United States or Yemen ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The man at the other end of the wire gave the directions after much seeming speculation and many changes. Jim Farland was to go to Grant's Tomb, and from there to a certain place near the river. The other man would be in the neighborhood watching, he said, would recognize Farland as he passed the Tomb, and then would follow and speak to him when nobody else was near.
Will you send for him?" "He's waiting in the other room now," the captain said. "I'll let you have a conference with him before I order you into a cell!" Once more Prale was taken to the room in which he had first waited the room with the barred windows. This time the watching detective was missing. When Jim Farland entered, he found Prale pacing back and forth from one corner to the other.
Once more the evening came. Farland, who had been sleeping for a few minutes, awoke and turned over to find that his guard had been changed again. The man who had been called a dog was on duty. "How long are you going to keep me tied up like this?" Jim Farland asked. "Don't ask me. Ask the high and mighty boss," was the sneering reply. "You don't seem to stand very high with him."
Jim Farland went from the hotel to Coadley's office, to ascertain whether the attorney's private investigators, who were working independently of him, had unearthed anything of importance in connection with the case. Sidney Prale stated that he would go for a walk, and the police detective, now thoroughly convinced that he would not try to run away, raised no objection.
Prale?" Murk asked, after a time. "What do you mean by that, Murk?" "Well, he's a kind of cop, and I never had much faith in cops," said Murk. "Farland is an old friend of mine, Murk, and he is on the square if that is what you mean." "He sure started out like a house afire, sir, but he seems to be fallin' down now," Murk declared.
Then he pattered back down the stairs. Farland slipped along the hall, unlocked the door of the vacant apartment, darted inside, and locked the door again, putting the key in his pocket. And then he moved noiselessly through the apartment until he had reached the front. He could hear voices in the apartment adjoining, and could make out the conversation.
"I found a tablet of the same sort of paper, and scraps of writing in the wastebasket that were in the same hand. Think, Sid! On the ship " "By George!" Prale exclaimed. "She could have slipped into my stateroom and pinned that note to my pillow, and she could have stuck the second one on my suit case as I walked past her on the deck." "And could have sent the others," Farland added. "But, why?"
Jim Farland hurried away, and Sidney Prale was conducted through dark corridors to a cell, where he had the experience of hearing a door clang shut behind him and the bolts shot. Prale never had expected to get into jail when he was worth a million dollars, and most certainly he never had expected to face a charge of murder.
"Aw, you ain't a regular detective," Murk said. "What's that?" "I mean you ain't an ordinary dick. You got some sense." "Thanks for the compliment. I know men who would dispute the statement," Farland told him. They walked and walked, and after a time were on Fifth Avenue and going toward the hotel where Prale had his suite.
The chauffeur settled back behind his wheel, and Farland stepped to one side in the darkness and watched. He saw an elderly gentleman emerge from the limousine and turn to help Kate Gilbert out. Then the elderly gentleman got into the car again and was driven away, and Kate Gilbert went into the apartment house before which the limousine had stopped.
Word Of The Day