Death Points A Finger Part 22

"Did you look in the patch of woods over there?"

"No, sir. I didn't see the need for it and I was too busy keeping the people a safe distance away. Fortunately there was no fire."

Professor Brierly went into what was left of the house. He carefully picked his way through the broken furniture, the crumbling brick and mortar, twisted metal. Frank Hall, from the Bureau of Combustibles, was there. He was acquainted with Professor Brierly and he greeted the old scientist cordially, saying:

"There is some evidence, Professor, of a simple bomb filled with black powder. I cannot find the firing device, whatever it was. I cannot find any timing device either."

"A timing device, Mr. Hall? Suppose the explosion had occurred ten minutes earlier. It happened, if I am correctly informed, only three minutes after he came home."

"That's all right, Professor. I thought of that, but he was expected much sooner, hours sooner."

Professor Brierly nodded absently. "I see," he murmured. He was looking about him intently. Suddenly he stooped and peered at a black mark along a strip of moulding that had fallen from some part of the wrecked structure. He picked it up and examined it carefully. He showed it to Mr. Hall.

"Did you see this, Mr. Hall? Looks like a burn that might have been made by a fuse, does it not?"

"Yes, Professor, it does, but one of the peculiarities about this kind of thing is that it destroys its own evidence pretty much. If we don't know where the lighted fuse originated and where it led, it doesn't do us much good, does it?"

"That's right, but this obviously comes from an upper room, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I believe it does. But the upper rooms are gone, you see."

"And you really think, do you Mr. Hall, that there was a timing device? It seems plausible to you that men who are engaged in such desperate business would leave such a thing to the mere chance of finding their victim home at the time their device was set to go off?"

"Well, perhaps not, Professor, but what else is there?"

"Nothing, yet, Mr. Hall, but let us look about."

Professor Brierly, with Jimmy and Matthews close at his heels, went picking his way through the wreckage. He stepped outside and looked carefully among the debris. The force of the explosion seemed to have propelled a major portion of the wreckage in the direction of the backyard. It was here that Professor Brierly found a section of a papered wall with a telephone bell-box attached.

He looked long and earnestly at a spot of the paper near what had been the bottom of the box. With Matthews' help, he forced open the enameled lid, exposing the wires, binding posts, terminals and bell. From among the wires he carefully picked out a frayed piece of gray thread. He once more peered intently into the box and at the papered area of wall to which it was attached.

"John," he said, holding the thread up for the young man's inspection. "Does this properly belong to a telephone box of this type?"

Matthews looked curiously at the bit of frayed thread. He shook his head. "I can't understand what it's doing there, Professor."

"And yet, John, this bit of thread had a very definite function, a very definite and murderous function, indeed. I think I am beginning to understand. Now let us go look for a timing device."

"But you said there wasn't any timing device, Professor,"

protested Jimmy. "At any rate," answering the old man's glare, "that it appeared illogical that a timing device was employed."

"Nevertheless, Mr. Hale, there was a timing device, not the kind Mr. Hall had in mind, perhaps, but some timing device. The explosion you will admit was timed very accurately indeed."

He walked outside, followed by his two companions. He walked briskly toward the patch of woods. Here he entered a faint path that was evidently used by those who came to this street from the state road. He walked carefully along the edge of the woods skirting the road on which was the wrecked house. A few yards from the path he came to a cleared patch.

He stopped and looked about him. He pointed to the ground. He said:

"Trailing is one of the accomplishments that was unfortunately left out of my education. But does a man have to be an Indian to read this correctly?" He was pointing at the ground. The small cleared s.p.a.ce was littered with cigarette b.u.t.ts, rolled in brown paper and what had once been a popular brand of tobacco. There were also a number of burned matches. From this patch, screened by some undergrowth, there was a clear un.o.bstructed sight of the late William Flynn's home.

Professor Brierly continued:

"Here is your timing device, Mr. Hale. This person, presumably one person, showing commendable patience, as evidenced by the number of cigarettes, waited here. A human timing device, but a very accurate one is proved."

"But, Professor," protested Jimmy, "that would entail wires, buried wires, perhaps. Such wires would not be readily destroyed.

Such--"

"Tut, Mr. Hale. You forget that it takes only a fraction of a second for an electric impulse to encircle the earth. We live in modern times. What need for clumsy wires. And yet in a sense you are right. There were buried wires.

"John," turning abruptly to his young a.s.sistant, "that path leads to a state road. See what is at the end of that road, will you.

See if there is any shop or place where there is a public telephone."

John Matthews had started along the path when he turned abruptly and came back.

"Professor, I'd rather Jimmy went. We'll wait here for him." John looked grim as he said this. He looked meaningly at Jimmy.

Professor Brierly laid his tiny hand on the big shoulder, in his eyes an unwonted brightness. The Nordic is not a demonstrative creature, particularly the male creature.

"You foolish boy, come on, we'll all go."

A garish filling station was diagonally opposite the path. The familiar sign of the bell indicated that a telephone was to be had inside. But the place was still closed. Professor Brierly jotted down the name on the sign. The three men returned to the wrecked house. After a perfunctory look about the scene, Professor Brierly indicated that he was ready to go. On their way to the station he asked Jimmy if he would take him up to see his city editor, Hite.

Jimmy, carefully restraining a grin, gravely consented.

The man who had driven them from the hangar hearing them discuss their trip to New York, told Professor Brierly that the car, as well as the plane, was at his disposal. They therefore, drove to the city.

A quick breakfast at an all night lunch counter, a shave and ma.s.sage and the old man, apparently as fresh as though he had spent the night in bed, was ready to resume his task.

On the short ride to the newspaper office, Professor Brierly's eyes fell on one of Matthews' big hands. It was an angry red and was swollen. There was instant contrition and solicitude. The old man touched the hand gently:

"What happened, John?"

"Say, Professor, look at Jimmy's eye. Ain't it a peach?"

"John, I asked you, what is the matter with your hand?"

"My hand, Professor, which--" Professor Brierly's ire was rising.

"John--"

"Oh, you mean my hand, Professor. I guess I broke a metacarpal bone. That bird had a hard jaw. Too bad I didn't use my foot," he said, regretfully.

"You're a savage young man," blared the old man. "Such instincts are--"

"Shall we say--er--primitive," suggested Jimmy.

Chapter XIV

Hite rose from his seat and laid down his pipe when Jimmy led the little man into the busy city room, a mark of respect Hite rarely showed any one. After greetings were exchanged, Hite led the way into the office of the managing editor, who had not yet arrived.

Seeing the little scientist seated, Hite growled: