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"Now that you've got your mitts up, keep 'em up!" As regards the position of his hands Trencher obeyed. He turned his head though, and over his shoulder he looked into the middle-aged face of Murtha, of the Central Office. Murtha's right hand was in his coat pocket and Trencher knew that Murtha had him covered through the cloth of the coat.
Indeed, it seemed as if he really enjoyed matching his wit against the subtlety of a man like Langhorne, even more than against one the type of Dorgan and Murtha. "I want to see Carton and I don't want to carry these bundles all over the city," he remarked, changing the subject for the moment, as he turned into a public pay station.
Connie Murtha, with all the police drag she must have, wa'n't goin' to be separated from her reserve roll without makin' somebody squirm good and plenty. He might have known that, if it was him turned the trick. Or was he nutty, like Donahue had said?
He looked about his rooms there, and, sure enough, they found the detectaphone concealed in the wall. I can't tell any more," she added, facing Carton and using her bewitching eyes to their best advantage. "I can't ask you to shield Mr. Dorgan and Mr. Murtha. They are your opponents. But I have done nothing to you, Mr. Carton. You must suppress that part of it about me. Why, it would ruin "
For some strange reason all the insanity had gone out of his bearing. "Not in this state," answered Murtha. New pity for this poor old wastrel took hold upon him. "What were you going to do?" "I was going to retire, captain," said Doc faintly. "My daughter's husband he owned a farm up in Cayuga County well, he died and I was planning to go up there and live with her."
Trencher took the chair and Murtha, after springing a catch which he found on the inner side of the door, sat down in another. "I've got to hand it to you, Trencher," went on the detective admiringly. "You sure do work swift. You didn't lose much time climbing into that outfit you're wearing. How did you get into it so quick?
I thought as soon as I saw it that there was something queer." I recalled now the peculiar look on his face which I had interpreted as indicating that he thought Murtha had been the victim of foul play. "And the other night, when we were in Carton's office and someone called up threatening you, Carton, and Dopey Jack, I saw at once that the voice was concealed.
He was now the Murtha I had heard of before, the kind that can use a handshake or a playful slap on the back, as between man and man, to work wonders in getting action or carrying a point. Far from despising such men as Murtha, I think we all rather admired his good qualities. It was his point of view, his method, his aim that were wrong.
By widening the slit and slowing the speed of the shutter, there is more distortion. "Now, that is just what has been done. A picture has been taken of a car owned once by Murtha, probably at rest, with perhaps yourself, Murtha, Mrs. Ogleby, and your friend in it. The matter of faking Carton or anyone else is simple.
Was this some kind of spiritism? Had Kennedy turned medium and sought a message from the other world to solve the inexplicable problems of this? It was weird, uncanny, unthinkable. We turned to him blankly for an explanation of the mystery. "That wasn't Murtha at all whose body we saw at the Morgue," he hurried to explain. "That was all a frame-up.
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