Six Men of Evil

CHAPTER II BOLD CRIME

TWO men were seated in an oak-paneled study. The room was obviously a portion of a palatial home, for its heavy furnishings, from thick rugs to massive mahogany desk and chairs, symbolized the last word in expense.

One man, evidently a visitor, was sitting in a comfortable chair, idly smoking a cigarette. There was a certain restlessness in his attitude, but it did not betray itself upon his face. His features bore an impassive look. In fact, all who had ever met Earl Northrup were impressed by the singularity of his appearance.

The immobile expression of Northrup’s countenance was accentuated by the characteristics of his physiognomy. His nose was broad and his cheeks, chin, and forehead seemed to slope away in uniform fashion.

His lips were thick and heavy. His eyes had a steady stare that changed only when they sparkled. Eyes and lips alone were the portions of Northrup’s countenance that gave any evidence of emotion.

The other man — the owner of this home — was a dignified, elderly gentleman, with aristocratic gray hair. He was seated at the desk, going over a stack of papers with absolute indifference to Northrup’s presence. That was the way with Anthony Hanscom. He was a business man who had become successful through concentration.

At last Hanscom glanced up, and his eyes met Northrup’s. The elderly man smiled wanly. He pushed the papers aside, and leaned back in his swivel chair. He folded his hands and rested them beneath his chin.

“You’re a very patient man, Northrup,” he commented. “I think you are probably the most patient man in this part of Illinois. That’s why I enjoy having you out here. Work comes first with me, and it’s a pleasure to have a guest who does not interfere with it.”

Northrup indulged in a slight smile. His restlessness, which had been unnoticed by Hanscom, was now gone. He glanced idly above Hanscom’s head, and gave a short grunt of surprise as he noticed a clock upon the mantel.

“Quarter of nine,” he commented. “It’s getting quite near train time, Mr. Hanscom.”

Hanscom looked at the clock and frowned.

“That’s right,” he remarked. “Let’s see — that express to Chicago stops here in Tilson at nine fifteen. It will take us fifteen minutes to reach the station. I had no idea time had gone so rapidly. I must call my secretary at once.”

HANSCOM rang a bell beside the desk. A quietly dressed young man entered the room. This was Carl Walton, Hanscom’s secretary.

“It’s getting late, Walton,” said Hanscom. “I didn’t notice the time. These bonds” — he drew a package from a desk drawer — “will have to wait. I intended to go over them while you took off the numbers. I don’t like to neglect the job, especially as I will be a week in Chicago; at the same time, I ought to be on hand. Northrup was going over them with me; that’s why he came up tonight. However—”

“I can come back from the station,” interposed Northrup quietly. “There’s no reason why Walton and I cannot do the work together. I have nothing to do this evening.”

“Don’t put yourself to that trouble, Northrup,” responded Hanscom. “The work can wait until I come back. I’ll just put the bonds in the safe and forget about them.”

“It’s no trouble to me,” insisted Northrup.

“Very well,” declared Hanscom. “I’ll leave the bonds here, Walton. You can take off the numbers while Mr. Northrup and I are riding to the station. When you’re finished, let Northrup go over the bonds when he comes back. After that, put the bonds in the safe and lock the combination. If Northrup does not come back, lock them up before you leave the room.”

“I’ll probably be back,” said Earl Northrup.

Carl Walton nodded and left the study. Anthony Hanscom began to make the last preparations for his journey, talking to Northrup as he did so.

“I’ll be glad to get to Chicago,” asserted Hanscom. “It seems as though I am anchored in Tilson. Business is good here; I have this beautiful home; and I should be satisfied. Nevertheless, I like the big city. I have to get up there frequently. I don’t see how you can stand it here in Tilson all the time.”

“I’ve only lived here about eight months,” responded Northrup, with a sour smile. “Maybe after a few years I’ll be glad to get away, too.”

“You have established yourself very nicely,” said Hanscom, with an approving nod. “You have the right idea, Northrup. If a man comes to a small city with a reasonable amount of capital, and applies himself to a stable business, he is bound to succeed — especially when he is honest and friendly, as you are. Good will means a lot when a man has a limited number of neighbors.”

“I have found that to be true,” answered Northrup. “I have found Tilson an exceptional town. Of course, much of that is due to your presence here. Without Anthony Hanscom, Tilson would be merely another spot on the map of Illinois.”

“Becoming complimentary now, eh?” laughed Hanscom, “Well, I guess you mean it, Northrup. You have a good business head, and I like your sincerity. Most of the people around here are limited in ideas. Well — we can have a last chat on the way to the station. I’ll go along in your car with you. Sorry you aren’t going to Chicago with me.”

Hanscom rang the bell; then went to the door to meet Carl Walton. The secretary was bringing Hanscom’s bag. The gray-haired man took it from him and hurriedly left, accompanied by Earl Northrup.

CARL WALTON closed the door of the study and picked up the stack of bonds. Noting the numbers, he marked them down one by one on a sheet of paper. Walton was slow and methodical in his work. That was his principal qualification as secretary to Anthony Hanscom.

Secluded here in Tilson, Hanscom, despite his wealth and numerous interests, managed to keep his affairs on a simple, definite basis. He did not require a secretary with initiative. Hence Carl Walton had an easy task, although the salary was low.

Walton’s job involved very little responsibility. When Anthony Hanscom left Tilson, the secretary merely handled minor affairs during the employer’s absence. Walton did not even know the combination to the wall safe in the room. It was a strong box of the latest pattern; one built to defy the most expert cracksman; yet it was seldom that Hanscom left articles of value in the house.

Tonight was one of the few exceptions. Hanscom had conducted business involving the transfer of various securities and had kept the bonds at home for a few days. Now, the examination of the bonds had been postponed, and after taking off the numbers, Walton’s only duty would be to put the bonds in the safe and leave them until Hanscom returned.

While Walton was completing his task, he heard the whistle of the train leaving the station for Chicago. It reminded him that Earl Northrup had intended to return and that the bonds must be kept out in case Hanscom’s friend came back to the house.

Walton knew little about Northrup except that he had come to Tilson several months ago, and had made a good impression in the town as a man of means. Northrup had easily acquired the confidence of Anthony Hanscom, and it was because of Northrup’s own interest in sound investments that Hanscom had invited him to look over the bonds. Here, in the house with Walton, the securities were safe, especially as Mosier, Hanscom’s six-foot butler, was also on duty.

When he had completed his list of numbers, Carl Walton placed the bonds in the open safe and went back to the desk. There, he made a careful copy of the list. Pushing both papers toward the front of the desk, Walton glanced up idly and was surprised to see Earl Northrup standing watching him.

“Oh, hello!” blurted Walton. “When did you come back, Mr. Northrup?”

“Just now,” declared Northrup quietly. “Where are the bonds?”

“In the safe,” responded Walton. “It’s still open. I’ll get them for you.”

The secretary brought forth the securities and placed them on the desk. Northrup began to study them while Walton strolled about the room. The secretary noted that Hanscom’s friend was examining the lists that had been prepared.

“Sure you took all these numbers correctly?” questioned Northrup suddenly.

“I think so,” replied the secretary.

“I’ll put the bonds away then,” said Northrup.

He picked up the pile of securities and went to the wall safe. He carried the lists of numbers with him. Standing in front of the safe, Northrup made a motion of placing the bonds inside. He closed the door of the safe and turned the knob.

Coming back to the desk, Northrup folded the lists and dropped them in the desk drawer. He picked up his hat from a chair and strolled toward the door.

A DUBIOUS expression came over Carl Walton’s face. A sudden suspicion had come to the secretary’s mind — a suspicion that all was not well. He waited until Northrup had opened the door; then raised a sudden objection.

“You should have let me put those bonds away,” declared Walton. “I’m responsible for them.”

“They’re in the safe,” said Northrup quietly.

“I didn’t see them go in there,” stated Walton.

“Open the safe, then,” volunteered Northrup. “Look them over. I put the lists back in the desk drawer.”

“I don’t have the combination to the safe,” objected Walton. “Mr. Hanscom told me to put the bonds away. I didn’t think you were going to lock the safe.”

Northrup laughed in an indulgent tone and shrugged his shoulders. He started through the door; then paused as he heard Walton’s challenging tone.

“Wait a minute, Mr. Northrup!” called Walton, in a serious tone. “You may be a friend of Mr. Hanscom; but I’m responsible for affairs around here. I don’t like the way you walked in. You must have taken the liberty of coming into the house without ringing; otherwise Mosier would have notified me that you had returned. I’m on duty here, and I want to make sure that everything is right.”

The secretary walked to the desk and drew out the two folded papers that Northrup had placed there. Watching Northrup, Walton unfolded the papers and looked at them. They were blank!

The truth struck home to Carl Walton. He knew the game now. Those bonds were not in the safe; they were in Northrup’s pocket. So were the lists of numbers. Earl Northrup had deliberately stolen Anthony Hanscom’s bonds — securities worth a quarter of a million — and had ingeniously substituted blank sheets of paper for the lists that might have aided in the tracing of the stolen goods!

“You can’t get away with this!” cried Walton hoarsely. “You’ve got those bonds, Northrup, and the lists, too! Give them back to me!”

An evil scowl showed on Northrup’s puffy lips. By the action, the crook virtually confessed his guilt to Carl Walton. The secretary sprang across the room and seized Northrup by the shoulder.

“Give me those bonds, you thief!”

In reply, Northrup hurled the secretary halfway across the room. Walton plunged into the desk and caught himself before he fell to the floor.

But as he stared into the desk drawer, Walton saw the object that he needed. This was a revolver that Anthony Hanscom always had available.

Walton knew that the gun was loaded. He grasped it and swung toward Earl Northrup, holding the weapon in his right hand and steadying himself against the desk with his left.

Carl Walton never realized that in this action he had openly betrayed his intentions to the watchful man beside the door. Before Walton had a chance to aim the revolver, Earl Northrup was upon him. With a quick motion, Northrup seized the secretary’s wrist and twisted the revolver from the hand that held it.

Walton struggled fiercely. Northrup, his evil lips grinning, met the secretary’s attack. Warding off Walton’s gripping hands, Northrup made a vicious swing with the revolver and struck a glancing blow beside Walton’s ear. The secretary collapsed and sprawled upon the floor.

Northrup’s gloating ended suddenly. With a quick turn, the man faced the door, just in time to meet Mosier. Hanscom’s butler had heard the altercation. He had come upstairs. He had seen Northrup strike down the secretary.

Now, a new struggle was coming, and this time Northrup had no weakling as an adversary. Mosier, two hundred pounds in weight and six feet tall, was a powerful antagonist. His face was grim as he hurled himself upon the man with the revolver.

Northrup did not hesitate. He fired point-blank at Mosier’s heart. The bullet reached its mark. Earl Northrup stepped calmly aside as Mosier’s heavy form plunged forward and fell face downward on the floor. The butler’s outstretched hands were within a foot of Carl Walton’s motionless body.

There was no delay in Northrup’s next action. The murderer leaned over Walton and laughed as he carefully wiped the handle of the revolver and placed it in the secretary’s grip. The gun slipped from Walton’s nerveless fingers, and dropped to the floor. Then the secretary’s hand moved feebly. Earl Northrup grinned as he saw that Walton was regaining his senses.

Rising, Earl Northrup walked swiftly to the door of the room. He descended the stairs, found a darkened doorway in the rear hall, and stepped out into the night. The sound of distant shouts could be heard.

UP in the room where Mosier lay dead, Carl Walton was slowly opening his eyes. The secretary rubbed the side of his head in dazed fashion; then a bewildered look appeared upon Walton’s face as he saw the dead form of Mosier.

Walton could not understand. He recalled that Earl Northrup had been here; that was all. He was thinking vaguely of the bonds. What was Mosier’s connection? The butler had not been here.

In the midst of these reflections, Carl Walton saw the revolver beside him. He picked up the weapon and looked at Mosier. For the first time, Walton realized what had happened. Mosier was dead — slain with this weapon!

Earl Northrup! He was the murderer! Grasping the desk with one hand, Carl Walton rose unsteadily and wavered there, near the center of the room. His eyes stared about, noting that the room was empty. His ears could hear cries. The sounds came from outside the house.

Then came footsteps on the stairs. Walton looked up to see two uniformed men rushing into the room. As he tried to steady himself with his hand upon the desk, Walton pointed to the body that lay upon the floor, using the revolver as his indicator.

“Northrup killed Mosier!” he gasped. “Northrup — Earl Northrup — after he stole the bonds — he killed Mosier. Get him! Get Earl Northrup!”