“On the one side there is straight theft of a priceless industrial secret and willingness to murder. On the other, sabotage and blackmail and an unwillingness to take life. It would almost seem as if not one plot were involved here — but two”
Smitty spoke, softly, so as not to break the thread of thought too abruptly.
“Yet the pencil that wrote the extortion note was in the pocket of one of the men who stole the car and planned the murders.”
“That’s right,” nodded Benson. “With the explanation that the pencil simply came to him in the mail from an unknown sender. A ridiculous-sounding explanation, but one that I’m inclined to think is true.”
His eyes glinted and he stopped his musing aloud. It told that he had speculated about as much as the facts warranted, and was ready for action again.
“Nellie, please bring Miss Jackson in.”
In a moment Nellie Gray came from another of the rooms in the suite, with Doris Jackson in tow. Doris, beautiful and slim and tall, tried to look dumb, grateful for what The Avenger had done for her and outwardly willing to help, all at one time.
Benson’s pale, infallible eyes stared at her face for a full moment, studying jaw line, set of ears, shape of nose and chin. Then he said evenly:
“Will Willis is your father, isn’t he?”
The rest gasped, and Doris’s pretense at being dumb and willing to help but unable to supply real information crumbled like sand.
Her hand went to her throat and her eyes went wide.
“Why… no—” she faltered. “He isn’t — he is just an old friend of—”
“He is your father. The cast of your countenance shows it. Though I got it back at the river when you held a gun on us so he could get away.”
Doris stood breathless before him.
“He disguised himself a little and took another name,” said Benson, “so he could work at tracing his mystery car and not be recognized by the gang as the inventor. Also, it allowed him more leeway in trying to help you out of a jam after they caught you. That’s right, isn’t it?”
The defiance went out of Doris’s face.
“Yes — that’s right,” she admitted slowly.
“Where is he, now?”
“I don’t know,” said Doris. And her voice rang true.
“You don’t know where he went after leaving Dock 13?”
“No.”
“Why did you keep me from taking him with me and guarding him here?”
Doris caught her lip between her teeth.
“His life is in such danger from so many people,” she admitted finally, “that we didn’t think it wise for even you to have him at your mercy. There was one chance in a thousand that you might sell him out. I think, now, that probably that was a foolish mistake. But it didn’t seem so, then.”
“You don’t know where to reach him, now?” persisted The Avenger.
“No, I don’t. All through this, I haven’t known where he was or been able to contact him. He went away from home several weeks ago; just disappeared. I guess later, when I heard the Marr-Car was stolen, that he was on the trail of it. But at first I didn’t know. And I tried every way I knew to find him. I learned when and where the mystery car was to be tried out and hid there to see if he would be among the men with it. He wasn’t. Later, in New York, on my way to your place, I went toward Marr’s house to see if he knew where dad was. I never got there, I was kidnaped.”
“Apparently you don’t think he has much chance of getting the car back by himself.”
“Heavens, no,” said Doris. “He’s an absent-minded, dreamy, brilliant, impractical man. He has no more business chasing after gangsters than a baby.”
“You have told me all you know of this?” The Avenger demanded.
Doris hesitated a moment, then said steadily, “Yes, that is all I know.”
At the door, Smitty made silent lip-motions which Benson read as easily as print:
“Josh is back. I think he has some dope on young Cole Wilson.”
CHAPTER XVI
Ashes Come to Life
Josh Newton had dug up a remarkably complete book of facts on the past life of Cole Wilson. So many, in fact, as to hint that Wilson didn’t try to hide his past in any way, and hence was perhaps a respectable citizen.
Wilson had gone to one of the best engineering schools in the country, where he had had a brilliant record. He had graduated directly into a job with Marcus Marr, where he had helped Phineas Jackson.
One reason for the job was that he was almost a member of Jackson’s family. Phineas, Josh had found out, had practically adopted Cole Wilson when Wilson was a homeless boy of twelve. Wilson had lived with the Jacksons ever since, till about a year ago when he had taken the apartment in the Shelton Arms.
The only dubious part of Wilson’s past was a repeated tendency to radical political ideas. Though even these were of no particular line. He didn’t seem to hold any particular political belief, but he was always popping off in radical ways.
“Kind of for the underdog,” Josh put in thoughtfully.
“If he heard of anybody working for practically nothing, he was apt to go hotly off and soap box around to help them get better wages. If Wilson heard of somebody in trouble through no fault of his own, even if he didn’t know the person, he’d go out and get into all kinds of a mess trying to help. Kind of a baby Robin Hood.”
Smitty shook his head.
“He seems to have gotten away from that, now! There’s murder in this Marr mess. And he’s mixed up in it as sure as there’s a sun in the West.”
“Go on,” was all The Avenger said, pale eyes like polished agate.
But it seemed that was all to report. Josh had been unable to trace Wilson’s moves for the past few weeks.
“It doesn’t seem to me I got hold of anything very helpful,” said Josh apologetically.
But The Avenger’s face, so newly able to express thoughts, showed that he considered some part of that report quite useful indeed. Though he didn’t talk about it.
And then Nellie phoned in. She had finally traced the call yesterday, and since then had been nosing around the neighborhood. Her tone of voice indicated that she’d found something pretty interesting.
“I’m talking from the booth Willis used yesterday,” she said. She didn’t know yet that Willis and Phineas Jackson were one and the same person. “You know, out on Jefferson Avenue. I’ve been looking and inquiring around again to see if anybody knew anything about Willis. And I got no answer to that. But I did get something else. Something about the mystery car.”
Blonde Nellie’s voice held a triumphant note.
“I was talking to a newsboy near here, and he said he saw a funny-looking car driven past, late last night. A very funny-looking car! And it had no lights and was going like the wind. Then it slowed up, right near the drugstore where this phone booth is, and he didn’t see it any more. After that, I tried a new angle of investigation. Instead of looking for traces of Willis, I tried to trace the car. And, chief, I did! It’s in a garage, a block west of here. I sneaked in and got a look at it. Almost got caught at it, too. It is the mystery Marr-Car, sure enough!”
“Great work,” said Benson. “Stay where you are, and we’ll be out at once — wait a minute!”
For Josh was motioning that Mac was on another phone with an urgent message for The Avenger.