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Mary covered the machine and its wiring in the outer office, although several times she had to quit at inopportune times to answer the telephone, or make a connection. Burke, from the room above, climbed down hurriedly, adjusted the instrument as he had been told to do by John Barton. Then he was out, barely drawing himself and the rope away from the window view before Trubus entered.
Bobbie quietly stepped to his side and caught the knob of the big door, shutting it softly behind Trubus. "Why, you...." Before he could finish Burke had deftly clipped one handcuff on the right wrist of the man and with an unexpected movement pinioned the other, snapping the manacle as he did so. "Outrageous!" exclaimed the astounded Trubus. But Burke was dragging him rapidly into the car.
But what is so stale as the oft-told, ever-old yarn of a policeman's death? "What do we pay them for?" In the same morning papers Burke saw lengthy notices of the engagement of Miss Sylvia Trubus, only child of William Trubus, the famous philanthropist, to Ralph Gresham, the millionaire manufacturer of electrical machinery. "There, that should interest Mr. Barton.
The hypocrisy of William Trubus and the silly fatuity of his reform work rankled in Burke's bosom as he betook himself uptown to enjoy his brief vacation for an afternoon with his old friend, the inventor. Later he was to share supper when the girls came home from their work. John Barton was busy with his new machine, and had much to talk about.
You're your own worst enemy, for these records, with your own dictagraph as the chief assistant prosecutor, have trapped you." Trubus raised his hands in terror and his iron nerve gave way completely. "Oh, my God!" he cried. "What will my wife and daughter think?" "You should have figured that out when you started all this," retorted Sawyer.
"Great God!" uttered Trubus, clasping his hand to his heart. He ran for the stairs, followed by the two patrolmen, while the lawyer sank weakly into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He guessed only too well what had happened. The policemen were slower than the panic-stricken Trubus.
"Against me me, the leading charity worker of our city!" snorted Trubus, but he watched the door uneasily. "Bring in the young ladies, Burke," directed Captain Sawyer. Bobbie returned with Mary and Lorna. Trubus started perceptibly as he observed the new telephone girl whom his wife had induced him to employ that day. Sawyer nodded again to Burke. "Now the go-between." He turned to Mary.
"What took Trubus out, Bobbie?" she asked, as she helped him arrange the machine behind the wastebasket, near the telephone switchboard. "Just a telegram, signed 'Friend, advising him to watch the men who came in the front door, downstairs, for ten minutes, but not to visit Clemm's office. That will keep him away, and he can't possibly guess who did it."
Trubus whirled around and would have struck Clemm had not White intervened. "You squealer! You've betrayed me!" "No, I didn't!" cried Clemm, shrinking back. "I swear I didn't!" Sawyer reached for the phonograph records and held them up with a laconic smile. "There's no use in accusing anyone else, Trubus.
As she did so the wind blew in from the open casement, making a strong draught. Half a dozen papers blew from Trubus' desk to the floor. Frightened lest her inquisitiveness should cause trouble, Mary hurriedly stooped and picked up the papers, carrying them back to the desk. As she leaned over it she noticed a curious little metal box, glass-covered.
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