While Fredericks spoke with the physician, Cardona began to quiz the witnesses. Weston and Biscayne watched in admiration while the businesslike detective made pointed notations.
Within a few minutes, Cardona had traced Glenn’s movements up until the time of his death. Carrying notes, the detective went to a telephone in another room, to call the Merrimac Club, where Glenn had been that evening.
He was gone for fifteen minutes. Then he called to the commissioner. Weston and Biscayne joined Cardona.
Seated in Louis Glenn’s sumptuous living room, Cardona gave a brief but definite summary of his findings.
“Glenn went out of town two weeks ago,” he declared. “He was in the Middle West — due back here tonight. He went directly from the train to the Merrimac Club, where he has a private room.
“He had made the trip East specially to attend a fraternity dinner that was being held tonight.
“He was going back to Chicago on a midnight train. So he left the club early to come here.
“There are a number of persons whom I shall have to question. I wanted to get the outline of Glenn’s activities right away — and I did that by telephone.
“Glenn was met by several of his friends when he came into the club at six o’clock. Some one was evidently with him from then on. He seemed in good spirits and in perfect health.
“He ate the same meal as the others, and no one else has complained of any ill effects. When Glenn left, he stepped into a cab that the doorman called. The driver is known down there.
“I have checked the time, and I figure that they made a quick trip here. The driver saw Glenn doubled up on the floor when he reached out to open the door for his passenger.
“Whatever happened to Glenn took place while he was on his way here. Yet he was alone when he left the club, and alone when the cab reached this apartment house.
“I intend to hold the driver for further questioning. I have a list of names here” — he showed the paper — “and I’m going to quiz these men.”
Doctor Fredericks entered as Cardona finished speaking. The physician’s face was both solemn and perplexed.
“Glenn unquestionably died from the effects of a most virulent poison,” declared Fredericks.
“I thought at first it might have been an overdose of some medicine or a narcotic, but now I regard those possibilities as being out of the question. What I should like to learn is how the poison was administered.
“An autopsy should reveal its nature, but it may not give a clew to how the dose was taken.”
Accompanied by Biscayne, Cardona descended to the street, and made a thorough inspection of the taxicab, which was being watched by one of the policemen. The search revealed nothing.
Back in the apartment, Cardona made a call to headquarters. He left orders there, then started a systematic search of Louis Glenn’s abode. He found nothing that excited his suspicion.
He questioned the valet, and obtained information regarding Glenn’s habits. The man stated that his employer had never, to his knowledge, indulged in narcotics, nor did he use liquor.
This statement was not only in keeping with the inspection which Cardona had made; it was also corroborated by a telephone call from Glenn’s physician, who had been notified of the death.
Cardona learned that Louis Glenn had seldom used medicine of any description; that he had been in excellent health and particularly proud of his physical condition. He was a cigarette smoker, but mild in that habit.
During the search, Cardona came across some empty boxes that had contained cigarettes. These were of an imported variety, a blend which Glenn constantly used according to the valet.
Inspecting the articles in Glenn’s pockets, Cardona discovered a package of the same cigarettes. There were three cigarettes in the box. There had originally been ten, packed in two layers of five each.
Cardona kept the package. He also took Glenn’s handkerchief, expressing the belief that it might have been moistened with some liquid containing poison.
Cardona was seeking facts. He could not find them. When he had satisfied himself that he could accomplish no more at the apartment, he left for the Merrimac Club, to investigate there.
IT was after midnight, and Commissioner Weston was driving homeward with his friend, Professor Biscayne.
“What do you make of these deaths?” was Weston’s question.
“Both are baffling,” declared Biscayne. “This man Cardona is a worker. He may hit upon a successful clew before he has finished.”
“He obtains results,” said Weston. “It is the first time I have seen him at work. His method is all fact — he uses theory only as a follow-up.
“In the case of Harshaw, he intends to find out what has become of Homer Briggs, the old man’s servant. He wants to know whom the old man regarded as enemies.
“There, he is dealing with the death of a man who was eccentric. It will be hard for him to establish facts at their face value.
“But this case of Glenn is entirely different. Here is a man who was evidently well liked and prosperous. He has apparently fallen at the hand of some enemy. Everything about Glenn seems normal.”
“So far as deductive reasoning is concerned,” said Biscayne, “neither case is sufficiently developed to require it. You have said, yourself, commissioner, that Detective Cardona obtains results. I do not doubt it.
“By gathering many facts, he can pick those which appear pertinent to the case. One simple discovery may lead to the end of the trail.
“However” — Biscayne’s tone became thoughtful — “the necessary facts may be totally hidden. We have seen two cases of what appear to be deliberate murder. We cannot be sure in either one.
“Sometimes men are killed by mistake. I am anxious to watch Cardona as he progresses. At this stage, I cannot help him; in fact, I am quite apt to hinder him. The work he is doing now does not appeal to me.
“I am more interested in the study of the facts themselves. To me, it is fascinating to take the details of a crime — particularly murder — to know that the elusive clew is among them, and to seek it by the pure process of deduction.”
“Exactly!” exclaimed Weston. “I told Cardona, to-day, that that was his one failing — an inability to resort to scientific deduction when all other methods are insufficient. He claims that he has hunches—”
“Intuitive deductions,” interposed Biscayne with a smile.
“—but,” continued Weston, “from his past record, I have seen that he goes wide of the mark when pure theory is involved. Take, for example, the case of the man he calls The Shadow.”
“The Shadow?” echoed Biscayne.
“Yes,” said Weston. “Cardona seems to believe in the existence of a superman called The Shadow — a terror of the underworld.”
“The Shadow,” observed Biscayne, “is the name adopted by a man who makes radio announcements. I have heard him over the air — he has a weird, uncanny laugh.”
“Well,” declared Weston, “Cardona has taken care of that. He actually believes that there is a connection between the radio announcer and the strange being who moves by night.”
“Not really!” exclaimed Biscayne. “That is too absurd, especially for a man so attentive to detail as Detective Cardona—”
“I mean it, Biscayne,” affirmed the commissioner. “Cardona claims that he has received mysterious information pertaining to certain cases which he has handled.
“He tells me that he has heard telephoned messages, uttered in that same weird voice. He says that he has encountered a man in black, but has never been able to discover his identity.”
“THAT is excusable, commissioner,” said Biscayne, in an indulgent tone. “We might almost regard it as a form of superstition with Cardona.