didn't tell her everything he wanted to say during this telephone conversation.
Ralph felt that he couldn't mention the money. He was afraid that Alicia
would get excited and telephone her father. He said that he would drive down to
the pier, would be there by the time that she was dressed. So Alicia, at last,
agreed to meet him at the pier entrance.
Hardly had Ralph ended the phone call before a suave voice spoke behind
him. He knew that voice, but had supposed that Frederick Glenny was out of
town. Turning, Ralph found the sleek-haired man covering him with a revolver.
Glenny motioned Ralph to a chair.
"So you want to talk to your girl friend?" purred Glenny. "I don't think
that would be a good idea, Atgood. She might want you to return all the dough
that used to belong to her father."
"It still belongs to him!"
"Not at all!" Glenny picked up the telephone. "Weylan agreed to a deal,
and then tried to welsh on it. That money goes to R. G. Dean."
Very deftly, Glenny was dialing a number, using his left hand. His right
hand, gripping the telephone, also held the revolver pointed toward Ralph.
"Don't forget," added Glenny, as he tucked the telephone receiver between
his shoulder and his ear. "that you are on our pay roll. It was a neat idea,
wasn't it, putting the swag in your charge? Anyway, you're working for us -"
A clicking sound interrupted from the telephone. Glenny began to talk, and
Ralph knew that he was holding conversation with his chief. But Glenny's voice
was very low, his lips close to the mouthpiece. Ralph didn't hear enough to
know what Glenny was telling over the wire. When the call was finished, Ralph
asked anxiously:
"What's going to happen, Glenny?"
"You'll find out," Glenny told him. "So just sit tight awhile. You'll hear
the rest soon enough."
Ralph never suspected that Alicia was to learn the other half of the
situation sooner than he did. Nor did the girl, still in her stateroom, suspect
that she was in for trouble.
QUITE tired out by the evening's excitement, Alicia did not relish the
idea of getting dressed again. She had changed her clothes after the party and
had found it a lot of bother. She was rather piqued that she had promised to
meet Ralph at the pier entrance, until a bright idea occurred to her.
She didn't have to bother getting dressed. The nightie that she wore was a
rather elaborate one, with a broad, flowing skirt below its snug-fitted waist
The skirt, at least, would pass for part of a gown.
After sliding her feet into a pair of evening slippers, Alicia put on a
light coat that had a fur collar, which she bundled around her neck.
Looking at herself in a full-length mirror, she was quite pleased with the
effect. She seemed fully attired, except for stockings, and her lack of hosiery
would not be noticeable under the dim lights of the pier.
Alicia spent a while fixing her hair and putting on some make-up. Then she
strolled out to the deck, passed across the gangway and walked to the shore end
of the pier.
While Alicia was waiting for Ralph's car to appear, an old-fashioned cab
drew up beside her. The driver, a blocky-built man with squarish,
blunt-featured face, looked toward the girl as he alighted from the cab. He
asked in a mechanical tone:
"Miss Weylan?"
Alicia nodded. The driver opened the rear door and gestured her toward the
cab.
"Mr. Atgood sent me," he said. "His car is broken down. He said to bring
you to see him."
Alicia took two steps forward; then, in terrified suspicion, she turned
about to run back toward the boat. The fake taxi driver clamped a solid hand on
her shoulder and twisted her toward the cab. With a quick wriggle of her arms,
Alicia slid completely out of her fur-collared coat, leaving it in the man's
hand.
Instead of screaming, she took the first route that offered. Alicia leaped
into the cab intending to yank open the door on the other side. She thought she
would be safely away before the pretended cab driver could get back to his
wheel. Instead, Alicia flung herself squarely into a trap.
There was another man in the rear of the cab, a chunky individual who
might have been the phony driver's twin. With one hand, he caught the girl's
throat, stifling the shriek that she at last attempted to give. With his other
hand, he covered Alicia's face with a cloth that reeked of chloroform.
The blocky driver tossed the coat into the rear of the cab. His equally
chunky pal draped it over the nightgowned girl, who had slumped deep in the
seat. Not a word passed between the pair as the driver took his place behind
the wheel. These mechanical-minded men were trained to treat all tasks as
simple; kidnapping was just a routine job for them.
The ancient cab rolled away from the pier carrying Alicia Weylan to an
unknown destination, where a master plotter ruled.
CHAPTER XVI
CRIME'S HEADQUARTERS
FOR more than an hour, Ralph Atgood had been glumly waiting under the
cover of a gun, wondering what was going to happen next. He had begun to think
that Frederick Glenny, with his smooth, indifferent manner, was an artist at
giving the third degree.
Smacks across the jaw, or wallops from a rubber hose, would have been tame
compared to this tormenting period of silence. At intervals, Ralph was almost
ready to jump the gun that covered him, not caring whether or not it blasted
him full of slugs.
Glenny wasn't entirely inactive. At times, he toyed with the swag that had
come from Weylan's, hefting it with one hand, while he kept the gun pointed with
the other. At times, he would light a fresh cigarette with a mechanical lighter
that he could manipulate easily with one hand.
Ralph was free to smoke, which he did; but Glenny did not let him talk or
leave his chair. A gesture of Glenny's gun, the snap of the fellow's dark eyes,
were the elements that always made Ralph subside when he tried to indulge in
motion or conversation.
There was just one factor that sustained Ralph through that period.
He knew that Glenny had overheard his talk with Alicia. Therefore Glenny,
in his turn, knew that Ralph had not mentioned his possession of the missing
funds. On that account, Ralph reasoned, Alicia was in no danger - provided, of
course, that she did not come here to the apartment when Ralph failed to meet
her at the dock.
Ralph hoped that Alicia wouldn't come, and believed that he could bank on
it. The idea of a meeting was his own, and he hadn't overstressed it. If she
called up, Glenny would probably give Ralph a chance to dissuade her from
leaving the ship, by saying that the matter was unimportant. That, Ralph
finally decided, was why Glenny waited to see if Alicia would call.
In his confidence that Alicia would remain unharmed, Ralph managed to
forget his own dilemma.
The prolonged period ended when the phone bell rang. Ralph had waited for
that jangle so long, that he started to spring from his chair. Glenny thrust
him back with a shove of the gun muzzle.
&nb
sp; "That won't be your girl friend," purred the crook. "She has given you up
as a bad bet, long before this. Sit where you are, Atgood! That call is for me!"
Glenny was right. With the receiver tucked to his ear, he held a brief
conversation, during which Ralph could make out only a single phrase, which
Glenny spoke louder than the others:
"In five minutes -"
Ending the call, the suave crook turned to Ralph.
"You aren't so badly off, Atgood," he said. "The chief is willing to make
allowances because you are new to the game. How would you like to drop in and
see him?"
"You mean R. G. Dean?"
"Who else?" laughed Glenny. "Of course, that isn't his actual name, but I
wouldn't advise you to ask him his real one. But he'd like to see you."
The way Glenny put the word like made it sound very much a command. Ralph
nodded his willingness to call on crime's hidden chief.
"In five minutes -"
The phrase repeated itself through Ralph's brain. Some of those minutes
still remained. Maybe the best way to use them would be to start a battle with
Glenny. Ralph had thought of that off and on, but his concern for Alicia had
made him reject the idea.
Of course, there was merit in visiting R. G. Dean, whoever he might be,
and finding out more about him. It would help Ralph when he talked to the
police as he still hoped to do sometime. But he questioned whether Glenny
actually intended to take him to see the big-shot. Maybe this little excursion
was intended as a one-way ride.
"Call your garage," suggested Glenny. "Tell them to come over and get your
car. It's been standing out front long enough."
Ralph made the call, thereby wasting another of his precious minutes. He
looked inquiringly toward the door: Glenny nodded him in that direction.
They were starting out from the apartment. Ralph first and this looked
like the right time for a break. Ralph knew that Glenny wouldn't leave a few
hundred thousand dollars lying loose. He decided to start things as soon as
Glenny picked up the loot.
Opening the apartment door, Ralph took one slow step toward the hall, then
swung about. Glenny was at the couch, hooking the stacks of currency and bonds
under one arm. His gun was out of aim; with a savage lunge Ralph made for the
fellow. Glenny must have expected the move, for he dropped away but did not
fire.
Then, as Ralph tried to sidestep the swinging muzzle of the gun, a pair of
men pounced in from the hallway and caught him, one from each side. His arms
wrenched behind him. Ralph stared left and right at two chunky, expressionless
faces.
"The chief's main helpers," introduced Glenny, with a smirk. "They usually
stay around his lab, but once in a while he sends them out. All right" - this
was to the block-faced pair - "take him along!"
Going down in the automatic elevator, Ralph could feel the grip of
powerful hands on each of his arms. On the street, one man released him, to
step into a cab, but Glenny took over duty on that side, with his gun. He and
the remaining man pushed Ralph into the cab and Glenny followed.
Between Glenny and one blocky captor Ralph was blindfolded, while the
other fellow took the wheel. Then began a twisty ride through so many streets
that Ralph had no idea how far they traveled
He struck upon an idea, though, soon after the cab started. He began to
count turns left or right, as the vehicle made them. He wasn't trying to keep
his sense of direction; he could figure out the points of the compass later, if
he remembered the progression of the turn.
The task was comparatively simple, for Ralph was used to keeping strings
of figures in his head and had something of a system that he used for it. He
noticed that nearly all of the intervals were short ones, which might prove a
help later.
WHEN the cab stopped, Ralph was repeating the string of numbers to
himself; they came mostly in ones and twos. He found himself in a pitch-black
alleyway, where his captors took him through a creaky doorway and down a flight
of steps. Then came what seemed a passage in a cellar, a fairly long one.
The walk ended at a blank wall, which Ralph could feel in the darkness.
Glenny was feeling along that wail, evidently seeking a hidden catch, for
something clicked and Ralph was pushed into a darkened elevator. His blindfold
was off by this time, for Glenny had decided that the prisoner did not need it
in the darkness.
As the elevator moved slowly, silently upward, Ralph heard Glenny's purred
tone in his ear:
"Keep cool, Atgood. We're treating you all right. This is the way we bring
everybody who comes to see the chief."
How high the elevator traveled, Ralph was not sure, but he calculated it
as about half a dozen floors. He had fixed the numbers in his mind, for
positive reference, by the time they reached the top.
The door slid back; Ralph found himself in a large rectangular room which
was windowless and had a very low ceiling.
The whole place was pervaded by a greenish glow that gave the scene a
ghoulish touch. All about were odd-shaped tanks, small vats, large beakers,
coils of hollow glass tubes, and other items of chemical equipment.
Under Ralph's feet was a steel floor; his feet made metallic clicks as he
walked. In one place, only a short way from the elevator, which was at the rear
of the laboratory, Ralph thought that he noted the clink of loose rivets in the
Ghastly colors showed from bubbling liquids that Ralph saw in enormous
test tubes. He realized that their hues were due to the greenish glow, for when
he looked at Glenny's face beside him, he could not recognize it. His chunky
acquaintances looked odd, too. Their features were nothing but square green
blurs.
At the front of the lab, Ralph saw a man waiting to receive them. From his
chuckly welcome, that came in a forced voice, Ralph knew that he was meeting
crime's chief.
He heard Glenny's prompting whisper: "Mr. Dean." Ralph bowed, muttered a
greeting, then tried to make out the face in front of him. It was impossible.
Like the others, the mysterious Mr. Dean had a visage that was merely a
mass of green, but Ralph noted that it formed a long oval and that it was very
large. He was thereby acquainted with one fact regarding the master crook.
R. G., as Glenny addressed him, had a head far out of proportion to his
body; probably one big enough to contain his giant brain. Gauging that head
again. Ralph decided that R. G. could be classed as deformed. That would be a
valuable point to remember in describing him.
The master criminal was speaking. His forced tone, though unnatural, was
persuasive.
"You are welcome here," he chortled. "All are welcome who serve me. Like
others, you understand that my transactions are legitimate. You are paid well
to aid me, and later, you will receive a great reward - if you continue to be
faithful.
"My plans are many. Soon" - there was confidence in the rising cackle - "I
shall control the entire chemical industry! My wealth
shall mount to millions,
and far beyond, until no one can hope to compete with me!"
Ralph nodded. Dean seemed pleased for he gave a chuckle. Then, his tone
lowered to a cluck, he added:
"We did not fail tonight. Look" - he spread the bundle of cash and bonds,
as Glenny passed them to him - "and then decide who was victor."
Ralph noted that the crisp sheaves seemed pale, their green printing
merging with the glow of the laboratory. He heard Glenny buzz something to the
master crook. Then came the chuckly voice.
"Glenny says that you can be fully trusted in the future. He has suggested
that I show you our latest experiment, with what I term my sleep gas, something
that will prove a boon to humanity."
IT was Glenny who conducted Ralph to a coffin-shaped object in the corner
of the laboratory. Ralph saw that the device was fitted with gas pipes that led
from a large tank. Glenny drew aside a roller cloth that covered the top.
Through a sheet of thick glass, Ralph saw what he mistook for a waxwork
imitation of a woman's figure, so perfectly was it molded. Resting peacefully
in the satin-lined box, the life-sized form had the slightly olive hue that the
laboratory lights gave to person's faces.
Glenny pressed a switch; tiny white lights shone within the glass-topped
casket. Ralph's eyes moved toward the head of the box. As he saw the figure's
face plainly, he gasped the name:
"Alicia!"
"She is asleep," purred Glenny, "and will remain so for days - or weeks.
There is nothing harmful about the chief's new gas. I tried a whiff of it
myself. But if the supply is cut off -"
"She will die from lack of air in the coffin!" The croak came from the
crime chief. "But I prefer that she remain alive, to prove the value of my
harmless sleep gas."
"That depends on you," added Glenny, in Ralph's ear. "We still need you in
our business, Atgood."
Ralph was tense. He still believed that the figure might be a waxwork
imitation. As he watched, he saw blue eyes open, then close again. He noticed a
slight rise and fall of the figure's breast, which indicated a slow, but steady
breathing. Even then, he tried to doubt.
"It's a mechanical figure!" Ralph exclaimed, hoarsely. "It can't be
Alicia!"
Glenny rolled the cloth top over the oblong box. He produced a flashlight,