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Updated: June 25, 2025
What would I send Charley for, when I'd gone myself an' it hadn't worked?" It was evident to Morrow that the man he was interrogating was ignorant of Brunell's connection with the Lawton case, and he changed his tactics. "Tell me about Charley. You say you tried to do right by him." "Of course I did! Wasn't he my brother's boy?"
"Thank you again for protecting my kitten for me," she said softly. "Good-night." Guy Morrow walked down the steps and across to his own lodgings with his brain awhirl. The investigation, through the medium of a small black kitten, had indeed taken an amazing turn. Jimmy Brunell's daughter was a protégée of the daughter of Pennington Lawton!
Blaine's operative listened carefully but no sound came from the depths below him; so after a time, with his light carefully shielded, he essayed a gingerly descent. On the bottom step he paused. There was small need for him to go further. He had found what he sought. Emily Brunell's father was a forger indeed!
Jimmy Brunell's more than anxious to see you; he wants to make a clean breast of the whole affair tell all he knows about the case; and I think what he's got to say will astonish you and finish the whole thing crack that nut you were talking to me about this afternoon, provide the link in the chain, the crevice in the crime cube! May I bring them?"
If he guessed the reason for the metamorphosis, Blaine gave no sign, but listened without comment until Morrow had completed his report. "You obeyed my instructions?" he asked at length. "When you discovered the forgery outfit in the cellar of Brunell's shop, you left everything just as it had been left no possible trace of your presence?" "Yes, sir.
Morrow's thoughts had suddenly turned to that unknown visitor toward whom he had taken such an unaccountable dislike. "Young fellow what young fellow?" Emily Brunell's voice had changed, slightly, and a reserved little note intruded itself which reminded Morrow all at once of her father.
You can depend on it: the outfit was there for some more practical purpose. You say Paddington has not appeared in the neighborhood, but another man has a man Brunell's daughter seems to dislike and fear?" "Yes, sir. There's one significant fact about him, too his name. He's Charley Pennold.
They did not take into account the possibility that their henchman, Paddington, might fail, or turn traitor; that Mac Alarney might talk to save his own hide; that Jimmy Brunell's forgeries might be traced to their source; that the books in the office of the Recorder of Deeds might divulge interesting items to those sufficiently concerned to delve into the files of past years!
"I told you I'd take care of that, in my own way. I thought I assigned you to the task of finding out who fired at you, from the darkened window of your own room, when you were in Brunell's house across the street; also I wanted a line on those two mysterious boarders of Mrs. Quinlan's." "Nothing doing on either count, sir," Morrow returned, ruefully.
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