The Blue Sphinx

CHAPTER XV THE LULL ENDS

“WHAT do you think of it, Burke?”

“It’s a wow, Drury!”

“I told you the old man would rip loose.”

“He’s done it, all right!”

Clyde Burke and Bart Drury were seated in the “local” room of the Latuna Enterprise, reading the latest copy of the newspaper, just off the press. One week had passed since the murder of Rubal and Hollis. During that period, Harrison Knode had remained calm. At last, however, the belligerent editor had broken loose with an article that was calculated to raise hob.

“Let’s go in and see the old man,” suggested Drury to Clyde. “He always feels chesty after he pounds out a broadside like this one. Come along; follow my cue.”

The two reporters knocked at Knode’s door. Summoned to come in, they entered. Harrison Knode, in shirt sleeves and vest, looked up beneath his green celluloid visor. He laid pencil and copy paper aside.

“Well?” he questioned.

Drury swaggered to the desk, leaned across and thrust out his hand. Knode shook it. Clyde stepped up and also clasped hands with the editor. Knode looked pleased.

“You sure cracked the ice, boss,” complimented Drury. “Say — I knew you were cooking up something big. I was itching to ask you what the slant would be. But I managed to hold in until it came out in the sheet.”

“It was great, boss,” added Clyde.

“I thought it would click,” declared Knode, leaning back in his swivel chair and tucking his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. “I figured that our good mayor and his red-faced police chief would be due for another slam. But the problem was to give it the right twist.”

“So you reversed the field,” chuckled Drury.

“That describes it,” nodded Knode. He laid his forefinger upon the opened page of a newspaper that was on his desk. “Now that I’ve run the editorial, I’ll let you fellows in on the way I came around to it. Would you like to hear it?”

“Sure thing,” responded Drury.

Clyde nodded.

“WELL,” explained Knode, “I used to slam Rubal when he was still alive. I had to lay off that after he was murdered. What’s more, Grewling had spiked me by putting men on watch at the Phoenix Hotel. I couldn’t land on him while the murder was still hot news. And I had to lay off Rush, too.

“Grewling had scored one on me. He was watching that bunch of crooks at the Phoenix on the night of Rubal’s murder. So he had proved that they were not concerned in the crime. He had me stopped. But I gave him time. He did just what I thought he would do. He kept watching those rowdies at the Phoenix and he’s still got the best part of the force on that job.

“So to-day, I had my inspiration. I wrote that editorial and entitled it ‘The Wrong Stable.’ I started with the old adage of watching the stable after the horse is stolen. That referred, of course, to the Latuna Museum.

“Then I added these thoughts” — peering toward the ceiling, Knode began to paraphrase the editorial that lay on his desk — “about looking for the horse stealers while you watch the stable too. We do not criticize our mayor and police chief for keeping a regular guard in the Latuna Museum. But we do find fault with their efforts elsewhere.

“What have they done to find the murderer of the curator and the chief attendant? Very little. Why? Because they do not have available men for duty. Why not? Because they are still keeping watchers on duty at the Phoenix Hotel.

“Mayor Quirby Rush asserts that no effort will be spared to trace the murderer. Police Chief Grewling has taken pride in the fact that he was watching the Phoenix Hotel on the night of the killings at the museum.

“Both know — and we all agree — that none of those crooks at the Phoenix could have aided in the killing of Joseph Rubal. Those suspicious characters were worth while watching before crime struck. But when murder came — and the Phoenix habitues were free from implication — it became time to forget them and put all hands to work on the solution of Rubal’s death.

“Before his death, we defined Joseph Rubal as a man of silence. He was one who knew much but said little. When he died, he told nothing. No effort has been made to bring his affairs to light.

“Some one in Latuna is anxious to suppress all comment concerning Rubal and his murderer. Mayor and police chief are bearing down upon the Phoenix Hotel, making great stir about the watch that they are keeping there. They are casting dust into the eyes of our citizens. Pretending to be active, our officials are concealing the fact that the Rubal case is going into the discard.

“One lone crook is behind this game. He is native to Latuna, and he holds the key to crime while he poses as a man of consequence. In all probability, he is deceiving his closest associates. We doubt that both the mayor and the police chief could reveal that man’s identity. But perhaps one of them could, now that Joseph Rubal no longer lives to tell his story.”

KNODE paused and looked at his reporters. He had phrased his comments almost from memory, a habit which Knode acquired when he wrote his editorials.

“You’ve pinned it on one or the other, boss,” chuckled Drury. “That was where you were foxy. If you had said that the two were in cahoots, they’d both land on you. As it is, one will pass the buck.”

Knode began to nod. Then, chancing to glance toward Clyde Burke, he caught the new reporter’s steady eye. Swinging up to his desk, the editor shook his head.

“I’ve pinned nothing on any one,” he declared. “It’s all a mystery to me, Drury. That editorial goes pretty strong, I’ll admit. But its purpose is to stir up action. That’s all. I threw a rock at random; I merely jabbed Rush and Grewling because they are the men who can move the law to action.”

Comment ended for the moment. From outside the building came the hawking cries of newsboys, selling the Latuna Enterprise. Bart Drury laughed.

“It won’t take long for that news to travel,” he told Knode. “You’re unique, boss. First editor I’ve ever heard of who could make his editorials sell the papers.”

“Why don’t you make a front-page column,” queried Clyde, also speaking to Knode, “commenting editorially on the news of the day; only confine it to Latuna?”

“It wouldn’t go, Burke,” returned Knode. “I know the psychology of this town. They like a small sheet and they read it through. If I ran a regular front-page column, it would become stale stuff.

“Drury has the right slant. I can sell the Enterprise on the strength of its editorials. But that’s because I hold them back until they are ripe. I’m not the muckraker that the Gazette says I am; but I would be one if I turned the Enterprise into a daily scandal sheet.”

“But you could be conservative as a steady rule, until occasion called for stronger pronouncement.”

“It would be a shifting policy. I prefer to say nothing when there is nothing to be said. But when the time comes, well” — Knode eyed Burke carefully — “you can see now, Burke, why I wanted nothing said about my appointment with Rubal, the night that he was murdered.”

“Burke understands,” put in Drury, promptly. “Don’t worry about him, boss. We’re keeping it quiet that you were the chap who had that appointment with Rubal. Grewling will never—”

The door was opening as Drury spoke. Knode’s hand came up in quick warning. Drury turned; so did Clyde.

On the threshold, purple-faced and challenging, stood Police Chief Lawrence Grewling.

“WHAT was that?” demanded Grewling. “What were you saying, Drury?”

“He was talking about you,” put in Knode, rising from behind the desk. “He said that we would be due to have some action on your part, regarding the Rubal case. On account of my editorial.”

“Sure, chief,” added Drury. “That’s what I was saying. Say — you must be one of the early buyers of the Enterprise. What did you do? Pick up one of the copies when it came out the back door of the press room?”

“Your dirty sheet’s been on the street half an hour!” retorted Grewling. “I didn’t read it until I was told to.”

“By whom?” questioned Knode.

“The mayor,” returned Grewling. Drury chuckled. Grewling clenched his fists and looked ready to clout the reporter. Curbing himself, the police chief used his brawny fists to pound the desk while he shouted at Knode.

“Plenty has happened in half an hour!” stormed Grewling. “I’m telling you all about it, because the Gazette will have the news for tomorrow morning! So you’ll be licked in printing it like you were when Rubal was murdered!”

“Mayor Rush read your editorial. He passed the buck to me. Told me I was a sap to have played into your hands. I was all right. I put those men on duty at the Phoenix Hotel and I kept them there. So I’m the goat.

“Rush asked for my resignation. What do you think of that, Knode? Wanted it right away. That’s the kind of a pickle you put me in! I’m through, if he has his way.”

“I take it,” put in Knode, calmly, “that you refused to resign?”

“That’s right. I refused.”

“And what did Rush say?”

“What could he say? He can’t fire me until he calls a committee to hear my case. That’s in the Latuna town charter. He wanted my resignation so he could get out of calling the committee. I didn’t let him get away with it.”

“So you’re still the police chief. De facto, I take it.”

“If that means my authority is crippled, you’re right. I’m just the biggest cop on the force from now on. The mayor is going to run the works.”

“Quite a comedown, Grewling.”

“It suits me. Rush is the one guy you can pan after this. Told me I was a sap. Well — he’s going to be one, too!”

“How so?”

“Because he’s making the same mistake I did. Playing into your hands. He ordered me to yank the boys off that duty at the Phoenix Hotel. That’s one reason why I came here, Knode. To put you wise before I did it. Those men are going off the job by the mayor’s orders. Not mine.”

“I understand.”

“You’d better. Because any poke you take at me is going to put you in Dutch. I’m just a copper. See? Just a cop, without a beat.”

With a final glare, Grewling turned, growled at Drury and stalked from the office. With a bland smile, Drury walked over and closed the door.

“HOPE he doesn’t remember what he heard me saying,” observed Drury. “I thought he was wise when he came in. But he was too het up to be thinking of anything but his job.”

“Yes,” agreed Knode. “But be cautious in the future, Drury. Well, we’ve heard the news. Now for our new campaign. I have an idea already.”

“What’s that, boss?” inquired Drury.

“I’ll have to concentrate on Rush,” replied Knode. “So, since the mayor has ordered hands off at the Phoenix, that’s the place to work. Those toughs are a bad lot. They actually should be watched.

“The police are quitting. So it’s your turn. With Burke on hand if needed. You don’t rate so badly, do you, with that head guy? What did you say his name was?”

“Konk Zitz.”

“All right. Make friends with him. But be discreet. Don’t get too close with him.”

“Konk was sore at me.”

“On account of my previous editorial. But, after all, it cleared his crew from blame in the Rubal case. He should be well disposed. And with this present editorial, taking the police off the job would—”

“You’re right, chief. Say — Konk will treat me like a pal.”

“I don’t want that, Drury. Just form sufficient contact to gain his confidence. That’s all.”

Drury nodded. He strolled from the office and Clyde Burke followed. Drury arranged for Clyde to meet him later at the lunch wagon near the Phoenix Hotel. Clyde agreed. Drury went out. Clyde sat down at a desk and used a fountain pen to inscribe a brief, coded note.

The streets of Latuna were aglow beneath the evening darkness when Clyde Burke stopped at the Wilkin Hotel and left an envelope for Room 623.

A few minutes after Clyde’s departure; a quiet-looking young man came in and inquired for the key to that room. It was Harry Vincent. With the key, The Shadow’s agent received Clyde’s note.

On the sixth floor, Harry slipped the sealed envelope under the door of Room 640. That was the room occupied by the guest known as Henry Arnaud. Thus did word of new developments come to the hands of The Shadow.