Chapter VIII: The Unknown Seven

All evening Cole had felt a presentiment that his telephone was to ring. When it finally did ring, shortly after eleven o’clock, he knew, even before he lifted the receiver from the hook, that he was about to receive a message from the mysterious seven.

His “hello” was answered by the rich soprano voice of the woman who called herself Miss Brown, but somehow it sounded different. The frolicsome undertone, which he had noticed the previous evening, was gone. In place of it there was a faint tremor that hinted of keen anxiety.

“I am calling from a public booth near Madison Square,” she told him. “At exactly twelve o’clock I shall be waiting in my car, on the southeast corner of Broadway and Twenty-third Street.”

“I’ll be there,” said Cole firmly. During the late afternoon and evening he had made up his mind that, if a summons should come from the mysterious seven, he would obey it.

“But be careful,” she went on, and the last word had an oddly familiar sound in Cole’s ears. “An attempt will be made to follow you.”

“I know,” said Cole lightly. “I’ve been watched ever since I went out to dinner this evening. I believe somebody is looking up at my windows this very moment. Have no fear. I’ll shake him off.”

Again requesting him to be careful, Miss Brown rang off. For a moment, after the connection had been severed, he stood smiling into the transmitter. Then he stepped to the window and looked out into Gramercy Park. The sky was partly overcast, and a haze of moonlight and shadows hovered over the trees. Almost directly below his window stood a gaunt individual whose eyes were slanting up at him beneath the brim of a dark felt hat.

Cole examined his pistol before he put it in his pocket, donned hat and light overcoat, and went out. On the stoop he paused for a moment and stuck a cigarette between his lips. Then he swung down the steps and sauntered up to the watcher at the curb.

“Pardon,” he said urbanely. “Could I trouble you for a match?”

The watcher searched his vest pocket and handed him one. Cole caught a full view of the fellow’s face as he kindled his cigarette. The man was a stranger to him. Murmuring profuse thanks for the accommodation Cole walked away. Twenty minutes later, after a devious journey by foot, subway, and surface cars, he plunged into the traffic jam in the theatrical district. For a little while he darted in and out among surging streams of humanity. Then, certain that he had thrown the pursuer off his tracks, he boarded a southbound car. A tower clock was signaling the midnight hour just as he reached the appointed corner in Madison Square.

“You are very prompt,” observed Miss Brown, as he stepped into the limousine in which his adventure had begun, exactly twenty-four hours ago. “You are sure you haven’t been followed?”

“Only a short distance.” Cole sat down beside her, having a weird feeling that ages had passed since he last touched those cushions. “I shook off the fellow quite easily.”

The car was gliding swiftly toward the south, but soon it began to turn and twist in all directions. The windows were shaded, and Cole could only guess which way they were going.

“You’re an audacious person,” murmured the girl. “After what happened last night I wasn’t sure you would come with me a second time.”

Cole smiled. “Audacious isn’t quite the word.”

“No, I suppose not. You’re not the kind of man who indulges in foolish bravado. Your decision to come with me to-night was the result of long and careful thinking, after you left Doctor Latham’s office. Your interview with the doctor convinced you that our acquaintance might be worth cultivating, despite the rough treatment you were given last night. Am I right?”

“In the main. You know, then, that I called on Doctor Latham?”

“Of course. You have been under constant surveillance since you left our establishment early this morning.”

“How flattering! But you puzzle me, Miss Brown. I have been conscious of being watched only since dinner time.”

She gave an amused laugh. “One is never conscious of our brand of espionage. We have men on our staff who have reduced shadowing to a fine art. They are not so easily shaken off as was the simpleton who stood outside your windows this evening. By the way, Mr. Cole, aren’t you harboring a little resentment against me for my part in last night’s affair?”

“Perhaps,” said Cole dryly, “but curiosity is a stronger motive than resentment.”

“You are not at all gallant. Lots of other men would have replied to that question with a flowery compliment.”

“They would have been fools. You would have secretly despised them for it.”

A little pause. “Thank you,” she whispered, but the words sounded so faint that Cole was not sure he was expected to hear them.

The car had ceased its zigzagging course and was traveling in a straight line. Presently Miss Brown produced the scarf with which she had covered his eyes the previous night.

“I hope this is the last time I shall have to blindfold you,” she murmured, as she folded the cloth into a bandage and covered the upper portion of his face. “Perhaps the next time——”

She did not finish the sentence. Just then the car stopped, and she guided him across the sidewalk and up the stone steps. In a few moments they were darting upward in the elevator. Again the wall opened at Miss Brown’s touch on a hidden spring. As it closed behind them Cole had a hazy feeling of being shut off from the world. They walked a short distance down the corridor. Then a door opened, and once more he found himself in the room with the circular table. The girl vanished, and a voice bade him step forward.

He walked up to the table. The masked men seated around it looked gray and ghostly in the dusk. He scanned the veiled faces closely as his eyes responded to the dim light. The black beard was not there; yet he counted seven faces. Evidently the surgeon was not wearing his disguise to-night.

“Very glad to see you, Mr. Cole,” said a voice which he recognized. “The fact that you have returned is additional proof that we were not mistaken in you. Sit down.”

Cole seated himself at the spokesman’s side. His ears were keyed to catch any suspicious sound, while his eyes cautiously explored the dusk about him. His right hand hung loosely over the side of the chair, but it was ready to reach for his pistol at the slightest sign of danger. He was far from certain in regard to the intentions of the seven men, and he was determined not to be caught off his guard.

“Perhaps it will give you some satisfaction to know,” the spokesman went on, “that you sent one of our men to the hospital last night.”

Cole smiled faintly as he recalled the fight in the dark. His knuckles still showed bruises from the blows he had showered on his opponent before he was overwhelmed by superior numbers.

“He is a big, husky chap, and he knows how to put a lot of steam into his punch,” the spokesman continued. “You pounded his face to a jelly. I don’t think Sam will ever get over the humiliation. His mortification ought to soften the bitterness you naturally feel toward us. By the way, you called on Doctor Latham, as I suggested. Did the interview prove satisfactory?”

“It wasn’t conclusive,” said Cole guardedly.

“We didn’t expect that. The doctor is too wily to permit himself to be caught so easily. But didn’t your talk with him leave a strong presumption of guilt in your mind?”

“It convinced me that Doctor Latham knows something of what happened to Mr. Reeves.”

“And to that extent it modified your skepticism in regard to us?”

“I am here,” said Cole with a shrug. “Isn’t that answer enough?”

“It is. You wouldn’t have come back to-night unless something had happened to counteract the bad impression which you derived from your first visit. No doubt the balance is still against us, but you are willing to listen to what we have to say. Will you pay close attention while I state a hypothetical case?”

“My ears are wide open.”

“Very well, then. First let me state a general principle. It must have occurred to you, Mr. Cole, that there is something radically wrong with the enforcement of our laws and the administration of justice. The jails are doing a thriving business, and many criminals are convicted every day in the year. With rare exceptions, however, they are the smaller fry. Too often the big rascals go unpunished, while the little fellows get it in the neck. The agencies of law and order are often powerless when dealing with criminals who perpetrate their malefactions on a large scale. Are you with me so far?”

“Go on,” said Cole.

“The cause of this deplorable situation is obvious. The big rascal evades the law and goes scot-free, while the little fellow breaks the law and lands in jail. Or else the big rascal violates the law in such a clever manner that conviction is impossible. He has the best legal talent on his side. Brilliant and unscrupulous lawyers lie awake nights scheming how a powerful client might commit crimes with impunity. Often the big rogue has unlimited resources at his command. If he is in danger of getting caught a substantial bribe frequently lets him out, or he uses political or social influence to get clear of the danger. True, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately it is,” said Cole, “but I don’t see what all this——”

“Just a moment. I am getting to the point as fast as I can. You must have noticed that the police and other agencies are seriously handicapped in trying to cope with crime on a large scale. They are hampered by a number of things, inefficiency, corruption, political patronage, sometimes indifference on the part of the public. There are many honest and capable men among them, but their number is too small. Besides, the machinery of justice is too ponderous and cumbersome. In its competition with crime it has the same handicap as a truck trying to compete with a roadster. But that isn’t the worst of it.”

“You’re painting a gloomy picture,” Cole observed.

“But you know as well as I do that it is true to life. The most serious phase of the situation is the fact that the law, in effect if not in theory, is punitive rather than preventive. Our administrators of justice are too often content with locking the stable after the horse is gone. It may be a satisfaction to you, when your pocketbook is stolen and the money squandered, to see the thief go to jail, but it isn’t doing you any material good. It may be gratifying to you to know that that particular thief won’t steal any more pocketbooks for a while, but that isn’t going to compensate you for your loss. The time to stop the crook is before the damage is done, and that’s exactly where our police system falls down on the job.”

“True enough,” Cole admitted. “But what are you going to do about it?”

He fancied the spokesman was smiling, but he could not be sure. The others at the table had not spoken a word.

“There is the Carmody case, for instance,” the other went on, without answering Cole’s question directly. “It shouldn’t be called that, for the professor is only a puppet, a dwarf in comparison with the men who are pulling the strings. You have barely scratched the surface of the case, so, no doubt, you are amazed at what I say. The so-called Carmody case is in reality one of the biggest swindles ever projected. It is being engineered by a group of brilliant and very powerful men who have enormous resources in brains and cash at the tips of their fingers. They are working in the dark, with the utmost secrecy and astounding cleverness. If the authorities at Washington knew what was going on, there would be a panic all along Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Why doesn’t some one tell them?”

The spokesman chuckled deprecatingly. “If I should go to them with the story to-morrow they would demand proof, and I haven’t any. That is, nothing that is tangible. I am positive of my facts, but proving them is another matter. In a case like this the proof can’t be produced until the damage is already done. Having no evidence, I should probably be met with indifference or skepticism. Even if an investigation were made, it would be purely perfunctory. The investigators would kick up just enough dust to blind themselves and tip the conspirators off to their danger.”

“But, if things are as bad as you say, something should be done.”

“Something is being done, Mr. Cole, and that brings me to the hypothetical case I was about to state. Imagine a group of wealthy and public-spirited citizens, men of brains, aggressiveness, and imagination, who have banded themselves together for the purpose of correcting the condition I have just described. Let us say they have built up a small, compact and marvelously efficient organization, in comparison with which the government’s ponderous machinery is like the truck trying to out-distance the roadster. This organization, unhampered by graft, political patronage, and red tape, and having unlimited resources at its command, becomes the secret ally of the police, the department of justice, and similar agencies. Its existence is practically unknown to all but its own members. Like the criminal whom it is endeavoring to combat, it works in the dark and silently. This in itself gives it a tremendous advantage. You are beginning to understand?”

Cole nodded.

“This organization has a corps of brilliant operatives, each one tested and tried and found one hundred per cent honest and efficient. At its head is an executive of exceptional ability. All the resources of the organization are placed at his disposal. He is paid a salary so large that it should render him immune to all sorts of corruption and amply compensate him for the fact that his achievements never become known to the outside world.”

“For a time all goes well. Now and then the police, or the authorities at Washington, receive a package from an anonymous source. They open it and dazedly peruse the contents. It is evidence gathered by some of the shrewdest detectives in the country and put into shape by the best lawyers obtainable. It is so thoroughly prepared that it will stand every legal test. All the authorities have to do is to hale the culprit into court and read the evidence to the jury. In all cases but one the verdict has been guilty.”

“The exception,” the spokesman went on in gritty tones, “was due to the dereliction of the executive at the head of the corps. Contrary to expectations and despite all the incentives which he had for remaining loyal to the organization, the man was corrupted by the other side. No doubt he sold his honor for a fortune. At all events he disappeared, and the case collapsed. It was necessary to find some one to take his place. This time the men at the head of the organization were determined to make no mistake. The next executive must be not only efficient and fearless, but incorruptible as well. For once the leaders decided to let the ends justify the means and go the limit in testing their candidate. Well, they did go the limit. They tried him in acid, and he assayed twenty-four carats.”

Murmurs of approval went around the circle. Every face was leveled intently in Cole’s direction. For several minutes he had anticipated the trend of the spokesman’s remarks, yet he started a little at the last sentence.

“Now you understand,” the other continued. “For some time we have been satisfied in regard to your ability. Our secret investigation left us in no doubt on that point. Last night we learned that you could resist three of the most powerful forms of temptation imaginable—fear, greed, and a charming woman’s tears. And not only that, but you also proved your superiority in a physical encounter, in addition to showing presence of mind and quickness of wit in a most terrifying situation. You scored one hundred per cent on every point. I am only sorry the test had to be so severe.”

Cole sat silent for a time; then he shook the spokesman’s outreached hand. “It’s worth a lot to me to know that I am a twenty-four-carat man,” he declared.

“Then you accept?”

Cole pondered while his glance swept the masked faces.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“We call ourselves The Unknown Seven. The name fits because nobody, not even our best friends, know us in our capacity of secret allies of the authorities. It’s possible you have seen some of us before.”

He raised his arm, and each man at the table made a sudden motion with his hand. In an instant the seven masks had been removed. Then a glaring light shattered the dusk, and Cole looked in astonishment at the unveiled faces. Several of them were familiar to him from pictures that had appeared in the newspapers, in connection with weighty national or municipal affairs. He blinked his eyes in bewilderment and was about to say something when the door suddenly opened.

Miss Brown entered in great haste. She was pale and breathless, and Cole could see that something of a startling nature had happened. The seven men rose and bowed as she came up to the table.

“What is it?” asked the spokesman.

For a moment the girl’s eyes rested on Cole’s face. There was a mingling of questioning, suspicion, and reproach in them that bewildered him. Then she turned to the spokesman. “The red light is flashing on the indicator!” she breathlessly declared. “Some one is coming up the elevator!”

For a moment each man in the room stood rigidly still. Then came a shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs. Now and then an ominous mutter was heard. Then, with one accord, all glances turned threateningly in the direction where Cole stood.