“Yes, sir,” said the secretary.
“Card number four fifty-three; secured note for fifteen hundred...”
There was a knock at the door.
The banker frowned.
“Open it, Miller. I left orders I wasn’t to be disturbed. See what...”
The secretary opened the door.
The tall form of Sidney Zoom stood in the doorway. Behind him an apologetic clerk was endeavoring to explain.
“I’m busy,” rasped the banker. “I left orders...”
Sidney Zoom made a surreptitious motion with his wrist.
The police dog, keen eyes seeing that motion, trained as he was to take orders from his master by a mere flip of the fingers or a slight movement of the hand, walked deliberately into that room and sniffed at the banker, then sniffed at the secretary.
Sidney Zoom smiled sardonically.
“Pardon the intrusion,” he said. “The dog is engaged in certain police work. I wanted him to get your odors. That is all. Come, Rip.”
The dog trotted to him. Sidney Zoom turned away. The banker jumped to his feet instantly, his face flushed.
“Here, what’s the meaning of this unwarranted intrusion? You can’t get away with that. I shall call the police. You walked in back of the counters of this bank without permission. You...”
The banker broke off, sputtering in rage.
“Exactly,” said Sidney Zoom, pausing mid-stride to look back at the banker. “I assure you, Mr. Culvert, that had the information not been most vital, I would not have resorted to this means to get it.”
His voice was formal, well modulated, yet it had something in it akin to the tolling of a bell.
“I am investigating,” he went on, “the murder of Frank Strome. You are probably aware that, coincident with that death, certain papers disappeared. You may or may not be aware of the contents of that file. Thank you for having given the dog the information.”
And Sidney Zoom resumed his progress toward the street.
But, over his shoulder, he could see the banker. That individual was reaching for the telephone. And the color of his face was whiter by several shades than when he had been showing his rage at an unwarranted interruption.
Sidney Zoom strolled down the main street of Dellboro. He was conscious of eyes that turned to him in swift curiosity, of whispered comments that were made as he passed. News travels fast in a country community and word had passed about as to the identity of the owner of the strange craft that had slipped so quietly to a mooring.
Sidney Zoom walked directly to the stairway which led to the offices of the county attorney. Those offices had been taken over by Carl Purcell when he had succeeded to the office upon the death of his superior. They were the same offices into which Sidney Zoom had entered during the dark hours of the early morning, following the trail of the mysterious young woman.
Now Sidney Zoom surveyed those offices, looked about the street at the various store buildings, craned his neck upward at the cloudless blue of the sky.
Then he slowly walked out into the middle of the street, paused, stared about him.
A motorist paused to hurl some sarcastic comment. Another driver applied the brakes with sufficient force to skid the tires. But Sidney Zoom seemed entirely oblivious of them. He was engaged in looking up and down the street, carefully scanning the buildings upon either side.
At length he crossed to the opposite side, walked down the sidewalk for some fifty yards, and turned into an entranceway which led to a flight of stairs, stairs which were musty and dark with the grime of years. They showed no sign of paint or care. Cobwebs were in the comers. They led up to a dark and gloomy hallway.
Sidney Zoom, the police dog at his side, ascended those stairs with an unhurried gait. His entrance to the building was not unnoticed.
The building had once contained offices of the cheaper sort. Some of the doors still bore signs which indicated the occupations of the previous tenants. One and all they were the sort of occupations which required plenty of space at a very low rental.
The offices were now vacant. Some of the doors stood open, disclosing rooms which were littered with refuse. Some of the doors were closed. One was locked.
Sidney Zoom gave some attention to that locked door. He produced a skeleton key from his pocket and opened the door. He went into the room.
The litter in this room was not as bad as the litter in the other rooms. There was even a chair in the room. It was rather a run-down chair, to be sure, but a chair, nevertheless, and it was faced in such a position that a person sitting in it would be facing the window of the room on an angle.
The window of that room was grimy with dust, dirt and cobwebs. The sash had once been varnished, but the varnish had deteriorated into dirty lumps which showed only a faint trace of gloss. Dust had settled upon sash and sill.
Sidney Zoom left the door open behind him. He deposited himself in the rickety chair, took a cigarette from a pocket case, lit it, sat smoking, apparently without a single thing to do other than to enter the deserted offices of vacant buildings and while away the morning hours.
The police dog, sniffing around him at the litter of the room, regarded his master with curious, attentive eyes, then flung himself upon the bare floor, and settled his head upon his paws.
For several minutes they remained in this position, the man on the chair, smoking, the dog on the floor sleeping.
Then the keen ears of the dog caught some sound. He raised his head and cocked his ears. He glanced at his master with yellow eyes that were suddenly hard and alert. Then he gave a low growl.
Sidney Zoom heard that warning signal. He got to his feet.
“Steady, Rip,” he said. “Don’t move. Keep quiet. It’s all right.”
Sidney Zoom went to the dust-covered sash of the window. He took his fingers and pressed them into the dust of the sash, put the tips down on the sill. The fingers left very plain prints in the dust. He pressed a finger against the glass of the window. Then he took a small box from his pocket, opened the lid, and disclosed a yellow powder, a chrome which is particularly efficacious in bringing out the distinguishing marks of latent finger-prints.
The police dog growled once more, ominously.
Steps sounded in the outer corridor of the vacant office building. The steps were audible, yet cautious, the sort of steps a man would make who was of heavy build, yet was trying to walk cautiously.
Sidney Zoom quieted the dog once more, ordered him to stay where he was, no matter what happened. Then he turned his attention to the finger-print on the window. He opened a little book, and started sketching.
A figure bulked in the doorway.
A booming voice suddenly cut the silence.
“If that dog attacks me I’ll shoot him!”
Chapter VII
The Vanishing Shell
Sidney Zoom gave a convulsive start, the start of a man who is absorbed in work and fancies that he is alone, yet who is suddenly surprised by the sound of a human voice.
He turned and stared at the big man in the doorway.
The man had a gun in his right hand, a wide-brimmed black hat on his head, a gold shield on his vest, and a left eye which was almost closed, and which had turned a very deep shade of black. The gun he held was a heavy automatic.
“The dog,” said Sidney Zoom, “will not bother you unless you bother him. And may I ask what you’re doing here with a drawn gun?”
The man held Zoom with his eyes, the one steady, granite hard and baleful, the other bloodshot, rimmed by flesh of greenish black.
“I’m here,” growled the man, “to find out what the devil you’re doing here. This building has been condemned. You’ve no business here. What’s more, this door was locked. You’ve evidently picked that lock. That’s breaking and entering, and that’s a penal offense.”