As Morgan recovered from his astonishment, Marsh anticipated some leading questions. He headed these off at this time, by saying, "In this case, conditions seem to be somewhat reversed; for up to this time we have found practically no one who could be put under surveillance, yet we have every evidence that we are being carefully watched by others. Several incidents have occurred, including the present little drama which convinces us of that fact. There is no question that we should again compare notes as soon as possible, but this is a dangerous place to discuss the case. I came here to question certain people. As they will not be on duty until later there is nothing I can do along that line for a little while. In the meantime, we ought to look over Merton's rooms upstairs. I could not make an attempt to do this, because I do not possess the proper authority without explaining my real connections. You, however, as a city detective engaged on the case, will have no difficulty in making arrangements to inspect his room."
"That is just what I dropped in to do," replied Morgan.
"Then go ahead and make your arrangements," said Marsh, "and when you are ready, let me go up with you. If we meet anyone, remember that I am working under the special authorization of Mr. Hunt, and you and I have just become acquainted."
Morgan went to the hotel office. In a few minutes he returned with a bell boy and nodded to Marsh. Guided by the bell boy, they took an elevator and ascended to Merton's rooms, which they found consisted of a sitting room, bedroom and bath. Obeying instructions, the bell boy at once retired and closed the door after him.
They first inspected the bedroom, giving special attention to the dresser. This contained nothing save the usual supply of clothing, which served no other purpose than to indicate the wealth and conservative taste of the owner. Marsh particularly sought some jewelry that might help to identify the cuff button as the property of the lost man. He found nothing, however, and considered it probable that whatever jewelry Merton owned was on his person.
From the bedroom the two men went to the sitting room, which they hoped would hold greater possibilities, for a desk stood in one corner near a window. A framed photograph of Merton's wife and son, standing on top of the desk, of course had no significance. They then began a search of the drawers and the interior of the desk.
"Probably you have noticed," said Marsh, after a moment, "the disordered condition of this desk."
"Now that you speak of it," agreed Morgan, "I think it is pretty well mussed up."
"I should say," commented Marsh, "that either Merton is very careless, or else we are not the first people to examine this desk."
"Probably the desk has been gone over, Marsh," acceded Morgan. "But you must remember that Merton has been known to be missing for several days and hotel employees, even under ordinary circumstances, are apt to be curious. The point is worth remembering, but I doubt if it is of any importance."
One by one, they examined various letters and papers. A few touched on business subjects, but the majority were of a personal nature. Most of these were from Merton's wife; the others from business men whose well known names placed them beyond suspicion. In one corner of the desk Morgan picked up a sheet containing some notations regarding bond purchases. Beneath this he found a black, leather-covered notebook of a size that would conveniently fit into a vest pocket. One glance into this and Morgan gave an exclamation. "See here!" he cried, calling Marsh's attention to the book. "This notebook has been kept in cipher. These combinations of letters and figures mean absolutely nothing as they stand."
The two men slowly turned the pages, but as Morgan had stated, the matter which the book contained conveyed nothing to them.
"That looks as if Merton had something to conceal, Marsh."
"On the face of it—yes," returned Marsh. "But just glance at this sheet which covered the notebook. From its subject matter I should be inclined to believe that it represented Merton's handwriting."
Morgan nodded and Marsh went on.
"Now, when you come to look at this notebook, even a hasty glance shows a difference in the handwriting. In. fact, now that my attention has been drawn to it, there is really a marked difference."
"Well?" queried Morgan.
"Offhand," returned Marsh, "I would say, that somebody has been keeping a secret record. That person sat at this desk making additional notes. In a moment of forgetfulness, or perhaps the necessity of hasty concealment, the notebook was placed under this sheet and later overlooked. There is a possibility that this notebook was left by the person who preceded us at this desk."
Morgan took the notebook and examined it carefully for a few minutes. "In my work," he said, "I have several times run up against ciphers of various kinds. This is unlike anything I ever saw before, and looks as if it would be mighty hard to unravel."
Marsh again took the book and after carefully examining it, said, "I don't pretend to be a cipher expert. In fact, I never waste time on it. We have men both here and at Washington who can read this sort of stuff backward. I'll send this book to them and we'll soon get a key to the cipher."
At this moment, both men became silent and alert. Someone was slipping a key into the lock of the door. Marsh quickly dropped the notebook into the side pocket of his coat. A moment later the door swung open and Gilbert Hunt entered.
He stopped with a start of surprise, but quickly recovered himself.
"You gentlemen gave me a shock!" he exclaimed. "I didn't expect to find anyone here. Already on the job, Mr. Marsh?" he added.
"Yes," returned Marsh, easily. "I never lose any time, and this room naturally should be looked over."
"And this gentleman with you?" questioned Hunt.
"Detective Sergeant Morgan—Mr. Hunt," introduced Marsh. "Morgan is conducting the police investigation." Then he added, with a wink at Hunt. "We met downstairs and I thought we might as well look things over at the same time."
"I see," said Hunt, smiling. "Have you discovered anything?"
"Nothing to which I can attach any great importance at this time," replied Marsh.
"I thought I would come up and look things over," explained Hunt, as he strolled over to the desk and ran his fingers through the papers. The two men watched him with keen attention.
"Seems to be nothing here outside of personal correspondence," said Hunt, turning around.
"Yes," Morgan answered, "those letters appear to be of a very ordinary character. As far as I can see, there is nothing there that would help us."
"I presume you are working along other lines also?" inquired Hunt.
"Surely," said Morgan. "We have several men on the case now."
"And what have you found, Mr. Marsh?" inquired Hunt.
"Nothing that gives me a lead so far. I will report to you as soon as anything comes to light."
"Better come to my home some evening," Hunt suggested. "We can talk in greater privacy than at the office. You will find my address in the telephone directory. By the way, I believe you neglected to give me your address this morning, and I do not find your name in the telephone book."
"That's right," exclaimed Marsh. "I believe I did neglect to do that." Marsh went over to the desk, tore off the corner of a sheet of paper, and wrote down his new address and telephone number. "Here it is," he said, handing the paper to Hunt. "My name would not be in the telephone book as my work necessitates frequent changes of address. One month I am liable to be in California and the next in Europe. For the present, however, you will be able to get word to me at the address I have given you. Naturally, I will seldom be there, but you can always leave word for me to get in touch with you." Then Marsh turned to Morgan. "We'd better be moving along," he said.
"Yes," agreed Morgan, "there's nothing more to be gained here."
After exchanging a few commonplace words with Hunt, the two detectives went out, leaving Hunt in the room. Downstairs, in the lobby, Marsh said, "I strongly suspect that Hunt wanted to be left alone in that room. That's why I hurried you away. The sooner he gets through up there, the quicker he will leave the hotel. I don't want him around while I am looking up the rest of my information. Now, you watch the Madison Street entrance, while I stand across the street on La Salle. When he leaves, the one that sees him will let the other know."
The two men then separated and took up their watch.
Hunt must have made a careful examination of Merton's rooms, because it was not until a half hour later that Morgan rejoined Marsh and informed him that he had seen Hunt enter his automobile on Madison Street and drive away.
"Morgan," said Marsh. "I want to have a talk with you after I get through here. Suppose I come to your apartment tonight?"
"Fine!" agreed Morgan. "I have some information to give you. I'll run up to Headquarters now, make a report, and go right home. You will find me there whenever you are ready."
"And here is a suggestion, Morgan. When either of us calls on the other, the signal will be three knocks on the door instead of pushing the electric bell. I have a suspicion that answering a bell these days will have to be conducted with caution."
"Perhaps you are right," said Morgan. "I'll remember."
Morgan then walked on up La Salle Street, while Marsh crossed over and entered the hotel once more. There was now only one person who might give him a really definite lead—the night telephone operator—and he went straight to her switchboard. Marsh knew that this young woman was probably overfed with smooth talk, so he counted upon getting better results by going straight to the point.
"Good evening," he said. "You are the night operator here, are you not?"
The young woman, who was arranging things before her in a way that indicated she had but recently come on duty, replied in the affirmative.
"Do you remember Mr. Merton, who has been reported missing?" asked Marsh.
"I should say I do," exclaimed the girl. "An awfully nice man. He appreciated good service. Every Saturday night he gave me a box of candy."
"Read this," said Marsh, handing her his authorization from Hunt.
"Oh, I hope you do find out something," said the girl, as she returned the paper to Marsh. "I'd just hate to think anything serious had happened to Mr. Merton."
"All right," answered Marsh, "then you'll be willing to help me?"
"What can I do?" she inquired.
"Mr. Merton's kindness to you made an impression upon you, did it not?" Marsh asked.
The girl nodded.
"Then you would naturally recollect anything of an unusual nature which might have taken place during the last few days, would you not?"
"Yes... I think so," returned the girl, somewhat guardedly.
"A telephone call late at night?" suggested Marsh.
The girl was busy with her switchboard for a time. Then she leaned back and looked at Marsh. "See here," she said, "I'd do most anything to help find that man, but I can't take a chance on losing my job."
Marsh now knew that he was going to get important information if he handled the matter diplomatically.
"Remember," he explained, confidentially, "I am not a regular detective. I have nothing to do with the city police department. There will be no publicity attached to anything I learn. I am merely looking up confidential information for Mr. Hunt, who, as you know, has charge of Mr. Merton's business."
The girl was again busy at the switchboard, and when at last there came a pause, she looked carefully around to see that no one else was within ear shot. Then she leaned toward Marsh.
"He got a telephone message at twelve o'clock on Monday night," she whispered.
"You mean last Monday?" questioned Marsh. He recollected that Merton had been reported missing for ten days.
The girl nodded.
"Of course, at that hour," suggested Marsh, "you were not very busy and would therefore be likely to listen in on the wire."
"The very idea!" she exclaimed, indignantly.
"Look here," said Marsh. "If I can rescue Merton from the predicament he is probably in, someone will be handsomely rewarded. Is it not a safe bet that the person who gives me the correct information to put me on the right track, will be pretty well taken care of?"
The girl sat in thoughtful silence.
"And if Mr. Merton should happen to be dead, Mrs. Merton would be very grateful, indeed, to anyone who had helped her learn the truth," Marsh added.
Again the girl looked cautiously about. The hint of an ample reward was having its effect.
"If I lose my job..." she warned, and then again leaned toward Marsh. "I listened in, all right. It was a man who said his name was Nolan. From what I heard I think he used to be a chauffeur for Mr. Merton. He said he was in an awful hole, that he was unjustly accused of theft, and that they were about to lock him up. He asked Mr. Merton if he could do anything to keep him out of this disgrace. Mr. Merton said he would try and asked where he was. Nolan said he was being detained in the apartment of a man named Ames, at some place on Sheridan Road—I forget the exact number."
"Did Mr. Merton go there then, do you know?"
"I couldn't tell you that. He simply said, 'All right,' and hung up the receiver."
"You have given me just the information I needed," said Marsh. "Your job is in no danger if you let this matter rest just between us two. If anyone else should question you, you don't know anything. And above all, forget about me. You get the idea?"
"You bet!" replied the girl, as she turned again to her switchboard.
Marsh left the hotel, well satisfied with his progress. It was now fairly well established that Richard Townsend Merton was the victim of Clark Atwood.
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