“None of those men realized that the robbery was coming. They died by violence. The robbery was a blind. It covered the previous rifling of the lower vault. It prevented a discovery of the actual securities which those trust funds contained. What is more: the funds that should have been in that vault were within the limit of the insurance which the Founders Trust Company carried.”
Silence followed these pointed remarks. Lamont Cranston picked up his coat from a chair. He placed the garment over his arm and paused, with hat in hand.
“I have given you a new theory,” he said to Barth. “It completely blasts your former opinions. Other ideas that you now hold will prove false if you use this new theory as your guide. I have said enough.
“There are others present who can speak. They will understand the full truth now that I have given you a fresh start. I promised you that I would make Dunwood Marrick talk. He is ready. Let him speak. Should you encounter new complications, commissioner” — there was a slight gibe in the even tone — “you will be able to reach me at the Cobalt Club. My car is waiting. It is time for me to leave.”
With that, Cranston strolled through the door into the hall. Wainwright Barth sat astounded as he looked about the group. A variety of expressions greeted him. Tobias Hildreth was staring, transfixed. Gorton Jodelle was looking toward the banker. Joe Cardona was pondering. Markham looked bewildered.
Wally Wilking was half ready to speak. Yet chaos still seemed to grip the young man’s brain. Dunwood Marrick, alone, was eager and ready for action. There was no reluctance in his expression. His jaw was thrust forward; his eyes were glaring from beneath their bushy brows.
Intense hatred seemed to grip the accused man. His face was vindictive. A fierce desire for revenge was paramount in Marrick’s attitude. Though still handcuffed, he clenched his fists as he rose to his feet and released a verbal outpour.
“I’ll talk!” rasped Marrick. “Listen to me, commissioner. I was blind. I could see but half the truth. Now I can tell the rest!”
CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW SPEAKS
“PROCEED,” ordered Commissioner Wainwright Barth.
“My story,” declared Marrick, in a harsh tone, “begins with the Garaucan bonds. I was swindled when I purchased them. The man who duped me was Sigby Rund.”
“We know this story, commissioner,” interposed Tobias Hildreth. “Why should we allow this criminal to beat about the bush?”
“Hear me out!” stormed Marrick.
Barth nodded as he silenced Hildreth with a wave of his hand.
“I looked for the big mind behind Rund,” proceeded Marrick. “I decided that he must be some one with a reputation. The scheme was one that required millions to begin with. No speculator could have attempted it. I went to the opposite extreme. I picked the most conservative of financiers.”
“Who was he?”
“The man who stands there beside you. Tobias Hildreth!”
“I shall not stand for this, commissioner!” exclaimed Hildreth. “You are in my home. No false accuser can blemish my name within my own walls.”
For once, Wainwright Barth showed remarkable judgment. The reply that he gave to Hildreth would have been worthy of a Solomon.
“You, yourself, have accused Dunwood Marrick,” said the commissioner, as he turned to Hildreth. “You made your accusation in this very room. You cannot deny another the privilege that you took upon yourself. Moreover” — Barth paused for emphasis — “false accusations reflect upon their makers. We shall permit Marrick to continue.”
Hildreth’s face turned purple. The portly banker glowered: first at Barth, then at Marrick. While Hildreth stood suppressing his rage, his niece Claire appeared at the door from the hall. No one noticed her arrival. Marrick had resumed.
“I paid Wally Wilking to investigate,” admitted Marrick. “He tried to worm information from Rudolph Zellwood. He tried to find out facts here.”
“What sort of facts?” quizzed Barth.
“Those pertaining to Garaucan bonds,” responded Marrick. “I believed that Hildreth — if he backed the swindle — would have stuffed his trust funds with those bonds. He had nothing to lose. He could look like a sucker with the rest of us.”
“I protest!” broke in Hildreth. “Commissioner, this man was apprehended in flight. He was carrying away securities that were listed among those stolen from my bank.”
“I bought those securities from Sigby Rund!” retaliated Marrick. “You used him to peddle good stuff along with the bad. I suspected it. That was why I had Wilking steal one of your lists. When I knew that I had bought — a few months ago — bonds that were supposed to be in the vault of your bank, I saw the truth. I knew that you had withdrawn sound securities and replaced them with the phony bonds.
“I needed proof. The bonds incriminated me, not you, Hildreth, after the robbery had been perpetrated. Yet even then I was still blind. I merely wanted to learn if you had any of the South American bonds among your own possessions, so I could challenge any accusation you might make against me.
“Cranston has given you the key, commissioner. He left you with a question unanswered. He knew that I could answer it. He proved that Zellwood could not have passed along the combination of the vault. Some one else must have seen that it reached Dobey Blitz. Who else knew that combination? One man only. That man was Tobias Hildreth, president of the Founders Trust Company!”
THE denunciation was a telling one. Commissioner Barth was sold on Cranston’s statements. This was the answer that he wanted. Quickly, Barth turned to Hildreth. He stared coldly at the portly banker.
“What have you to say?” demanded Barth.
“I never heard of Dobey Blitz,” stormed Hildreth, more purple than before. “I know nothing of him!”
“Jodelle knows him,” put in Marrick, quickly. “Jodelle is in your employ.”
“What is this?” questioned Jodelle, suddenly. “A frame-up?” He pointed to Marrick and Wilking. “We’ve got the goods on these fellows, commissioner. Wilking was the guy who made contact with Blitz. He did it for Marrick.”
“You were the contact man,” accused Marrick. “You, Jodelle, working for Hildreth.”
“Yeah?” jeered the investigator. “Well — who bumped Dobey Blitz? Who was the guy that knew the secret way up to Dobey’s place? Here he is — Wally Wilking. Cardona’s got the gun to prove it.”
“It’s a lie!” shouted Wally, suddenly. “I never knew Dobey Blitz. I never was near his place—”
Joe Cardona was stepping forward. He was ready to settle this point. In his hand he held the death gun.
He thrust it in front of Wally’s eyes.
“That’s your rod, isn’t it?” quizzed Cardona, gruffly. “That’s the .38 you used to bump Dobey Blitz. Remember” — Joe shot in his third degree tactics — “you took a man’s life with this gun, Wilking. You murdered a man in cold blood — a man who trusted you—”
“That’s not my gun!” retorted Wally, wildly. “You say that’s a .38. My gun was a .32. I had it in my pocket when I came here. I pulled it on Hildreth; but I didn’t shoot.”
“That’s the rod I yanked away from Wilking,” asserted Jodelle, pointing to the .38 that Cardona held. “I grabbed it before he had a chance to use it. Markham was here.”
Cardona’s fingers tightened on the death gun. A sudden glow came to the detective’s dark eyes. Joe looked squarely at Jodelle; then wheeled to Markham.
“Say, Markham,” said the ace. “I thought you took the gun from Wilking. You had it when I got here.”
“Jodelle gave it to me,” returned Markham. “He grabbed it away from Wilking. I left him to help Mr. Hildreth. When I came back to Jodelle, he handed me the gat.”