Midnight | Page 9

rose to his feet. He turned toward Spike Walters
and laid a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Walters," he said, "I want to let you know that I believe your story all
the way through. I think that Chief Leverage does, too--how about it,
chief?"
"Sounds all right to me."
"But we've got to hold you for a while, my lad. It's tough, but you were
the person found with the body, and we've naturally got to keep you in
custody. Understand?"
"Yes, sir. It's none too pleasant, but I guess it's all right."
"We'll see that you're made comfortable, and I hope we'll be able to let
you go within a day or so."
He pressed a button, and turned Walters over to one of the officers on
inside duty, with instructions to see that the young taxi-driver was
afforded every courtesy and comfort, and was not treated as a criminal.
Spike turned at the door.
"I want to thank you--"
"That's all right, Spike!"
"You're both mighty nice fellers--especially you, Mr. Carroll. I'm for
you every time!"
Carroll blushed like a schoolgirl. The door closed behind Walters, and
Carroll faced Leverage.
"Next thing is the body, chief."
"Want it up here?"

"If you please."
An orderly was summoned, commands given, and within five minutes
the body of the dead man was borne into the room and laid carefully on
the couch. Leverage glanced inquisitively at Carroll.
"Want the coroner?"
"Surely; and you might also call in the newspapermen."
"Eh? Reporters?"
"Yes. I have a hunch, Leverage, that a great gob of sensational
publicity, right now, will be of inestimable help. Meanwhile let's get
busy before either the coroner or the reporters arrive."
The two detectives went over the body meticulously. Warren had been
shot through the heart. Carroll bent to inspect the wound, and when he
straightened his manner showed that he had become convinced of one
important fact. In response to Leverage's query, he explained:
"Shot fired from mighty close," he said.
"Sure?"
"The flame from the gun has scorched his clothes. That's proof
enough."
"In the taxi, eh?"
"Possibly."
"But the driver would have heard."
"He probably would; but he didn't."
"Ye-e-es."
Carroll resumed his inspection of the body, examining every detail of

figure and raiment; and while he worked he talked.
"You know something about this chap?"
"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and all that
sort of thing. Has money--real money. Bachelor--lives alone. Has a
valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car.
Golfer--tennis-player--huntsman. Popular with women--and men, too, I
believe. About thirty-three years old."
"Business?"
"None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something.
That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's
different from other fellows is usually worth knowing something
about."
"Right you are! But that sort of a man--you'd hardly think he'd be the
victim of--hello, what's this?"
Carroll had been going through the dead man's wallet. He rose to his
feet, and as he did so Leverage saw that the purse was stuffed with bills
of large denomination--a very considerable sum of money. But
apparently Carroll was not interested in the money; in his hand he held
a railroad-ticket and a small purple Pullman check.
"What's the idea?" questioned Leverage.
"Brings us back to the woman again," replied Carroll, with peculiar
intensity.
"How so?"
"He was planning to take a trip with her."
Leverage glanced at the other man with an admixture of skepticism and
wonder.
"How did you guess that?"

"I didn't guess it. It's almost a sure thing. At least, it is pretty positive
that he was not planning to go alone."
"Yes? Tell me how you know."
Carroll extended his hand.
"See here--a ticket for a drawing-room to New York, and one
railroad-ticket!"
"Yes, but--"
"Two railroad-tickets are required for possession of the drawing-room,"
he said quietly. "Warren had only one. It is clear, then, that the holder
of the missing ticket was going to accompany him; so what we have to
do now--"
"Is to find the other railroad-ticket," finished Leverage dryly. "Which
isn't any lead-pipe cinch, I'd say!"
CHAPTER IV
CARROLL HAS A VISITOR
Carroll gazed intently upon the face of the dead man. There was a half
quizzical light in the detective's eyes as he spoke, apparently to no one.
"I've often thought," he said, "in a case like this, how much simpler
things would be if the murdered man could talk."
"H-m!" rejoined the practical Leverage. "If he could, he wouldn't be
dead."
"Perhaps you're right. And following that to a logical conclusion, if he
were not dead we wouldn't be particularly interested in what he had to
say."
"All of which ain't got a heap to do with