Odor of Violets, Baynard Kendrick [best short novels .txt] 📗

dog’s in the basement. I brought him over here because Dominick’s away and the heat’s turned off in the garage. I was afraid he might be cold. Is there anything more I can do?”

“Nothing, but accept my thanks,” said Maclain.

“I’ll turn down the bed before I leave,” the butler told him, “and lay out your things. If you need me for anything more, my telephone button is Number Seven, the top one in the left-hand row.” He went off with a quick “Good night.”

Sergeant King said, “He’s a damned efficient man.”

As the Captain started to undress, King told him, “Lie down on the bed. I know you’re butt-headed and independent, but you’ve been through hell-and-gone, and tonight, for once in your life, a policeman’s playing nurse to you.”

“I’m afraid it’ll be a pleasure.” The Captain stretched out on the bed with a smile and added, “How in the name of heaven did you locate me?”

“I didn’t,” said Sergeant King, tugging at a shoe. “You’ll have to thank that madman in the camel-hair coat. He picked up a fellow named Louis Madoc, shut him up in a closet, and turned rats loose on him. I’m afraid when the Commissioner hears what I’ve been mixed up in tonight I’ll have some real explaining to do.”

Maclain started to sit up, but the Sergeant pushed him back again.

“Then he must have been in touch with Spud, my partner in New York.” The Captain paused and added, “Did you know Cameron was a member of the F. B. I.?”

“I learned it tonight,” said King, “but how did you?”

“It was fairly obvious, if you had all the details as I had,” said Maclain. “He confessed to a murder he hadn’t committed and pointedly dragged in an innocent girl. She was promptly thrown into jail and held there under a prohibitive bond. I tested her with a trick, a friendly suggestion written in violet ink. She reacted to it and proved herself a member of the sabotage gang by jumping at the idea that she back up Mr. Cameron’s fake confession and make a stab at sending him to the chair. While everyone in this very smart spy organization thinks Mr. Cameron is in jail too, he’s most annoyingly running around free.”

“You said it,” Sergeant King remarked, breathing heavily. “He’s certainly been plenty of annoyance to me.”

Schnucke stood up beside the bed as Cameron came in the door. The F. B. I. man closed it swiftly behind him, walked over, and sat down on the bed beside Maclain. “Captain,” he said, “I have bad news for you.”

Two thin lines appeared at the sides of the Captain’s nose and smoothed themselves out again.

“They found your partner, Spud Savage, in a room in the Tanner Building when they raided it tonight. He was shot in the back. He’s in New York Hospital and the doctors say his chances are good, but it was touch and go. Your chauffeur was there too, knocked out with a hypo of scopolamine. He isn’t seriously hurt.”

Cameron slid an arm under the Captain’s shoulders and raised him up while the Sergeant slipped his pajama jacket on.

Maclain asked, “When did Spud talk to you?”

“I didn’t see him,” said Cameron. “I’m afraid I burgled your apartment last night and played the record containing your message. The F. B. I. has in its possession twenty-three names of ringleaders in an organization which planned wholesale sabotage in the United States tomorrow. Eleven of them they knew. Twelve more they found, thanks to you, in the House of Bonnée. The President of the United States has sent you a word of thanks, Captain Maclain, conveyed by Colonel Gray.”

The Sergeant said, “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better be traveling. I have a report to make. Are you coming, Mr. Cameron?”

“No,” said Cameron. “I have some things to talk over with the Captain. I think I’d better stay.”

The Sergeant paused at the door. “If you turn up anything that will throw a light on the murder in this house, for God’s sake let me know.”

“I will,” said Duncan Maclain.

Pierce’s footsteps sounded in the hall. When the butler rapped, Sergeant King opened the door and said, “I’m just leaving, Pierce. Mr. Cameron’s staying. If you don’t mind, you can go down and lock up after me.”

“Yes,” said Pierce. He hesitated a moment, looking about the room. “I’m afraid I’m getting a bit nervous, gentlemen, but something peculiar happened after the Tredwills left. I thought I’d better report it, although I imagine it’s nothing more than a petty theft.”

“What’s that?” Maclain asked quickly.

“It’s so silly that I almost hate to bring it up at such a time,” Pierce went on. “I heard a noise downstairs about an hour before you arrived. I went out on the side porch to investigate and found that somebody had stolen the untrimmed Christmas tree.”

“A Christmas tree!” Cameron exclaimed. “Now what the hell—”

The Sergeant’s face was a study. He adjusted his uniform jacket to a closer fit and looked at Maclain. The Captain lay motionless, staring unblinkingly with hypnotic intensity at a bright bulb in the table lamp. It made the Sergeant’s eyes water. He shifted his gaze to Cameron, then back to Pierce again.

“It wasn’t exactly stolen,” Pierce corrected in the steady manner he had of getting everything right to a T. “Somebody took it from the porch and dragged it down the hill at the end of the house to the edge of the driveway. I found it there and brought it back again.”

“Probably some kid who lost his nerve,” said Sergeant King. “I really must go.”

The butler told Cameron, “There’s an empty room across the hall. I can supply you with everything you need if you decide to stay.”

“Thanks,” said Cameron. He stood in the doorway watching Sergeant King and the butler until they disappeared downstairs. When they were out of sight he closed the door.

“There’s whiskey in my bag,” said the Captain. “Will you join me?”

Cameron lifted the lid of the suitcase and said, “Will the angels sing?” He