“Your First Lessons in Sleuthing always say, ‘distrust the perfect alibi,’” murmured Zizi, without looking up from her occupation of smoothing Olive’s softly banded hair.
“Yes,—manufactured ones. But in this case there seems to be no question. A Federal detective, who has had his eye on Rodman for some time, was in Rodman’s office at the very time Mr. Gately was killed.”
“But Mr. Rodman went down on the same elevator I did, soon after the shooting,” I exclaimed.
“How soon after?”
“Less than half an hour. And Rodman got on at the seventh floor.”
“That’s all right, the Federal Office man knows that. They went down together from the tenth,—Rodman’s floor,—to the seventh, and then after they looked after something there, Rodman went on down alone.”
“All right,” I said, for I knew that Wise and the Federal Detective were not being hoodwinked by any George Rodman!
“And here’s the situation,” Wise went on; “Sadie Kent is a German telegraph spy. She is called ‘The Link,’ because she has been an important link in the German spy system. A trusted employee and an expert operator of long experience, she has stolen information from hundreds of telegrams and turned it over to a man who transmitted it to Berlin by a secret avenue of communication. A telegram has been sent to Washington asking for a presidential warrant to hold her until the case can be investigated. She is also one large and emphatic wildcat! She bites and scratches with feline ferocity, and is under strong and careful restrictions.”
“And she is the one,” I said, “whose identity we learned from Jenny—and,—oh, yes, whose identity you guessed, Mr. Wise, from some cigarette stubs, and——”
“Oh, I say,” Wise interrupted me, shortly, “we must get the truth from her by quizzing, not by clews. We’ve arrested her, now, and——”