“What is it?” gasped the wretched Carlis, in a fearful whisper, when the voice had ceased. “What is that––infernal thing?”
“A detectaphone,” returned Blaine laconically. “You’ve heard of them, haven’t you, Carlis? When you asked me if we were alone, if any of my operatives were spying about, I told you that no human ear overheard our conversation. But this little concealed instrument––this unseen listener––recorded and bore witness to your confession; and this is a Recorder you do not own, and cannot buy!”
CHAPTER XX
THE CREVICE
“But I don’t understand”––Guy Morrow’s voice was plaintive, and he eyed his chief reproachfully, as he stood before Blaine’s desk, twisting his hat nervously––“why you didn’t nail him! You’ve got the goods on him, all right; and now, just because you only had him arrested on a charge of assault with intent to kill, he’s gone and used his influence, and got himself released under heavy bail. Oh, why won’t you go heeled or guarded? We can’t afford to lose you, sir, any of us, and now he’ll do for you, as sure as shooting!”
“Who––Carlis?” Blaine spoke almost absently, as if the portentous scene of two hours before had already almost slipped from his memory. “Oh, he won’t get away, and I’m not afraid of him! I let him go for the same reason that I didn’t have Mallowe arrested this morning––for the same reason why I haven’t stopped Paddington’s philandering with the French girl, Fifine: because a link is still missing in the chain; the shell, the exterior of the whole conspiracy is in the hollow of my hand, but I can’t find the chink, the crevice into which to insert my lever and split it apart, lay the whole dastardly scheme irrefutably open to the light of day. I want to complete my case: in other words, Guy––I want to win!”
“And you will, sir; you’ve never failed yet! Only I––I 291 don’t have any luck!” The young man’s haggard face grew wistful. “I want Emily Brunell; I need her––and I seem farther from finding her than ever!”
“I didn’t know that was your job!” the detective objected, with a brusqueness which was not unkind. “I told you I’d take care of that, in my own way. I thought I assigned you to the task of finding out who fired at you, from the darkened window of your own room, when you were in Brunell’s house across the street; also I wanted a line on those two mysterious boarders of Mrs. Quinlan’s.”