“But when I read of the strange adventures of Jay Goodling and Fred Lanford, I knew that Blissop had failed to keep his spying secret. I knew my informant to be the dead man mentioned in their story. I knew then that you must have sought some new hideout; I knew also that technically you were a fugitive from justice.
“I sent Parrell here to Sheffield. His purpose: to discover Myra’s whereabouts, to dispatch hidden killers to the spot where she might be. Their task was to slay my niece; but prior to that, they had other duties. They came in secretly on Monday evening. Some to be near the courthouse in case of an emergency; others to visit the old house of which Blissop had told us, there to find clues before the law could gain them.”
TAUSSIG KERMAL, leaning heavily on the desk, was nodding as Rufus Dolthan paused. These words were the lawyer’s vindication. Jay Goodling realized it; the prosecutor stared helplessly. He still held his gun; but he had been forced to point the weapon to the floor when covered by Dolthan’s revolver.
Roy Parrell was swaggering up beside Dolthan. The phony dick was trying to cover his display of yellowness. His face was hard; his lips wore a leer as he took credit for the next phase of Dolthan’s criminal activity.
“When Yager blew in,” jeered Parrell, “I heard him start to blab about Blissop. I guessed that he knew too much. Blissop had posted him that we’d be sending some killers out that way. He’d told us over the telephone that he had things fixed.
“So I marked Yager for the spot. Pointed him out, right in front of your eyes. I gave the finger wag like I’d been doing all along” — Parrell paused to indicate the gesture that he had used in the prosecutor’s office — “and when I steadied it on Yager, there were fellows outside who knew what it meant.
“They finished Yager. Then they headed for Dobson’s Road, to tip off the boys who were going through the house. Who started the trouble there is something that I don’t know. It was a bad break for us, though.”
“Hardly so, Parrell,” croaked Dolthan, as his lieutenant paused. “The murder of Yager was easily blamed on Kermal. It placed him definitely outside the law. The discovery of the trunk merely enabled us to spur the authorities to their search for Myra.
“Moreover, the elimination of those hirelings was no handicap. Your phony detectives and my servants have proven themselves more capable than those cheap skulkers. What we needed, Parrell, was a break. Finding Myra’s diary in the station wagon was a most timely clue. Particularly because it occurred when Goodling’s deputies were not available.”
The reference to the diary brought a puzzled look to Kermal’s face. Doctor Claig also registered perplexity. Rufus Dolthan seemed to have gained a new chain of thought now that he had mentioned his niece’s name. He looked across the room toward the door that stood ajar.
“It is time we thought of Myra,” he remarked. “One fact is certain: she has no way of leaving here. Your barred windows, Claig, are excellently suited to our purpose. The girl is trapped; for that matter, Kermal, so are your two servants.
“I said that haste was not imperative. I meant it. So long as no one except myself and those with me see Myra alive after midnight, it will be deemed that she died before she came of age. Her father’s will is due to stand. The wealth will come into the possession of George Garling. Only for a temporary period.”
Stepping to the desk, Dolthan snatched up the will that Kermal had prepared. He crumpled it with his left hand and thrust the paper into his pocket. All the while he kept Goodling covered.
Stepping toward the door that led to Myra’s hallway, Dolthan paused; then laughed as he eyed the revolver that Goodling was still holding.
“Keep your revolver, Goodling,” ordered the master crook. “You will have use for it. Parrell, take a look in Kermal’s desk. See what weapons he has available.”
PARRELL stepped forward and opened the drawer, pushing Kermal away from the desk. He found two guns. One was a .32 automatic; another was a revolver of the same caliber, with inlaid handle bearing the letter K. Parrell exhibited them.
“Excellent,” decided Dolthan. “Replace the automatic, Parrell, and bring me the revolver. Leave the drawer half open.”
The phony detective complied. Dolthan juggled the initialed gun in his left hand.
“Quite considerate of you, Kermal,” he chortled, “to have a revolver that will certainly be identified as your own. I shall keep this weapon and use it to slay Myra. Her death will be attributed to you, Kermal.
“It will do for Lanford also; but he will come afterward. By the way, Parrell, did Doctor Claig have a gun when you and Goodling captured him?”
The detective nodded and nudged his thumb toward Goodling’s pocket.
“Produce the weapon,” ordered Dolthan. “Return it to Claig.”
Parrell complied. Dolthan motioned his men to new positions. He arranged them so that Souder and the three false detectives were with Parrell, all covering Kermal, Goodling and Claig.
The lawyer’s hand was just above the desk drawer wherein Parrell had replaced his automatic. The prosecutor was still holding his .38 downward. The physician had his five-chambered revolver limp in his hand, where Parrell had placed it.
“Wurling,” said Dolthan to his chauffeur, “you and Hazzler keep Lanford covered. Simply hold him until I return. If he tries to make trouble, overpower him. Do not shoot him unless you are forced to do so.
“The stage is now set. We shall have the semblance of a battle. Start to shoot down the victims, Parrell, when I give the word. Let them try to fight; they have guns handy. I shall go find Myra and arrange her death. After that, I shall attend to Lanford.”
Dolthan chuckled gloatingly as he brandished the gun that he had taken from Kermal. The inlaid handle glittered in the light. Dolthan exhibited his own revolver.
“This will do for others,” he remarked. “Croy and Daggart, if I encounter them. You follow me, Parrell, after your first shots. The rest also; we will scour the place and corner our missing enemies.”
THE depth of Dolthan’s scheme was apparent. Deputies would soon arrive from town. They would hasten at the sound of distant gunfire. They would find Kermal, Claig and Goodling dead, with guns in hand. They would meet Dolthan, his servants and detectives triumphant.
The scene would show that a supposed crook — Kermal — had been slain, along with his accomplice, Doctor Claig. For it would be obvious that the physician had let Kermal use this house as hideout.
Myra and Lanford also would be found slain by bullets from Kermal’s gun. Belief would have it that Kermal had murdered them prior to the arrival of rescuers. Goodling would be found dead also. Witnesses would testify that the prosecutor had fallen fighting against Kermal and Claig.
As for Croy and Daggart, they would be trapped and slain afterward. Chances were that they would head for this room once the gunfire began. Dolthan and his underlings would have no trouble with the missing pair.
The only flaw was Goodling. It must look as though he had fallen in fray with the occupants of the house; not from shots delivered by the pretended rescuers. Dolthan had not forgotten that point. He settled it as he surveyed the scene.
“You take out Goodling,” he said to Souder. “Don’t give him a chance; we don’t want many of his bullets around here. After we finish that big fellow Croy, we’ll plant your gun on him, Souder. It will look like he settled Goodling.”