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. ”

“ Sprague, and their horribly distorted features as they lay stretched out on the pavement at his feet.
Again he heard the agonized scream of the physician and saw his bulging eyes as he battled for his life with the invisible monster.
He wanted to move, to scream, to strike out, to do anything but remain inactive, but, for the moment, he was helpless, for his soul was gripped by the icy fingers of terror. The hair of his head bristled and beads of cold perspiration burst from his brow. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”