frantic hate at the unconscious man on the floor.
“Charlatan! Crook!” he screamed at Markham. Then he whirled to the servant.
“Summers, thank heaven you looked into this room when you did and had wit enough to realize what was going on. Take this man to the basement strong room and lock him up. Hypnotize me, will he?”
“How about the hole in the ground?” said Summers.
“Not yet! We don’t throw him into the chasm, yet. When he has gone without food and water for a few days, he may decide to tell us who is behind this trip of his to Cranlowe Heights. Maybe he is the man behind what happened to Blandell and the rest. We should know shortly.”
CHAPTER XIII
Sound Beyond Hearing
If there was one thing that stood out clearly in this crazy welter, it was that the focal point of the whole business was the Garfield Gear Company. More precisely, that part of the Garfield Gear Company in which the president, Jenner, had his office.
So Dick Benson went to the Garfield Gear Company to Ned Jenner’s office.
The Avenger went openly, as himself. Till now he had kept under cover so that the gang which had attacked him at the quarry would continue to think him dead. Now he walked undisguised. For a purpose. If, after he left the office, attacks against him started again, it would prove beyond all further doubt that someone high in Garfield Gear—almost certainly Jenner—was directly connected with the underworld and had reported that he still lived. It would also expose Benson to death with every breath he drew. But the man with the white, dead face and the icy, pale eyes didn’t bother to think about that. Risk was normal to him; absence of risk the exception.
Benson got through the gate and through the general office simply by walking through and saying to anyone who gave evidence of wanting to stop him and inquire his business: “To see Mr. Jenner.” An ordinary person would have been detained and made to wait by any of a half a dozen employees; but such was the white-haired, dead-faced man’s air of quiet authority and power that none tried to stop him here.
Till he got to the small office outside Jenner’s own, where Jenner’s secretary had his desk. The pallid, quiet young fellow with the high-bridged nose tried to get in his way—but stepped back at the impact of those terrible, pale eyes on his own.
Benson opened the door of Jenner’s office and walked in.
The president of Garfield Gear was reading some letters. He looked up with a sharp frown.
“Who in the world are you? And how did you get in here, unannounced? I am busy. If you will wait your turn—”
He stopped, and looked again at the expressionless, white face in which were the colorless, icy eyes.
“I am Richard Benson, Mr. Jenner,” said The Avenger, in his calm but vibrant voice. “I don’t know if the name is familiar—”
“Why, yes, it is,” said Jenner, tone completely different. “I have heard of you, though I never expected to meet you. It was in connection with our government orders. You have done some work for the government, I believe.”
“I have done work for several governments,” Benson said, pale eyes gauging the man.
“It is an honor to have you here,” Jenner said. “But what is the occasion for the visit?”
“The murder of Blandell and Sessel,” said Benson. “I have come out to ask you a few questions about it.”
“The police asked many—”
“I am sure they were quite thorough. But I would like to know a few things that, perhaps, they didn’t think to go into. For one thing, I understand your dog howled just before Sessel went through his antics in your general office. And I believe he howled again just before Wainwright went strangely mad and killed the two men. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Jenner nodded. “That is correct.”
On the leather divan, Prince, Jenner’s canine companion, stared at the two men with bright little eyes, divining that he was being talked about, but staying
“Charlatan! Crook!” he screamed at Markham. Then he whirled to the servant.
“Summers, thank heaven you looked into this room when you did and had wit enough to realize what was going on. Take this man to the basement strong room and lock him up. Hypnotize me, will he?”
“How about the hole in the ground?” said Summers.
“Not yet! We don’t throw him into the chasm, yet. When he has gone without food and water for a few days, he may decide to tell us who is behind this trip of his to Cranlowe Heights. Maybe he is the man behind what happened to Blandell and the rest. We should know shortly.”
CHAPTER XIII
Sound Beyond Hearing
If there was one thing that stood out clearly in this crazy welter, it was that the focal point of the whole business was the Garfield Gear Company. More precisely, that part of the Garfield Gear Company in which the president, Jenner, had his office.
So Dick Benson went to the Garfield Gear Company to Ned Jenner’s office.
The Avenger went openly, as himself. Till now he had kept under cover so that the gang which had attacked him at the quarry would continue to think him dead. Now he walked undisguised. For a purpose. If, after he left the office, attacks against him started again, it would prove beyond all further doubt that someone high in Garfield Gear—almost certainly Jenner—was directly connected with the underworld and had reported that he still lived. It would also expose Benson to death with every breath he drew. But the man with the white, dead face and the icy, pale eyes didn’t bother to think about that. Risk was normal to him; absence of risk the exception.
Benson got through the gate and through the general office simply by walking through and saying to anyone who gave evidence of wanting to stop him and inquire his business: “To see Mr. Jenner.” An ordinary person would have been detained and made to wait by any of a half a dozen employees; but such was the white-haired, dead-faced man’s air of quiet authority and power that none tried to stop him here.
Till he got to the small office outside Jenner’s own, where Jenner’s secretary had his desk. The pallid, quiet young fellow with the high-bridged nose tried to get in his way—but stepped back at the impact of those terrible, pale eyes on his own.
Benson opened the door of Jenner’s office and walked in.
The president of Garfield Gear was reading some letters. He looked up with a sharp frown.
“Who in the world are you? And how did you get in here, unannounced? I am busy. If you will wait your turn—”
He stopped, and looked again at the expressionless, white face in which were the colorless, icy eyes.
“I am Richard Benson, Mr. Jenner,” said The Avenger, in his calm but vibrant voice. “I don’t know if the name is familiar—”
“Why, yes, it is,” said Jenner, tone completely different. “I have heard of you, though I never expected to meet you. It was in connection with our government orders. You have done some work for the government, I believe.”
“I have done work for several governments,” Benson said, pale eyes gauging the man.
“It is an honor to have you here,” Jenner said. “But what is the occasion for the visit?”
“The murder of Blandell and Sessel,” said Benson. “I have come out to ask you a few questions about it.”
“The police asked many—”
“I am sure they were quite thorough. But I would like to know a few things that, perhaps, they didn’t think to go into. For one thing, I understand your dog howled just before Sessel went through his antics in your general office. And I believe he howled again just before Wainwright went strangely mad and killed the two men. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Jenner nodded. “That is correct.”
On the leather divan, Prince, Jenner’s canine companion, stared at the two men with bright little eyes, divining that he was being talked about, but staying
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