that Benson had culled from police reports for exhaustive study on his own account.
He had said to MacMurdie that the man behind the sky-walking and the tragedies of collapsed buildings, and the loss of steel track resulting in a train wreck, must necessarily fit into certain specifications.
That man would be intimate with the Gant brothers, would be well-to-do, would have an interest in publicizing the catastrophies, and would be familiar with the Catawbi Railroad setup.
So Benson had started on the list of the friends of Robert and Max Gant.
Smitty and Mac and Nellie had gone over that list with all the power of their exceptional intelligences, and had narrowed it down to three names. Those names were Arthur D. Vanderhold, Abel M. Darcey, and—Colonel Marius Ringset.
Benson, when he got back to the hotel, went over these three personalities again.
“Arthur Vanderhold,” he said slowly aloud. “Owner of the sensational newspaper which came out with the story of the building collapse, and knew of it beforehand. He knew the Gant brothers for years, and once advanced them money. He is wealthy. He lives up along the shore, uses the Catawbi Railroad, owns some of it in this commuter-shareholder arrangement, and presumably knows something about it. But as far as can be found out, he has no interest whatever in Catawbi ore. It is to his interest, however, to publish sensational news—like building collapses—before any other paper can publish them. And Vanderhold has long been known as a man who sometimes makes up his own news in order to score a beat on other papers.”
“Whoosh! Even Vanderhold wouldn’t knock a buildin’ down so he’s know of it ahead of time and have a news scoop,” Max objected.
“It doesn’t seem logical,” Benson said, dead lips barely moving in his paralyzed face. “We’ll go on to the next.
“Abel Darcey knew the brothers very well. He is rich—largest stockholder in the Michigan Builders’ Bank, which is financially interested in the Catawbi Mine holdings, and would probably profit if the mines did. He is president of the board of Catawbi Railroad, though he doesn’t own much stock in it. There seems to be little reason why he would want to publicize the building collapses.”
Benson checked the last name.
“Then there is this Colonel Ringset.
“He didn’t know the Gant brothers as well as the other two, but he saw them pretty often. His mines are not a rich proposition at present, but he could be personally well-off enough to come in our category of suspect. As owner of the source of Catawbi ore, he stands to become fabulously wealthy because of the failures of other steels.”
“Ye think one of these three is the skurly we’re after?” said MacMurdie.
“It’s probable,” Benson said. One of his characteristics was that he didn’t jump to conclusions. He had an almost intuitive sense of deduction, but he always checked up on his mental thrusts before making decisions.
The phone rang. Nellie went to it. The respectful voice that spoke to her was that of the police commissioner, himself. There was a little more information on one of the names Mr. Benson had sent in to headquarters.
Nellie came back with blue eyes sparkling.
“It’s on Arthur Vanderhold,” she said. “It had come out that he owns a large block of stock in America Steel Corporation. I guess that eliminates him. America Steel will lose a great deal of money if they have to buy Catawbi instead of ore from their own mines. And Vanderhold wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt the corporation he has so much money in, would he?”
“It would seem not,” said Benson.
He was moving as he spoke. He went to one of the three trunks that formed his portable laboratory. In that trunk was the record he had made of the bizarre noise from the sky.
He took out the record, and set it on a playing disk. From his pocket he took the two fragments of steel from which he had rasped filings at the Missouri
He had said to MacMurdie that the man behind the sky-walking and the tragedies of collapsed buildings, and the loss of steel track resulting in a train wreck, must necessarily fit into certain specifications.
That man would be intimate with the Gant brothers, would be well-to-do, would have an interest in publicizing the catastrophies, and would be familiar with the Catawbi Railroad setup.
So Benson had started on the list of the friends of Robert and Max Gant.
Smitty and Mac and Nellie had gone over that list with all the power of their exceptional intelligences, and had narrowed it down to three names. Those names were Arthur D. Vanderhold, Abel M. Darcey, and—Colonel Marius Ringset.
Benson, when he got back to the hotel, went over these three personalities again.
“Arthur Vanderhold,” he said slowly aloud. “Owner of the sensational newspaper which came out with the story of the building collapse, and knew of it beforehand. He knew the Gant brothers for years, and once advanced them money. He is wealthy. He lives up along the shore, uses the Catawbi Railroad, owns some of it in this commuter-shareholder arrangement, and presumably knows something about it. But as far as can be found out, he has no interest whatever in Catawbi ore. It is to his interest, however, to publish sensational news—like building collapses—before any other paper can publish them. And Vanderhold has long been known as a man who sometimes makes up his own news in order to score a beat on other papers.”
“Whoosh! Even Vanderhold wouldn’t knock a buildin’ down so he’s know of it ahead of time and have a news scoop,” Max objected.
“It doesn’t seem logical,” Benson said, dead lips barely moving in his paralyzed face. “We’ll go on to the next.
“Abel Darcey knew the brothers very well. He is rich—largest stockholder in the Michigan Builders’ Bank, which is financially interested in the Catawbi Mine holdings, and would probably profit if the mines did. He is president of the board of Catawbi Railroad, though he doesn’t own much stock in it. There seems to be little reason why he would want to publicize the building collapses.”
Benson checked the last name.
“Then there is this Colonel Ringset.
“He didn’t know the Gant brothers as well as the other two, but he saw them pretty often. His mines are not a rich proposition at present, but he could be personally well-off enough to come in our category of suspect. As owner of the source of Catawbi ore, he stands to become fabulously wealthy because of the failures of other steels.”
“Ye think one of these three is the skurly we’re after?” said MacMurdie.
“It’s probable,” Benson said. One of his characteristics was that he didn’t jump to conclusions. He had an almost intuitive sense of deduction, but he always checked up on his mental thrusts before making decisions.
The phone rang. Nellie went to it. The respectful voice that spoke to her was that of the police commissioner, himself. There was a little more information on one of the names Mr. Benson had sent in to headquarters.
Nellie came back with blue eyes sparkling.
“It’s on Arthur Vanderhold,” she said. “It had come out that he owns a large block of stock in America Steel Corporation. I guess that eliminates him. America Steel will lose a great deal of money if they have to buy Catawbi instead of ore from their own mines. And Vanderhold wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt the corporation he has so much money in, would he?”
“It would seem not,” said Benson.
He was moving as he spoke. He went to one of the three trunks that formed his portable laboratory. In that trunk was the record he had made of the bizarre noise from the sky.
He took out the record, and set it on a playing disk. From his pocket he took the two fragments of steel from which he had rasped filings at the Missouri
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