AN ELECTRICAL DETECTIVE

“Orr, Mr. Black wants you.”

Jack, who was passing through the business department of the Hammerton office, toward the stair which led to the operating room, promptly turned aside and entered the manager’s private room.

“Good morning, Jack. Sit down.

“My boy,” began the manager, “can you keep a secret?”

“Why yes, sir,” responded Jack, wondering.

“Very well. But I must explain first. I suppose you did not know it we kept it quiet but the real reason Hansen, the janitor, was discharged a month ago was that he was found taking money from the safe here, which he had in some way learned to open. After he left I changed the safe combination, and thought the trouble was at an end.

“Last Tuesday morning the cash was again a little short. At the time I simply thought an error had been made in counting the night before. This morning a second ten-dollar bill is missing, and the cash-box shows unmistakable signs of having been tampered with.

“Now Johnson, the counter clerk, to whom I had confided the new combination (for it is customary, you know, that two shall be able to open a safe, as a precaution against the combination being forgotten) Johnson is entirely above suspicion. Still, to make doubly sure, I am going to alter the combination once more, and share it with someone outside of the business department. And as you have impressed me very favorably, I have chosen you.

“That is, of course,” concluded the manager, “if you have no objection.”

“Certainly not. I am sure I appreciate the confidence, sir,” said Jack quickly.

“Very well, then. The combination is ’Right twenty, twice; back nine; right ten.’ Can you remember that? For you must not write it down, you know.”

Jack repeated the number several times; and again thanking the manager for the compliment, continued up-stairs to the telegraph-room.

Two mornings later Jack was again called into Mr. Black’s office. For a moment, while Jack wondered, the manager eyed him strangely, then asked, “What was that combination, Jack?”

“Right ninety no, right thirty Why, I believe I have forgotten it, sir,” declared Jack in confusion.

“Perhaps you have forgotten this too, then?” As he spoke the manager took from his desk a small notebook. “I found it on the floor in front of the safe this morning.”

“It is mine, sir. I must have dropped it last night. I worked extra until after midnight, sir,” explained Jack, “and on the way out I chased a mouse in here from the stairway, and when it ran under the safe I dropped to my knees to find it. The book must have fallen from my pocket.

“But what is wrong, sir?”

“The cash-box is not in the safe this morning.”

Jack started back, the color fading from his cheeks as the significance of it all came to him.

“And now you pretend to have the combination entirely wrong,” went on the manager.

Jack found his voice. “Mr. Black, you are mistaken! You are mistaken! I never could do such a thing! Never!”

“I would prefer proof,” Mr. Black said coldly.

Jack caught at the idea. “Would you let me try to prove it, sir? Will you give me a week in which to try and clear myself?”

“Well, I did not mean it that way. But, all right a week. And if things do not look different by that time, and you still claim ignorance, you will have to go. That is all there is to it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

At the door Jack turned back. “Mr. Black, you are positive you returned the box to the safe?”

“Positive. It is the last thing I do before going home.”

During spare moments on his wire that morning Jack debated the mystery from every side. Finally he had boiled it down to two conflicting facts:

“First: That the box was placed in the safe the night before, and in the morning was gone; and that, besides the manager, he was the only one who could have opened the safe and taken it. And,

“Second: That, of course, he knew his own innocence.”

The only alternative, then, was that Mr. Black had been mistaken in thinking he had returned the box to the safe.

Grasping at this possibility, Jack argued on. How could the manager have been mistaken? Overlooked the box, say because of its being covered by something?

“Why it may be there yet!” exclaimed Jack hopefully. And a few minutes later, relieved from his wire for lunch, he hurriedly descended again to the manager’s office.

“Mr. Black, may I look around here a bit?” he requested.

“Look around? What for?”

“To see if I cannot find something to help solve this mystery,” responded Jack, not wishing directly to suggest that the manager had overlooked the box.

“So you keep to it that you know nothing, eh? Well, go ahead,” said the manager shortly, turning back to his desk.

Jack’s hopes were quickly shattered. Neither on the desk, nor a table beside the safe, was there anything which could have concealed the missing box.

Stooping, he glanced under the table. Something white, a newspaper, leaning against the wall, caught his eye. With a flutter of hope he reached beneath and threw it aside. There was nothing behind it.

Disappointedly he caught the newspaper up and tossed it into the waste-basket. Suddenly, on a thought, he recovered the paper, and opened it. On discovering it was the “Bulletin,” a paper he knew Mr. Black seldom read, the idea took definite shape. And, yes, it was of yesterday’s date!

“Mr. Black,” exclaimed Jack, “this is not your paper, is it?”

Somewhat impatiently the manager glanced up. “The ‘Bulletin’? No.”

“Were you reading it yesterday, sir?”

“Well, I don’t see what you are driving at but, no. It was probably left here by Smith, one of the express clerks next door. He was in for a while yesterday on some telegraph money-order business. Yes, he did have it in his hand, now I remember. But why?”

At the mention of Smith’s name Jack started, and there immediately came to him a remembrance of having a few days previously seen the express clerk on a street corner in earnest conversation with Hansen, the discharged janitor.

In suppressed excitement he asked, “When was Smith here, Mr. Black? What time?”

The manager smiled sardonically, and turned back to his work. “No; you can’t fasten it on Smith,” he said shortly. “It was after he went out that I returned the box to the safe. But, if it’s any good to you he was in here from about five-thirty to ten minutes to six, and was talking with one of the boys in the outer office when I left.”

“And Mr. Black, were you outside during the time Smith was in here?”

“No, I Yes, I was, too. About a quarter to six I was over at the speaking-tube for a minute.

“But enough of this nonsense,” the manager added sharply. “The box was in the safe when I closed it. Don’t bother me any further with your pretense of investigating. I don’t believe it is sincere.”

Despite this cutting declaration Jack turned away with secret satisfaction.

Just outside the office door he made a second discovery a small one, but one which further strengthened the theory he had formed.

It was a small coal cinder and an ash stain in the shape of a heel, apparently overlooked by a careless sweeper.

They could only have been left by a foot which came from the cellar!

Promptly Jack turned toward the cellar door, and made his way down into the big basement.

Going directly to one of the rear windows, he carefully examined it. The cobwebs and the dust on the sill had not been disturbed for months.

He turned to the second, and instantly emitted a shrill whistle of delight. Its cobwebs had been torn and swept aside, and the ledge brushed almost clean. And evidently but a short time before, for the cleared space showed little of the dust which constantly filtered through the floor above.

“Fine!” exclaimed Jack. “Now I ” He paused. The window was securely latched on the inside!

For several minutes Jack stood, disappointed and mystified. Then, examining the latch closely, he laughed, and grasping it with his fingers, easily pulled it out. It had been forced from the outside, and merely pressed back into the hole.

But its being replaced showed that the intruder had not made his escape that way.

Jack began an examination of the end of the cellar under the express office. And the exit was soon disclosed.

The dividing wall was of boarding, and at the outer end, to facilitate the examination of the gas metres of the two companies, was a narrow door. Ordinarily this door was secured on the telegraph company’s side by a strong bolt.

The bolt was drawn, and the door swung easily to Jack’s touch!

On the farther side all was darkness, however, and Jack returned to the window. As he approached it something on the floor beneath caught his eye. It was a lead-pencil. He picked it up, and with a cry of triumph discovered stamped upon it the initials and miniature crest of the express company. And, more, a peculiar long-pointed sharpening promised the possibility of fixing its actual owner.

Filled with elation, and confident that it was now only a matter of time when he should clear himself, Jack hastened up-stairs, determined to pursue his investigation next door, where he knew several of the younger clerks.

“Hello, Danny,” he said, entering the express office, and addressing a sandy-haired boy of his own age. “Say, who in here sharpens pencils like this?”

“Hello! That? Oh, I’d know that whittle a mile off. We call ’em daggers Smith’s daggers. Where did you get it?”

“Smith! Who wants Smith?”

Jack turned with a start. It was the clerk himself.

Instantly Jack extended the pencil. “Is this yours, Mr. Smith?” he asked, and held his breath.

“Yes, it is. Where did you find ” Suddenly the clerk turned upon Jack with a look of terror in his face. But in a moment he had recovered himself, and abruptly snatching the pencil from Jack’s hand, proceeded to his desk.

Jack was jubilant. Nothing could have been more convincing of the clerk’s guilt. Following this feeling, however, came one of pity for the unfortunate man; and after a silent debate with himself, Jack followed him.

Placing a hand on the clerk’s shoulder, he said in a low voice:

“Mr. Smith, I have found out about that cash-box of ours. Now look here, why not confess the wretched business before it is too late, and ”

The clerk spun about. “Cash-box! Business! What do you refer to?”

“Mr. Smith, it was you took our cash-box last night.”

The clerk was colorless, but he only faltered an instant. “What nonsense is this?” he demanded angrily. “I never heard of your cash-box. What do you mean by ”

“Well then, I’ll tell you just how you did it,” said Jack determinedly. “While you were in Mr. Black’s office yesterday afternoon he stepped out and left you alone for a moment. The cash-box was on the table. You immediately saw the opportunity (perhaps Hansen had done the same thing, and put you onto it?) you saw the opportunity, and threw over the box a newspaper you had in your hand. As you had hoped, not seeing the box, Mr. Black forgot it, and left at six o’clock without returning it to the safe. You made sure of that by remaining about the outer office until he left. And then, after midnight you came down to the office here, forced an entrance into our cellar, and went up-stairs and secured the box.

“I’m sorry but isn’t that so?”

The clerk laughed drily. “The great Mr. Sherlock Holmes, junior!” he remarked sarcastically. “Rubbish. Run away and don’t bother me with your silly detective theories,” and turned back to his desk.

Jack stood, baffled and surprised.

“Look here, Orr!” As Smith again spun about a hard look came into his face. “Look here, how do you come to know so much about this business, yourself? Eh?”

Jack uttered an exclamation, and a sudden fear of the clerk came over him. Was Smith thinking of trying to place the blame upon him?

However, further discussion was clearly useless, and he turned away.

The following morning brought quick proof that Jack’s suddenly inspired fear of Smith was too well founded. As he entered the telegraph office Mr. Black called him and handed him a note. “Now what have you to say?” he demanded solemnly.

In a lead-pencil scrawl Jack read:

“Mr. Black: Your yung operatur Orr can tell you sumthin about thet
cash box, he was showin the key of the box to sumone yesteday and i
saw him. Mebee you will finde the key in his offis cote.

“Yours, a frend.”

“It is the key,” said the manager, producing a small key on a ring. “I recall having left it in the lock.”

Jack stood pale and speechless. Despite the disguised writing and poor spelling, the letter was from Smith, he had not a doubt. But how could he prove it? Truly matters were beginning to look serious for him.

Quickly, however, Jack’s natural spirit of fight-to-the-end returned to him, and handing the letter back, he said, respectfully but determinedly, “Mr. Black, I still hold you to your promise to give me a week in which to prove my innocence. And I’ll prove, too, sir, that this key was placed in my pocket by someone else, probably by the one who really took the box. I believe I know who it is, but I’ll prove it first.”

Reluctantly the manager consented, for he now firmly believed at least in Jack’s complicity; and leaving him, Jack sought the operating-room, to spend every spare moment in turning the matter over in his mind.

What next could he do? If only he could find the box! What would Smith probably have done with it? For it seemed unlikely he would have taken it away with him. Might he not, after removing the money, have hidden it in the cellar? Jack determined to search there; and accordingly, at noon, hastening through his lunch, he descended and began a systematic hunt amid the odds and ends filling the basement.

The first noon-hour’s search brought no result. The second day, returning to the task somewhat dispiritedly, Jack began overhauling a pile of old cross-pieces. There was a squeak, and a rat shot out.

In a moment Jack was in hot pursuit with a stick. The rat ran toward the old furnace, and disappeared. At the spot an instant after, Jack found a hole in the brick foundation, and thrust the stick into it. The stick caught, he pulled, and several bricks fell out.

Dropping to his knees, Jack peered into the opening. A cry broke from him, and thrusting in a hand he grasped something, and drew it forth.

It was the lost cash-box!

Uttering a shout of triumph, Jack leaped to his feet and started on a run for the stair. But suddenly he halted. After all, was he absolutely sure it was Smith who had placed it there? Would the producing of the box prove it?

The question, which had not before occurred to Jack, startled him.

As he stood thinking, half consciously he tried the cover of the box. To his surprise it gave. He opened it. And the box almost fell from his hands.

It still contained the money! And apparently untouched!

But in a moment Jack thought he understood. Smith, or whoever it was, had left it as a clever means of saving themselves from the worst in the event of being found out, intending to return for it if the excitement blew safely over.

Then why not wait and catch them at it?

Good. But how?

Jack’s inventive genius soon furnished the answer. “That’s it! Great!” he said to himself delightedly. “I’ll get down and do it early in the morning. And now I’ll stick this back in the hole and fix the bricks up again.”

Seven o’clock the following morning found Jack carrying out his plan. First conveying to the cellar from the battery room two gravity-jars, he placed them in a dark corner behind the furnace. Next, finding an old lightning-arrester, he opened up the hiding-place, and arranged the arrester beneath the cash-box in such a way that on the box being moved the arrester arm would be released, fly back, and make a contact. Then, having carefully closed the opening, he procured some fine insulated wire, and proceeded to make up his circuit: From the arrester, out beneath the bricks, around the furnace, to the battery; up the wall, and through the floor by the steam-pipes into the business office; and, running up-stairs and procuring a step-ladder, on up the office wall, through the next floor, into the operating room. And there a few minutes later he had connected the wires to a call-bell on a ledge immediately behind the table at which he worked. And the alarm was complete.

Although Jack knew that the clerk next door returned from his dinner a half hour earlier than the others in the express office, he had little expectation of Smith visiting the cash-box at that time. Nevertheless, as the noon-hour drew near he found himself watching the alarm-bell with growing excitement.

“There might be just a chance of Smith visiting the box,” he told himself, “just to learn whether I had ”

From behind him came a sharp “zip, zip,” then a whirr. With a bound Jack was on his feet and rushing for the door. Down the stairs he went, three steps at a time, and into the manager’s private office.

“Mr. Black,” he cried, “I’ve got the man who took the box! Down the cellar! Quick!

“I found the box, with the money still in it, and fixed up an alarm-bell circuit to go off when he came for it,” he explained hurriedly, as the manager stared. In a moment Mr. Black was on his feet and hastening after Jack toward the cellar stairway.

Quietly they tiptoed down. They reached the bottom.

“There!” Jack said, pointing in triumph. And looking, the manager beheld Smith, the express clerk, on his knees beside the furnace, before him on the floor the missing cash-box.

Ten minutes later the manager of the express company, who had been called in, passed out of Mr. Black’s office with his clerk in charge, and the telegraph manager, turning to Jack, warmly shook his hand.

“I am more sorry than I can say to have placed the blame upon you, my boy,” he said sincerely. “And I am very thankful for the clever way you cleared the mystery up.

“You are quite a detective sort of ’electrical detective’ aren’t you?” he added, smiling.

And for some time, about the office, and even over the wires, Jack went by that name the “Electrical Detective.”