It was during the lull that followed the first feverish efforts of the police that Inspector Timothy Klein and Detective Joe Cardona arrived at the home of Wilbur Blake.
They sat in the living room of the millionaire’s big house. The inspector looked approvingly toward the detective. Cardona’s face bore signs of tremendous strain. His arm was in a sling.
“Great work, Joe,” said Klein. “Great work.”
“We’re tying up the Seven with that Bradstreet Bank hold-up,” said Cardona wearily. “Their fifty men were at work that time. They killed two bank guards—”
The inspector nodded. Then he waved his hand.
“But what about here, Joe?” he questioned. “How do the Seven figure in this? Who killed Blake? Have you quizzed Paget?”
“Yes. But he couldn’t answer. He was all busted up when I flashed that paper that we found on him.
“It was Marchand’s confession, you know. It told all about the Silent Seven. Paget blabbed after he saw that. Told us how he had seen Marchand opening the secret drawer; how he had stolen the confession.
“He murdered Marchand, and he murdered Lukens — to get the ring that the doctor wore. He used a gun with a silencer. Threw it into the river, over one of the bridges, while he was riding with a drunken friend.”
“I can’t figure out why Blake was killed,” said Klein slowly. “It looks like the Seven did it, right enough. He was about to pull a business deal — that’s all we know. Some stranger mixed himself in it. If we had the motive for—”