“Didn’t think you would. He’s—”
“He’s what?”
Dow’s lips closed stubbornly.
“Say, fella—” began Darwin threateningly.
“It’s gettin’ late and I got a lotta work to do,” Dow protested.
“We can hold you for twenty-four hours without a warrant,” warned Farnsworth.
“That won’t hurt me none.”
“What’d your wife say ’bout you bein’ in the can?” asked Darwin.
“Well, plenty. Whatta you wanta know, inspector?”
“Have you and Starr had trouble?”
Dow nodded sullenly.
“What kind of trouble?” asked Farnsworth.
“I jumped him because the halls was dirty. It didn’t do no good. I jumped him a couple more times. He told me to mind my own business. I told him I’d turn him in to Mr. Conroy. He didn’t say nothin’, but he looked at me with them black eyes of his and I seen the whites begin to turn red. I know that sign. But the next mornin’ I went to Mr. Conroy’s office and turned Starr in. It didn’t get me nothin’, but I done my duty.
“That night when Starr came in, he went down to the basement and didn’t come up again. I figgered he was waitin’ for me to come down so we could have it out. I wanted it settled, too. So I went down. We tangled. I beat him up. Since then, we ain’t spoke.”
Dow stopped, and Farnsworth gazed into his eyes intently. Dow’s foot moved slightly and the toe of his shoe scuffed the carpet.
So thickly did the clouds overcast the sky now that the shadows extended from the corners to the center of the room. The sparrow had deserted the window ledge. The rumble of the thunder could no longer be heard. The voice of the city had become muted. No sounds came through the wide open windows. The breathless silence seemed unreal.
“You haven’t told us all,” said Farnsworth, his voice, though there was no change in pitch or tone, sounding strange in that unnatural stillness.
Dow brushed a big hand across his eyes quickly.
“I skipped some,” he admitted.
“Why?”
Dow raised his head.
“Were you in France, inspector?”
“I was over there with the Thirty-Second Division.”
“I can talk to you. Funny things happened over there. Nights, when we was waitin’ to go over the top, I seen the gray mists. You know, them gray night mists that hang over the battlefields, that change to human shapes and dance. I seen the dead layin’ out in No Man’s Land get up and dance with ’em. I seen other queer things, queer things that’d make a fella believe in ghosts — things nobody could explain.”
“There are things none of us can explain.”
“And in this buildin’, in the old Tremont Buildin’, right downstairs in the basement of the old Tremont Buildin’, I seen somethin’ I can’t explain!”
A few drops of rain splashed gently on the window ledge. Dow drew back into the shadows, and Darwin, in response to a barely perceptible motion of Farnsworth’s hand so changed his position that he stood between Dow and the window beside Thompson’s desk.
“It was dark down there in the basement,” Dow went on as if having once started he was eager to continue. “There wasn’t no lights on. But the furnace was goin’ and the dampers was up. From them dampers come two red streaks — runnin’ across to the wall. I looked around tryin’ to see Starr. It was so late all the tenants had went. I stood there strainin’ my eyes and peerin’. I don’t know what held me there.
“All of a sudden, somethin’ broke them two red rods — somethin’ went right through ’em. I couldn’t hear nothin’ and I couldn’t see nothin’ except that them two red rods was broke. I thought for a second it was imagination.
“Then I seen it!” In the semi-darkness Dow’s face looked like bread dough. “I seen it plain. But I couldn’t make out what it was. It didn’t have no shape. It was just a gray thing. It was like them gray night mists dancin’ in the night breath from the battlefields. I reached for my gun.
“Then somethin’ got me — got me from behind! Two arms closed ’round me — two arms like a gorilla’s. I didn’t have a chance. When them arms closed ’round me, I was in France, in France lookin’ at gray night mists. It was Starr that had me — Starr was gruntin’ in my ear while his ape-arms was squeezin’ me. My strength come back and I fought.
“Down there in the dark we went to it. I couldn’t use my arms at all, but I could struggle. The harder I struggled, the harder he squeezed. Blue lights blinded my eyes. The harder Starr squeezed, the bigger and more blindin’ them blue lights got.
“My breath was goin’ fast. I felt like somethin’ insida me had busted. I was sick. I got so weak I thought I was all through — that Starr’d kill me down there. I stopped strugglin’ and collected what strength I had left. Then I kicked backward. I kicked hard. Starr’s arms came loose.
“As he was keelin’ over, I staggered away from him and fell down myself. But my eyes was open and. the blue lights was gone. That gray thing come outta the black and walked right toward me. It wasn’t night mists. I hadn’t gone nuts. It was real. God knows how I got on my feet and pulled my gun. I was nearly all in. With my gun in my hand, I advanced. As I advanced, the thing backed up. It went into the shadows and... and... disappeared — completely.”
Without any warning, a tremendous, unreal, bluish glare dispelled all the shadows in Thompson’s office.
Instantly there was a roar as if a battery of heavy guns had fired a mighty salvo, such a mighty salvo that the ancient Tremont Building trembled as if it had been jarred loose from its old stone foundations.
Then a deluge of rain beat through the open windows.
Chapter IX
Timmons, the Attorney
The storm had passed. The sun shining from the clear blue sky made the streets gleam and glisten. But in contrast with its modern, tall neighbors, the Tremont Building, even in the bright sunlight, looked like a stunted, ragamuffin orphan, and broodingly sinister.
From the Tremont, Farnsworth, a well-tailored, immaculate figure, started briskly, the expression on his face that of one driven by fleeting minutes.
The latest report he had received from headquarters was that the girl found in the desk of Horace G. Thompson was still unidentified.
Nor had the whereabouts of Thompson been ascertained, though diligent efforts had been made by a detail from the detective bureau. Apparently, he had vanished without leaving a trace.
His big house on Russell Road, with its extensive grounds and screen of unkempt hedge, was empty, the windows and doors boarded up and no caretaker in charge. In fact, Farnsworth had been informed, the residence seemed to have been closed for a very long period of time.
Interviews with neighbors had produced nothing. Most of them did not know Thompson; others had caught only occasional glimpses of him. There was nothing strange or mysterious about that. Since the time when old Ezra Thompson, at the height of his success in the hotel business, had built the big red-brick residence, the character of the neighborhood had changed completely. Descendants of other old families had moved to new residential districts. Those who were living in Russell Road now made their livings with their hands. They regarded Horace Thompson merely as one who wished to be left alone.
Business associates of Thompson had proved hardly more helpful. The general opinion was that he was out of town. Within the last two years he had been away so much that his absences caused no curiosity, particularly as contacts with him were never more than casual. He had no close friends.
They had got nothing from Starr. Under the soothing influence of tepid baths and mild currents of electricity, he had quieted much, but was still disturbed. The last word received by Farnsworth had been that the attending physicians had put a stop to further questioning.