Authors: J. Allan Dunn
Tags: #Action and Adventure
He took the oblong of pasteboard, put it into a small manila envelope and attached that to the collar of one of the dogs. The intelligent brute did not wait for a spoken order but ran toward the main house, barking as it reached it.
“A smart dog, that.”
The surly watchman made a grimace that was probably meant for a grin.
“They beat boys, or any other messenger,” he said. “They don’t loiter. He’ll come back on the jump with your answer.”
The door had been opened and the message removed from the dog’s collar by a youth. The dog remained outside while the door was shut again. A few minutes passed, then the clever animal came bounding back. The watchman read the return message.
“You can go up,” he said grudgingly. “Mr. Henderson will see you. Leave your car outside. The dogs won’t bother you.”
Belmont’s secretary, Henderson, had been chosen with regard to scientific affiliations, but he was naturally far from a fool, and the perpetual horde of visitors had made him wary.
“It is impossible for you to see Mr. Belmont, Mr. Manning,” he said, gazing at the visitor through horn-rimmed glasses, a good deal like an anxious owl afraid of the disturbance of its nest. “He is engaged in the final development of some most important experiments.”
“There are some things even more important than experiments,” said the other. “Mr. Belmont’s life, for example. Did you ever hear of the Griffin?”
The pupils of the secretary’s eyes dilated behind the lenses.
“You mean—” he gasped.
“I mean that Mr. Belmont’s death is prophesied by the Griffin. You know what that means. And you may have heard of me.”
The secretary nodded, his perturbation too great for words. Plainly he had heard of Gordon Manning, or read of him, and the crimes of the Griffin. But he was not too credulous.
“If that is the case,” he said. “I must naturally do all I can to help protect Mr. Belmont. You will pardon me for asking, but how do I know that you
are
Gordon Manning?”
The other nodded.
“It is well that you are cautious,” he said. “I have, of course, come prepared to identify myself. However, I would suggest that you take the most obvious means to satisfy yourself. Call up police headquarters in New York—Spring 3100. Ask for Chief Commissioner Netley. He is likely to be in at this hour. If not, get one of the deputy commissioners. They know about this threat, and while they leave the protection entirely in my hands, they will understand your natural hesitation and can arrange with you some mode of absolute identification. If you do not mind, I will wait here until that is completed. I should prefer not to leave the premises until the time limit set by the Griffin.”
The secretary bowed and asked him to take a seat, offering him a cigar, which he smoked placidly while Henderson obtained his connection.
He talked at some length into the phone, with a gradually increasing satisfaction.
“I got through to Commissioner Netley himself,” he said finally. “He is sending over two men. I imagine they will arrive on the next ferry. They will bring with them an official photograph of Gordon Manning, and his finger-prints. The commissioner says that he is sure you will be glad to have the comparison made. I can easily arrange for the finger-prints to be taken here, in our laboratory.”
“That is quite satisfactory to me. I congratulate you, sir, on your carefulness. I presume that the commissioner told you I should want to take full charge?”
“He did. I shall be very glad if you will, after—of course—the identification is made. I am, in a way, the watchdog of Mr. Belmont,” the secretary added with a nervous laugh. “We have our own guards, but I am not accustomed to cope with such emergencies as this. Perhaps, while you are waiting you might like to look around a little. There are certain portions of the equipment that may be shown, if you do not mind conforming to the regulations. They call for a guard to accompany all visitors.”
The guard turned out to be a man in a uniform much like that of the State police, with puttees and Sam Browne belt, a holstered gun at his right hip. The inspection took some time. On their return to the secretary’s office Henderson advanced genially.
“Everything is ready, Mr. Manning,” he said. “The commissioner did not wait for the ferry, but sent over a special launch with two officers from the Identification Bureau, with a motor cycle. They are waiting for us.”
The identification was complete. The photograph was unmistakable. The finger-prints that were taken tallied precisely. Henderson showed relief, offering an apology for his caution.
“Don’t mention it. I’ll take over, if you don’t mind. The real danger begins at midnight to-night. But, from now on, kindly have all visitors referred direct to me. I should prefer to use these two officers to guard the gate instead of your regular watchman. Not that I have anything against the man. He was very efficient, but, if I am to be responsible I must handle things my own way. It will be easy enough to get leave for them to remain here.”
One of the officers saluted.
“It is not necessary, Mr. Manning,” he said. “The commissioner told us to stay under your orders.”
“Then you can take over the gate immediately. Six hour shifts. I don’t care who goes out. But I do care very much about who comes in. I may send for additional guards.”
“It is quite in your hands,” replied the secretary. “I shall arrange for you to see Mr. Belmont.”
“Thank you. It will be very necessary. I shall take pains not to disturb him, but I am going to be close to him myself for every moment of the twenty-four danger hours.”
VI
IT was two hours later when another roadster drove up to the Belmont gate. The driver got out, and the police officer who was acting as watchman saluted briskly and greeted him.
“We’ve been sort of expecting you, Mr. Manning,” he said.
Gordon Manning returned the salute. He did not know the officer, but that was natural enough, with the ever increasing size of the force. He was a little surprised to find him on the gate, and credited the man he had telephoned to as having taken their talk more seriously than he had thought.
“Who ordered you here?” he demanded.
“Special orders from the chief, sir. They sent us over here in a launch so as not to lose time. We’re taking six hour shifts between the two of us. I understand it’s the Griffin again, sir. I hope you get him this time.”
Manning nodded curtly.
“You can send my name up,” he said.
“That’s all right, sir. I’ve got orders to admit you—and no one else—unless you give fresh orders.”
Manning was ushered into a room to the right of the hall inside the door, fitted up like the reception room of a clinic. An inner door opened and a man entered who was evidently no underling. His hair was close clipped in a pompadour, his face clean shaven. His mouth was a straight line, his eyes small but piercing, and his nose outstanding and arrogant. He was well tailored, his manner precise, but confident. To Manning, old army man himself, he suggested the soldier and the officer, with a touch of the Teuton, though his speech showed no accent.
He was affable without being friendly.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Manning,” he said. “I know your mission and appreciate it. Know you and your reputation. Mr. Belmont is engaged in a most delicate, intricate conclusion to experiments over which he has worked for years. It promises a satisfactory ending—but he must not be disturbed. That, I am sure, you can understand.”
“I’ve come to see he is not disturbed,” said Manning.
“That we also appreciate. But we are quite capable of protecting Mr. Belmont—even from this man who calls himself the Griffin. I have taken extra precautions. You see, Mr. Manning, Mr. Belmont is a genius. It is his brain, rather than actual chemical reactions, that brings about his triumphs. He may stay in the laboratory for thirty-six hours—he may roam about the house, even the grounds, like a sleep-walker. He must not be annoyed, must not come in contact with strange persons, even if they are here to protect him. His thread of thought must not be broken. He will be watched, continually. But I cannot allow you, nor any of your aides, to augment our forces.”
“How do you know you can trust
them?”
asked Manning.
“They have all been here for years—none less than two. They are devoted to Mr. Belmont. Again, we appreciate your efforts, but we feel sure we are entirely adequate.”
“I don’t,” said Manning bluntly. “I can’t force myself inside your grounds, or your house, but I
can
make sure no one else enters. There I shall use my authority. Mr. Belmont’s safety is vital, but is not altogether paramount. This fiend, who styles himself the Griffin, is a universal enemy. In the name of the State I must make every attempt in my power to apprehend him. On your part, I expect you to join forces with me.”
The other considered.
“I will stretch a point,” he said finally. “I will permit you and your men to throw a cordon about the house and the buildings. I will admit you within the wire. Within doors
I
am responsible. I have full charge of such affairs as Mr. Belmont’s executive manager.”
“It is a fair proposition,” said Manning, seeing he could do no better. He knew Belmont was hard to handle. At least he had gained a valuable concession. “Give instant orders that the place is closed to every one else, save myself and those who enter with me.”
“You relieve me from the awkwardness of my position,” said the other. “Now, I must hurry back to Mr. Belmont. He may miss me. He is sometimes erratic, even intolerant. But the question of his safety is as close to me as it is to you, Major Manning.”
He gave a brief bow which struck Manning as a slightly false note. He was not altogether sold on this intimate executive of Belmont’s. He believed him German, of a military type. But then Germans were preëminently scientific. Belmont was not the kind to consider racial prejudice.
After all, he could assemble such a corps of picked men that not even an exploring rat could get through. He could not get in to personally guard Belmont, who would be busy completing his experiments, doubtlessly fully protected, but he could surround the place with men who would challenge on sight and shoot in the same breath—and shoot straight. He himself would command them.
VII
IT was four o’clock in the afternoon of the nineteenth. Gordon Manning had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours, but he did not feel the need of sleep. He had thirty men with him, twice as many as he had felt were necessary to thoroughly patrol and guard the small estate. They took watches of eight hours apiece straight, and split the central eight into dog-watches.
The big chimney belched smoke. Important work was forward. Manning did not relax his vigilance for a moment, even in the bright October sunshine. There seemed little to fear on the face of things, but he knew the Griffin was abroad.
The duel was on. So far, the Griffin had always won. With every fresh encounter the tension grew tauter.
All was serene. Blue sky and white clouds added the final note of peace. But he had known the Griffin to strike from the air itself. Or he might tunnel up like a mole. His methods were subtle, but they were sure. And never the same. The Griffin had never duplicated his mode of killing. Always he held the advantage of previous strategy, the study of the prospective victim’s habits. And then, he limited the time of action to twenty-four hours. It meant to Manning an almost breaking-point strain for more than fourteen hundred minutes, eighty-four thousand seconds, each one fraught with imminent danger and disaster. It was no wonder the lines in his face were graven deep.
Even his exceptional nerves were strained to their last degree of endurance. He had to use all his will to keep from getting jumpy. It seemed to him that an inner voice, a hunch, warned him to take instant action. He had long since come to regard his so-called hunches as a distinct biological phenomenon, logically based upon the subconscious working out of various impressions recorded there.
He instinctively distrusted the man who had obstructed his original plan of stationing himself by the side of Belmont through the whole threatened period.
The man was forceful, doubtless eminently capable, but—
The lines of an old quatrain came into Manning’s mind.
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell;
But this I know—and know full well,
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.
Belmont’s house had always been difficult to enter. It was natural enough that a man engaged in abstruse and intricate problems, especially when solution seemed at hand after many failures, should wish to be absolutely free from any interruption or annoyance.
But—the Griffin would know his ways. It was the Griffin’s boast that the ordinary killer moved largely on impulse, lacked imagination, used obvious means and weapons; whereas he—the Griffin—studied a victim’s habits, found the weak points, devised ingenious ways to take advantage of them.
During the day various men had left the premises, supposedly at the end of their work. They could go, but they might not reënter on any pretext.
All seemed peaceful, but Manning’s uneasiness increased. He seemed to feel the Griffin jeering at him, knowing his protection limited, playing one of his infernal tricks.
Manning came to a final resolution, to insist upon seeing Belmont himself, if only at a distance; to know that he was safe, and then not to lose sight of him. If necessary, he would help to guard him with the executive manager, but he would be on hand himself!
There was an armed guard outside every working building, apparently a regular precaution against intruders. These would not let him through. His pass related only to the grounds. He would have to go to the house.
On his nod four of his men strolled behind him, forming his interference, should it be needed. The door was opened by a youth whose attitude was belligerent.