The Casebook of Sidney Zoom

Chapter I Two Tickets to Midvale

The hawk eyes of Sidney Zoom peered into the lighted window of the telegraph office.

Sidney Zoom, tall, dynamic, sardonic, paced the midnight streets of the city, accompanied by his police dog, taking the part of the oppressed, and making war upon the oppressors. Experience had taught him the haunts of those bits of human flotsam who were spewed out to one side by the ruthless tide of the great city.

There were those who said that Sidney Zoom fought for the underdog because of a vast human sympathy beneath the sardonic exterior. There were others who claimed that Sidney Zoom was merely a born fighter, and that he cultivated the unfortunate because he wished some cause for combat.

Be that as it may, Sidney Zoom frequented the midnight-streets. He knew the haunts of those unfortunates who were about to commit suicide. He knew the cheap restaurants where human derelicts came drifting at night, dispirited, discouraged and all but impoverished.

And he knew that the foundation for many grim tragedies has been laid in the lighted interiors of the telegraph offices during those hours after the theatre crowds have ceased to surge along the pavements, and when human vitality is at its lowest ebb.

The young woman who caught the eyes of Sidney Zoom was twisting a handkerchief about her fingers as she stood at the counter of the office.

Sidney Zoom pushed his way through the swinging door. His well trained police dog dropped to the sidewalk, flattened against the side of the building, ears cocked forward, delicately attuned to the steps of his master.

Sidney Zoom approached the telegraph counter and stood beside the young woman.

She did not so much as glance up. Her eyes were fixed upon the lone attendant who was shuffling through a sheaf of telegrams.

The clerk turned and approached the counter, empty-handed.

As the eyes of the girl saw the empty hands, she gave a quivering, sobbing gasp.

“No, Miss Allison,” said the clerk, “There’s nothing for you.”

“But,” she said, “I sent her a wire this evening, about nine o’clock. It certainly should have been delivered.”

The clerk looked inquiringly at Sidney Zoom.

“I’ll wait,” said Zoom.

The clerk turned to face the white despair of the girl’s features.

“Did you want me,” he asked, “to look up the telegram and see if it was delivered?”

She nodded. “It was sent to Evelyn Bostwick, and my name is Ruby Allison. The address was 2932 Cutter Avenue, Chicago.”

“Just a moment,” said the clerk.

He opened a filing drawer, thumbed rapidly through a list of cards, took out one, and brought it to the young woman.

“Apparently,” he said, “she was not at her apartment, but was expected later. The telegram is reported undelivered.”

The girl gasped, clutched the edge of the counter, then turned wordlessly and walked toward the nearest chair. She sat down as though her knees had collapsed.

Abruptly, she became conscious of the gaze of the two men, and flashed them a resentful look. She turned to the oak desk in front of which she was seated, pulled down a pad of telegraph blanks, picked up a pencil and started to scribble a message.

The clerk looked inquiringly at Sidney Zoom.

“Have you,” asked Sidney Zoom, “any message for Zoom? Sidney Zoom.”

“Just a moment, Mr. Zoom,” said the clerk.

He once more consulted the sheaf of telegrams, then shook his head.

“Nothing, Mr. Zoom.”

Sidney Zoom walked to one of the other desks, sat in front of it, and pulled toward him a pad of blanks, while he started to scribble a message which was but a meaningless jumble of words. From time to time he hesitated, as though seeking exactly the proper word, or crossed out some word which he had written. Upon those occasions, his eyes surreptitiously surveyed the young woman.

She finished writing her telegram, read it, hesitated, bit her lip, looked at the clock, tore the telegram in half and dropped it into the wastebasket. She pushed back her chair, walked with firm, determined steps to the counter and caught the eyes of the clerk.

“I’ll come back again in about an hour,” she said. “They certainly should be able to deliver that telegram, and there’ll be an answer for me.”

The clerk nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “We’re open all night. I’ll try and get another report for you, Miss Allison.”

She nodded, turned and walked swiftly through the door, out into the night.

Sidney Zoom waited a moment, then moved over to the desk where the girl had been sitting. Once more, he took a telegraph blank and scribbled aimless words upon it. Then he made a gesture of frowning annoyance, crumpled up the blank and dropped it into the wastebasket.

A moment later he leaned forward, as though to retrieve the crumpled telegram.

The clerk had ceased to pay any attention to Sidney Zoom.

Zoom’s fingers picked up the torn fragments of the telegram which the girl had written. He placed these torn fragments together upon the desk and studied the message.

The telegram was addressed to Mr. George Grace, 912 West 25th Street, and read: Require hundred dollars immediately save me from jail Wired Evelyn but have had no answer Can you spare money Send me care Western Union here.

Sidney Zoom regarded the message for several minutes, then dropped the torn pieces into his pocket, arose and strode from the lighted room, into the street.

The police dog rose from the shadows near the door. Gravely, sedately, he padded along by the side of his master.

Sidney Zoom went to the place where he had parked his roadster. A wave of his wrist, and the dog, catching the signal, leapt up from the pavement in a long arch of graceful motion, and dropped into the rumble seat.

Sidney Zoom started the motor and drove rapidly and purposefully, going to a branch telegraph station that he knew was open.

He parked the car, entered the small room, and said to the operator in charge: “Here is a hundred dollars. I want it wired to Ruby Allison, care of the telegraph company here. You may waive identification.”

The clerk frowned heavily at Sidney Zoom.

“You want to send it to some person care of the company in this city?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Sidney Zoom. “So that it will go to your main office for delivery.”

The clerk looked dubious for a moment, then handed Sidney Zoom a blank.

“Very well,” he said, “fill it in.”

Sidney Zoom took one hundred dollars from his pocket, placed the bills on the counter, asked for the amount of the charges, and paid those.

The clerk looked down at the signature Sidney Zoom had affixed to the blank.

“You’ve simply signed ‘A. Friend.’ ”

“Certainly,” said Sidney Zoom.

“But we can’t accept money signed like that. You can sign a telegram any way you want to, but...”

Sidney Zoom smiled.

“It happens,” he said, “that that is my name — Anson W. Friend, and I always sign it ‘A. Friend.’ ”

“Very well,” said the clerk, and took the money.

Sidney Zoom turned on his heel, strode once more out into the night. Now he was chuckling to himself, scenting adventure.

He drove back to the main office of the telegraph company, parked his car in an advantageous position, settled back against the cushions, and smoked a cigarette.

He had been there approximately twenty minutes, when he heard the click of heels on the pavement, and the young woman walked past his parked automobile and into the office, her steps quick, short and nervous, her face drawn and set.

Sidney Zoom watched her through the glass as she went to the counter, saw the clerk’s reassuring smile, saw him come to her with papers to be signed, and then saw the one hundred dollars which the clerk counted out and passed over to her.

The clerk said something, and the young woman frowned. There were several moments of animated discussion, and Sidney Zoom surmised that she was learning, for the first time, the mysterious name which had been used by the donor of the money.

However, the young woman finally shrugged her shoulders — a shrug which indicated very plainly that she had other matters to concern her — flashed the clerk a smile and a word of thanks, turned and walked rapidly from the telegraph office.

Sidney Zoom had rather expected she would go to some apartment, but she did not. Instead, she walked to a corner where an all-night bus line ran to the Union Station. She waited some ten minutes, caught a bus to the station, presented a check at the parcel checking counter, and received a suitcase and a hat box.

She lugged these to a ticket window and engaged in conversation with the clerk, pausing to look at the clock frowningly.

Sidney Zoom had parked his roadster after he had followed her to the depot. He had entered the foyer of the big depot, and gradually moved up to where he could hear the conversation between the young woman and the agent.

“... not until two o’clock?” she asked.

“That’s right.”

“And this train for the South leaves in fifteen minutes?”

“That’s right.”

“Very well,” she said, “give me a ticket on that.”

“Where to?” he asked.

She hesitated a moment, then pushed fifteen dollars through the barred grille.

“As far as that will take me,” she said.

He looked at her curiously, then consulted a schedule of rates.

“I can sell you a ticket to Midvale for fifteen dollars and twenty-five cents,” he said.

Wordlessly, she opened her purse, and pushed twenty-five cents across the marble slab. The clerk stamped a ticket and handed it to her.

“Pullman?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “How soon can I get on the train?”

“Right away,” he told her. “It leaves in exactly thirteen minutes.”

She picked up the suitcase and hat box and started for the train gates. Sidney Zoom moved up to the window.

“Midvale — single,” he said.

Chapter II The Flight from Crime

The train gradually gathered momentum as it rumbled through the dark outskirts of the city. The young woman, her face still drawn and tense, her eyes dark with terror that amounted to panic, flashed a surreptitious glance at the tall, mysterious man who sat at ease in the seat across from her. His fingers toyed with a ticket and held it in such a position that the young woman could see the destination printed upon the, ticket was that of Midvale.

Abruptly, she held her eyes upon his.

“You live in Midvale?” she asked.

Sidney Zoom shook his head.

“Can you tell me what sort of a place it is?” she asked.

Sidney Zoom leaned toward her. His hawk-like eyes stared at her steadily; circles of cold ice, in the center of which were twin pinpoints of inky mystery.

“It is a place,” said Sidney Zoom in low, solemn tones, “where one who is hiding from the police could readily be found.”

For a second or two the full import of his words did not dawn upon her consciousness. She sat staring at him with an expression of stupefied terror upon her countenance. Then she gave a quivering gasp.

“Perhaps,” said Sidney Zoom in a kindly tone, “you would care to tell me about it.”

“Tell you about what?” she asked.

“About the reason you’re going to Midvale,” said Sidney Zoom.

“I’m going there,” she said, defiantly, “to visit a sick aunt. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care to have any further conversation with you.”

“Evidently,” said Sidney Zoom, “you were overtaken by some emergency which demanded immediate flight. You packed your suitcase, took it down to the depot and checked it. Then you tried to get sufficient money to get out of town. You sent telegrams until you finally secured one hundred dollars. You came down to the station and took the first train leaving town. Now, perhaps, you would care to tell me why. I might help you.”

Her stare was that of icy scorn.

“I presume,” she said, “that this is just another trick of a fresh masher. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in the first place, but you looked like a gentleman. However, just to show you how wrong you are, it happens that my Aunt Agnes is quite ill, and she wired for me to come and nurse her. She also wired me the money for transportation, if you want to know. Come to think of it, it seems to me that I did see you watching me in the telegraph office. I don’t know just what your game is, but I shall certainly call the conductor and make a complaint if you speak to me again.”

Sidney Zoom sighed.

“Somehow,” he moaned, “I always do make the wrong approach.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done it this time,” she said icily.

Without another word, he reached into his pocket, took out the tom pieces of the telegram he had picked up from the wastebasket, and fitted them together in front of her astonished eyes. Then, from his wallet he took the receipt which the telegraph company had given him for the money he had telegraphed to her.

“I am the one who sent you the money.”

“You?” she gasped.

He nodded.

She reached swiftly forward, scooped up the torn pieces of the telegram, crumpled them into a ball.

“You can’t leave that around,” she said, “where people can see it!”

Her voice was a terrified whisper.

Sidney Zoom nodded.

“Now,” he pleaded, “won’t you please understand that I want to help you? I wanted to find out what it was all about before I spoke to you. I didn’t know whether you were really running away, or whether that expression you used in the telegram, about being saved from jail, was just a stall to get the money.”

“No,” she said, in a low voice, “I needed it to pay my expenses in running away. I didn’t have a cent when it happened.”

“What was it that happened?”

“A murder,” she said.

There was an interval during which the pair stared at each other; the eyes of Sidney Zoom hawk-like in their cold appraisal; the eyes of the young woman pathetically helpless. The train rumbled on through the night, gathering speed.

Sidney Zoom leaned toward her, so that there was no chance of her words being overheard by other passengers.

“Tell me,” he said.

“That’s all there is to tell,” she told him, speaking excitedly, “just that.”

“Did you commit the murder?” asked Sidney Zoom.

“No,” she said, “of course not.”

“Why are you running away then?”

“Because it happened in my apartment.”

“Do you know who killed him?”

“I have suspicions, that’s all.”

“How did it happen?”

“I never liked him,” she said. “But he kept trying to force his attentions on me.”

“Who?” Zoom inquired.

“Frank Venard,” she said.

“All right, go on.”

She told him the facts in low, throaty tones.

“Venard came to my apartment. He knocked on the door and said it was a telegram for me. I opened the door a little ways. I wasn’t dressed. He pushed the door open and came in. He had been drinking, and he was nasty. I started to fight. We struggled around the apartment for awhile. It was horrible — just one of those things that a girl has to put up with once in awhile. Finally I told him I was going to scream. He laughed and told me he’d choke me if I did. Then I heard the pistol shot.”

“In your apartment?” asked Sidney Zoom.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think so. I think it was from the Ore escape outside of the apartment — just the one shot. And I felt him jerk as the bullet hit him... Oh! It was horrible!”

“Well,” he said, “go on from there.”

She shook her head dubiously.

“That’s all,” she said. “He was stone dead. I tried to get him to a bed, but I couldn’t lift him. I got blood all over my clothes. The shot struck him in the side and must have gone through the heart. He died instantly.”

“Why didn’t you notify the authorities?”

“Because I was framed.”

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“Remember,” she said, “I wasn’t dressed and there was blood on my clothes. I didn’t want to notify the authorities, and get a lot of publicity in the papers. I ran in the bedroom closet and put on some more clothes. When I came out, there was a gun lying by the body.”

“Well?”

“And,” she said, “my fingerprints were on that gun — I knew they were.”

“How did you know?”

“Because,” she said, “Paul Stapleton got me to handle the gun. I should have suspected something at the time. He’s one of those fellows who is always giving someone the double-cross.”

“Who,” he asked, “is Stapleton?”

“He’s the man I work for.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m his stenographer and secretary.”

“And he got you to handle the gun?” asked Sidney Zoom.

“Yes,” she said, “I came into the office and found the gun on my desk. It was greasy. I picked it up and carried it in to him and asked him what it was doing there. He said that he had been cleaning it and had left it on my desk. I didn’t think anything more of it at the time, but I knew that Frank Venard and Paul Stapleton had been having trouble. Venard knew that Stapleton had been taking some bribes. There was some marked money that was given.”

“What was Stapleton being bribed for?” Zoom asked.

“He’s got something to do with the narcotic business,” she told him. “He has charge of searching certain incoming vessels. Frank Venard was a private detective who had been employed by someone, I don’t know just whom. Venard would never tell me. He was trying to get something on Mr. Stapleton, and finally he did it. There was a large sum in marked money given as a bribe. I don’t know who it was that gave him the bribe. Somebody was back of it; I couldn’t find out who.”

“Did Mr. Stapleton know that Venard knew about the bribe?” Zoom asked.

“Yes,” she said in a low voice, “he knew that he’d been trapped.”

“But what became of the money?”

“It was concealed somewhere in his house. He didn’t dare to bank it and he didn’t date to carry it with him. They had searched the house, but they couldn’t find it.”

“Suppose,” said Sidney Zoom, “you tell me more about that.”

“Well,” she said, “there was some man who came to the house. I think he was a big Chinese merchant. He gave Mr. Stapleton a bribe. Anyway, that’s what Venard told me. That’s all I know about it. The Chinese merchant was a plant, but he gave Mr. Stapleton ten thousand dollars in marked money. Then he came out and signaled the men who were watching the place that he had given the bribe to Stapleton. The men rushed in with a search warrant. They searched the house and they searched Stapleton, but they never found the money.”

“Perhaps,” said Sidney Zoom, “the Chinese was wily, and pocketed the money himself, but gave the signal to the men just the same.”

“No,” she said, “Venard was guarding against that. He searched the Chinese, too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the train swaying and lurching as it roared through the night.

“All right,” Zoom said, “go on from there. What happened next?”

“That was all,” she said. “Venard swore that sooner or later that marked money would show up. He was waiting for it. He had some other evidence; I don’t know just what it was, but he was getting some evidence that was going to make things pretty hot for Mr. Stapleton.”

“How did it happen,” Zoom asked, “that you became friendly with Venard, if he was working against your employer?”

“I didn’t,” she said. ‘Venard became friendly with me. He tried to force his attentions on me at first, so he could get a point of contact with Mr. Stapleton and what was going on in the office. Then, when he found he couldn’t do that, he kept right on. He was objectionable to pie, but he seemed madly infatuated. I had had some trouble with him before.

“That was why I just couldn’t stand and face the music. When I realized that Frank Venard had been shot in my apartment, and that the gun which had done the shooting lay on the floor by the body, with my fingerprints on it, I knew that I was trapped. You see, I’d threatened to shoot him if he didn’t leave me alone.”

Zoom stared at her thoughtfully.

“You should have notified the police,” he said. “Even if you had shot him, you would have been acquitted.”

“I know,” she said, “but think of the publicity and the scandal that would be attached to it. They’d hold me up in the newspapers for the public to stare at.”

Zoom regarded her steadily.

“That’s not it,” he said. “There’s some other reason. What is it?”

She lowered her eyes and sat staring at her clasped hands.

“I can’t tell you that,” she said.

“I can’t help you,” Sidney Zoom told her, “unless you do.”

“If I should tell you,” she asked, “could you help me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well,” she said, slowly, “I didn’t dare to let them take my fingerprints. As soon as they took my fingerprints, they’d have known who I was.”

“And who,” he asked, “are you?”

“I ran away once before,” she told him.

“From what?”

“I ran away,” she said, “from an investigation. I did it to shield a man who was unfortunate — a man that I loved. He had been guilty of embezzlement; that is, I guess he had, looking back on it now. But at the time I didn’t believe he had. He told me that things went bad for him. He was in a tough place and they were going to send him to the penitentiary, so I took the blame for the embezzlement, and ran away. That shielded him. He was to join me afterwards, and we were to be married. But...”

“But he didn’t join you?” asked Sidney Zoom.

“Yes,” she said, in a low voice.

“And Stapleton knew this?”

“I think,” she said, slowly, “that he did.”

“How did he find it out?”

“He used to question me about my past,” she said slowly.

“Some things I told him too much about, and some things not enough. He started checking back on me and I think he found out.”

“And you think Stapleton is the one who killed Venard?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Have you any proof whatever?”

“None.”

“The gun,” said Sidney Zoom, “must have been tossed into the room after you went into the closet.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then the window was open?”

“Yes.”

“The fire escape runs just outside of your window?”

“No, it runs down from the hallway, but it comes dose to the room.”

“In other words,” said Sidney Zoom, “you believe that Stapleton intended to murder Venard? He managed to get Venard drunk and inflamed with the idea of going to your apartment. Then Stapleton tricked you into leaving your fingerprints on a gun, sat out on the fire escape, killed Venard, and, when you had gone into the closet, tossed the gun into your apartment.”

“That’s right.”

“And he thought that you’d run away.”

“He knew,” she said slowly, “that I’d have to. Otherwise, it would mean prison on the other charge, even if I weren’t convicted of murder.”

“Perhaps,” said Zoom, “Stapleton left some of his fingerprints on that gun.”

“No, he’s too smart for that. He’d use gloves.”

“Where,” asked Zoom, “is your apartment?”

“In the Richmore Apartments — 35B.”

“Give me your key to the apartment,” Zoom said.

She hesitated a moment, then took a key from her purse and handed it to Sidney Zoom.

“Would it do any good,” said Sidney Zoom, slowly, “if I should tell you that I am inclined to believe your story?”

She shook her head.

“Not a bit,” she said. “I was a little fool. I let myself get talked into becoming a fugitive from justice. I’m all right as long as they don’t take my fingerprints. Whenever they take my fingerprints I’m finished. Then I made the mistake of letting Stapleton know about it. You don’t understand that man. He’s a fiend incarnate; one of those shrewd, scheming individuals who is so smart he’s always one jump ahead.”

“Do you think that he got the marked money that was given as a bribe?” Zoom asked.

“I’m certain of it.”

“Do you know where he hid it?”

“No, he concealed it some place in the house; some place where no one would ever think of looking.”

“They searched the house?”

“Yes, they had a warrant and they searched the house.”

“What did Stapleton do while they were searching the house?”

“He stood by and laughed at them; told them Venard had framed up something on the whole outfit; that if they had trusted Venard with ten thousand dollars, they were simply fools.”

“Did you,” asked Sidney Zoom, “search Venard’s pockets before you left?”

“No, of course not. I got in a panic and ran out of the door without thinking. I threw some things in a suitcase and went down to the depot. I intended to get out of town. Then I suddenly remembered that I was virtually broke. It’s two days to payday and I had spent all of my money.”

“You didn’t have any savings?” he asked.

“I had some,” she said, “They were in one of the banks that closed and didn’t open.”

The locomotive gave a long, shrill blast on the whistle. The coaches started to nimble as the brakes were applied, and the train slowed. Sidney Zoom placed his face against the cold glass of the window and peered out into the darkness. Then he got to his feet and nodded to the girl.

“Leave all of your baggage here,” he said. “Come with me.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“We’re going back,” he told her.

“No,” she said, “I can’t face it — that’s all! They’ll put a murder charge against me and then they’ll hold me on that old embezzlement charge.”

“Can you prove what happened in that case?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I was just impulsive and foolish and I let them make me the goat.”

Sidney Zoom took her arm and piloted her down the length of the swaying car.

“Well,” he said, “they’d arrest you before nine o’clock tomorrow morning if you tried to get away the way you’re doing now. You’re leaving too broad a back trail. The ticket fellow will remember you, and so will the man at the telegraph office. The first thing the police will do will be to check up on the persons who took the night trains out of town.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We’re going back by automobile and we’re going to see Stapleton.”

“See Stapleton?” she gasped.

Zoom nodded grimly.

Chapter III Zoom Accuses

Sidney Zoom fitted the key to the spring lock of the apartment, pushed the door open, stepped inside and found the lights blazing down upon that which lay on the floor.

Hastily he kicked the door shut and stood staring about him at the apartment; at the sprawled shape which lay near the window, on the floor.

Slowly, bit by bit, he started reconstructing the crime. There could be no question that there had been a struggle. Chairs were overturned and a small vase had been broken. The window was open.

Carefully, Sidney Zoom stepped across the body of the man, to peer out of the window. He could see the fire escape running up the side of the building, like some dark serpent.

He stepped into the closet and looked over the clothes which hung from the hangers; looked also at the pile of soiled clothes in the comer. Then he returned to the room and stood, as nearly as he could determine, in the position which the man must have occupied when the shot was fired.

Looking at the angle which the bullet must have traversed, he realized that it would have been impossible for a man to have stood upon the fire escape and fired the shot which had plowed in the dead man’s heart. He stood by the body and looked down at the gun which lay on the floor. Then he peered out of the window once more.

Finally, he crossed the apartment, switched out the lights, opened the corridor door, walked to the comer of the corridor, around the turn, down four doors, and knocked gently on the door of an apartment.

There was no answer.

He knocked again, and when there was still no answer, took some passkeys from his pocket and inserted them carefully in the lock, trying them one at a time. The fourth key clicked back the lock. Sidney Zoom opened the door and stepped into the apartment.

It was furnished, but apparently untenanted. He switched on the lights, looked the place over and saw that it had not been lived in for some time. The swinging wall bed had a cobweb hanging in such a position that had the bed been pulled out, the cobweb would have been broken. The kitchenette held a musty smell of stale odors which combined into a rancid assault upon the nostrils.

Zoom walked toward the window of the apartment, knelt down in front of it, and saw that he had a good view of the apartment which had been occupied by Ruby Allison. A chair was drawn up in front of the window, and Sidney Zoom dropped into the chair. As he did so, he let his eyes drift about the floor near the chair, and noticed several little piles of white ash. A wastebasket yielded the stubs of four cigarettes. The cigarettes were all of the same brand — Marlboroughs with cork rips.

Abruptly, Sidney Zoom straightened, set his jaw in a line of grim determination and strode purposefully toward the door. He pulled it open, clicked the lights out and let the spring latch snap into place as the door closed. He paused in the hallway long enough to consult the address book in which he had jotted down the place where Paul Stapleton resided. Then he left the apartment, got in his roadster, and drove through the deserted streets.

He found the house that he wanted, brought his car to a stop, muttered a command to the dog to stay in the car, and walked up the narrow strip of cement which led from the sidewalk to the porch, his feet awakening muffled echoes.

His long, gaunt forefinger pushed steadily against the bell by the side of the front door, holding it with steady insistence.

From the interior of the house came the sound of the jangling bell; after a while, the noise of voices and the sound of feet coming down a flight of stairs.

Sidney Zoom ceased ringing the bell and stepped slightly to one side.

A bolt clicked back. The door came open a mere two inches, where it was held in position by a brass guard chain. A man’s voice said, “Who is it, and what do you want?”

“The name is Zoom. And I want to see Mr. Stapleton upon a matter of importance.”

“Mr. Stapleton has retired,” said the voice.

“Get him up then,” said Zoom. “I want to see him. It’s important.”

“It will have to wait until morning.”

“It won’t wait until morning. I want to see him now.”

A man’s voice from the back of the corridor said irritably, “What is it, James?”

“A man who wants to see you, sir.”

There was the rustle of motion, then a form in pajamas pushed itself up against the narrow crack in the door.

“What do you want?” said the man.

“I want,” said Sidney Zoom, “to see you at once.”

“What about?”

“About a murder,” said Sidney Zoom, his cold, hawk-like eyes piercing the darkness.

“Can you be more explicit?” asked Stapleton. There was a slight catch in his voice.

“Certainly,” Sidney Zoom told him, “but not here, and not now.”

Fingers fumbled with the chain on the door, and then the door opened.

“Come in,” said the man in pajamas.

Sidney Zoom stepped into the corridor, conscious of the startled, perplexed eyes of a servant. He followed the slippered feet of the man in white pajamas, crossed the corridor, entered a room and went through the room into an adjoining room. Light switches clicked, and Sidney Zoom found himself in a library, with the walls panelled with books, huge chairs grouped invitingly near reading lamps that cast mellow rays in a glowing circle. He looked into the face of a man of about fifty years of age; a man whose eyes were wide and brown, whose shoulders were held squarely back, whose chin was thrust forward, and whose lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“You wanted to see me,” he asked, “about a murder?”

Sidney Zoom stared steadily at him.

“Do you,” he asked, “know a gentleman by the name of Frank Venard?”

“No,” said Stapleton.

“You mean to say you don’t know him?”

Stapleton’s scowl was cold and mocking.

“I know him,” he said. “He’s not a gentleman; he’s a private detective who has been guilty of subornation of perjury and of planting evidence.”

“Very well,” said Sidney Zoom. “He’s dead.”

“Do you expect me to express regrets?” asked Stapleton.

“I was simply making the statement to you.”

“How did he die?” asked Stapleton.

“He was murdered.”

“Indeed,” said Stapleton. “I had rather expected that one of these days his activities would bring him to an untimely end. However, that is neither here nor there. The man is dead, and we will let it go at that. What was it you wanted to see me about?”

“The thing that I wanted to discuss with you,” said Sidney Zoom, “was the identity of the murderer.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t help you,” said Stapleton.

“I think perhaps you could.”

“In what way, Mr. Zoom?”

“You have a young woman working for you named Ruby Allison?”

“Yes, a very gifted secretary.”

“She has an apartment in the Richmore Apartments?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t tell you where she lives, without looking up the card index that I have in my office. I have an index which gives the addresses of my employees.”

“Well,” said Sidney Zoom, “she lives in the Richmore Apartments. Frank Venard was killed in her apartment some time this evening. He was killed by a .38 caliber Colt revolver.”

Stapleton raised his eyebrows.

“In her apartment?” he said. “Impossible!”

“Nevertheless, that Is a fact.”

“And does she know who killed him?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Sidney Zoom pointed a long, level forefinger.

“You!” he said, and the word cracked like a whiplash.

Stapleton stood for a moment staring at Sidney Zoom, then he smiled, and the smile became a chuckle.

“Zoom,” he said, “I like your dramatic and forceful manner. Doubtless you’re a detective of some sort. I don’t know what your game is. If I am to believe what you tell me, Frank Venard is dead. I will not profess any friendship for the man. He was a man that I detested. He was a private detective who attempted to discredit me by using perjured evidence. However, that is neither here nor there. It is this accusation of murder which causes me some amusement, and perhaps a little concern. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you’re going to walk out of this house and if you so much as intimate that I have been guilty of murder or have been concerned in any way with the death of Frank Venard, I will see that you are arrested and charged with criminal slander. Do you understand that?”

Sidney Zoom pulled his hat down low on his forehead, turned toward the door.

“I understand,” he said.

Stapleton watched him curiously as Zoom walked across the room to the front door. The servant held the front door open, and Sidney Zoom strode out into the night.

“Just a moment,” called Stapleton, unable to restrain himself longer, as Zoom made his wordless exit. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me, Mr. Zoom...” Sidney Zoom whirled to face him.

“I don’t misunderstand you,” he said. “Either you are guilty of murder, or I have been misled. I just want to tell you that if you are guilty of murder, all that suave cunning which has heretofore served you will not stand between you and your punishment. Do you understand that?”

Stapleton’s face did not change expression. There was still the same mocking glint in his eyes; the same sardonic smile twisting his lips.

“Yes,” he said, “I understand what you say, but your words mean nothing to me.”

“You have,” said Sidney Zoom, “always outwitted the persons with whom you came in contact. That has been your strong point; the thing that has hitherto enabled you to laugh at justice. Now I am telling you that there is something higher than the ordinary technical man-made justice that you have been mocking; something that is more infallible than the laws of man filled with technicalities that you have taken advantage of, and I have the honor, sir, to wish you a very good evening.”

Zoom waited for no further words, but strode across the porch, down the steps, then along the walk to his automobile. He slammed the door and drove off into the night.

Behind him, Paul Stapleton stood in the doorway, staring along the road after the gleaming ruby which marked the tail light of Zoom’s automobile.

The expression of mocking, sardonic humor was no longer on Stapleton’s face. His eyes were slitted in thought, and his face had set into grim lines.

“James,” he said, without turning his head.

“Yes, sir,” said the servant.

“If that man ever comes near this house again, see that he doesn’t get in.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you catch him prowling around, act on the theory that he is a burglar, and shoot him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And shoot to kill.”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul Stapleton stepped back into the house and slammed the door. The servant slipped the safety chain into position.

Chapter IV Mad Dog

Once more, Sidney Zoom entered the chamber of death. He entered for a particular purpose, and moved with swift efficiency. The lights clicked on. Zoom walked across the room, stooped to the murder gun, picked it up and started polishing its greasy surface with a handkerchief. He polished the gun until the steel fairly shone; polished it until all of the oil and grease had been removed from the blued steel surface. Then he breathed upon it and polished again, taking care all of the time not to touch it with the tips of his fingers, holding it only with the cloth touching the steel.

When he had carefully and completely obliterated all fingerprints from the gun, he looked around the apartment until he found a small bottle of oil. He placed a thin coat of oil over the steel of the gun, rubbing it with the corner of his handkerchief so that it was evenly distributed. Then, holding the gun in the folds of the handkerchief, he once more left the apartment.

Sidney Zoom moved with a swift purpose, as though his actions had been carefully rehearsed. He went down the corridor, turned the comer, stepped to the door of the vacant apartment.

He knew now exactly which skeleton key delivered results, and it was but a moment until he had clicked back the bolt and opened the door.

Once in the apartment, he walked directly to the window, then paused for a moment, thinking. Finally he nodded to himself and slipped his hand to his coat pocket. He took out several .38 blank cartridges which he had carried up from his automobile, which was a veritable storehouse of various weapons and munitions.

Taking care not to leave any fingerprints on the weapon, he swung open the cylinder and dropped blank cartridges into the chambers, slipping the one empty cartridge and the five loaded ones into his pocket.

It was but a matter of seconds until he had fixed the gun to his liking, leaving it on the floor by the chair, and had once more stepped into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind him.

He went at once to his automobile, drove five blocks to an all night drugstore, looked up the telephone number of Paul Stapleton, and dialed the number on the telephone.

He knew at once from Stapleton’s voice that the man had not been asleep. He had, instead, been near the telephone, perhaps waiting for a call. His voice when he answered was calm and cautious.

“Hello,” he said, “who is it?”

Sidney Zoom lowered his voice to a deep, rumbling bass.

“Do you know a guy by the name of Sidney Zoom?” he asked.

“What about it?” asked Stapleton.

“Never mind what about it,” said Zoom, still using his deep bass voice. “I happen to be trailing Zoom around because I’m trying to get something on him. He came out to your house an hour or so ago, and busted on in. I want to know if he gave you his right name and what he talked to you about.”

“I’m afraid,” said Stapleton, “that I can’t help you.”

“Well, get a load of this,” said Zoom in the same rumbling monotone. “I don’t know whether it makes any difference to you or not. But after Zoom left your place, he went to the Richmore Apartments and went into apartment 35B. He’s got a key that fits it. He came out of that apartment carrying a gun, and tiptoed around the comer of the corridor to apartment 38E, and when he came out, he didn’t have the gun with him.

“Now, I don’t know what happened, but that fellow’s a smooth worker, and I have an idea that perhaps when he was out at your place he might have picked up something that belonged to you. See? And maybe he planted that stuff in that apartment — 38E — together with the gun. Now, I don’t know what’s up or what he’s doing, but anything he’s trying to do, I want to block.

“Personally I think he’s a crook. He’s always messing around and pulling some fast stuff and gets by because nobody has called him on it. But I’m calling him on it, and I just thought perhaps you’d like to know what he was doing. I thought perhaps the information might interest you.”

Zoom ceased speaking.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the buzzing of the telephone connection, then Paul Stapleton’s voice, calmly, suave and courteous.

“I’m sure,” he said, “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. It is true that a man named Zoom called upon me, but I wasn’t interested in the proposition he had to offer, and he left at once. I’m certainly not interested in any of Mr. Zoom’s subsequent activities.”

And the receiver at the other end of the line clicked onto the hook.

Sidney Zoom strode to his automobile, drove to a point half a block from the apartment house, where he could leave the automobile in the shadows of the driveway, then sat on the running board and watched the entrance to the Richmore Apartments.

He sat smoking calmly and contentedly, apparently without the slightest trace of nervous tension. Everything about the man seemed relaxed, save his eyes, which were keen and hawk-like. Those eyes stared in a concentration of scrutiny that was cold and unwinking.

Sidney Zoom was half way through his third cigarette when there was the sound of a roaring motor. Tires skidded on the pavement as a machine lurched around the corner. The machine came to a stop, and a tall, well knit individual stepped from the machine and looked about him.

Apparently the entire street was deserted, and the man, having assured himself of that fact, moved toward the entrance of the apartment house with calm assurance.

Zoom gave the man a head start of approximately five seconds, and then beckoned to the police dog.

Master and dog moved with swift, silent strides, gliding along the pavement like shadows of the night.

Zoom didn’t wait for the elevator, but took the stairs, two at a time, running up with light, springy steps, the police dog padding along at his side.

Zoom went at once down the corridor to the door of apartment 38E.

He could hear the sounds of surreptitious motion behind the closed door.

Sidney Zoom indicated the door to the police dog.

“Watch, Rip,” he said. “Let no one out.”

The dog dropped to his stomach, pointing his sensitive nostrils toward the door, his eyes staring in fixed concentration.

Zoom turned back down the corridor, raced down the steps, and was half way to the lobby when he heard the sound of a pistol shot booming from the upper corridor. A moment later there was another shot.

Zoom sprinted down the street, jumped in his car, stepped on the starter and threw in the clutch. He pressed his hand on the horn button and roared through the quiet apartment district.

Three blocks from the apartment house he found a uniformed officer. Zoom pulled into the curb.

“Passing along the street here,” he said, “and I heard shots.”

“Where?” asked the officer.

“Back at an apartment house. The Richmore, I think, was the name.”

The officer loosened his service revolver in its holster, climbed to the running board of the car.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Zoom whipped the car into an abrupt turn and stepped on the throttle. As he approached the apartment house, he drew into the curb and slowed.

“This is the place,” he said.

The officer jumped to the sidewalk.

“Better wait here,” he said.

Lights were on in the apartments. As the officer pushed his way into the lobby, a woman screamed.

Sidney Zoom waited.

Three minutes later a police radio car swung around the corner at high speed and pulled into the curb.

An officer pushed his way into the apartment house.

Another officer debouched from the car and strode over to Sidney Zoom.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Zoom. “I heard shots when I was going past here, and I picked up an officer three or four blocks up the street. He came back with me and told me to wait here.”

The officer nodded and then pushed his way into the apartment house.

Sidney Zoom placed his fingers to his lips and gave a shrill, penetrating whistle.

Ten seconds later there was a tawny streak which flashed through the lobby of the apartment house. Rip jumped to the sidewalk, gathered himself, and hit the back of the roadster in a long arc of graceful motion. Sidney Zoom stepped to the back of the car, pushed the back of the rumble seat forward.

“Down, Rip,” he said, “and stay there.”

The back of the car latched into place. Sidney Zoom got back into the car.

An officer came puffing down the stairs and stood in the doorway of the apartment looking up and down the street. Then he crossed to Sidney Zoom.

“See anything of a police dog that came out here?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Zoom, “a big one. He busted out of the place and swung around the comer. What’s the matter, officer?”

“You’re the man that brought Mike here?” asked the policeman.

“I guess so. I’m the man who picked up the uniformed officer on the beat and brought him here.”

The officer nodded, then looked back at the apartment house.

“Funny thing,” he said.

“What is?”

“A man who gave his name as Richard Horton was trapped in an apartment by a mad dog. The man fired six shots at the dog, but none of them took effect. The dog dodged every time he pointed the revolver.”

“Did he bite the man?” asked Zoom.

“Bit him on the wrists a couple of times, but seemed to be trying to make him stay in the room. The door was open into the corridor, and the shots were heard in some of the other apartments. The tenants put in a call for the police. We picked it up in the radio car and came out here.”

“The man live in the apartment?” asked Zoom.

“No,” said the officer, “nobody lives there. We’re holding the man for questioning. Documents in his pockets indicate that his name is Paul Stapleton. He can’t give a satisfactory account of what he’s doing there.”

“Perhaps,” said Sidney Zoom, smiling, “he has a secretary who lives in the building, or something.”

“Well, he’s been visiting somewhere,” said the officer, “and he’s going to tell the truth before he gets out.”

“Going to put a charge against him?”

“We’ll want to find out a little more about how he happened to have the gun and what he’s doing in the apartment,” answered, the officer.

“And the dog ran away?” asked Zoom.

“Yes,” the officer said. “We didn’t think he was mad. He seemed to be all right, but he just wouldn’t let the man out of the apartment. We figured that he was a trained police dog, and had detected an apartment house thief. Naturally, we supposed he belonged to the manager of the apartment. It wasn’t until just a minute ago we thought he was mad. The dog seemed all right in every way, until all of a sudden he jumped to his feet and went down the corridor like a streak of greased lightning. We heard him banging down the stairs, and that’s the last we’ve seen of him.”

“He went around the corner like a streak of lightning,” said Zoom, “I guess there’s no need for me to wait for that officer.”

“No, there’s nothing he’ll need you for, and thanks for going out of your way to report the shooting and bring him here.”

Sidney Zoom bowed his head.

“Not at all,” he said. “It was a pleasure.”

The roadster purred into motion and slipped out into the middle of the street. The officer from the radio car looked up and down the street once more, then shrugged his shoulders and turned to the apartment house.

Chapter V Zoom Goes Fishing

Sidney Zoom’s powerful sea-going yacht, the Alberta F., creaked against the mooring float with wind and tide.

In the main cabin, Sidney Zoom paced back and forth, irritably, impatiently.

At a table, Vera Thurmond, his secretary, regarded him with eyes that were warm and maternal, despite the fact that she was some five years his junior.

Seated beside Vera Thurmond, her eyes filled with gratitude, was Ruby Allison.

“I really can’t let you do this for me,” she said. “I know enough about law to know that you are likely to get in serious trouble over this.”

Zoom shook his head with a single swift gesture of impatience, and continued pacing the floor.

At the forward end of the cabin, a radio with loudspeaker made little sputtering noises of static.

“Why the devil don’t they discover the body?” said Sidney Zoom.

There was no answer. The two young women stared at him in silence. Something in the very impatient savagery of the man made them keep a watchful silence.

Abruptly, there was the whirring noise of a siren whistle over the radio. Then a masculine voice said:

“Calling all cars for a further report on the shooting at the Richmore Apartments.”

Sidney Zoom breathed a sigh of relief.

“Here it comes,” he said.

The masculine voice droned through facts in a weary monotone. “The man who fired the shots and who gave the name of Richard Horton, and who claimed to be a tenant in the building, has been identified positively as Paul Stapleton, in charge of narcotic investigations relating to incoming ocean liners. A check-up on the tenants of the Richmore Apartments showed that a Ruby Allison had apartment 35B, and was employed by Paul Stapleton in the capacity of stenographer and secretary.

“When she failed to answer her door, detectives effected an entrance and found the dead body of Frank Venard, a private detective, lying sprawled on the floor. Venard had evidently been shot, but there was no weapon found within the apartment.

“The ballistic department is making a series of experiments with the gun found in the possession of Paul Stapleton, to determine if the bullet was fired from that gun.

“In the meantime, all cars are warned to be on the lookout for Ruby Allison, a young woman, age twenty-three, height five feet four and a half inches, weight one hundred and seventeen pounds, hair dark, eyes dark. When last seen, wearing a tweed coat. She has been traced to the Union Depot, and positively identified as having purchased a ticket for Midvale; but a search of the train discloses that she did not remain on the train, but evidently left it en route. She is wanted for questioning in connection with the murder of Frank Venard.

“We will repeat the description of the girl: Ruby Allison...”

Sidney Zoom strode to the instrument and snapped over the switch which cut it off.

“That,” he said, “is that”

The two women stared at him in silence.

“Now,” said Sidney Zoom, “it remains to collect from Stapleton.”

“How do you mean?” asked Vera Thurmond.

“I mean,” he said, “that I am convinced the story told me by Miss Allison is correct, and that it is true in every particular. It remains, therefore, for me to assess some contribution against Paul Stapleton — a contribution which will compensate this young woman in some measure for the publicity, the humiliation, and the expense which will doubtless become necessary in connection with securing legal representation.”

He turned and strode purposefully toward the door.

Rip, the police dog, who had been lying by the radio, raised his head and cocked his ears inquiringly.

Sidney Zoom shook his head.

“No, Rip,” he said, “you are going to stay there. This is one time when I must resort to subterfuge and disguise.”

“You’re not going to do anything dangerous?” asked Vera Thurmond anxiously.

Sidney Zoom smiled grimly at her.

“Everything that one does is dangerous,” he said. “And perhaps the most certain way to court danger is to try to avoid it. The man who allows his style to be cramped because he fears consequences, is one who never gets any place.”

Sidney Zoom pushed his way out into the early dawn, and if he was conscious of the warm tenderness in the eyes of Vera Thurmond, he did not show it, but strode grimly forth as a warrior going into battle, his mind concentrated only upon a plan of attack.

The sun was not yet up, but there was sufficient light to show something of color. The East was blazing into a golden hue. Birds were commencing to flit restlessly about from house top to tree top. The air was fresh, buoyant and life-giving.

Sidney Zoom strode entirely around the house of Paul Stapleton, paused before the side door of the house, and gave the lock some careful attention. A moment later he inserted a skeleton key, and twisted the bolt back. He stepped into the house and listened. There was no sound.

Zoom knew that there was at least one servant in the house. He also knew that the servant would have no hesitancy about shooting first and asking questions afterwards. Therefore, Sidney Zoom made no attempt at being quiet.

He adjusted a mask over his features, slipped a revolver into his right hand, and stepped into a closet which opened from the library. He saw that there was ample room for concealment in this closet, then boldly walked out into the center of the library, and toppled over a bookcase.

The books fell to the floor with a terrific crash of breaking glass, splintering wood and thudding volumes.

Zoom stepped back and waited.

He had not long to wait. There was the sound of hurried steps running down the stairs, and then the figure of the man who had stood at the elbow of Paul Stapleton the night before entered the room. The man was attired in pajamas and slippers, and carried a heavy caliber revolver in his right hand.

Zoom, hiding in the closet, his eyes glued to a crack between the partially open door and the casement, saw the man enter the room; saw the expression of puzzled bewilderment on his face; then saw the expression of bewilderment gradually change to one of annoyance. The gun was slightly lowered as the man stepped forward to inspect the damage.

He looked around the room, then bent over the wreckage of the bookcase and the scattered books. Sidney Zoom pushed the door of the closet open and noiselessly stepped out. The first intimation that the man had of Zoom’s presence was when the muzzle of Zoom’s gun made a cold pressure against the back of the bare neck.

“Stick ’em up!” said Zoom.

The man grew rigid. For a moment he hesitated, then slowly his hands moved up in the air.

“Drop the gun,” Zoom told him.

The gun dropped, struck a book, glanced and skidded along the floor.

“Put your hands behind your back with your wrists together,” Zoom said.

When his command had been obeyed, Zoom took handcuffs from his hip pocket, fitted them over the wrists and clicked them shut.

“Now,” said Zoom, “you can tell me where Stapleton had the marked money concealed.”

The man turned a curious head over his shoulder, saw the tall form, with the mask covering the features.

“There wasn’t any marked money,” he said.

Sidney Zoom laughed, and the laugh was grim.

“Do you know?” he asked.

“Of course I don’t know. I tell you there wasn’t any.”

Sidney Zoom spoke after the manner of one who thinks out loud.

“Not the usual servant,” he said. “Either an intimate of your master or one of the conspirators who works with him.”

The man grunted a comment that caused Zoom to prod his pistol into the tender short ribs.

“That’ll do,” he said. “Shut up if you can’t speak decently.”

The man winced, and Zoom’s hawk-like eyes looked swiftly around the room.

“Were you here,” he asked, “when the search was made?”

The man muttered a grudging assent.

“Did they, perhaps,” asked Sidney Zoom, “look through the books in the library?”

“They looked everywhere,” he said. “They searched this house from top to bottom. They spilled books all over the floor, tore up carpets, pounded walls, pulled out the casements from the windows and examined the window weights. They looked everywhere.”

Zoom laughed grimly.

“That,” he said, “makes it nice. It only remains for me to conduct a very limited search.”

Curiosity mastered the handcuffed man.

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“Simply,” said Sidney Zoom, “that they have looked in all of the likely hiding places. It only remains for me to look in the unlikely hiding places.”

The man’s laugh was sarcastic.

“They looked everywhere,” he said.

“Well,” said Sidney Zoom, “we might as well look the house over a little bit. Come on and march around. Remember that I’m behind you with a gun. If you make any funny moves, I’m going to smack the barrel of this gun down on the top of your head, unless I should think the situation calls for sterner reprisals.”

“Where do you want to go?” asked the other.

“Oh, just lead the way around the house,” said Sidney Zoom.

The man started walking, his slippered feet shuffling along the floor. Behind him came Sidney Zoom, gun held ready, hawk-like eyes sweeping the premises in glittering appraisal. Sidney Zoom, however, said nothing. His every faculty was concentrated upon looking over the house, inspecting the various rooms through which they passed.

It was when they entered a room on the third floor that Sidney Zoom suddenly showed interest.

“What’s this room?” he asked.

“The master’s bedroom.”

“Why does he sleep on the third floor?”

“I don’t know — because he wants to, I guess.”

Zoom looked the room over.

He glanced about him for a moment. Then he started talking, and his voice was the expressionless monotone of one who is thinking aloud.

“As I size up your master,” he said, “he’s a man who would want to have the money near him at all times. He’s a man who would be very much inclined to hide any valued possession dose to his sleeping quarters.”

His answer was a sarcastic laugh.

Zoom paid no attention to the laugh, but stood in the center of the room, looking around it.

“Obviously,” he said, still speaking in the same monotone of one who is thinking aloud, “the obvious and likely places have been searched. Therefore, it remains to look for some place that would have naturally escaped search.”

“They took this room to pieces,” said the man, and there was a trace of bitterness in his voice.

“And found nothing?”

“And found nothing.”

Sidney Zoom stepped to the window, looked out into the well kept yard. The sun had gilded the roof and tree tops. Birds were fluttering about, chirping and singing.

Abruptly, Zoom stiffened to attention.

The room was in a tower which looked out upon the lower portions of the roof. Some ten feet away was a rigid mast, some eight or ten feet in height, and on the top of this mast was a little platform decorated by a bird house.

“Who put that up?” he asked.

“Mr. Stapleton,” said the man.

Sidney Zoom stared steadily at the bird house.

“Now Stapleton,” he mused, “is the type of man who ordinarily wouldn’t be interested in birds. His temperament is cruel, cold, supercilious and mocking. He’s the type of man who is intensely cold-blooded and self-centered. Yet he’s very intelligent. Therefore, I wonder...”

Sidney Zoom’s voice trailed away into silence. He looked about him, staring once more at the bedroom itself.

The eyes of the handcuffed man were fastened upon Sidney Zoom with intense interest.

Abruptly, Sidney Zoom pointed to a long bamboo pole which was suspended on pegs along the side of the room.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“A fishing pole,” said the man. “Can’t you see?”

Sidney Zoom nodded, but his nod was preoccupied. He strode to the pole and inspected it.

There was a reel on the pole. The line was heavy. The guides for the line were placed closely together, and were of the best material. The thing which was most noticeable, however, was the fact that the pole did not come to a tapering tip, as is usually the case, but had been cut off where the rod was still quite thick.

“That’s not a casting rod,” said Sidney Zoom.

The handcuffed man said nothing.

Sidney Zoom took the rod from its pegs and balanced it in his hand.

“Too stiff,” he said, “for fishing with bait. Not built right for a casting rod. I wonder...”

He took the hook on the end of the line between his thumb and forefinger, and inspected it.

“A hook,” he said, “that’s heavy enough to land a shark.”

He walked to the window, peered out once more and abruptly chuckled.

“My dear James,” he said, “do you, by any chance, happen to notice the ring in the top of the bird house?”

The handcuffed man forgot his hostility in order to peer in sudden curiosity.

“I think,” said Sidney Zoom, “that I will show you a little high class fishing.”

He pushed the end of the fishing pole out of the window, shortened the line on the reel until the hook hung down but a few inches below the tip of the pole. It took but a moment to drop the hook inside of the ring on the bird house.

Sidney Zoom held the reel with the fingers of his right hand. With his left hand he lifted the pole. The pole bent slightly. Then the entire bird house lifted from the wooden platform. Thus he brought it into the room, disengaged the ring from the hook, and set the bird house on the table.

He inspected the miniature structure for a moment, then manipulated two clasps, and the entire roof lifted dear. It was entirely filled with sheafed currency.

The handcuffed man lurched forward, his breath coming in a hissing exclamation.

Zoom whirled and the gun jabbed into the man’s stomach.

“Careful,” he warned, “Get back there!”

The man stared at the treasure in the bird house with bulging eyes and a sagging jaw.

“Cripes!” he said. “And I put in three days searching every place in the house I could think of, to try and find it.”

Zoom nodded.

“Quite so,” he said. “I figured you for that kind.”

Almost casually he pocketed the bank notes. When he had finished, he fitted the fish hook into the ring, put the bird house back into position, shook the hook free, pulled the fishing pole back, and placed it once more on the pegs.

“When you see your master,” he said, “you might tell him that his cache was robbed. However, I don’t think that you’ll do it, because as soon as you do, your master is going to think that you were the guilty party. Moreover, I think it’s going to be some time before you see your master. I fancy he’s going to be detained by the police on a murder charge. However, if you should see him, and if you should tell him, I rather fancy he’ll choose to remain silent about the entire matter.

“If,” said Zoom, “Paul Stapleton should complain that he had been robbed, and if he should, by any chance, divulge the identity of the robber, and if the police should obtain any proofs of my complicity, they would at the same time secure the proof of bribery and corruption on the part of Stapleton that they have been searching for.

“You might call those matters to Mr. Stapleton’s attention, in the event you should advise him of his misfortune, although, as I’ve said before, I don’t think you will, because Stapleton would immediately jump at the conclusion you had been the one to rob him.”

Zoom bowed affably to the enraged individual.

“As I go out the front door,” he said, “I will drop the key to the handcuffs on the hall carpet. You can find it and eventually free yourself. It will take a bit of patient manipulation to get the key into the lock. I would suggest that you hold it in your teeth and try turning it, by twisting the arms.

“In the meantime, I have the honor to wish you a very good morning, my dear James.”

Sidney Zoom sat in his stateroom on the yacht.

Across the table from him, Ruby Allison stared at the pile of bank notes with bulging eyes.

“But,” she said, “it wouldn’t be right.”

Sidney Zoom laughed sarcastically.

“You know that it’s right,” he said. “What you mean is that you’re afraid of man-made laws. As a matter of fact, you are the one who is entitled to this money. You admit that it’s bribe money. It could never be returned to the persons who had put it up. Obviously, Paul Stapleton shouldn’t be allowed to keep it. Moreover, Stapleton has done you a great wrong. He has, as it happens, walked into his own trap, but that was due to the fact he fell for the bait which I held out to him. If it hadn’t been for that, you would have been a fugitive from justice right now, charged with murder.

“Law is but a man-made attempt to secure justice. In many instances, laws fall down because it is impossible to anticipate all of the complexities of human conduct. Those are the cases in which I interest myself. I endeavor to do substantial justice, without regard to laws.”

He pushed the currency toward her.

“But how about you?” she asked.

Sidney Zoom smiled patiently.

“I,” he said, “have had a very interesting night’s adventure, and now, if you’ll pardon, I’ll retire.”

He arose from his chair, moved swiftly to the door of the stateroom, turned to smile at the young woman, nod at Vera Thurmond, then jerked the door open, stepped out of the stateroom and slammed the door behind him.

Ruby Allison looked in stupefied wonder at Vera Thurmond.

“But,” she said, “I don’t understand the man.”

Vera Thurmond’s laugh was wistful.

“You could,” she said, “be with him for years, without doing that. You could respect and admire him, but you’d never understand him.”

Her eyes were bright.