The Object-compass At Work

: The Skylark Of Space

Prescott, after a sleepless night, joined Seaton and Crane at breakfast.



"What do you make of it, Mr. Prescott?" asked Crane. "Seaton here thinks

it was DuQuesne, possibly acting for some foreign power, after our

flying-machine to use in war. I think it was some big industrial concern

after our power-plant. What is your opinion?"



"I haven't any," replied the great detective after a moment. "Either
br /> guess may be true, although I am almost positive that Dr. DuQuesne had

nothing to do with it, either way. It was no ordinary burglary, that is

certain from Shiro's story. It was done by someone who had exact

information of your movements and habits. He chose a time when you were

away, probably not so much from fear of you as because it was only in

your absence that he could succeed as he did in getting all the guards

out at once where he could handle them. He was a man with one accomplice

or who worked alone, and who was almost exactly Seaton's size and build.

He was undoubtedly an expert, as he blew the safe and searched the whole

house without leaving a finger-print or any other clue, however slight,

that I can find--a thing I have never before seen done in all my

experience."



"His size should help in locating him," declared Crane. "While there are

undoubtedly thousands of men of Dick's six-feet-one and two-fifths, they

are fairly well scattered, are they not?"



"Yes, they are, but his very size only makes it worse. I have gone over

all the records I could, in the short time I have had, and can't find an

expert of that class with anywhere near that description."



"How about the third guard, the one who escaped?" asked Seaton.



"He wasn't here. It was his afternoon off, you know, and he said that he

wouldn't come back into this job on a bet--that he wasn't afraid of

anything ordinary, but he didn't like the looks of things out here. That

sounded fishy to me, and I fired him. He may have been the leak, of

course, though I have always found him reliable before. If he did leak,

he must have got a whale of a slice for it. He is under constant watch,

and if we can ever get anything on him, I will nail him to the cross.

But that doesn't help get this affair straightened out. I haven't given

up, of course, there are lots of things not tried yet, but I must admit

that temporarily, at least, I am up a stump."



"Well," remarked Seaton, "that million-dollar reward will bring him in,

sure. No honor that ever existed among thieves, or even among

free-lances of diplomacy, could stand that strain."



"I'm not so sure of that, Dick," said Crane. "If either one of our ideas

is the right one, very few men would know enough about the affair to

give pertinent information, and they probably would not live long enough

to enjoy the reward very thoroughly. Even a million dollars fails in

that case."



"I rather agree with Mr. Crane, Seaton. If it were an ordinary

affair--and I am as sure it is not as the police are that it is--a

reward of that size would get us our man within two days. As it is, I

doubt very much that the reward will do us any good. I'm afraid that it

will never be claimed."



"Wonder if the Secret Service could help us out? They'd be interested if

it should turn out to be some foreign power."



"I took it up with the Chief himself, just after it happened last night.

He doesn't think that it can be a foreign country. He has their agents

pretty well spotted, and the only one that could fill the bill--you know

a man with that description and with the cold nerve to do the job would

be apt to be known--was in San Francisco, the time this job was pulled

off."



* * * * *



"The more you talk, the more I am convinced that it was DuQuesne

himself," declared Seaton, positively. "He is almost exactly my size and

build, is the only man I know of who could do anything with the solution

after he got it, and he has nerve enough to do anything."



"I would like to think it was DuQuesne," replied the detective,

thoughtfully, "but I'm afraid we'll have to count him out of it

entirely. He has been under the constant surveillance of my best men

ever since you mentioned him. We have detectaphones in his rooms, wires

on his telephone, and are watching him night and day. He never goes out

except to work, never has any except unimportant telephone calls, and

the instruments register only the occasional scratching of a match, the

rustle of papers, and other noises of a man studying. He's innocent."



"That may be true," assented Seaton doubtfully, "but you want to

remember that he knows more about electricity than the guy that invented

it, and I'm not sure that he can't talk to a detectaphone and make it

say anything he wants it to. Anyway, we can soon settle it. Yesterday I

made a special trip down to the Bureau, with some notes as an excuse, to

set this object-compass on him," taking one of the small instruments

from his pocket as he spoke. "I watched him a while last night, then

fixed an alarm to wake me if the needle moved much, but it pointed

steady all night. See! It's moving now. That means that he is going to

work early, as usual. Now I'm morally certain that he's mixed up in this

thing somewhere, and I'm not convinced that he isn't slipping one over

on your men some way--he's a clever devil. I wonder if you wouldn't take

this compass and watch him yourself tonight, just on general principles?

Or let me do it. I'd be glad to. I say 'tonight' because if he did get

the stuff here he didn't deliver it anywhere last night. It's just a

chance, of course, but he may do it tonight."



After the compass had been explained to the detective he gladly

consented to the plan, declaring that he would willingly spend the time

just to watch such an unheard-of instrument work. After another hour of

fruitless discussion Prescott took his leave, saying that he would mount

an impregnable guard from that time on.



Late that evening Prescott joined the two men who were watching

DuQuesne's house. They reported that all was perfectly quiet, as usual.

The scientist was in his library, the instruments registering only the

usual occasional faint sounds of a man absorbed in study. But after an

hour of waiting, and while the microphones made a noise as of rustling

papers, the needle of the compass moved. It dipped slowly toward the

earth as though DuQuesne were descending into the cellar, but at the

same time the shadow of his unmistakable profile was thrown upon the

window shade as he apparently crossed the room.



"Can't you hear him walk?" demanded Prescott.



"No. He has heavy Turkish rugs all over the library, and he always walks

very lightly, besides."



* * * * *



Prescott watched the needle in amazement as it dipped deeper and deeper,

pointing down into the earth almost under his feet and then behind him,

as though DuQuesne had walked beneath him. He did not, could not,

believe it. He was certain that something had gone wrong with the

strange instrument in his hand, nevertheless he followed the pointing

needle. It led him beside Park Road, down the hill, straight toward the

long bridge which forms one entrance to Rock Creek Park. Though

skeptical, Prescott took no chances, and as he approached the bridge he

left the road and concealed himself behind a clump of trees, from which

point of vantage he could see the ground beneath the bridge as well as

the roadway. Soon the bridge trembled under the weight of a heavy

automobile going toward the city at a high rate of speed. He saw

DuQuesne, with a roll of papers under his arm, emerge from under the

bridge just in time to leap aboard the automobile, which slowed down

only enough to enable him to board it in safety. The detective noticed

that the car was a Pierce-Arrow limousine--a car not common, even in

Washington--and rushed out to get its number, but the license plates

were so smeared with oil and dust that the numbers could not be read by

the light of the tail lamp. Glancing at the compass in his hand he saw

that the delicate needle was now pointing steadily at the fleeing car,

and all doubts as to the power of the instrument were dispelled. He

rejoined his men, informed them that DuQuesne had eluded them, and took

one of them up the hill to a nearby garage. There he engaged a fast car

and set out in pursuit, choosing the path for the chauffeur by means of

the compass. His search ended at the residence of Brookings, the General

Manager of the great World Steel Corporation. Here he dismissed the car

and watched the house while his assistant went to bring out the fast

motorcycle used by Prescott when high speed was desirable.



After four hours a small car bearing the license number of a distant

state--which was found, by subsequent telegraphing, to be unknown to the

authorities of that state--drove under the porte-cochere, and the hidden

watcher saw DuQuesne, without the papers, step into it. Knowing now what

to expect, Prescott drove his racing motorcycle at full speed out to the

Park Road Bridge and concealed himself beneath the structure, in a

position commanding a view of the concrete abutment through which the

scientist must have come. Soon he heard a car slow down overhead, heard

a few rapid footfalls, and saw the dark form of a large man outlined

against the gray face of the abutment. He saw the man lift his hand high

above his head, and saw a black rectangle appear in the gray, engulf the

man, and disappear. After a few minutes he approached the abutment and

searched its face with the help of his flash-light. He finally succeeded

in tracing the almost imperceptible crack which outlined the door, and

the concealed button which DuQuesne had pressed to open it. He did not

press the button, as it might be connected to an alarm. Deep in thought,

he mounted his motorcycle and made his way to his home to get a few

hours of sleep before reporting to Crane whom he was scheduled to see at

breakfast next morning.



* * * * *



Both men were waiting for him when he appeared, and he noticed with

pleasure that Shiro, with a heavily-bandaged head, was insisting that he

was perfectly able to wait on the table instead of breakfasting in bed.

He calmly proceeded to serve breakfast in spite of Crane's

remonstrances, having ceremoniously ordered out of the kitchen the

colored man who had been secured to take his place.



"Well, gentlemen," the detective began, "part of the mystery is

straightened out. I was entirely wrong, and each of you were partly

right. It was DuQuesne, in all probability. It is equally probable that

a great company--in this case the World Steel Corporation--is backing

him, though I don't believe there is a ghost of a show of ever being

able to prove it in law. Your 'object-compass' did the trick."



He narrated all the events of the previous night.



"I'd like to send him to the chair for this job," said Seaton with

rising anger. "We ought to shoot him anyway, damn him--I'm sorry duels

have gone out of fashion, for I can't shoot him off-hand, the way things

are now--I sure wish I could."



"No, you cannot shoot him," said Crane, thoughtfully, "and neither can

I, worse luck. We are not in his class there. And you must not fight

with him, either"--noting that Seaton's powerful hands had doubled into

fists, the knuckles showing white through the tanned skin--"though that

would be a fight worth watching and I would like to see you give him the

beating of his life. A little thing like a beating is not a fraction of

what he deserves and it would show him that we have found him out. No,

we must do it legally or let him entirely alone. You think there is no

hope of proving it, Prescott?"



"Frankly, I see very little chance of it. There is always hope, of

course, and if that bunch of pirates ever makes a slip, we'll be right

there waiting to catch 'em. While I don't believe in holding out false

encouragement, they've never slipped yet. I'll take my men off DuQuesne,

now that we've linked him up with Steel. It doesn't make any difference,

does it, whether he goes to them every night or only once a week?



"No."



"Then about all I can do is to get everything I can on that Steel crowd,

and that is very much like trying to get blood out of a turnip. I intend

to keep after them, of course, for I owe them something for killing two

of my men here, as well as for other favors they have done me in the

past, but don't expect too much. I have tackled them before, and so have

police headquarters and even the Secret Service itself, under cover, and

all that any of us has been able to get is an occasional small fish. We

could never land the big fellows. In fact, we have never found the

slightest material proof of what we are morally certain is the truth,

that World Steel is back of a lot of deviltry all over the country. The

little fellows who do the work either don't know anything or are afraid

to tell. I'll see if I can find out what they are doing with the stuff

they stole, but I'm not even sure of doing that. You can't plant

instruments on that bunch--it would be like trying to stick a pin into a

sleeping cat without waking him up. They undoubtedly have one of the

best corps of detectives in the world. You haven't perfected an

instrument which enables you to see into a closed room and hear what is

going on there, have you?" And upon being assured that they had not, he

took his leave.



"Optimistic cuss, ain't he?" remarked Seaton.



"He has cause to be, Dick. World Steel is a soulless corporation if

there ever was one. They have the shrewdest lawyers in the country, and

they get away legally with things that are flagrantly illegal, such as

freezing out competitors, stealing patents, and the like. Report has it

that they do not stop at arson, treason, or murder to attain their ends,

but as Prescott said, they never leave any legal proof behind them."



"Well, we should fret, anyway. Of course, a monopoly is what they're

after, but they can't form one because they can't possibly get the rest

of our solution. Even if they should get it, we can get more. It won't

be as easy as this last batch was, since the X was undoubtedly present

in some particular lot of platinum in extraordinary quantities, but now

that I know exactly what to look for, I can find more. So they can't get

their monopoly unless they kill us off...."



"Exactly. Go on, I see you are getting the idea. If we should both

conveniently die, they could get the solution from the company, and have

the monopoly, since no one else can handle it."



"But they couldn't get away with it, Mart--never in a thousand years,

even if they wanted to. Of course I am small fry, but you are too big a

man for even Steel to do away with. It can't be done."



"I am not so sure of that. Airplane accidents are numerous, and I am an

aviator. Also, has it ever occurred to you that the heavy forging for

the Skylark, ordered a while ago, are of steel?"



Seaton paused, dumbfounded, in the act of lighting his pipe.



"But thanks to your object-compass, we are warned." Crane continued,

evenly. "Those forgings are going through the most complete set of tests

known to the industry, and if they go into the Skylark at all it will be

after I am thoroughly convinced that they will not give way on our first

trip into space. But we can do nothing until the steel arrives, and with

the guard Prescott has here now we are safe enough. Luckily, the enemy

knows nothing of the object-compass or the X-plosive, and we must keep

them in ignorance. Hereinafter, not even the guards get a look at

anything we do."



"They sure don't. Let's get busy!"



* * * * *



DuQuesne and Brookings met in conference in a private room of the

Perkins Cafe.



"What's the good word, Doctor?"



"So-so," replied the scientist. "The stuff is all they said it was, but

we haven't enough of it to build much of a power-plant. We can't go

ahead with it, anyway, as long as Seaton and Crane have nearly all their

original solution."



"No, we can't. We must find a way of getting it. I see now that we

should have done as you suggested, and taken it before they had warning

and put it out of our reach."



"There's no use holding post-mortems. We've got to get it, some way, and

everybody that knows anything about that new metal, how to get it or how

to handle it, must die. At first, it would have been enough to kill

Seaton. Now, however, there is no doubt that Crane knows all about it,

and he probably has left complete instructions in case he gets killed in

an accident--he's the kind that would. We will have to keep our eyes

open and wipe out those instructions and anyone who has seen them. You

see that, don't you?"



"Yes, I am afraid that is the only way out. We must have the monopoly,

and anyone who might be able to interfere with it must be removed. How

has your search for more X prospered?"



"About as well as I expected. We bought up all the platinum wastes we

could get, and reworked all the metallic platinum and allied metals we

could buy in the open market, and got less than a gram of X out of the

whole lot. It's scarcer than radium. Seaton's finding so much of it at

once was an accident, pure and simple--it couldn't happen once in a

million years."



"Well, have you any suggestions as to how we can get that solution?"



"No. I haven't thought of anything but that very thing ever since I

found that they had hidden it, and I can't yet see any good way of

getting it. My forte is direct action and that fails in this case, since

no amount of force or torture could make Crane reveal the hiding-place

of the solution. It's probably in the safest safe-deposit vault in the

country. He wouldn't carry the key on him, probably wouldn't have it in

the house. Killing Seaton or Crane, or both of them, is easy enough, but

it probably wouldn't get us the solution, as I have no doubt that Crane

has provided for everything."



"Probably he has. But if he should disappear the stuff would have to

come to light, or the Seaton-Crane Company might start their

power-plant. In that case, we probably could get it?"



"Possibly, you mean. That method is too slow to suit me, though. It

would take months, perhaps years, and would be devilishly uncertain, to

boot. They'll know something is in the wind, and the stuff will be

surrounded by every safeguard they can think of. There must be some

better way than that, but I haven't been able to think of it."



"Neither have I, but your phrase 'direct action' gives me an idea. You

say that that method has failed. What do you think of trying indirect

action in the shape of Perkins, who is indirection personified?"



"Bring him in. He may be able to figure out something."



* * * * *



Perkins was called in, and the main phases of the situation laid before

him. The three men sat in silence for many minutes while the crafty

strategist studied the problem. Finally he spoke.



"There's only one way, gentlemen. We must get a handle on either Seaton

or Crane strong enough to make them give up their bottle of dope, their

plans, and everything...."



"Handle!" interrupted DuQuesne. "You talk like a fool! You can't get

anything on either of them."



"You misunderstand me, Doctor. You can get a handle of some kind on any

living man. Not necessarily in his past, you understand--I know that

anything like that is out of the question in this case--but in his

future. With some men it is money, with others power, with others fame,

with others women or some woman, and so on down the list. What can we

use here? Money is out of the question, so are power and fame, as they

already have both in plain sight. It seems to me that women would be our

best chance."



"Hah!" snorted the chemist. "Crane has been chased by all the women of

three continents so long that he's womanproof. Seaton is worse--he's

engaged, and wouldn't realize that a woman was on his trail, even if you

could find a better looking one to work on him than the girl he's

engaged to--which would be a hard job. Cleopatra herself couldn't swing

that order."



"Engaged? That makes it simple as A B C."



"Simple? In the devil's name, how?"



"Easy as falling off a log. You have enough of the dope to build a

space-car from those plans, haven't you?"



"Yes. What has that to do with the case?"



"It has everything to do with it. I would suggest that we build such a

car and use it to carry off the girl. After we have her safe we could

tell Seaton that she is marooned on some distant planet, and that she

will be returned to earth only after all the solution, all notes, plans,

and everything pertaining to the new metal are surrendered. That will

bring him, and Crane will consent. Then, afterward, Dr. Seaton may go

away indefinitely, and if desirable, Mr. Crane may accompany him."



"But suppose they try to fight?" asked Brookings.



Perkins slid down into his chair in deep thought, his pale eyes under

half-closed lids darting here and there, his stubby fingers worrying his

watch-chain restlessly.



"Who is the girl?" he asked at last.



"Dorothy Vaneman, the daughter of the lawyer. She's that auburn-haired

beauty that the papers were so full of when she came out last year."



"Vaneman is a director in the Seaton-Crane Company. That makes it still

better. If they show fight and follow us, that beautiful car we are

making for them will collapse and they will be out of the way. Vaneman,

as Seaton's prospective father-in-law and a member of his company,

probably knows something about the secret. Maybe all of it. With his

daughter in a space-car, supposedly out in space, and Seaton and Crane

out of the way, Vaneman would listen to reason and let go of the

solution, particularly as nobody knows much about it except Seaton and

Crane."



"That strikes me as a perfectly feasible plan," said Brookings. "But you

wouldn't really take her to another planet, would you? Why not use an

automobile or an airplane, and tell Seaton that it was a space-car?"



"I wouldn't advise that. He might not believe it, and they might make a

lot of trouble. It must be a real space-car even if we don't take her

out of the city. To make it more impressive, you should take her in

plain sight of Seaton--no, that would be too dangerous, as I have found

out from the police that Seaton has a permit to carry arms, and I know

that he is one of the fastest men with a pistol in the whole country. Do

it in plain sight of her folks, say, or a crowd of people; being masked,

of course, or dressed in an aviator's suit, with the hood and goggles

on. Take her straight up out of sight, then hide her somewhere until

Seaton listens to reason. I know that he will listen, but if he

doesn't, you might let him see you start out to visit her. He'll be sure

to follow you in their rotten car. As soon as he does that, he's our

meat. But that raises the question of who is going to drive the car?"



"I am," replied DuQuesne. "I will need some help, though, as at least

one man must stay with the girl while I bring the car back."



"We don't want to let anybody else in on this if we can help it,"

cautioned Brookings. "You could go along, couldn't you, Perkins?"



"Is it safe?"



"Absolutely," answered DuQuesne. "They have everything worked out to the

queen's taste."



"That's all right, then. I'll take the trip. Also," turning to

Brookings, "it will help in another little thing we are doing--the

Spencer affair."



"Haven't you got that stuff away from her yet, after having had her

locked up in that hell-hole for two months?" asked Brookings.



"No. She's stubborn as a mule. We've given her the third degree time

after time, but it's no use."



* * * * *



"What's this?" asked DuQuesne. "Deviltry in the main office?"



"Yes. This Margaret Spencer claims that we swindled her father out of an

invention and indirectly caused his death. She secured a position with

us in search of evidence. She is an expert stenographer, and showed such

ability that she was promoted until she became my secretary. Our

detectives must have been asleep, as she made away with some photographs

and drawings before they caught her. She has no real evidence, of

course, but she might cause trouble with a jury, especially as she is

one of the best-looking women in Washington. Perkins is holding her

until she returns the stolen articles."



"Why can't you kill her off?"



"She cannot be disposed of until after we know where the stuff is,

because she says, and Perkins believes, that the evidence will show up

in her effects. We must do something about her soon, as the search for

her is dying down and she will be given up for dead."



"What's the idea about her and the space-car?"



"If the car proves reliable we might actually take her out into space

and give her the choice between telling and walking back. She has nerve

enough here on earth to die before giving up, but I don't believe any

human being would be game to go it alone on a strange world. She'd

wilt."



"I believe you're right, Perkins. Your suggestions are the best way out.

Don't you think so, Doctor?"



"Yes, I don't see how we can fail--we're sure to win, either way. You

are prepared for trouble afterward, of course?"



"Certainly, but I don't think there will be much trouble. They can't

possibly link the three of us together. They aren't wise to you, are

they, Doctor?"



"Not a chance!" sneered DuQuesne. "They ran themselves ragged trying to

get something on me, but they couldn't do it. They have given me up as a

bad job. I am still as careful as ever, though--I am merely a pure

scientist in the Bureau of Chemistry!"



All three laughed, and Perkins left the room. The talk then turned to

the construction of the space-car. It was decided to rush the work on

it, so that DuQuesne could familiarize himself with its operation, but

not to take any steps in the actual abduction until such time as Seaton

and Crane were nearly ready to take their first flight, so that they

could pursue the abductors in case Seaton was still obdurate after a few

days of his fiancee's absence. DuQuesne insisted that the car should

mount a couple of heavy guns, to destroy the pursuing car if the faulty

members should happen to hold together long enough to carry it out into

space.



After a long discussion, in which every detail of the plan was carefully

considered, the two men left the restaurant, by different exits.