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Almost before I had finished with the carefully framed, glib excuse that I was to make, he shouted to me over the wire, "What do you think, Jameson? Tell him to come down right away. The impossible has happened. I have got under Dopey Jack's guard he has confessed. It's big. Tell Kennedy I'll wait here at my office until he comes." He had hung up the receiver before I could question him further.
"Of course the newspapers haven't got it yet," pursued Carton, "but it happened that there was a Grand Jury sitting and considering election cases. It went hard, but I made them consider this case of Dopey Jack. I don't know how it happened, but I seem to have succeeded in forcing action in record time.
"The Grand Jury indicted Dopey Jack this afternoon. The trial " "Dopey Jack," quoted Murtha in disgusted tones. "That's the way it is nowadays. Give a dog a bad name why, I suppose this bad name's going to stick to him all his life, now. It ain't right.
"Insane he was," agreed Wilton Barnstable. "And shortly after that discovery was made, he disappeared. The next day after his disappearance, Dopey Eddie and Izzy the Cat were liberally supplied with money. "Of course they got the money, Lady Agatha, through the clever trick they worked upon you." "A great many people have got money from me since I have been in America," said Lady Agatha. "Ah!
Maude's got dopey on him. She's plumb stuck on him. The dame Pap's spilt thousands on has gone back on him for a fool boy she was there to roll. Things are seething under the surface, and it's the sort of atmosphere Pap mostly lives in. He's crazy mad. And when Pap's crazy, things are going to happen. There's just one end coming. Only one end.
I think that will about settle the case of Kahn, if not of Dopey Jack, when we get ready to spring it. Kennedy, make another set of prints and let me lock them in a safe deposit vault. Craig laughed. "Not such a bad evening's work, after all," he remarked, clearing things up. "Do you realize what time it is?" Carton glanced perfunctorily at his watch. "I had forgotten time," he returned.
"You're a thief and probably a murderer into the bargain you tried to kill this boy just before he shot you." "Well wots he?" demanded Dopey Charlie. "He's a thief he said he was look in his pockets they're crammed wid swag, an' he's a gun-man, too, or he wouldn't be packin' a gat. I guess he ain't got nothin' on me."
Hence, I inferred, this bitter internecine strife within the organization itself. Whatever was brewing inside the organization, I felt that we should soon know, for this was the day on which Justice Pomeroy had announced he would sentence Dopey Jack.
They talked almost in whispers for several moments while I strained my ears to catch a syllable, but without success. What were they talking about? Was it about Dopey Jack? Or did they know something about Betty Blackwell? Even when the music stopped they talked without dropping a word. The music started again. There was no mistaking the appeal that the rocking whirl of the rhythmic dance made.
Carton himself, not one of his assistants, was to conduct the case. If Dopey Jack, who had violated almost every law in the revised statutes and had never suffered anything worse than a suspended sentence, could not get off, then no one could.
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