picture—either a camouflaged masterpiece or one hanging openly—was gone from the wall. Such was never reported. So such never happened.”
“They broke in and examined the paintings, but they did not take them,” Dick mused. “It was about what I expected.”
“Mon, ye might have expected it, but to the rest of us ’tis without meanin’ whateverrr—”
“Go on, Josh, there is more, isn’t there?” Dick said.
“I’ll say there’s more! Something tremendous. Something terrific!”
Josh’s hand trembled a little so that the sheet of paper rattled.
“The gang broke into Winton Ellsworth’s place July 8th. On July 10th, the King Dam and its powerhouse, in Tennessee, were blown up.”
“Aluminum,” said Smitty, eyes hard.
“Yes. A new aluminum plant had just been completed. It was just about to go into production when the explosion occurred. It will take months to rebuild the dam and the power plant. That’s one coincidence. It might not mean anything by itself, but it isn’t by itself.
“Swazey’s house was entered on July 19th. On July 22nd, the Lorenville, Indiana, powder plant went up with a burst that smashed windows eight miles away. That was our second largest new powder plant.”
They were all silent now. There wasn’t any need to comment; this spoke for itself.
“Gates’ place was burglarized—with nothing taken—on August 1st. On August 2nd four ships loaded with wheat sank at their Hoboken docks. The ships are already almost reconditioned, but the wheat is a thing of the past.”
The Avenger’s eyes were terrible in their icy colorlessness. The rest stared at him almost in awe and waited for him to decide what was to be done next.
The affair was clearing, now, with a vengeance! Somehow, the purloined masterpieces smuggled out of Europe contained messages, all right, though it was still impossible to guess the manner of it. They were messages of death and destruction.
“The Dock,” here in this room, held such a hidden message. It was vital that the picture fall, for a little while, into the hands of the gang that lived on the heels of the picture racketeers. That was why the blond fellow, Harris, had taken such chances to get hold of it.
“The Princess,” hidden by Marsden, contained such a message. So the gang had been driven to the desperate expedient of kidnaping a multimillionaire to get hold of the picture and get hold of it fast.
“Diabolo,” also here in this room, spelled out foreign enemy instructions. And—here The Avenger’s face grew more terrible still—the “Diabolo” had been deciphered!
The gang had had it in its possession at Vaughan’s country home long enough to read it. Then they had left it. That was why they weren’t interested in possession. They didn’t care whether a picture was a fake or an original worth many thousands of dollars. A hundred thousand dollars was nothing compared to the stakes for which they played.
So they had carelessly left the “Diabolo” where it lay.
But first they had deciphered its message!
What would result from that? What catastrophe would grow out of it, and was there any way to stop it?
These thoughts were plain in the faces of the members of Justice, Inc., as they stared at their leader for a plan of action.
But it was Jessica Marsden who suggested it.
“This is all horrible,” she said diffidently. “And, of course, it comes before any personal considerations. But I . . . I hope you’re not forgetting that my father is in danger of his life. And I’m wondering if you can’t progress as fast in this mystery by trying to trace him and ‘The Princess’ as you could in any other line of action.”
The Avenger’s eyes turned their pale gaze her way. Then he nodded.
“Yes. As well that way as any other. Cole, you and Mac go with Miss Marsden to her home. It will be there that the gang will try to contact her, to arrange for trading her father’s life for the picture.”
The three went
“They broke in and examined the paintings, but they did not take them,” Dick mused. “It was about what I expected.”
“Mon, ye might have expected it, but to the rest of us ’tis without meanin’ whateverrr—”
“Go on, Josh, there is more, isn’t there?” Dick said.
“I’ll say there’s more! Something tremendous. Something terrific!”
Josh’s hand trembled a little so that the sheet of paper rattled.
“The gang broke into Winton Ellsworth’s place July 8th. On July 10th, the King Dam and its powerhouse, in Tennessee, were blown up.”
“Aluminum,” said Smitty, eyes hard.
“Yes. A new aluminum plant had just been completed. It was just about to go into production when the explosion occurred. It will take months to rebuild the dam and the power plant. That’s one coincidence. It might not mean anything by itself, but it isn’t by itself.
“Swazey’s house was entered on July 19th. On July 22nd, the Lorenville, Indiana, powder plant went up with a burst that smashed windows eight miles away. That was our second largest new powder plant.”
They were all silent now. There wasn’t any need to comment; this spoke for itself.
“Gates’ place was burglarized—with nothing taken—on August 1st. On August 2nd four ships loaded with wheat sank at their Hoboken docks. The ships are already almost reconditioned, but the wheat is a thing of the past.”
The Avenger’s eyes were terrible in their icy colorlessness. The rest stared at him almost in awe and waited for him to decide what was to be done next.
The affair was clearing, now, with a vengeance! Somehow, the purloined masterpieces smuggled out of Europe contained messages, all right, though it was still impossible to guess the manner of it. They were messages of death and destruction.
“The Dock,” here in this room, held such a hidden message. It was vital that the picture fall, for a little while, into the hands of the gang that lived on the heels of the picture racketeers. That was why the blond fellow, Harris, had taken such chances to get hold of it.
“The Princess,” hidden by Marsden, contained such a message. So the gang had been driven to the desperate expedient of kidnaping a multimillionaire to get hold of the picture and get hold of it fast.
“Diabolo,” also here in this room, spelled out foreign enemy instructions. And—here The Avenger’s face grew more terrible still—the “Diabolo” had been deciphered!
The gang had had it in its possession at Vaughan’s country home long enough to read it. Then they had left it. That was why they weren’t interested in possession. They didn’t care whether a picture was a fake or an original worth many thousands of dollars. A hundred thousand dollars was nothing compared to the stakes for which they played.
So they had carelessly left the “Diabolo” where it lay.
But first they had deciphered its message!
What would result from that? What catastrophe would grow out of it, and was there any way to stop it?
These thoughts were plain in the faces of the members of Justice, Inc., as they stared at their leader for a plan of action.
But it was Jessica Marsden who suggested it.
“This is all horrible,” she said diffidently. “And, of course, it comes before any personal considerations. But I . . . I hope you’re not forgetting that my father is in danger of his life. And I’m wondering if you can’t progress as fast in this mystery by trying to trace him and ‘The Princess’ as you could in any other line of action.”
The Avenger’s eyes turned their pale gaze her way. Then he nodded.
“Yes. As well that way as any other. Cole, you and Mac go with Miss Marsden to her home. It will be there that the gang will try to contact her, to arrange for trading her father’s life for the picture.”
The three went
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