“So I waited, and then I heard the siren, and I knew the police were coming, and I remembered what Muriel had said about being in a jam, and I thought the best thing I could do was to sit tight.

  “So I just sat there, and the door-bell rang, the one that’s on the apartment door, and I opened it, and it was this man who asked me if I knew Muriel.

  “I thought it was a message from her, so I told him I knew her, and then he showed me his badge and told me to come with him. And that’s every single thing I know.”

  The officers exchanged glances.

  One of them flung the girl around so she faced the body on the bed once more. “You’re the one that killed her. She had something you wanted. She had some of

  the stones that were stolen, and …”

  “No, no, no!” screamed Stella Denny. “Don’t make me look. For God’s sake, don’t make me…”

  She slumped in a faint, her lips bloodless, her face the color of death.

  The plainclothes man picked her in his arms, dumped her unceremoniously into a chair.

  “It wasn’t a woman’s job,” he said wearily. “It was a man that did it. Let’s go up to this frail’s apartment and give it a good frisking. Then we’ll check up on her boyfriends and give them a shake-down. And we’ll check up on Muriel’s boyfriends, and see what they know.”

  He turned, regarded Sidney Zoom.

  “I guess you’re in the clear,” he said. “You seem to have given us the straight dope.

  She ducked through the hotel to give you the slip. We can locate you whenever we want you, eh?”

  Sidney Zoom nodded.

  “Aboard the yacht, Alberta F.,” he said uncordially.

  “Guy,” the officer said, “you’re gettin’ all the breaks, an’ you ain’t got sense enough to know it.”

  Sidney Zoom said nothing. He strode from the room, tall, gaunt, unsmiling, pushed his way out of the apartment house, to his car, and stepped on the starter.

  As he drove away, his left hand dropped to the side pocket of his coat. The gems which he had found in the robe in his machine rattled like pebbles.

  He smiled, an enigmatical smile.

  Nor did he return to his yacht. He went, instead, to a hotel where he registered as Loring Grigsby of Chicago. He went to his room, left the dog in the car at the garage nearby, and slept until morning.

  CHAPTER V

  Edgar Carver

  IN THE morning he read the newspaper accounts of the murder of Muriel Drake and a rehash of the account of the hold-up at Harmiston’s.

  The bandits, two in number, had moved with perfect efficiency, and with a knowledge of the exact location of what they wanted which led the police to believe that there was an accomplice employed within the stores. There had been a guard who had refused to surrender when he saw a gun poking at his stomach. He had made a motion toward his hip and had been shot down in his tracks.

  The crime had been singularly businesslike, utterly merciless, and had netted gems worth almost a hundred and fifty thousand dollars wholesale. There had been a big shipment received but a few hours earlier in the day, and the bandits seemed fully aware of this shipment, its nature and extent, and exactly where it could be found.

  Sidney Zoom digested the newspaper accounts.

  With the finding of Muriel Drake’s murdered body, the police and newspapers alike had concluded that the case was virtually closed, so far as the inside accomplice was concerned.

  It seemed that a private detective agency, taking the employees in turn for grilling, had interrogated Muriel Drake. Her answers to questions had not been entirely convincing. She seemed unduly nervous. The private detectives had bundled her into their car, started for Headquarters, had an accident which had distracted their attention, and the girl had escaped, gone to the apartment house where her friend lived.

  The police theory was that one of the men concerned in the hold-up had been afraid Muriel would confess if she were taken to the station, or that some independent criminal had sensed that Muriel was an accomplice. In any event, the man, knowing in advance that she planned to spend the night with Stella Denny, had secreted himself within the apartment house and waited for the girl to show up.

  He had overpowered her, choked her, made a search of her garments, found, perhaps, that for which he searched, and made his escape. No one had seen him come, and no one had seen him go. He had waited, accomplished his sinister purpose and then faded into the night.

  Police were conducting a systematic round-up of the men friends of both Muriel Drake and Stella Denny. Those men were being questioned, asked to prove where they had been when the murder was committed.

  Sidney Zoom strolled to a barber shop, was shaved; went to the garage where he had stored his car, took his dog for a brief walk, and then went to Harmiston’s Jewelry Company.

  He entered the store and noticed that there were quite a number of people present. They were the curious who desired to see the safe which had been rifled, the exact spot where the man had fallen.

  Mechanics were busy repolishing the floor, removing certain sinister dark stains. The place where a bullet had entered the wood work was being repaired so that the dark hole in the polished mahogany was no longer visible.

  Sidney Zoom strolled the length of the store, peering into the show cases, studying the display of gems, flashing glances at intervals at the watchful clerks who stood at courteous attention.

  As he started back toward the door, on the other side of the store, he saw the man he had expected to find. He was standing behind a counter displaying diamond rings, looking quite expressionless of feature, wary of eye.

  It was the man who had worn the gray suit and overcoat, the man Sidney Zoom had last seen leaving the Bratten Arms Apartments shortly after Muriel Drake had entered the place, and but a short time before her body had been discovered.

  Sidney Zoom let his attention focus upon the diamonds. The man moved forward.

  “Was there something?” he asked in the tone of voice one uses when striving to be courteous, but expecting nothing reassuring in the way of a reply.

  “Yes,” said Sidney Zoom. “That diamond pendant interests me. What is the price?”

  Harmiston’s was the sort of a place where the commercial side of the transaction is kept purposely subordinate to the merit of the merchandise, the artistic beauty of the design. The man in gray looked slightly shocked.

  “You had better examine it, sir,” he said, and took out the pendant. Sidney Zoom stared at it, did not touch it.

  “The price?” he demanded.

  “Twelve hundred dollars!” snapped the clerk. “Wrap it up,” said Zoom.

  The man in gray gave an exclamation of surprise. “What was that? Er … what did you say?”

  “I said wrap it up,” said Sidney Zoom, and reached in his inside pocket, opened his wallet, examined the contents.

  He raised his eyes to the man’s face.

  “You sometimes take jewelry out for inspection?”

  “Yes, when a deposit is made.”

  “I shall make a deposit then, have you go with me to determine whether or not it meets with the approval of the person for whom the gift is intended.”

  “Yes, sir. A deposit of, let us say, two hundred dollars?”

  Sidney Zoom flipped two one-hundred-dollar bills upon the glass show case. “I am in a hurry,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” said the man behind the counter. “I’ll be with you at once. Let me get my hat and coat, and get this pendant wrapped. Then I’ll give you a receipt.”

  “Very well,” said Sidney Zoom. “We’ll take a cab to the garage where I have my car stored. Then I’ll drive you to consult the young lady.”

  “I’ll take along another design as an alternate,” the man in gray called over his shoulder, and bustled away. Within five minutes he was back, ready for the street. Zoom called a cab, drove to the garage, indicated the sedan, and opened the door.

  Rip, the police dog, stretched his tawny length, turned a questioning nose toward the newcomer.

  “Your name?” asked Sidney Zoom. “Edgar Carver,” said the man.

  Zoom nodded.

  “I want to present you formally to the dog. Rip, this is Edgar Carver.” The dog extended his paw. Carver took it with a nervous laugh.

  His eyes turned to Sidney Zoom, and there was a peculiar expression in them, an expression of bewildered wonder with just the faint glint of panic.

  “You keep him with you all the time, that dog?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Sidney Zoom. He meshed the gears, and swept out of the garage at a rapid rate of speed.

  Carver showed that he was uneasy.

  “I … er … wonder if I didn’t see you last night. I saw a man of about your build, walking with a dog.”

  Zoom shook his head.

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” he said, “whether you saw me or not.” And he yawned.

  The man in gray showed visible relief.

  “After all,” he said, laughing a short nervous laugh, “there are lots of police dogs who walk around with their masters at night.”

  “Lots,” agreed Sidney Zoom. The car was flashing into speed.

  “Where do we go?” asked Carver, as the better class of apartments dropped behind and they turned toward the water front.

  “To my yacht,” said Sidney Zoom.

  Carver settled back, lit a cigarette. “This is the life,” he observed.

  Zoom garaged the car at the wharf, motioned to Carver to accompany him, walked down the planks of the big wharf, then down a flight of steep stairs to a mooring float against which was his trim white yacht.

  Carver walked aboard. “This way,” said Zoom.

  He led the man down the deck, into a cabin, down a short, steep flight of stairs. There was a door at the side of the little passageway at the foot of those stairs, and that door was painted green.

  CHAPTER VI

  Caught!

  CARVER DID not notice the color of the door, nor did he notice that the door was so low that he had to stoop to enter. That stooping prevented him from seeing the interior of the room until after he had entered it.

  Then he straightened, grinning, started to say something, and stopped. The smile faded from his face. His eyes grew large and glassy with horror. He screamed, whirled, tried to run from the room.

  There was a deep-throated growl at his heels.

  Rip, the police dog, barred the way with bared fangs.

  Carver’s hand raced to his hip, came out with a weapon that glinted an ominous blue in the half light of the horror chamber.

  The dog moved with incredible speed. His fangs caught the wrist, clamped down.

  The dog flung his weight in a sideways lunge, wrenching the wrist.

  The gun thudded to the floor. Sidney Zoom indicated the room. “Go in,” he said, “and sit down.”

  Edgar Carver seemed about to faint. His knees wobbled. His eyes stared at the gruesome interior of the room. That room was barely furnished. The chief object in it was a chair. Wires ran from the floor into that chair. It was straight-backed, businesslike, horrid.

  “What does this mean?” yelled Carver.

  “Go in,” said Sidney Zoom, “and sit down.”

  The man whirled in a fear and fury. He lashed out with his fists, bit, struck, clawed and kicked.

  The dog rushed forward, but was sent to the floor at a single sharp command from Sidney Zoom. Zoom’s long arms wrapped around the panic-stricken, struggling figure, bore him from the floor, carried him to the chair, flung him down.

  A strap circled the body, held it. The arms and legs frantically kicked. Sidney

  Zoom secured one of the arms with a strap which was fastened to the arm of the chair. Then he secured the other arm. Next he strapped the legs.

  He made his motions with a swift efficiency which showed skill and practice. And he pinioned the flying arms and legs with a speed of motion that indicated the great strength which was in those long, sinewy muscles.

  Zoom stared down at the man and nodded. “How does it feel?” he asked.

  “Good God, are you mad!” screamed the man, struggling against the straps. Zoom shook his head.

  “Very sane, thank you. I thought you might like a little taste of that which is to come. The chamber with the green door, the iron chair, the electrodes. Presently, I shall turn on a little current. Not too much. Just enough to let you know how you’ll feel when the state gives you the big jolt. They say that prisoners rise against the straps, that the chair shivers with their agony.

  “It’s all for the best, the performance of justice. You have killed, and you shall be killed. You have lived by the sword and you shall die by the sword.

  “I’ll go out for a while and you can sit and see how you look. Let your mind think ahead to the thing that is in store for you.”

  And Sidney Zoom, stooping, backed through the green door, closed it after him.

  There was a mirror in the other side of that green door. It was so adjusted that the occupant of the chair stared at his reflection every time he raised his eyes.

  There was also a little peek-hole in the door, just to one side of the mirror. Through this hole, Sidney Zoom, unobserved, could study the features of the man who occupied the chair. It was a subtle bit of third degree which Zoom had perfected.

  He pressed his eye to the opening, watched Edgar Carver.

  Carver stared, fascinated, at the reflection of himself in the chair. His complexion was a sickly yellow. His eyes were wide and there was sweat dripping from his forehead. The man tore his eyes away, strove to look elsewhere and failed. The eyes,

  fascinated, always came back to that reflection.

  After a few minutes Sidney Zoom opened the green door. “Why,” he asked, “did you kill Muriel?”

  “I didn’t kill her,” said Carver. Zoom leveled a finger.

  “My friend, you have one chance, and one chance alone to escape the torture of that chair. I want a confession. If you confess to me you stand some slight chance of escaping the embrace of the electric chair. If you fail to confess, then nothing can save you.”

  “I have nothing to confess,” insisted Carver, the sweat dropping from his forehead. “Very well,” said Sidney Zoom, “I shall summon the police. They will take you to jail. You will be convicted, sentenced, and the fate that is in store for you will weigh on

  your mind day after day, sleepless night after sleepless night!” And he stepped outside, closed the green door.

  He heard the man’s scream as the eyes once more sought the grim reflection.

  “No, no! Come back! Come back!” Sidney Zoom opened the door.

  “Almost too late, my friend,” he said, and his voice held the timbre of a solemnly tolling bell.

  Edgar Carver burst into speech.

  “I’ll tell it all! I didn’t mean to kill her. I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know what to do, I was between the devil and the deep sea. I had to do it! You won’t understand. You don’t, you can’t understand! It’s horrible.

  “I got drawn into it, a little at the time. It started when I got to taking a few stones on my own. Then I felt I was likely to be caught. I knew they were going to take an inventory. The shortage would be discovered. I had to do something.

  “I knew this gang of gem thieves, I arranged to get in touch with one of the men in that gang. I wanted them to rob the place so that my own shortage would never be known.

  “I didn’t tell him I was short. He was a fence, I guess. He didn’t do the work himself. He said he could arrange to have it done for me. But, he said I’d have to tip the gang of when there was a heavy shipment of valuable stones coming in, and that I’d have to see that the vaults were on open so they could make a clean-up and a quick getaway.

  “I never met the real gangsters. I carried on everything through the fence. The girl, Muriel, knew something was going on. Maybe she’d been dipping in some, herself. I don’t know.

  “I only know that the gang staged the stick-up. But things didn’t go right. The watchman was a fool. They killed him. That was the first time I realized what I was up against. There had been a murder, and I was in on the job!

  “It meant the chair! Think of it—the chair! The chair!”

  His voice rose to a crescendo of hysterical fear, then trailed into silence as he sat and shuddered.

  Sidney Zoom regarded him with unsympathetic eyes. “But the girl’s death,” he said, “What of that?”

  The man went on with his story.

  “The girl was wise, too wise. She knew what was in the wind, and she started to hijack the proposition. Just before the gang came in, she made a sweep of the cream of the stock. She got a bunch of the stones that were the best values and could be the most easily sold.

  “Then the stick-up, and the gang found, when they went to fence the stuff that they had the inferior merchandise, and not as much of that as they should have. Naturally, they thought I was the one that had pulled the fast one on ’em, and the fence sent for me and gave me something to think about.

  “That started me using my wits. The fence gave me twenty-four hours to produce the missing stones. If I didn’t produce them within that time I was to be put on the spot.

  “I hunted up the girl and found that she had left her apartment. I figured she’d go to spend the night with Stella Denny, so I hot-footed over there and stuck around. The girl came in to the apartment house. I caught her in the elevator.

  “She denied it at first, and then admitted what she’d done, but claimed she’d ditched the stones. Then when I got to pressing her, she told me I could either like it or lump it, and that if I said anything more she’d tell the detectives what she knew and I’d fry for murder.

  “That was what set me crazy. The idea of being in the power of Muriel Drake, having her threaten to spill what she knew, and send me to the chair. I knew right then that it was my life or hers. I figured she had the stones on her somewhere.

  “And if I didn’t get those stones I was going to be croaked. If the girl talked, I was due to be killed. So I grabbed her and choked her. I guess I was crazy at the time.