Room 13 by Edgar Wallace Read Free Book Online

another that, if we had pinched him, he’d not only have been discharged, but he would have got something from the poor box! It used to be the life ambition of every young officer to catch him, to find some error of judgement, some flaw in his plan. But it was police-proof and fool-proof.”
    “He’d blush to hear you,” said the other dryly.
    “But it’s true, Johnny! The clever letters he used to write, all to fool us. He did a lot of work with letters – getting people together, luring ’em to the place he wanted ’em and where their presence served him best. I remember how he got my chief to be at Charing Cross under the clock at ten past nine, and showed up himself and made him prove his alibi!” He laughed gently.
    “I suppose,” said Gray, “people would think it remarkable that you and he are such good friends?”
    “They wouldn’t say it was remarkable; they say it was damned suspicious!” growled the other. “Having a drink?” he said suddenly, and pulled a wine bottle across the table.
    “No, thanks – I seldom drink. We have to keep a very clear head in our business. We can’t afford to dream.”
    “We can’t afford anything else,” said Craig. “Why ‘our business’, old man? You’re out of that?”
    Johnny saw the girl look towards him. It was only a glance – but in that brief flash he saw all that he feared to see – the terror, the bewilderment, the helplessness. He set his teeth and turned abruptly to the detective.
    “How is your business?” he asked.
    “Quiet.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” said John Gray with mock concern. “But trade’s bad everywhere, isn’t it?”
    “What sort of time did you have – in the country?” asked Craig, and his companion grinned.
    “Wonderful! My bedroom wanted papering, but the service was quite good.”
    Craig sighed.
    “Ah well, we live and learn,” he said heavily. “I was sorry about it, Johnny, very sorry. It’s a misfortune, but there’s no use grieving about it. You were one of the unlucky ones. If all the people who deserved prison were in prison – why, there wouldn’t be any housing problems. I hear there were quite a lot of stars there,” Craig went on. “Harry Becker, and young Lew Storing – why, old Legge must have been there in your time. And another fellow – now, what’s his name? The slush man – ah, Carper, that’s it. Ever see him?”
    “Yes; he and I were once harnessed to the same cart.”
    “Ah!” said Craig encouragingly. “I’ll bet you heard a few things. He’d talk to you.”
    “He did.”
    Craig bent toward him, lowering his voice.
    “Suppose I told you a certain party coppered you, and suppose I said I’ve reason to believe that your copper is the man I want. Now couldn’t we exchange confidences?” he asked.
    “Yes, we might squeak together, and it would sound like one of those syncopated orchestras. But we won’t. Honestly, Craig, I can’t tell you about the Big Printer. Reeder ought to know all about him!”
    “Reeder!” said the other scornfully. “An amateur! All this fal-de-lal about secret service men gets my goat! If they’d left the matter to the police, we’d have had the Big Printer – ever seen him, Johnny?”
    “No,” said Johnny untruthfully.
    “Reeder, eh?” said the thoughtful detective. “They used to have an office man named Golden once, an old fellow that thought he could catch slushers by sitting in an office and thinking hard. Reeder isn’t much better by all accounts. I saw him once, a soft fellow on the edge of senile decay!”
    Craig sighed deeply, looked up and down the happy board with a bleak and grudging glance, and then: “Just for a little heart-to-heart talk, I know where you could get an easy ‘monkey’ [1] , Johnny,” he said softly.
    Johnny did not smile.
    “It would have to be a monkey on a stick, Craig–”
    “We’re both men of the world,” interrupted the detective imploringly.
    “Yes,” said Johnny Gray, “but