The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) by Arthur B. Reeve (the little red hen ebook .TXT) 📖

House Last Night After You Had

Gone. When Kharkoff Left,  He Followed Him. I Hurried Out Quietly

And Followed Both Of Them. Then The Explosion Came. This Man

Slipped Down A Narrow Street As Soon As He Saw Kharkoff Fall. As

People Were Running To Kharkoff's Assistance,  I Did The Same. He

Saw Me Following Him And Ran,  And I Ran,  Too,  And Overtook Him.

Mr. Jameson,  When I Looked Into His Face I Could Not Believe It.

Revalenko--He Is One Of The Most Ardent Members Of Our

Organisation. He Would Not Tell Me Why He Had Followed Kharkoff. I

Could Make Him Confess Nothing. But I Am Sure He Is An Agent

Provocateur Of The Russian Government,  That He Is Secretly Giving

Away The Plans That We Are Making,  Everything. We Have A Plot On

Now--Perhaps He Has Informed Them Of That. Of Course He Denied

Setting The Bomb Or Trying To Poison Any Of Us,  But He Was Very

Frightened. I Shall Denounce Him At The First Opportunity."

 

I Said Nothing. Kazanovitch Regarded Me Keenly To See What

Impression The Story Made On Me,  But I Did Not Let My Looks Betray

Anything,  Except Proper Surprise,  And He Seemed Satisfied.

 

It Might Be True,  After All,  I Reasoned,  The More I Thought Of It.

I Had Heard That The Russian Consul-General Had A Very Extensive

Spy System In The City. In Fact,  Even That Morning I Had Had

Pointed Out To Me Some Spies At Work In The Public Libraries,

Watching What Young Russians Were Reading. I Did Not Doubt That

There Were Spies In The Very Inner Circle Of The Revolutionists

Themselves.

 

At Last Kennedy Appeared. While Kazanovitch Poured Forth His

Story,  With Here And There,  I Fancied,  An Elaboration Of A

Particularly Dramatic Point,  Kennedy Quickly Examined The Walls

And Floor Of The Wrecked Office With His Magnifying-Glass. When He

Had Concluded His Search,  He Turned To Kazanovitch.

 

"Would It Be Possible," He Asked,  "To Let This Revalenko Believe

That He Could Trust You,  That It Would Be Safe For Him To Visit

You To-Night At Saratovsky's? Surely You Can Find Some Way Of

Reassuring Him."

 

"Yes,  I Think That Can Be Arranged," Said Kazanovitch. "I Will Go

To Him,  Will Make Him Think I Have Misunderstood Him,  That I Have

Not Lost Faith In Him,  Provided He Can Explain All. He Will Come.

Part 3 Chapter 3 (The Germ Of Death) Pg 29

Trust Me."

 

"Very Well,  Then. To-Night At Eight I Shall Be There," Promised

Kennedy,  As The Novelist And He Shook Hands.

 

"What Do You Think Of The Revalenko Story?" I Asked Of Craig,  As

We Started Uptown Again.

 

"Anything Is Possible In This Case," He Answered Sententiously.

 

"Well," I Exclaimed,  "This All Is Truly Russian. For Intrigue They

Are Certainly The Leaders Of The World To-Day. There Is Only One

Person That I Have Any Real Confidence In,  And That Is Old

Saratovsky Himself. Somebody Is Playing Traitor,  Craig. Who Is

It?"

 

"That Is What Science Will Tell Us To-Night," Was His Brief Reply.

There Was No Getting Anything Out Of Craig Until He Was Absolutely

Sure That His Proofs Had Piled Up Irresistibly.

 

Promptly At Eight We Met At The Old House On Fifth Avenue.

Kharkoff's Wounds Had Proved Less Severe Than Had At First Been

Suspected,  And,  Having Recovered From The Shock,  He Insisted On

Being Transferred From The Hospital In A Private Ambulance So That

He Could Be Near His Friends. Saratovsky,  In Spite Of His High

Fever,  Ordered That The Door To His Room Be Left Open And His Bed

Moved So That He Could Hear And See What Passed In The Room Down

The Hall. Nevsky Was There And Kazanovitch,  And Even Brave Olga

Samarova,  Her Pretty Face Burning With The Fever,  Would Not Be

Content Until She Was Carried Upstairs,  Although Dr. Kharkoff

Protested Vigorously That It Might Have Fatal Consequences.

Revalenko,  An Enigma Of A Man,  Sat Stolidly. The Only Thing I

Noticed About Him Was An Occasional Look Of Malignity At Nevsky

And Kazanovitch When He Thought He Was Unobserved.

 

It Was Indeed A Strange Gathering,  The Like Of Which The Old House

Had Never Before Harboured In All Its Varied History. Every One

Was On The Qui Vive,  As Kennedy Placed On The Table A Small Wire

Basket Containing Some Test-Tubes,  Each Tube Corked With A Small

Wadding Of Cotton. There Was Also A Receptacle Holding A Dozen

Glass-Handled Platinum Wires,  A Microscope,  And A Number Of

Slides. The Bomb,  Now Rendered Innocuous By Having Been Crushed In

A Huge Hydraulic Press,  Lay In Fragments In The Box.

 

"First,  I Want You To Consider The Evidence Of The Bomb," Began

Kennedy." No Crime,  I Firmly Believe,  Is Ever Perpetrated Without

Leaving Some Clue. The Slightest Trace,  Even A Drop Of Blood No

Larger Than A Pin-Head,  May Suffice To Convict A Murderer. The

Impression Made On A Cartridge By The Hammer Of A Pistol,  Or A

Single Hair Found On The Clothing Of A Suspected Person,  May Serve

As Valid Proof Of Crime.

 

"Until Lately,  However,  Science Was Powerless Against The Bomb-

Thrower. A Bomb Explodes Into A Thousand Parts,  And Its Contents

Suddenly Become Gaseous. You Can't Collect And Investigate The

Gases. Still,  The Bomb-Thrower Is Sadly Deceived If He Believes

The Bomb Leaves No Trace For The Scientific Detective. It Is

Difficult For The Chemist To Find Out The Secrets Of A Shattered

Bomb. But It Can Be Done.

 

"I Examined The Walls Of Dr. Kharkoff's House,  And Fortunately Was

Able To Pick Out A Few Small Fragments Of The Contents Of The Bomb

Which Had Been Thrown Out Before The Flame Ignited Them. I Have

Analysed Them,  And Find Them To Be A Peculiar Species Of Blasting-

Gelatine. It Is Made At Only One Factory In This Country,  And I

Have A List Of Purchasers For Some Time Back. One Name,  Or Rather

The Description Of An Assumed Name,  In The List Agrees With Other

Evidence I Have Been Able To Collect. Moreover,  The Explosive Was

Placed In A Lead Tube. Lead Tubes Are Common Enough. However,

There Is No Need Of Further Evidence."

 

Part 3 Chapter 3 (The Germ Of Death) Pg 30

He Paused,  And The Revolutionists Stared Fixedly At The Fragments

Of The Now Harmless Bomb Before Them.

 

"The Exploded Bomb," Concluded Craig,  "Was Composed Of The Same

Materials As This,  Which I Found Unexploded At The Door Of Miss

Nevsky's Room--The Same Sort Of Lead Tube,  The Same Blasting-

Gelatine. The Fuse,  A Long Cord Saturated In Sulphur,  Was Merely A

Blind. The Real Method Of Explosion Was By Means Of A Chemical

Contained In A Glass Tube Which Was Inserted After The Bomb Was

Put In Place. The Least Jar,  Such As Opening A Door,  Which Would

Tip The Bomb Ever So Little Out Of The Horizontal,  Was All That

Was Necessary To Explode It. The Exploded Bomb And The Unexploded

Were In All Respects Identical--The Same Hand Set Both."

 

A Gasp Of Astonishment Ran Through The Circle. Could It Be That

One Of Their Own Number Was Playing False? In At Least This

Instance In The Warfare Of The Chemist And The Dynamiter The

Chemist Had Come Out Ahead.

 

"But," Kennedy Hurried Along,  "The Thing That Interests Me Most

About This Case Is Not The Evidence Of The Bombs. Bombs Are Common

Enough Weapons,  After All. It Is The Evidence Of Almost Diabolical

Cunning That Has Been Shown In The Effort To Get Rid Of The Father

Of The Revolution,  As You Like To Call Him."

 

Craig Cleared His Throat And Played With Our Feelings As A Cat

Does With A Mouse. "Strange To Say,  The Most Deadly,  The Most

Insidious,  The Most Elusive Agency For Committing Murder Is One

That Can Be Obtained And Distributed With Practically No Legal

Restrictions. Any Doctor Can Purchase Disease Germs In Quantities

Sufficient To Cause Thousands And Thousands Of Deaths Without

Giving Any Adequate Explanation For What Purpose He Requires Them.

More Than That,  Any Person Claiming To Be A Scientist Or Having

Some Acquaintance With Science And Scientists Can Usually Obtain

Germs Without Difficulty. Every Pathological Laboratory Contains

Stores Of Disease Germs,  Neatly Sealed Up In Test-Tubes,

Sufficient To Depopulate Whole Cities And Even Nations. With

Almost No Effort,  I Myself Have Actually Cultivated Enough Germs

To Kill Every Person Within A Radius Of A Mile Of The Washington

Arch Down The Street. They Are Here In These Test-Tubes."

 

We Scarcely Breathed. Suppose Kennedy Should Let Loose This Deadly

Foe,  These Germs Of Death,  Whatever They Were? Yet That Was

Precisely What Some Fiend Incarnate Had Done,  And That Fiend Was

Sitting In The Room With Us.

 

"Here I Have One Of The Most Modern Dark-Field Microscopes," He

Resumed. "On This Slide I Have Placed A Little Pin-Point Of A

Culture Made From The Blood Of Saratovsky. I Will Stain The

Culture. Now--Er--Walter,  Look Through The Microscope Under This

Powerful Light And Tell Us What You See On The Slide."

 

I Bent Over. "In The Darkened Field I See A Number Of Germs Like

Dancing Points Of Coloured Light," I Said. "They Are Wriggling

About With A Peculiar Twisting Motion."

 

"Like A Corkscrew," Interrupted Kennedy,  Impatient To Go On. "They

Are Of The Species Known As Spirilla. Here Is Another Slide,  A

Culture From The Blood Of Samarova."

 

"I See Them There,  Too," I Exclaimed.

 

Every One Was Now Crowding About For A Glimpse,  As I Raised My

Head.

 

"What Is This Germ?" Asked A Hollow Voice From The Doorway.

 

We Looked,  Startled. There Stood Saratovsky,  More Like A Ghost

Than A Living Being. Kennedy Sprang Forward And Caught Him As He

Swayed,  And I Moved Up An Armchair For Him.

 

Part 3 Chapter 3 (The Germ Of Death) Pg 31

"It Is The Spirillum Obermeieri," Said Kennedy,  "The Germ Of The

Relapsing Fever,  But Of The Most Virulent Asiatic Strain.

Obermeyer,  Who Discovered It,  Caught The Disease And Died Of It,  A

Martyr To Science."

 

A Shriek Of Consternation Rang Forth From Samarova. The Rest Of Us

Paled,  But Repressed Our Feelings.

 

"One Moment," Added Kennedy Hastily. "Don't Be Unnecessarily

Alarmed. I Have Something More To Say. Be Calm For A Moment

Longer."

 

He Unrolled A Blue-Print And Placed It On The Table.

 

"This," He Continued,  "Is The Photographic Copy Of A Message

Which,  I Suppose,  Is Now On Its Way To The Russian Minister To

France In Paris. Some One In This Room Besides Mr. Jameson And

Myself Has Seen This Letter Before. I Will Hold It Up As I Pass

Around And Let Each One See It."

 

In Intense Silence Kennedy Passed Before Each Of Us,  Holding Up

The Blue-Print And Searchingly