“That bothered him, and he tried to make a sneak. He couldn’t take the forward companionway without having to pass the open door of the dining salon. So he took the back exit, and the lights were blazing down on the deck there.
“He came out, was recognized by Sol Asher and the gang, who felt he had turned state’s evidence, and were waiting to bump him off. Then you know what happened.”
Sergeant Staples sighed.
“Yes,” he said. “I know what happened. But I’d sure like to know what was back of it all. It was a funny coincidence that you happened to shove two loaded guns into my hands just before the fireworks started!”
Zoom grinned.
“It was that! Well, I’ll toddle along and let you get some sleep. They tell me you’re slated for a captaincy, and you’ll want to get your beauty sleep so you can look pretty for the pictures.”
Sergeant Staples sighed again.
His sigh was one of perfect contentment. It was the sigh of an epicure who has dined well, of the artist who has completed a first class canvas.
“Zoom,” he murmured contentedly, “I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t give a damn, but it was a pretty fight, and if anybody asks you embarrassing questions, refuse to answer and refer ’em to me!”
And Sidney Zoom, smiling, tiptoed from the hospital room.
But there was to be no sleep for him that night.
The wind had come up. The seas would be crashing out beyond the heads, and Sidney Zoom, the lust for conflict aroused within him, would be unable to sleep until after he had sent his yacht out to fight with those giant combers, letting the huge seas sweep over the frail craft.
For Sidney Zoom, grim, uncompromising, believer in dealing with criminals as they deserved, detested ways of peace and the humdrum routine of life. He wanted conflict and adventure. His soul craved combat as the soul of many men craves strong drink.
The girl’s death had been avenged. A desperate gang had been routed in fait fight. A good sergeant had been given the opportunity to go far on the force. A crooked employee and murderer had been given the chance to cheat the chair.
But Sidney Zoom craved still more action, demanded more conflict before sleep could come to his taut nerves.
And so he headed for his yacht, anxious to gain the open sea.
Cheating the Chair
Chapter I
Sidney Zoom, tall, gaunt, his profile suggestive of that of a hawk, sat in the spacious cabin of his trim yacht, surrounded by a litter of newspapers. His secretary Vera Thurmond, watched him with eyes that were luminous with solicitude.
Sidney Zoom was entirely oblivious of her scrutiny. He was concentrating his attention upon the contents of the newspapers. At his feet, muzzle on paws, stretched his tawny police dog, Rip.
“The rich,” said Sidney Zoom, “get the breaks.”
His secretary made no answer to a remark which was so patently logical.
Sidney Zoom indicated a newspaper half column.
“Here,” he observed, “is the account of a man who is being tried for the murder of a county attorney. The man was a convict. He claims he reformed. He had previously been convicted by this same county attorney.
“The murdered man was found in his office, an automatic on the table in front of him with one shell discharged. The ex-convict had written a threatening note.
“The newspapers give it a scant half column now that the case has come on for trial, and most of that half column contains the list of the victim’s official activities during his lifetime. Bah!”
His secretary was frankly puzzled.
“But,” she observed, “what would you expect? It’s news from one of the outlying counties. There wasn’t any element of love or greed in the crime, no particular mystery. I read that account myself and didn’t notice anything out of place about it. The man was a criminal. The letter’s in his handwriting. It had been received by the county attorney but a few hours before his death. The ex-convict threatened to kill him to get even for his conviction.
“The case is dead open and shut. The court appointed a lawyer to defend the convict... what’s his name?... Oh, yes, I remember, Crandall. The man’s receiving a fair trial. What more could you ask?”
Sidney Zoom crumpled the paper into a ball, dashed it to the floor.
“I could ask,” he said, in a voice that was vibrant with irritation, yet deeply resonant, “that the newspaper would either offer some explanation of why a convict should write a letter to the man he intended to murder, telling him that he intended to kill him, or else that they wouldn’t print that fact at all.
“Damn it, they arouse the curiosity of any sane man, and then they go off on some fool tangent. I wouldn’t mind if this man had money; but he hasn’t. He’s a pauper. The court has appointed an attorney to defend him. That means this man gets representation in court, but there’s no one to work out the hidden facts.
“A criminal case is like an iceberg. The biggest part of it is submerged from view... Where the devil is this place? Dellboro, eh? We could take the boat up there if we had to. There’s a bay, and a river runs up to Dellboro. Probably isn’t a decent hotel in the place. They wouldn’t let dogs in...”
The young woman regarded him with eyes that twinkled.
“But why should you want to go there?”
“To find out about that damned letter,” he rasped, irritably, “and to make certain this ex-convict, Crandall, gets a fair deal.”
She spoke to him in a tone of patient reproach.
“You’ve got to get rid of this under-dog complex of yours, Mr. Zoom. You can’t use up all your nerve force running around to protect the interests of every poor man who gets entangled in the meshes of the law. I know how you feel. You like to fight. You enjoy the conflict, and you’ve got a heart that’s entirely too big. You can’t use up all your time, though...”
He was on his feet, shaking his head impatiently.
Now that he stood up, he showed as a lithe man, tall yet graceful, long of arm, leg and neck, with a strange force of dignity about the expression of his features that made him seem like some gaunt spectre of doom.
“I’m going to find out about that letter,” he said, “and I’m going to do it before Crandall gets sent to the chair... Oh, Captain, get her out in the stream. I’ll take the wheel as soon as you get her free!”
And Sidney Zoom strode from the cabin, his long legs moving like stilts, the police dog padding at his side, never letting his master out of his sight.
Vera Thurmond sighed, stooped, gathered up the papers. She knew the habits of the man for whom she worked well enough to know that he would soon be calling upon her for every scrap of newspaper material dealing with the case of the State vs. Crandall.
For Sidney Zoom, once started on a case, would no more think of quitting than would a bloodhound, started on a warm trail, think of turning back. Sidney Zoom was not a detective, nor was he interested in crime detection as such. He was a fighter. He loved to battle the raging seas on a stormy night, out beyond the heads, his graceful yacht smashing into the waters or riding the roaring crests of booming waves.
Then, when calm seas offered no conflict with the elements, Sidney Zoom would bring his craft into port, and restlessly search through the midnight streets of the city, or ponder the newspaper accounts of crime, seeking for some case where the underdog was being persecuted by reason of the fact that he was an under-dog.
When he had once sunk his teeth into such a case, he never let up.
Chapter II
The Letter