“The company was pillaged by its officers. The government stepped in to end the swindle. Jackson Gleek, the general manager, committed suicide. Lester Drayson, the president, fled the country. The receivers who were appointed found the affairs of the company in a deplorable condition.”
Weston and Cardona nodded. They were familiar with this phase of the situation. They wanted to learn the part that followed. From behind his flat-topped desk, Wimbledon began to speak upon this matter.
“Universal Aircraft,” he stated, “had lists of unfilled orders. It was because of that fact that I, as president of the World Wide Aviation Company, advised our directors to take over the defunct corporation.
“Our profit will be slight. Nevertheless, for the good of the industry, it was the proper stand for us to take. When I came to study the books of the Universal Aircraft Corporation, I saw an opportunity that I had not foreseen.
“UNIVERSAL AIRCRAFT, gentlemen, had been robbed of approximately five million dollars. The stealing of that sum could be laid directly upon the work of Jackson Gleek, the general manager. It was obvious, however, that Gleek was merely a cat’s paw. What became of the five million dollars?”
“Lester Drayson must have taken it,” answered Weston. “He was the president. His hasty flight after the discovery of the swindle stands as proof against him.”
“True,” agreed Wimbledon. “Drayson must have gained a share of the spoils. But he was absent from New York during a considerable period while the thefts were being made. He was in Chicago when the exposure broke. He fled from that city. Therefore, I came to the conclusion that there must be others in the game.”
“Officers of the corporation?”
“No. Drayson and Gleek were the only two who possessed a real control. I mean lesser men — tools, like Gleek, but smaller. It is my belief, commissioner, that certain men in New York are holding lumps of money for later division with Lester Drayson.”
“I see,” Weston nodded. “They would get their share, of course. At the same time, they would have to come clean with Drayson, or he could expose them.”
“Precisely,” announced Wimbledon. “That is why I hired MacAvoy Crane as a special investigator. I set him to work with the purpose of locating former associates of Lester Drayson. Could they be discovered and made to disgorge funds that they may possess, the recovered money can be given to the receivers who handled Universal Aircraft Corporation. They, in turn, might see fit to refund a portion of the purchase price that World Wide gave for the defunct corporation.”
There was a rap at the door as Wimbledon finished his statement. The aircraft magnate called; the door opened and a quiet-faced servant appeared.
“A telephone call, sir,” the man announced. “It was from Mr. Lamont Cranston.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Wimbledon. “Is he on the wire?”
“No, sir,” replied the servant. “He said that he would come to visit you this evening. Then he hung up.”
“All right, Harkin,” laughed Wimbledon. “When Mr. Cranston arrives, inform me at once. I shall see him.”
“You are acquainted with Lamont Cranston?” inquired Weston, as Harkin left. “I know him quite well myself; it seems that he is widely acquainted in New York.”
“He purchased a special plane through World Wide Aircraft,” stated Wimbledon. “That was about a year ago. I have met him several times since then. It is quite droll, the way he told Harkin he would be here. Cranston is very informal at times. A matter of an appointment would never deter him.”
Wimbledon smiled as he tapped the desk with his fingers. Then, abruptly, he forgot the interruption and came back to the important point.
“MACAVOY CRANE telephoned me last night,” announced Wimbledon. “Harkin took the message. From what Crane told him, the job was done. I believe that Crane had gained the data that I sought.
“Crane did not call again. This morning, I read in the newspapers that he had been murdered by Strangler Hunn; that burned papers had been found in his wastebasket.
“Gentlemen, I am convinced that those papers were the documents which I required. There can be but one reason for the slaying of MacAvoy Crane. Strangler Hunn was hired to kill him — hired as the agent of the swindlers whom I am seeking.”
Weston nodded. The theory seemed plausible.
“Either by the men themselves,” continued Wimbledon, “or by the king pin of them all — Lester Drayson. It may be he who chose Strangler to act as the assassin.”
“But Drayson has fled the country,” stated Cardona.
“Are we sure that he has not returned?” questioned Wimbledon, swinging promptly toward the detective.
“He may be hiding. He may have been watching Crane. More than that, he may be trying to negotiate with the very men whom I have assumed were connected with him.”
“But you don’t know who they could be?”
“No. That was the job I left to Crane. The fact that the papers were destroyed seems proof — to me at least — that Crane had gained the names of certain men. But Crane’s evidence has turned to ashes.”
“Yes.” It was Weston who inserted the grim utterance. “Last night I ordered the capture of Strangler Hunn. The job was done; but the victory was a failure. Had a single paper been recovered from those burned ashes, it might have served us as a starting point!”
“One moment, commissioner.” Cardona reached into his coat pocket and produced a pad of paper.
While Weston and Wimbledon stared curiously, the detective brought out a folded envelope from his vest.
“This pad,” stated the detective, “was on Crane’s desk. You can see that a sheet has been hurriedly torn from it. Here” — he opened the envelope and produced the fragment — “is a piece from a torn sheet. It must have missed the basket when Strangler threw it there.
“Look at those scrawled letters. See how the paper is torn crooked. Do you know what this is? It’s something that Strangler Hunn wrote down — something he wanted to get rid of!”
WESTON was examining the torn bit of paper. He passed it over to Wimbledon, who eyed it curiously, and turned it about between his hands.
“I think you’re right, Cardona,” affirmed the commissioner. “Strangler must have done that crude writing. But what does it mean?”
“Men 13,” read Wimbledon. “This is indeed perplexing. Do you think it could refer to something that the murderer discovered in Crane’s papers?”
“Yes,” asserted Cardona. “From what you’ve been saying, Mr. Wimbledon, I take it that Strangler may have counted a list of names. If there were thirteen, he might have written that fact for reference.”
“Let me see the paper.” Weston took it from Wimbledon. “I doubt your theory, Cardona. This scrawl could have been Strangler’s work; the man had only one arm and that was the left one. But I think he would have put the number 13 above the word ‘men’ — not below.”
“A good point,” observed Wimbledon. “At the same time, commissioner, the murderer was in a hurry. He may have marked the word and the number in reverse fashion.”
“Possibly,” declared Weston. “Furthermore, we have no assurance that this is all the murderer wrote. The wide spaces between those letters and figures; the irregularity of the inscription itself — both indicate that this is but a fragment of whatever message Strangler Hunn was inscribing.
“The value of this clew is slight. It signifies no more than we have already supposed. We know that Strangler may have purposely destroyed the documents which Crane had prepared for you. The fact that he made a memorandum afterward; then destroyed his own notation — well, it supports our theory. That is all.”