The Voice on the Wire | Page 5

he is out. Just take me up."
He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic.
As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. "Go on
down, and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough doesn't
want company."
As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to the iron
stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these he hurried, thence
out upon the roof. It was a matter of only four minutes before he had
crossed to the next apartment building, opened the door of the
roof-entry, found the stairs to the ninth floor, and taken this elevator to
the street.
He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park West, to
slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited the faithful

hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with the driver, and
the big automobile could be seen on the other side of the street awaiting
further developments.
"He has a long vigil there," laughed Shirley. "Now, for the real address.
I think I lost the hounds for this time."
Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion of
the Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick response from the
surprised son of the dead millionaire.
"Why--why--I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley--Who sent you?" he
began.
Shirley registered complete surprise. "Sent me, my dear Van Cleft?
Who should send me? For what? It just happened that I was walking up
the Avenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a little farewell supper
to Hal Bingley, class of '03, at the club You knew him in College? I
thought you might like to come."
"Step in the library," requested Van Cleft, weakly. "Sit down, Mr.
Shirley--I'm upset to-night."
He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big heart
went out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines of horror and
grief on his usually pleasant face.
"What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?"
"My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble--I thought it
was the Coroner, or the police--" he bit his tongue as the last words
escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with an
inspiring firmness.
"Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and I
pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to."
Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caught

Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely.
"Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. When the
Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a witness. It's an
ordeal--I'll tell you everything."
Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own knowledge.
Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any possible enemy of
the murdered man.
"There's not one I know. Dad is popular--he's been too gay, lately, but
just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't harm any one. He
inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to crush the working
people. Like me, he's been endeavoring to spend it ever since he was
born, but it comes in too fast from our estates."
He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his
companion.
"It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison offence to
deceive about murder. But you understand our position: we can't afford
to let it become gossip. I'll pay this girl anything to go to Europe or the
Antipodes!"
"I wouldn't do that," suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. "Let her stay. You
would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can be done without
dragging your name into it. If he has planned this, he has executed
other schemes. She certainly would not remain the machine if she were
the guilty one. Why not employ a good detective?"
"I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of the
Holland Agency. He's managed everything so far--I was too rattled
myself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to return as soon
as he visited the garage."
As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation.
"Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir."

"All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument."
Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteady
voice.
"Yes--This is Van Cleft's residence."
Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy.
"What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him."
Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to understand his
sudden move, as the criminologist caught up the receiver, and placed
his palm for an instant