the office. I've been unable to reach him at his home."
He might deplore the necessity of causing an innocent woman to suffer; but if it were necessary for the accomplishment of his end well, law and order are exacting taskmasters and cannot pause to consider the injured feelings of individuals! Britz turned into Wall street, possessed by a sense of elation, like a man about to reach out for a long-coveted prize.
You see how useless his self-inflicted torture was! Beard, look at this girl!" Britz pointed dramatically toward Miss Burden. "You're engaged to her. You've got a great deal to look forward to! But unless you get up now and tell the truth, the whole truth, concerning Mr. Whitmore's death, I promise you that the next ten years of your life shall be spent in the Federal prison at Atlanta."
Britz pressed the receiver tightly to his ear, as if afraid that some word of hers might escape his hearing. "Mr. Luckstone wishes me to say that Mr. Whitmore's will has been found," said the detective. If the woman realized the significance of the information, her voice did not betray it. "Well?" she exclaimed, as if the subject held but a mild interest for her. "Mr.
His words threw the turning weight into the scale of argument and she indicated her subjection to the lawyer's will. "Very well," snapped Britz. "Greig, go and fetch a cab. We'll proceed to Headquarters." As the woman had acknowledged Luckstone as her attorney, Britz could not deny him the right to accompany her to the Central Office.
Yet, it will establish itself by reason of its own indestructible qualities. Regardless of the statement so solemnly delivered by the secretary, Britz believed that the woman had committed suicide. Not because Beard said she had, but because of the convincing nature of the attendant circumstances.
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