Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 51, No. 2, June 28, 1930

“He will,” muttered Hal.

“I doubt it. By the way, I trained him to stand on a chair if any one except his victim could see him. I wanted the police to think they had a definite clew and look for a man of great height as well as strength.”

“We gathered that,” Hal retorted.

“Did you? How interesting. As regards Hearn, I knew that he had skimped on cement and would wish to examine the damage alone. It was simple to post Nimbo at the top of the dam, where the concrete was faulty. When Hearn got up there, Nimbo throttled him, pinned the symbol on his chest, and flung him to the bed of the stream. I wished the crash of his body to distract attention and give Nimbo more time to get clear. As I led the pursuit and did the firing, I was pretty sure he would not be hit. Of course he escaped.”

“For the moment,” retorted Hal.

Wallace chose to ignore the prophecy.

“My agent in Buffalo,” he continued, “wired McCoy that I would leave Barton after the inquest and take the train to New York. I did so.

“In the meantime, my New York agent drove Nimbo to a station where my train would stop. We came to New York together and accepted the suite opposite yours—”

“You mean that your nervous wife was — Nimbo?” cried Hal. “You smuggled him into the hotel—”

“Of course. My ‘wife’ was supposed to have a terrible skin disease. So Nimbo could keep out of sight and I could bandage his face and hands when the waiters came in. Huddled in a wheel chair, his bulk was hardly noticeable.”

“You must have enjoyed my sympathy,” said Hal.

“Or your stupidity. That empty suite seemed a gift from the gods. The god of vengeance, perhaps—”

“Next comes Murray. He was shrewd enough to guess his danger and guard his person. I did not dare risk Nimbo in a direct attack on him. Then came that matter of the contract. Another gift from the god of vengeance! What I overheard you say to Murray over the phone, and what you afterward told me, showed me how to get Murray away from his men.

“When I left the hotel that afternoon, I phoned you, as Burke, telling you to stay there all evening. Then I phoned Murray that you wanted to see him. Later, I sent Morgan and McCoy on a wild-goose chase to Long Island — to find a double cross waiting for them.

“It was probable that you would take Murray upstairs to discuss your misunderstanding and that he would leave his guards in the lobby. Nimbo was waiting behind our door. He had the automatic which we had taken from your room the night before, when we got the contract.

“Nimbo shot Murray, throttled you, dragged you into our suite and locked you up in the big empty trunk we brought with us for that purpose—”

“You got me out of the hotel in a trunk?” demanded Hal quickly. Dan had already told him so. But Dan was not supposed to be hiding under his cot at that moment.

“Of course. Nimbo left the automatic to incriminate you. Your disappearance would look like flight. The police would believe you guilty, at least until after we escaped.”

“But how did you escape?”

Wallace nodded toward the big Nubian.

“My ‘wife’ was supposed to be highly neurotic. I explained that the shots and subsequent excitement had almost brought on a stroke and it was vital to get her away. The police let me send her and her trunk to a nursing home. An hour later, Morgan himself let me get away to see that she was comfortable. He will be annoyed with himself to-morrow, when I fail to appear at his office.”

Wallace paused for a moment.

“So here we are,” he concluded — “all but one.”

“What do you mean?” cried Hal, although he guessed.

“Your little friend, Dorothy Hearn, owes a debt,” replied his captor.

“Why? What has she done? If you dare touch her—”

“Well?” inquired Wallace tonelessly.

“I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do!”

“You mentioned that before, I think. Her payment begins to-morrow — here.”

Chapter XXIV The Shuffle of Feet

Hal’s thoughts raced. Too much confidence might lead Wallace to suspect Dan’s presence. He tried pleading.

“But there’s no sense in it! She’s never done you any harm. Why punish her?”

“So far as I know, my tiny children had never done any one any harm. Yet they suffered horribly — for eighteen years — all through their childhood and youth.”

“What’s that got to do with Dorothy Hearn?”

“They are my children. Hearn made them suffer. Dorothy Hearn is his daughter. There still remains a debt from his family to mine — what is left of it.”

“That’s not sense. It’s madness! What about mother?”

“I shall release your mother,” replied Wallace evenly. “She profited by your father’s treachery to me. But she has lost her money and she’s going to lose her son. You and Hearn’s daughter will pay most of your debt elsewhere. Your mother has suffered and will suffer enough.”

Between rage and dread, Hal had to fight for control of himself. He almost lost the struggle.

“It’s all lies!” he shouted. “You’re not Wallace! You’re Irish! You’re McHenry — a sore employee—”

His captor studied him keenly.