“No.” Ogden drew himself erect. “Although Takasaki tried to bribe me earlier tonight to engineer a Congressional lobby to prevent passage of the bills for universal military service. Most of my fortune is invested in Eastern trade, and has been practically swept away by the ruining of our Pacific shipping. The Japanese are aware of my financial straits, and brought pressure to bear to make me accept their offer.” Ogden cleared his throat. “I had but one alternative—to apply to my wife’s cousin and our guest, Julian Barclay, to loan me ready money to tide me over the next few months. My wife had a heart attack a little after one o’clock this morning and I telephoned for Dr. McLane. My wife’s condition—” he gulped and broke down.
“I shall be very glad to assist you financially,” volunteered Barclay; then addressing Norcross, “What was your object in poisoning Dwight Tilghman? You appeared the best of friends on the train.”
“I killed him because he had stolen important documents from a Japanese Secret Service agent, Mr. Soto, in San Francisco”—a low cry of astonishment broke from Ethel. “I had to recover the documents before Tilghman returned them to the Secretary of War,” added Norcross sullenly.
“But I was too quick for you,” put in Ito. “A cipher dispatch from Colonel Calhoun told me of Tilghman’s mission east and of the rumor that the Japanese were trailing him. I boarded the train the morning of Tilghman’s murder, and tried to speak to him, but he at first took me for an enemy. I approached him in the smoker, and during our scuffle slipped a note in his hand.”
“I saw you do it,” exclaimed Barclay.
Ito nodded. “Tilghman, taken by surprise, was somewhat clumsy. He evidently regarded the warning from Calhoun as genuine, but not willing to trust a Japanese wholly, he slipped the documents into your pocket, Mr. Barclay, for safe keeping, when borrowing your flask....”
“My pocket?” Barclay stared at Ito blankly. “I found no documents——”
“But only a miniature,” supplemented Ito. “The documents are concealed behind Miss Ogden’s miniature, which was painted without her knowledge by a Japanese artist, Soto, a member of their Secret Service on duty in Washington until recently, who admired Miss Ogden extravagantly, but who did not hesitate to use her beauty to shield his efforts to smuggle documents out of the United States.”
“I don’t know how you secured your information,” said Norcross scowling at Ito; “but it is correct. The United States Secret Service got wind of our activities, and it was next to impossible to pass written data out of the country; therefore Soto, who spent the past year posing as a guest at the Japanese Embassy, conceived the idea of secreting the documents inside the gold miniature case which held the portrait of Miss Ogden, painted surreptitiously by him. When the miniature was stolen from Soto by Tilghman I was engaged to get it back. I had traveled before with Tilghman, and we were the best of friends——”
“And you were aware of his having no sense of taste,” suggested McLane.