“They have gone too far. This must end! We must put a stop to it all!” These were the words on every honest person’s lips.
But how? Who were the culprits? Where were they to be found?
These questions could be answered best by the city’s detective force. And this force, in the person of Drew Lane and Herman McCarthey, together with those recently drafted ones, Johnny Thompson and Newton Mills, were doing their best to answer them.
The Chief of Detectives had granted Drew Lane a leave of absence from his position as pickpocket hunter in order that he might work on this special case that had assumed such a personal aspect for him. The pickpockets, however, could not be neglected. It was necessary for the team of Drew and Howe to dissolve partnership for a time. Tom Howe was given another partner while Drew Lane joined Sergeant McCarthey.
They were gathered in Sergeant McCarthey’s office at the police station. For his broad sheets of paper the sergeant had substituted oblongs of cardboard not unlike playing cards.
“Here are the clues, the possibilities,” he said, thumbing the cards with nervous fingers. “You will recall,” he said to Drew, “that when those miscreants beat Johnny up in the radio studio, three cases were reported which might have a bearing on the case; that is, they happened within a half hour of the time the boy was slugged.
“In the first place, let me say that this last instance, when the girl Rosy was shot, appears to eliminate one possibility. You remember I had a sheet on which I proposed to record the names of those who might have wrecked the radio station on that first occasion because their criminal ventures had been interrupted in the past by radio squad calls.
“That’s off, I guess. This time the man with a hole in his hand was engaged in cutting wires. That’s all he meant to do. The shooting was an accident. That makes it certain that he wanted the radio silent. Why? He was afraid a squad call would go through. If he cut that wire the police report could not come in, and the squad call could not go out.
“Now here.” Once more he thumbed his cards, as the others leaned forward eagerly. “Here are the records of last night’s doings in gangland, during the half hour after Rosy was shot.
“Card No. 1. A daring theatre holdup on State Street. It was to have been a rather large affair, involving several thousand dollars. Fortunately, it did not come out so well. The greater part of the money had been spirited away by the proprietor fifteen minutes before the robbers arrived. They got only about seven hundred dollars.