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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Anybody see you do that?" queried Meighan quickly. "No; I don't see how they could. I've only a small one-room office, and there was nobody there but myself." "And so they kind of got your goat, and you figured the safest thing to do was to bring them home with you?" suggested Meighan. "Yes." There was a miserable note of dejection in Kenleigh's voice. "Yes; that's what I did.
His face was pale, his hair ruffled; and, in his distraction, apparently, he had forgotten to remove the cloak which he was wearing over his evening clothes. In the far corner of the room, Meighan, the detective, knelt upon the floor amidst a scene of grotesque disorder. The door of a very small safe had been "souped," and now sagged open. "You don't understand!" Kenleigh burst out, with a groan.
So some time between seven o'clock and halfpast eleven, Mr. Magpie got into the courtyard, put a jimmy at work on the bathroom window beyond the bedroom there, got busy more likely to be nearer eleven than seven he would have been back before now, otherwise, eh?" Meighan seemed to be communing with himself, rather than talking to Kenleigh.
"I'm an insurance broker with an office on Wall Street, as I daresay you know. A client of mine, a well-known millionaire here in the city, wanted a hundred thousand dollars' worth of the Canadian War Loan bonds, but for business reasons, he has a large German connection, he did not want his name to appear in the transaction." Kenleigh hesitated. "Sure!" said Meighan. "I see. Wise guy! Go on!"
"Headquarters?... Meighan speaking from Kenleigh's apartment... Get a drag out for the Magpie on the jump.... Eh?... Yes!... Left his visiting card.... What?... Yes, wound a mattress around the box and souped it; his scarf pin must have caught in the ticking and pulled out.... Sure, that's the one the horseshoe found it on the floor.... What?... Yes, the chances are ten to one he will, it's his only play.... All right, I'll get Mr.
Obeying mechanically, Kenleigh moved toward the electric-light switch. There was a faint click, and the apartment was in darkness. Came then the sound of Kenleigh making his way back across the room, and settling himself in the chair beside the detective. "I I don't quite see," said Kenleigh, a little nervously. "You will in a minute," interrupted Meighan, in a low voice.
"Yes and for keeps, I guess," said Meighan gruffly. He laughed shortly, mirthlessly. "You can turn the light on now; we'd wait a long time here for the Gray Seal!" Larry the Bat closed the outer door noiselessly behind him, slipped through the vestibule and, an instant later, was slouching along Fifth Avenue, heading back toward Washington Square. His hands in his ragged pockets clenched.
And then Jimmie Dale smiled a little whimsically. They were both bound for the same place, he and Meighan, of Headquarters Kenleigh's apartment, that was a little way further on there along the Avenue. A short distance behind the other, but on the opposite side of the street, Jimmie Dale followed the detective.
"Wouldn't make such an awful noise didn't need much juice on that safe pretty slick with the smother game didn't raise an item, anyway." There was silence for a moment. Then Meighan spoke again: "Let's have your story, Mr. Kenleigh. How did you come to bring a hundred thousand dollars' worth of bonds home with you? And how did the Magpie get onto the lay?"
Put yer hands over yer head, an' do it quick!" Jimmie Dale's left hand reached out and switched on the light. It was Meighan, hands elevated, startled, angry, who stood blinking in the glare and then a low cry came from the man. "Larry the Bat the Gray Seal! So it's a plant, is it! That damned she-pal of yours handed it to me good over the 'phone!" Meighan's lips tightened.
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