“A call from whom?”
“I do not know. Probably some one whom Fitzroy had instructed to call me. I came here, only to be arrested by your men. I was amazed to learn that Fitzroy was dead. How did he die?”
“Paralysis. Natural death, apparently. But if you think—”
“I suspect nothing” — Marquette was thoughtful — “but I should like to know any peculiar circumstances—”
“Fitzroy spoke before he died,” interposed Cardona. “He said something about a secret mark—”
“A secret mark—”
“Yes.” Cardona drew a paper from his pocket. “This is what the hotel physician and the house detective said. Fitzroy, just before he died, was trying to speak. His words could not be understood, except these three: ‘Tell mark secret.’ Those words seemed to be part of a sentence—”
“Wait a moment” — Marquette was smiling — “I think I understand. I know what Fitzroy was trying to say. ‘Tell mark secret’ — with little gaps between—”
“Yes — with gaps between.”
“In full, ‘Tell Victor Marquette of the secret service’ — or something to that effect.”
CARDONA was thoughtful for a moment. Then he slowly nodded. He saw the connection.
“You’ve got it!” he declared. “He wanted to get in touch with you. That was the idea, eh?”
“Of course. Fitzroy knew I was in New York. He would naturally have tried to communicate with me. Did you find any articles upon his person?”
Cardona pointed to the writing desk. Marquette arose and went in that direction. Cardona indicated the gold coin; also the feather.
“What do you make of those?” he asked.
“The coin” — Marquette was thoughtful — “well, any secret-service man might pick up one of those. The feather — hm-m-m — it’s odd, but hardly significant. But just a moment — where’s Fitzroy’s badge?”
Cardona looked puzzled.
“We went through his pockets,” he said.
“Including his watch pocket?” asked Marquette.
“We may have missed that,” admitted Cardona.
Marquette stooped over the body. He reached into the watch pocket of Fitzroy’s trousers and brought out a secret-service badge.
“Fitzroy always carried the badge in his watch pocket,” observed Marquette. “Poor Fitz” — he looked solemnly at the body — “I didn’t expect to find him dead.”
“There’s no evidence of murder,” declared Cardona, “but the whole affair looks bad to me—”
“What are you doing with the body?” questioned Marquette.
“Sending it to the morgue,” responded Cardona, “unless you have some other plan.”
“Send it there,” said Marquette solemnly. “The less talk about this, the better. Fitzroy — this is strictly confidential — was engaged upon certain work of investigation. I see nothing to indicate that he was murdered. Nevertheless, it would be a great mistake to have it known that he was a secret-service man. You understand?
“Send the body to the morgue. I shall see to its identification, with very little said.”
Cardona nodded. He pointed to the articles on the table.
“You want those?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Marquette. “I can assure you that if Fitzroy was involved in any dangerous business, it must have taken place outside of New York. I may be able to trace his activities. If so—”
“I get you.”
Cardona walked to the door of the room. He summoned the men who were outside. They entered, surprised to see Marquette standing free.
“This man is all right,” said Cardona gruffly. “He’s an old friend of Fitzroy’s. We’re sending the body to the morgue. That’s all.”
He followed the three, and spoke in a low tone to the house detective. The two were outside the door during the discussion. Vic Marquette was leaning over the body while they were absent.
With deliberate action, Marquette slipped his fingers into Fitzroy’s watch pocket and drew forth a small slip of paper. His back turned toward the door, Marquette examined the paper.
He had noticed it when he had withdrawn Fitzroy’s badge, but had made no comment. The slip was a railroad coupon, indicating a cash fare paid from a town named Westbrook Falls to New York City.
Marquette was standing by the desk when Cardona returned with the house detective. In his hand, the secret-service man was holding an envelope.
Within that envelope, he had placed the slip of paper that he had found.
“These two articles” — Vic Marquette picked up the coin and the feather — “may be of some importance. I shall study them.”
He dropped the two objects into the envelope and carelessly laid the latter on the desk. He took the rest of Fitzroy’s belongings and put them in another envelope. Cardona nodded his approval.
“I think,” said Cardona, “that we can tell this man the circumstances — ” He was indicating the house detective.
Marquette was thoughtful; then gave his approval. In a low tone, Cardona explained Marquette’s connection with the secret service.
“Nothing is to be said,” warned Marquette. “I know what Fitzroy was doing. He probably gained some results. It will be my job to follow out his work.”
POLICEMEN arrived to take the body to the morgue. The dead form of Jerry Fitzroy was carried from the room. Cardona and Marquette followed, and stood just outside the door.
The envelopes which Marquette had used were lying, unsealed, upon the writing desk.
It was then that a strange incident occurred.
While the men at the door were watching the removal of Fitzroy’s body, something moved inward from the blackness outside the window. A human arm reached toward the desk. A black-gloved hand plucked the envelope that contained the coin, the feather, and the railway coupon.
A few minutes later, Cardona and Marquette returned to the room. They were preparing to leave. Vic Marquette picked up the two envelopes. The one that had been removed, was now replaced in its former position, by the same hand that had taken it.
The detective and the secret-service man went down the elevator together. They shook hands and parted outside the Metrolite Hotel. They went in opposite directions.
Alone, Vic Marquette opened the more important of the two envelopes. Standing near a light, he quickly examined the three articles. He smiled as he held the twenty-franc piece. He nodded as he looked at the railroad coupon; he frowned as he held the feather.
The significance of two articles was plain to Vic Marquette as he went on his way. The gold coin and the railway coupon held a definite meaning. The feather — despite the fact that Marquette had expressed no interest regarding it to Cardona — might also be important. What it meant was something Vic Marquette intended to learn.
One matter perplexed the secret-service man. To-night, as he had told Cardona, he had received a call, telling him to come to the Metrolite Hotel, to meet Jerry Fitzroy. Marquette had answered that call immediately.
The message had been sent after Fitzroy was dead — not before! The person who had communicated by telephone — a man who spoke in a quiet voice — had given no statement of identity. This was puzzling. It indicated the presence of an unknown person in the maze that surrounded the death of Jerry Fitzroy.
Nevertheless, Vic Marquette was not worrying about the identity of the unknown informant when he boarded a sleeper for Westbrook Falls, some time after midnight. The secret-service man was content with the thought that he possessed the only clews to Jerry Fitzroy’s actions — and that of those clews, the most important was his alone.
He had the railway coupon that told where Jerry Fitzroy had been. He, only, had connected the mystery with the town of Westbrook Falls, wither he was now traveling!