Laurie McClintock and Culpeper Chunn

“ Therefore, while in his own mind, he had already settled on the dagger as the one key to the mystery in sight, it flattered him, in spite of the obviousness of the clue, to have the major's opinion coincide with his own.
"I agree with you, major," he cried heartily. "The man that we want most is the man that murdered the valet; and," he added with a tightening of his jaws, "I'm gonna get him!"
"Wait," said Sergeant Alington, who had been an interested listener to the major's summing up of the case. ”

“ Of course, there was a possibility that the Frenchman was holding something back, but what if he was? Was he, Count Vincent di Dalfonzo, "mystery man" of a hundred aliases and acknowledged by the police to be the cleverest international crook outside of prison bars, to be deprived of his liberty and a fortune by an imbecile of a private detective?
He laughed, and his laugh did not sound pleasant. After all, he had the formula, and the game was not yet lost. His blunders had not been as bad as they might have been. ”

“ The breath of living things is warm. Perhaps it was not the breathing of a monster that you heard. It may have been—." He hesitated, and then, at a loss, stopped.
"There was no mistaking the—the thing I felt on my face," rejoined the artist grimly. "Except for the fact that it was cold and spasmodic it was like the breathing of a man."
"Like the breathing of a man choking on a piece of ice?" suggested the coroner.
"Exactly."
"Eh, bien!" called the Frenchman, and smote himself on the forehead with his clenched fist. "Why did you not tell us this before?"
The Frenchman was transformed. ”

“ That the poison fumes, assuming that poison fumes were the cause of Berjet's death, were administered by human hands? If so, oblige me, my friend, by telling me how the owner of those hands got out of the room?"
"Well, if the murderers were invisible, and they were, if the testimony of you and Deweese counts for anything," rejoined Strange, "they might have followed Berjet through the window without having been observed by you."
"Invisible murderers!" snorted Peret, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. "You are growing febble-minded, my friend. Didn't Berjet say he saw his murderers?" ”

“ There is not a shred of evidence to give weight to your words."
"Evidence is sometimes the biggest liar in the world," said Peret, a little dashed by Dobson's lack of enthusiasm. "In this case, however, there is, as you say, no evidence of any kind—yet. We must therefore look for it, before it sneaks up on us and bites us. Ah, my dear friend. Think! Consider! Reflect! Why, the thing is as clear as a piece of crystal."
"What suggestions have you to make?" asked the major, visibly impressed. "I suppose you have in mind some plan—."
"Oui!" cried Peret, with fierce enthusiasm. ”

“ I will never feel safe while this scoundrel is at large, if indeed he really did have a hand in the murders of Berjet, Sprague and Adolphe, and the attack on me."
"Dalfonzo had nothing to do with Adolphe's murder, and only an indirect hand in the attack on you," said Peret. "Sacre bleu! Dalfonzo is not the kind of man that strikes down his victims with butcher knives and such; he is a man of delicate ideas and sensibilities, Monsieur." ”

“ Flashing his light around the hall once more, so as not to lose his sense of direction, Peret began his slow and cautious ascent to the second floor. Placing his feet carefully on that part of the steps nearest to the wall so they would not creak, he worked his way up to the top of the steps. There he paused to listen.
No one knew better than he how fatal it would prove to be caught prowling around the house of a man as desperate as the Wolf was reputed to be, in the dead of night. ”

“ Very well, my friend,” acquiesced Peret, "I will do so with pleasure. The invisible monster, the terrible, whispering, breathing, fear-inspiring demon is—"
"Well?" demanded Deweese tersely.
"One little bat," concluded Peret—"or rather, two little bats."
Absurd as the detective's statement may have sounded, its effect on the artist was, nevertheless, pronounced. His gaze wavered and his face, if such a thing were possible, became a shade paler. His recovery, however, was almost immediate. ”

“ Peret sat hunched in his chair in an abstracted manner, staring into vacancy with knitted brow. He was evidently not pleased by the interruption, and showed his displeasure by scowling at the major.
"Just before Berjet hurled himself through the window," he explained, ungraciously, "I heard him cry, 'Help! help! I'm dying!' As he lay dying on the pavement he gasped, 'Assassins . . .dix!' just like that. Dix, in the French language, means 'ten,' and Berjet was a Frenchman. Figure it out for yourself." ”

“ Dalfonzo is a man; the Thing is—the Thing. The murders were instigated by Dalfonzo, but were committed by the invisible terror."
Deweese, as had many a man before him, began to wonder if he had to deal with an imbecile or a man by no means as feeble-minded as he seemed. In his puzzlement he stared at Peret for a moment, with mouth agape, then he leaned forward in his chair until less than two feet separated his corpselike face from Peret's. ”

“ Turning now from the dead to the living, Peret jumped to his feet and ran to help the pedestrian who, with the help of the terrified little druggist, was in the act of staggering to his feet. Although the druggist's teeth were chattering with fear, his first thought seemed to be for the sufferer, and he helped Peret support the man, too weak to stand unaided, when he reeled back against the fence.
Choking, gasping, spitting, the pedestrian fought manfully to regain his breath. ”

“ Finally:
"You are quite mad, I think," remarked Deweese, unmoved. "Where the deuce did you ever get the idea that I was Dalfonzo?"
Peret was unable to conceal his admiration.
"You are a great actor, Monsieur, and a brave man," he declared in a tone that left no doubt of his sincerity. "I told part of my story to test you—a sort of indirect third degree—but so far not a muscle of your face has moved. What a pity it is you are such a damned scoundrel!"
Deweese laughed shortly.
"It is always safe to insult a man when you have him covered," he observed composedly. ”

“ Three months ago Peret had severed his connections with police headquarters and established himself as a "consulting detective." And because of the enviable record he had made while serving his apprenticeship on the "force," he had at once found his services in great demand.
At this time Peret was about thirty-four years of age. A small effeminate man, with delicate features, small hands and feet, rosy cheeks and trick eye-brows, one would have taken him for almost anything in the world but a detective. ”

“ I am Albert Deweese, very much at your service. What reason have you for believing me to be the man you call Dalfonzo—a man who, if one is to believe you, seems to be in league with an invisible demon that commits murders for him? The very fact that I almost met my death at the hands of the Whispering Thing is proof that I am not the man you seek. ”

“ I feel it only fair to tell you, therefore, that our peril has never been so great as it is now. Unless we act quickly we are doomed. You follow me, do you not?"
Sing Tong Fat touched his forehead and gravely nodded.
"It seems as if Fate has been against us from the very beginning in the Q-gas business," resumed Deweese in an unemotional tone. "The murder of Berjet, while necessary, was unfortunate, and since then we have had one stroke of bad luck after the other. We erred in trying to kill the French detective in the manner we did. ”

“ As he was finishing his examination, the stranger returned, accompanied by the druggist and a physician who had chanced to be in the drug store.
Peret rose to his feet and stepped back to make room for the doctor.
"What's the trouble?" asked Dr. Sprague, a large, swarthy-faced man with a gray Vandyke beard.
"Murder, I'm afraid," replied Peret, pointing at Berjet's motionless body.
Dr. Sprague bent over the inert form of the scientist and made a brief examination.
"Yes," he said gravely, "he is beyond human aid." ”

“ The man that you have just pronounced dead is Max Berjet, the eminent French scientist. If he was murdered—and I have reason to believe that he was—the murderer has not yet had time to escape, as M. Berjet has been dead less than two minutes. It is possible, therefore, that I can apprehend the assassin if I act at once. Can you stay here with the body pending the arrival of the police?"
Dr. Sprague glanced at the detective's card and nodded, whereupon Peret, with a single bound, cleared the iron fence that inclosed the little yard in front of Berjet's house. ”

“ We work best when we work cautiously, and we are not likely to be incautious when we know we are watched."
He lighted a fresh cigarette and gazed reflectively at the thread of smoke that curled upward from the lighted end. The drink of whisky had cleared his brain, and, alert, feverishly bright-eyed, every nerve in tune, he was now the man who for years had matched wits with the continental police and eluded them at every turn. Sing Tong Fat, well aware of the seriousness of the situation, shuffled his feet uneasily. ”

“ The circumstances that surround the several murders speak for themselves. Therefore, in view of the fact that Berjet's valet was the first of the three men to meet his death, it is my opinion that if you find his murderer you will have found the man or Thing responsible for the other two murders, and for the attack on our friend, Deweese."
Strange heaved a sigh of profound satisfaction. He was now on familiar ground. Unseen and unknown forces that struck men down, forces that were apparently of some other world, were beyond his depth; but human knife-wielders were his meat. ”

“ After a short run, the cab came to a stop at the corner of a dark street in one of the residential sections of the city. Instructing the chauffeur to wait for him, Peret left the car and, wrapping his coat around him, glided off in the darkness.
Half way down the block, at the intersection of an alley, the Frenchman paused. Though the fog had lifted somewhat, the mist had turned into a heavy sleet and, if such a thing were possible, it was even darker than it had been an hour previously. Except for the taxi waiting at the corner, the street, so far as Peret could see, was deserted. ”

“ Deweese shook his head.
"Never heard of him until tonight," he declared.
The major sighed.
"I thought as much," he asserted. "It seems a waste of time to try to fasten Sprague's murder and the attack on you on Berjet." He thought for a moment; then: "Sergeant Alington, you are sure, are you, that you have not been over-hasty in the conclusions you have drawn from your cursory examination of the prints? If there is any doubt in your mind, I suggest that you return to headquarters and develop the plates at once."
"You can judge for yourself, major," returned Alington, a little nettled. ”

“ The devil! It does not take an army to kill a single man."
"What’s the matter, old chap?" It was the pedestrian whom Peret had observed lighting a cigarette near the corner lamp a few minutes previously. "The old boy looks as if he had had a shot of bootlegger's private stock."
"He has been murdered," returned Peret shortly, after giving the man a keen scrutiny. Then: "Be so kind as to run to the drug store across the street and ask the druggist to send for a physician. Also request him to notify police headquarters that a murder has been committed. ”

“ As Peret was about to reply, the door opened and three men entered the room. The first of these, a tall, middle-aged man, with a gray mustache and a fine, upright carriage, was Major and Superintendent of Police Dobson. Immediately behind him came Coroner Rane, an elderly man with penetrating gray eyes, and Police Sergeant Alington, small, stoop-shouldered and addicted to big-rimmed spectacles. ”

“ We did not find the formula or anything else that would incriminate you. Nevertheless, Monsieur, your little game has been played—played and lost.
“And you played the game badly, too, my friend. For a man of your intelligence, your blunders are inexcusable. Why did you not leave that blood-thirsty old Chinaman in Russia, Monsieur? You can never hope to remain incognito as long as you have Sing Tong Fat in tow. His hatchet face is too well known. Your other blunders were all just as glaring as this one. Why did you linger near the scene of your crime, eh? ”

“ I knew that at least one of the nations that have been trying to acquire the formula would go to almost any length to gain possession of a new and really effective weapon of this kind. I therefore got in touch with the Secret Service, which usually has an intimate knowledge of such matters, and learned several facts that made me more certain than ever that I was on the right track.
"Berjet's poison gas, I learned, is indeed a terrible destructive agent. It is said to be even more deadly than Lewisite. ”

“ With one possible exception, it is the most deadly poison known, a minute quantity, breathed in through the nostrils or absorbed into the system through an abrasion on the skin, causing almost instant death.
"When you released the bat in the library, it began to circle around the room and its fluttering wings scattered the powder and poisoned the air to such an extent that poor Berjet had only time, before he died, to realize the significance of the bat’s presence in the room and to leap through the window in a vain effort to save himself. ”

“ There was not only the man himself to be feared; there was the Whispering Thing, for if Dalfonzo was, as he suspected, implicated in the murders he was investigating, it was certain that the invisible assassin, be it man, beast or devil was in league with the renegade Italian.
Yet a search of the man’s house during his absence, or at least without his knowledge, seemed necessary, since Peret not only had no evidence against the Count, but had as yet to learn the exact nature of the Thing; and it would be useless to make an arrest until he could fasten the crimes on their perpetrator. ”

“ His clothing was badly torn, and there was other evidence to show that he had put up a desperate fight with his murderer before the fatal blow was struck. In his present state he made a ghastly spectacle, for his face was badly discolored and smeared over with dried blood, and his eyes, one of which was nearly torn from its socket, were wide open and fixed on the ceiling in a glassy stare.
"Who is he?" asked O’Shane, after a brief silence.
"Adolphe," replied Peret, bending over the body. "Berjet's valet." ”

“ One of the victims, before dying, declares the breath of the Whispering Thing is icy cold. Nobody has seen it. Nobody can imagine what it is. Then Jules Peret, French detective who is in America, undertakes to fathom the terrible mystery. After his preliminary investigation, he goes home, and when he enters his darkened rooms he feels an ice-cold breath on his cheek, and he knows he is in the presence of the Whispering Thing. ”

“ The coroner examined the letters closely and returned the sheath to Strange.
"There can scarcely be any doubt as to the ownership of the knife," he agreed.
"What progress are your men making with their search?" demanded the major.
"The men have gone over the house twice without success," declared Strange. "O'Brill and Muldoon are now on the roof and the other men are searching the adjoining houses."
"And have they found no evidence of any person having been in this house?"
"No one except Berjet and the valet."
"Dr. Rane, what do you think of this affair?" questioned Dobson impatiently. ”

“ There are very few foreign agents unknown to the Secret Service, and my operative has the record of you and Sing Tong Fat at his finger-tips. He knows that you and the Chinaman have been associated for years, and that at the present time you are working in the interests of Soviet Russia. Sing Tong Fat is not the idiot he appears to be; he is an international agent that several countries would give a good deal to lay their hands on. ”

“ I am through. There is no one in the house, and I can find no trace of the Whispering Thing. Sapristi! what a blind trail it is that I follow. Are you sure, my friend, that you have not made a mistake in thinking that Dalfonzo—"
"Not a chance," was Bendlow's emphatic reply. "This house, however, may be a blind. The Wolf may be laying low and working through his confederate. He may not even be in the city. However, as I am working in the dark, I will not hazard any more guesses. But you can bet your bottom dollar that the Wolf—"
"Hist!"
But Peret's warning came too late. ”