The London Crimes

CHAPTER XX. TWO PLEAS ARE HEARD

“WHERE did you trap Selbrock?”

The query came from Sidney Lewsham. It was addressed to Burleigh as the C.I.D. man pushed the prisoner to a convenient chair. Burleigh answered, watching Selbrock as he spoke.

“At the Addingham,” he said. “How he slipped in there, I can’t guess. We were watching every terminus.”

Selbrock heard the statement. He leaned back and delivered a guffaw. He followed by looking straight toward Lewsham.

“Don’t let this chap excuse his own inefficiency,” he said, with a gesture toward Burleigh. “We have debated that point all the way out here. He swears that he had every terminus covered. He is wrong. If his men had been properly placed at Euston Station, they would have arrested me when I arrived aboard the Royal Scot.”

Burleigh looked troubled. Selbrock grinned.

“The Royal Scot drew in ahead of schedule,” he remarked. “I understand that it does so quite frequently. We covered the three hundred miles from Carlisle in less than five hours and a half. We departed from Carlisle at ten minutes after twelve. We reached Euston Station at half past five.”

“Is this correct, Burleigh?” demanded Lewsham. “Were your men negligent in meeting the Royal Scot at Euston?”

“They may have been,” admitted Burleigh, in a sulky tone, “but I doubt it, sir. If this chap came from the Royal Scot, he must have dashed from the gate in a great hurry.”

“I was aboard one of the front carriages,” assured Selbrock, promptly. “That is probably why I escaped observation. But I did not rush from the gate.”

“What time did Selbrock reach the Addingham?” quizzed Lewsham.

“Not until half past seven,” replied Burleigh. “That was when we apprehended him.”

“I was dining in the meantime,” put in Selbrock. “I tell you, I have been hoaxed. Badly hoaxed! Look at this telegram that I received yesterday. Wait— Burleigh has it.”

“Here it is, sir,” informed Burleigh. “The slip was in Selbrock’s pocket.”

Lewsham received the paper. The Shadow, standing near by, could read the message. It was signed “Dorcus” and it called for Selbrock to meet him at Abbey Town, by the earliest train possible.

“Who is Dorcus?” questioned Lewsham.

“An old schoolmate,” returned Selbrock. “We were friends at Rugby. I have not seen him for years. Inquired everywhere for him. Then came this telegram, which I received yesterday. That is why I took the four o’clock afternoon express to Carlisle.”

Harry Vincent looked toward The Shadow. He saw the latter’s smile. Selbrock was claiming that he had taken the very train which Harry had picked from the pages of his Bradshaw.

“THREE hundred miles north to Carlisle,” resumed Selbrock, “arriving there at ten-fifty. I had just time to catch the last local for Abbey Town, at ten minutes past eleven. Twelve miles to Abbey Town; I reached there at eleven thirty-eight.”

“And met Dorcus?” queried Lewsham.

“No,” responded Selbrock, sourly. “That was the catch to it. Dorcus was not there at Abbey Town station. Some one had spoofed me. I stood there, gawking, upon the platform of the station. The last train had gone down to Carlisle. No one was about.

“Any one will attest my statement when I say that a provincial town becomes quiescent after nightfall. The passing of the last train is heard by no one; for all are asleep. There was I in Abbey Town, with no place to spend the night.

“My only opportunity was to walk five miles to the end of the line at Silloth, where I knew that I should find a hotel; for Silloth is close to the shore of Solway Firth. I arrived there after midnight; so I slept amid the west coast breezes. The hotel register at Silloth will testify to the fact that I was there.”

Lewsham nodded doubtingly. Selbrock became indignant.

“I have been hoaxed, I tell you!” he exclaimed. “When I left Silloth by the morning down train, I did not reach Carlisle until half past eleven.”

“You slept too late for the early train?”

“Yes. I dispatched a telegram from Carlisle. Then I took the Royal Scot at ten minutes past noon. It was the logical train, under the circumstances. Rudlow, Limited, must have received my telegram. I addressed it to Justin Craybaw.”

“The telegram was received,” admitted Lewsham, “but Craybaw was not at Rudlow’s to make it public. Our question, therefore, is whether or not you actually dispatched the message from Carlisle.”

“I was in Carlisle—”

“A burden of proof lies upon you.”

Selbrock came to his feet, his face savage. Burleigh stood ready with revolver, in case the accused man made trouble. Selbrock stormed his challenge at Lewsham.

“Your blind stupidity is the cause of this!” he exclaimed. “If the men you sent from Scotland Yard had been on the job at Euston, they would have met me at half past five! That would have supported my alibi! Burleigh has admitted negligence. The burden lies upon you. Prove that I was in Carlisle!

“Send to the town of Silloth. Find my signature upon the hotel register there. Examine those ticket stubs that Burleigh took from my pocket along with that spoofing telegram. They prove that I traveled up to London, aboard the Royal Scot.

“Call the Wildersham Cafe, in Piccadilly. Ask for Lester, the head waiter. He will say that I arrived there at six; that I talked with him while I dined.”

IT was the Rajah of Delapore who answered Selbrock’s outburst. He had passed the accusation along to the man from Mesopotamia; hence the Hindu potentate took it upon himself to attack Selbrock’s rebuttal.

“Lies, all these,” denounced the rajah, in his well-toned voice. “The Harvester has tools everywhere. It is no use, Selbrock. Some one was in Silloth, to inscribe your name there. That same person must have sent the telegram from Carlisle. Lester, the head waiter at the Wildersham, may be in your pay. It would be wise to apprehend him also. You are The Harvester, Selbrock. Your game was to gain my quarter million—”

“Absurd!” interposed Selbrock. “My Mesopotamian oil options were worth two hundred thousand pounds alone. Why, when I had such a fortune coming to me, would I have risked a career of crime?”

“The options may be false—”

“False? They satisfied you.”

The rajah had no reply. Lewsham introduced a nod.

“Quite correct,” he said. “The oil options have been thoroughly investigated.”

“They have,” added Justin Craybaw, from behind the desk. “Yes, the options are quite in order. As a matter of fact” — he paused, seriously — “Rudlow, Limited, is still responsible to you for purchase. Unless we declare a bankruptcy” — he turned to Sir Ernest— “we shall have to buy those oil holdings at the price established.”

“So that is why you have come here!” stormed Sir Ernest, convinced that Selbrock must be The Harvester. “Your bold game is to mulct us of another fortune!”

“You are wrong,” rejoined Selbrock. “Unless the Rajah of Delapore has committed himself to purchase, I shall reclaim the oil options.”

“Then we owe the rajah a quarter million!” exclaimed Blessingwood. “I signed his receipt! He is the one who can demand money. He must be The Harvester!”

Selbrock grinned as he gazed toward the rajah. Luck had turned the tide. The burden was tossed back upon the man who had passed it. That, however, produced a lull, for the rajah had already cleared himself. Sidney Lewsham called for silence.

“One thing is certain,” decided the chief constable. “Your trip to Carlisle, Selbrock — or your claim to such a journey — is part of The Harvester’s scheme. If you are The Harvester, the situation fits. A confederate could have sent you the telegram yesterday. He could have sent that wire this noon, the one which The Harvester received when pretending himself to be Justin Craybaw.

“Assuming you to be The Harvester, Selbrock, I can see purpose in both telegrams. Assuming that you are not The Harvester, I can see no purpose. If any one can cause me to change this position, I shall harken gladly. Otherwise, I shall arrest you as The Harvester.”

“And let the crook make good his escape?” demanded Selbrock. “One more mistake on your part—”

He paused, as a voice intervened. The Shadow had stepped forward. He was picking up the telegram, studying it in Cranston’s leisurely fashion.

Lewsham produced the other wire. Harry Vincent watched. Apparently, The Shadow had some defense for Selbrock.

“THE HARVESTER’S scheme, yes,” assured The Shadow. “But one that he would never employ as an alibi. A freak trip to Carlisle; then to Abbey Town, dependent upon a telegram from a friend that cannot be produced. It is too flimsy, Chief Lewsham.

“Let us assume that Selbrock is not The Harvester. Why, then, did the master criminal induce him to leave London? Particularly with this telegram, which close inspection shows to be doubtful?” The Shadow passed both messages to Lewsham, who compared them. Each was marked as being from Carlisle; but the one which Selbrock had received did not quite match the one that he swore he had dispatched to-day. There were minor differences. Lewsham’s eyes narrowed as he studied them.

“I can answer the questions,” assured The Shadow, quietly. “The Harvester realized that he could not incriminate Selbrock. Hence such a step was not his initial purpose. He merely desired to remove Selbrock to London; and with good reason.

“The Harvester knew that funds were coming to the offices of Rudlow, Limited — funds that Selbrock could claim by merely signing over the options. The Harvester wanted to hold those funds until the rajah arrived with another supply of wealth. Then he would have access — as Craybaw — to both.

“There was one step necessary; namely, to send Lionel Selbrock so far from London that he could not return until late to-day. The very schedule that Selbrock had given us is proof that such was the purpose.

The Harvester arranged that Selbrock would not reach London until nearly five o’clock — too late to reach the offices of Rudlow, Limited, before the closing hour. Too late, in any event, to arrive before the double wealth was stolen.”

The logic of The Shadow’s quiet tone was impressive. Listeners nodded in spite of themselves. The Shadow added a final clincher.

“Had The Harvester felt that he could throw the blame on Selbrock,” he added, “he would have hoaxed him further — to some place in Scotland. But The Harvester knew that Selbrock could stand the test. To accuse Selbrock is a folly, which is merely lengthening the short space of time which still belongs to The Harvester.

“For I assure you that the master criminal can be unmasked. Once his name is known, with his true identity, he can be taken. Cold logic should make his name apparent—”

“Jed Ranworthy!”

THE exclamation came from Justin Craybaw, who rose from behind his desk. Sir Ernest Jennup also sprang to his feet. Sidney Lewsham gave a quick nod. He turned to the Rajah of Delapore.

“Your secretary!” exclaimed Lewsham. “We are seeking him, your excellency. Can you help us?”

“He said that he was going to Yarmouth,” replied the rajah, slowly. “He was to return tonight. If only I had known; if I had but suspected—”

Some one was rapping at the door. Delka opened it. An outside man was there, with new information:

“Layton is here. He has bagged the bounder whom he was set to trap.”

“Jed Ranworthy?”

“Yes. Layton is bringing him into the house.”

Footsteps followed the announcement. All gazed expectantly toward the door. They were not disappointed. Layton and another Scotland Yard man arrived, a prisoner between them. The man whom they had captured was nervous in his manner, blinking his dark, beady eyes.

There was no doubt as to the prisoner’s identity. That long-nosed, sallow face beneath the sleek black hair, characterized a countenance that was quickly recognized. Hard upon The Shadow’s statement; immediately after Justin Craybaw’s declaration of Ranworthy’s name, the secretary had been brought before this board of inquisition.

Again, Harry Vincent discerned a firm smile upon the masklike lips that were The Shadow’s. This time, Harry was convinced that the game had found its end. The Harvester was here within this very room.

Under the master quizzing of The Shadow, The Harvester’s machinations would be revealed.

But Harry Vincent did not realize the strange, cross-current of events that was to ensue before the game was finally completed. Only The Shadow knew!