“I think you are on the right track, Mr. Starr.”
The theatrical manager, once more quite composed, seemed to find a great deal of amusement in the speculative drift of the conversation.
“It is diverting to try to read other people’s minds,” he observed. “I wonder how close I can come to an accurate reading of yours. A detective’s thoughts travel a devious route, but I will try to look at the situation from your point of view, taking all the circumstances into account. If you were to mention the name of the one remaining suspect, I fancy it would be W. Rufus Fairspeckle.”
Culligore stared as if dumfounded at the other’s astuteness, but his lips curled into the faintest grin as soon as Starr averted his gaze.
“You might as well admit that I was right,” said the manager with a smile of elation. “For once a mere layman has read your mind like an open book. The next question is what has become of Fairspeckle. Do you suppose——”
He broke off short. His glance darted involuntarily to the automatic telephone on the desk. Its summons sounded clear and distinct in the tense silence. Once more a tinge of gray crept into his face. With a tightening of the lips he looked furtively at Culligore.
“Queer!” muttered the lieutenant, fingering the green cord attached to the instrument and tracing it to the sound box. “Someone is calling on the private wire. And you just told me that you and I were alone in the building.”
The buzzing continued. Starr stared helplessly at the instrument, but out of the tail of an eye he was watching the expression on the detective’s face. Finally, with a jerk of the shoulders, he emerged from his daze.
“I don’t understand it,” he murmured, “but we shall soon see what it means.”
He sat down and drew the instrument to him. His face took on a look of determination, but there was also a baffling and inscrutable expression that might have puzzled the detective. But Culligore’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. He looked as though he foresaw a critical moment and realized that quick thinking and prompt action were necessary. While Starr was speaking into the telephone, he looked quickly about the room. From his vest pocket he took a small box and removed the lid, exposing a reddish substance that looked like salve. Rubbing a little of it onto his finger tips, he softly crossed the room and quickly smeared a thin coating of the reddish material on the doorknob.