The Agent didn’t answer. His mouth was grim. Suzanne Blackwell kidnapped and Ferris murdered! Both the work of the green-masked killer. There was strange significance in this. He asked another question:
“How do they know Miss Blackwell was kidnapped?”
“She was gone when the police got here. She ain’t been seen since.”
“And everybody else was here?”
“Yes — except them other two.”
“X” turned suddenly and strode back toward his roadster. The reporter’s voice drifted after him.
“Say, general, give a guy a break. I handed you a lot of dope. How about spilling something yourself?”
BUT “X” had reached his car. Gears whined. He spun around the drive and headed toward the street, without having entered Foulette’s house. He had all the information he needed at the moment.
“That bird’s got something on his mind,” the reporter growled.
How much, he didn’t know. The eyes of “X” were steely bright. Out of this night of horror and mystery had suddenly come a startling revelation. Behind the green-masked murderer’s actions, Agent “X” read a hidden motive.
He sent the swift car roaring through the streets, racing as though with death itself. Suzanne Blackwell kidnapped. She had not been taken to the island with Betty. That he knew. Where, then? And why had she been abducted? This, coupled with the death of Ferris, brought an abrupt, amazing theory to the Agent’s mind. It was like the answer to an algebraic problem suddenly revealed.
He slowed his speeding car at Senator Blackwell’s drive, whirled in. This time he didn’t steal across the lawn. He went straight to the big front door. Another car was there, one from headquarters. A trembling servant answered his ring.
“Who are you, sir?” the man asked.
“Captain Black. I’d like a word with the senator, alone.”
The servant shook his head.
“Inspector Clyde is with him now, sir. He’s given orders not to admit anyone else tonight.”
“This is important. I’m from General Staff.”
The servant looked doubtful but impressed. “Step in then,” he said and stood aside uncertainly. “I’ll ask him. Perhaps he’ll see you.”
The Agent waited in the big outer hall. Low voices came through a closed door beyond. The servant knocked, disappeared, then returned.
“He says he’ll see you, sir — in a moment.”
It was several minutes later that Inspector Clyde appeared, his face drawn and worried. The butler motioned toward the library door and “X” walked in.
Senator Blackwell was pacing the floor, his ruddy color gone. He seemed years older than when the Agent had last seen him. There were deep lines in his face. His eyes held shadows of haunting fear. His voice shook as he addressed the Agent.
“You’re from General Staff, Wilbur says. What is it, Captain Black? Be as brief as you can. I’m a worried man tonight. And Inspector Clyde is waiting. I really shouldn’t see anyone. You’ve probably heard—”
“Yes,” said Agent “X” quietly. “And I’m very sorry, senator.”
The older man motioned to a chair.
“Sit down, captain. What can I do for you?”
“First tell me about yourself. Your daughter has been kidnapped, they say; and your son—”
“Murdered,” said Blackwell harshly. “I’d rather not talk of that, captain, if you don’t mind. I’ve told Inspector Clyde all there is to tell.”
“All?” The Agent spoke the word abruptly. It seemed to have a strange effect on Senator Blackwell. He stiffened, stared at the Agent with sudden furtiveness. His eyes were alert, guarded.
“Yes — what do you mean?”
For seconds the Agent didn’t answer. His eyes, burning with an uncannily intent light met those of the senator.
“Just what I say, senator,” he replied at last. “There are things that the ordinary forces of the law can’t handle. Things so important to the country’s welfare that they must be accomplished in absolute secrecy.”
THE pallor of Blackwell’s face deepened. He tried to light a cigar, but the trembling of his hands prevented it. The Agent snapped his own lighter and held it out. Blackwell puffed, sat down heavily.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Those plans of Doctor Browning’s ray mechanism that were stolen when Captain Nelson was murdered,” said “X.” There was a pause, then he added softly, “Also the kidnapping of your daughter and the strange death of your son. A connection is apparent there.”
Blackwell ran a trembling hand across his face. “The police are hunting for her now,” he said. “Every way out of the city is being watched. Every air line, every railroad, every boat pier. They’ll bring her back to me.”
“And your son’s death?”
“Horrible! But why are you harping on it? Do you want to torture me?”
“No,” said “X,” “not torture you. But I believe you realize, senator, that something greater than even the lives of your son and daughter is at stake. That something is the present welfare and future safety of our country!”
The senator clenched his hands, spoke huskily. “The theft of the plans was terrible, captain. I voted that they be destroyed. I was the leader of the opposition. Now I dare not think what their theft may mean — but what have they to do with my own personal trouble?”
Agent “X” leaned closer to the older man, eyes steady.
“A great deal, senator. Aren’t you perhaps putting your personal troubles above the welfare of your country?”
A sound like a sob came suddenly from Blackwell’s lips. “I love Suzanne, captain. They’ve taken Ferris. I can’t let Suzanne go, too. I must get her back! Nothing shall stand in my way!”
“What if I told you, senator, that the man who has her is utterly without scruple. What if I tell you he will play you false — even if you accede to his demands — as I believe you have already done.”
FOR a moment it seemed that Senator Blackwell might have an apoplectic stroke. His eyes shone like those of a cornered animal. His face was a ghastly hue.
“My God, captain! Who told you that—” His voice trailed off. He stared at “X” horrified.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said “X.” “Your son, Ferris, killed Captain Nelson and took the Browning plans. He wanted money to buy more of the drug that enslaved him. He was the thief and the murderer! Am I not right?”
It was seconds before the senator could find his voice. Then he nodded brokenly. “I don’t know how you learned this, captain! I never thought—” he broke off, struggling for control. “Ferris was a poor, mad fool. But it was the drug, believe me! It was the drug! He never would have done it otherwise. It was my fault for telling him about the thing beforehand. I shouldn’t have taken even my children into my confidence.”
The senator had admitted Agent “X’s” amazing accusation! He continued hoarsely: “Ferris didn’t mean to kill poor Nelson. That I know. He only meant to stun him — he told me so. When he found what he had done, he brought the plans to me and—”
The senator paused again, shaking like a man stricken with palsy.
“Where are they now?” demanded Agent “X.” “Quick, senator, tell me that.”
Blackwell’s voice was hardly audible. “If you had a daughter, captain, and she were kidnapped— If you never expected to see her again, unless— If I can only get her back! I’ll make any sacrifice! I’ll stand trial before the whole country. Let them impeach me if they want to. I was afraid of shame before — when Ferris told me what he’d done. I was aghast. I hid the plans, waiting for a way to return them. Then Suzanne—”