“You are in the employ of the government of the country from which this military information came, aren’t you?” he asked dryly.
She hesitated.
Baron von Auster and Reel scowled at her.
“You might as well tell him!” Reel sneered. “We know the thing he has just said is the truth!”
“Yes,” she told Nace. “That is right. That is why I was working alone — not telling you anything. I was afraid you would destroy the green skull — or give it to your own government.”
Nace lowered his uplifted hands enough to thoughtfully touch his notched ear. She had judged him accurately. He had no sympathy for espionage systems. Trouble-makers! He would most certainly turn that green skull over to the American Intelligence — he would yet, if he could get his hands on it.
He eyed Reel, asked suddenly, “Did you know the body of Moe is in your roadster?”
Reel did not know it. His start of surprise showed that. He gulped, “What?”
Nace sighed. Reel’s actions had given him his final clue. He knew who the murderer was — it couldn’t be anyone else.
“You had better watch your friend, Baron von Auster,” he said dryly. “His system seems to be to kill everyone, so that he may collect for the sale of this green skull, and keep the money all for himself!”
Reel and Baron von Auster exchanged looks. They were not friendly looks.
Nace continued grimly, “Baron von Auster stole Hoo Li’s green skeleton, poisoned the thing, and started killing everybody. He did in Jimmy Offitt, probably when Offitt wouldn’t tell him where the green skull was hidden.
“He killed Hoo Li to get him out of the way, just as he killed his two men, Moe and Heavy. And just as he intends to murder you, no doubt!”
Reel had started trembling a little.
Nace, guessing partly, filling in what he did not know with what he thought had occurred, went on, “Baron von Auster killed Moe in his own car, and transferred the body to your roadster, Reel. Why do you think he did that, if not to frame the blame on you, should the chance come?”
Reel glared at Baron von Auster.
The latter shrugged. “Nein!” he told Reel. “You are wrong! Come! Let us go in the kitchen and discuss this privately! I can explain everything, Ja!”
They tore wires off the radio and bound Nace and the girl, wrist and ankle. Then they stepped into the kitchen.
One of them kicked the door shut. Voices murmured for a moment.
Then there was a loud gasp, a blow, a stifled cry! Another blow! A form collapsed noisily to the floor. After that, silence!
Nace gave the girl a stiff-lipped grin, said, “It looks like one of them hit into a double-play!”
The back door slammed. But a moment later, it opened again. Sounds indicated the unconscious body was being moved by the survivor. But it was not moved far.
A series of moans, a gasp or two, followed. Then Baron von Auster’s voice shrilled out.
“Himmel!” he wailed. “Mein Herr Reel! You are not going to kill me with that dynamite? Please?”
A sharp slapping sound stopped the cry. It might have been a palm against flesh. There was more shifting about in the kitchen. Five minutes it lasted. An age!
Came a scraping rasp — a match being ignited. Then a fizzing. That would be the fuse burning.
Baron von Auster screamed shrilly. “He is blowing me up with the dynamite—”
A blow ended that cry.
The kitchen door slammed. Feet pounded away in rapid flight.
Nace, rolling with difficulty because of his wired ankles and wrists, reached the girl. She was seeking to work toward the door. Lacking Nace’s agility, she was not making much headway. Her face was white; fear stared from her eyes.
“Cool off!” Nace told her, low-voiced. “There’s no dynamite in there! I took it out, hid it in Reel’s roadster, and substituted screwdrivers and stuff! You saw me do it!”
“He may have found the — exchange!” she gulped.
“I don’t think so! Here — I’ll get your hands loose. Then you free me!”
Nace worked furiously at the girl’s tyings. He tore his fingernails, scratched her wrists. The bindings finally gave.
“Now get mine!” he directed.
She obeyed — to his relief. A moment later, they were both free and on their feet.
A report thumped in the kitchen. The percussion cap exploding! The sound resembled a small firecracker. The fact that the dynamite was not in the bag had not been discovered.
Nace and the girl ran into the kitchen.
A man lay face-down beside the handbag. The valise itself was partially torn open from the blast of the percussion cap. Nace turned the man over. He wore the Baron von Auster’s summer evening dress.
It was not Baron von Auster — but Reel. He was lifeless, skull crushed in, evidently from a blow by the baron’s gun.
The girl gasped, “But I thought—”
“Baron von Auster is pulling a fast one!” Nace grunted. “He thought the explosion would tear the body up so it couldn’t be identified. See, he even changed clothes with Reel! The baron figured he’d have no trouble getting away if everybody thought he was dead! The pick-up order would go out for Reel.”
Nace charged out the rear door.
Flame jumped at him from the shrubbery. Lead took part of the glass from the kitchen door. Baron von Auster had evidently waited to see how his scheme worked.
Threshing leaves denoted that he was in flight.
Nace let him go, then followed at his leisure. The girl bobbed along at his side.
“He’s getting away with the green skull!” she groaned. “That means my country — it will lose valuable information! In case of war, it will mean the death of thousands of men!”
Nace snorted. He was not going to get steamed up over wars in Europe.
The chase arched around to the street. Baron von Auster began shooting again. Lead squealed, slashed savagely at leaves. Powder smell filled the street. The chung, chung, chung reports of the silenced automatic were vicious.
Nace made himself and the girl as thin as possible behind a tree.
The baron ran on and tried to get away in his little sedan. But Nace had plucked out the ignition wires.
Back to the roadster belonging to Reel, Baron von Auster ran. He sprang in. The keys were evidently in his possession. He must have had the foresight to take them against just such a contingency as this.
The machine lunged ahead.
The jackknife Nace had planted pierced the tire. Air began escaping to the tune of a shrill, erratic hiss.
Leaning against the tree behind which he had taken shelter, Nace watched. The roadster fled under a street lamp.
The flat tire was making the rear end bounce up and down.
The girl half sobbed. “He’s getting away — the murderer of my brother—”
Nace dropped an arm on her shoulders. “Wait, kid! He’s going to get his, unless I’m mistaken.”
A moment later, Baron von Auster got his. The ground jarred. A roaring explosion slammed against Nace’s eardrums. Windows broke all over the neighborhood, amid much brittle jangling.
Rosa Offitt held to Nace with both hands, trembling.
He crooked an arm around her shoulders. “The jarring set the dynamite. You wait here, and I’ll see how it came out.”
He ran forward. The roadster was spread over much of the street. The body of Baron von Auster was not greatly mutilated, although the man was undeniably dead.
In a coat pocket, Nace found the troublesome plaque — the green skull.
He went back and showed the girl the grisly trinket.
“Now I pay you off for not playing ball with me!” he said dryly.