“I fear you’re in for it, old man,” sighed Vance. “I’m not a bit psychic—never had dreams that came true, and don’t know what a telepathic seizure feels like—but something tells me that the Bishop is going to acquaint the press with that bit of Mother-Goose verse. The point of his new joke is even obscurer than his Cock-Robin comedy. He’ll see to it that no one misses it. Even a grim humorist who uses corpses for his cap-and-bells must have his audience. Therein lies the one weakness of his abominable crimes. It’s about our only hope, Markham.”
“I’ll give Quinan a ring,” said Heath, “and find out if anything has been received.”
But the Sergeant was saved the trouble. The World reporter was waiting for us at the District Attorney’s office, and Swacker ushered him in at once.
“Howdy, Mr. Markham.” There was a breezy impudence in Quinan’s manner, but withal he showed signs of nervous excitement. “I’ve got something here for Sergeant Heath. They told me at Headquarters that he was handling the Sprigg case, and said he was parleying with you. So I blew over.” He reached in his pocket and, taking out a sheet of paper, handed it to Heath. “I’m being mighty high, wide and handsome with you, Sergeant, and I expect a little inside stuff by way of reciprocity. . . . Cast your eye on that document. Just received by America’s foremost family journal.”
It was a plain piece of typewriting paper, and it contained the Mother-Goose melody of Johnny Sprig, typed in élite characters with a pale-blue ribbon. In the lower right-hand corner was the signature in capitals: THE BISHOP.
“And here’s the envelope, Sergeant.” Quinan again dug down into his pocket.
The official cancellation bore the hour of 9 a. m., and, like the first note, it had been mailed in the district of Post Office Station “N.”
CHAPTER XII.
A Midnight Call
(Tuesday, April 12; 10 a. m.)
The following morning the front pages of the metropolitan press carried sensational stories which surpassed Markham’s worst fears. In addition to the World two other leading morning journals had received notes similar to the one shown us by Quinan; and the excitement created by their publication was tremendous. The entire city was thrown into a state of apprehension and fear; and though half-hearted attempts were made here and there to dismiss the maniacal aspect of the crimes on the ground of coincidence, and to explain away the Bishop notes as the work of a practical joker, all the newspapers and the great majority of the public were thoroughly convinced that a new and terrible type of killer was preying upon the community.[17]