The Clarion Call
Half of this story can be found in the records ofthe Police Department; the other half belong behindthe business counter of a newspaper office.One afternoon two weeks after Millionaire Nor-cross was found in his apartment murdered by a bur-glar, the murderer, while strolling serenely downBroadway ran plump against Detective BarneyWoods."Is that you, Johnny Kernan?" asked Woods,who had been near-sighted in public for five years."No less," cried Kernan, heartily. "If it isn'tBarney Woods, late and early of old Saint Jo!You'll have to show me! What are you doing East?Do the green-goods circulars get out that far?"said Woods."I've been in New York some years, I'm on the citydetective force.""Well, well!" said Kernan, breathing smiling joyand patting the detective's arm."Come into Muller's," said Woods, "and let'shunt a quiet table. I'd like to talk to you awhile."It lacked a few minutes to the hour of four. Thetides of trade were not yet loosed, and they found aquiet corner of the cafe. Kernan, well dressedSlightly swaggering, self-confident, seated himself op-posite the little detective, with his pale, sandy mus-tache, squinting eyes and ready-made cheviot suit."What business are you in now?" asked Woods."You know you left Saint Jo a year before I did.""I'm selling shares in a copper mine," said Ker-nan. "I may establish an office here. Well, well!and so old Barney is a New York detective. Youalways had a turn that way. You were on the po-lice in Saint Jo after I left there, weren't you?""Six months," said Woods. "And now there's onemore question, Johnny. I've followed your recordpretty close ever since you did that hotel job in Sara-toga, and I never knew you to use your gun before.Why did you kill Norcross?"Kernan stared for a few moments with concen-trated attention at the slice of lemon in his high-ball;and then be looked at the detective with a sudden,crooked, brilliant smile."How did you guess it, Barney? " he asked, ad-miringly. "I swear I thought the job was as cleanand as smooth as a peeled onion. Did I leave a stringhanging out anywhere? "Woods laid upon the table a small gold pencil in-tended for a watch-charm."It's the one I gave you the last Christmas wewere in Saint Jo. I've got your shaving mug yet.I found this under a corner of the rug in Norcross'sroom. I warn you to be careful what you say. I'vegot it put on to you, Johnny. We were old friendsonce, but I must do my duty. You'll have to go tothe chair for Norcross." Kernan laughed."My luck stays with me," said be. "Who'd havethought old Barney was on my trail!" He slippedone hand inside his coat. In an instant Woods hada revolver against his side."Put it away," said Kernan, wrinkling his nose."I'm only investigating. Aha! It takes nine tailorsto make a man, but one can do a man up. There'sa hole in that vest pocket. I took that pencil off mychain and slipped it in there in case of a scrap. Putup your gun, Barney, and I'll tell you why I hadto shoot Norcross. The old fool started down thehall after me, popping at the buttons on the back ofmy coat with a peevish little .22 and I had to stophim. The old lady was a darling. She just lay inbed and saw her $12,000 diamond necklace go with-out a chirp, while she begged like a panhandler tohave back a little thin gold ring with a garnet worthabout $3. 1 guess she married old Norcross for hismoney, all right. Don't they hang on to the littletrinkets from the Man Who Lost Out, though?There were six rings, two brooches and a chatelainewatch. Fifteen thousand would cover the lot.""I warned you not to talk," said Woods."Oh, that's all right," said Kernan. "The stuffis in my suit case at the hotel. And now I'll tell youwhy I'm talking. Because it's safe. I'm talking toa man I know. You owe me a thousand dollars, Bar-ney Woods, and even if you wanted to arrest me yourhand wouldn't make the move.""I haven't forgotten," said Woods. "You countedout twenty fifties without a word. I'll pay it backsome day. That thousand saved me and -- well, theywere piling my furniture out on the sidewalk when Igot back to the house.""And so," continued Kernan, "you being BarneyWoods, born as true as steel, and bound to play awhite man's game, can't lift a finger to arrest theman you're indebted to. Oh, I have to study menas well as Yale locks and window fastenings in mybusiness. Now, keep quiet while I ring for thewaiter. I've had a thirst for a year or two that wor-ries me a little. If I'm ever caught the lucky sleuthwill have to divide honors with old boy Booze. But Inever drink during business hours. After a job Ican crook elbows with my old friend Barney with aclear conscience. What are you taking?"The waiter came with the little decanters and thesiphon and left them alone again."You've called the turn," said Woods, as he rolledthe little gold pencil about with a thoughtful fore-finger. I've got to pass you up. I can't lay ahand on you. If I'd a-paid that money back -- butI didn't, and that settles it. It's a bad break I'mmaking, Johnny, but I can't dodge it. You helpedme once, and it calls for the same.""I knew it," said Kernan, raising his glass, witha flushed smile of self-appreciation. "I can judgemen. Here's to Barney, for -- 'he's a jolly goodfellow.' ""I don't believe," went on Woods quietly, as if bewere thinking aloud, "that if accounts had beensquare between you and me, all the money in all thebanks in New York could have bought you out ofmy hands to-night.""I know it couldn't," said Kernan. "That's whyI knew I was safe with you.""Most people," continued the detective, "look side-ways at my business. They don't class it among thefine arts and the professions. But I've always takena kind of fool pride in it. And here is where I go'busted.' I guess I'm a man first and a detectiveafterward. I've got to let you go, and then I've gotto resign from the force. I guess I can drive an ex-press wagon. Your thousand dollars is further offthan ever, Johnny.""Oh, you're welcome to it," said Kernan, with alordly air. "I'd be willing to call the debt off, butI know you wouldn't have it It was a lucky dayfor me when you borrowed it. And now, let's dropthe subject. I'm off to the West on a morning train.I know a place out there where I can negotiate theNorcross sparks. Drink up, Barney, and forget yourtroubles. We'll have a jolly time while the policeare knocking their heads together over the case.I've got one of my Sahara thirsts on to-night. ButI'm in the bands -- the unofficial bands -- of my oldfriend Barney, and I won't even dream of a cop."And then, as Kernan's ready finger kept the but-ton and the waiter working, his weak point -- a tre-mendous vanity and arrogant egotism, began to showitself. He recounted story after story of his suc-cessful plunderings, ingenious plots and infamoustransgressions until Woods, with all his familiaritywith evil-doers, felt growing within him a cold ab-horrence toward the utterly vicious man who hadonce been his benefactor."I'm disposed of, of course," said Woods, atlength. "But I advise you to keep under cover for aspell. The newspapers may take up this Norcrossaffair. There has been an epidemic of burglaries andmanslaughter in town this summer."The word sent Kernan into a high glow of sullenand vindictive rage."To hell with the newspapers," he growled."What do they spell but brag and blow and boodle inbox-car letters? Suppose they do take up a casewhat does it amount to? The police are easy enoughto fool; but what do the newspapers do? They senda lot of pin-head reporters around to the scene; andthey make for the nearest saloon and have beer whilethey take photos of the bartender's oldest daughterin evening dress, to print as the fiancee of the youngman in the tenth story, who thought he heard a noisebelow on the night of the murder. That's about asnear as the newspapers ever come to running downMr. Burglar.""Well, I don't know," said Woods, reflecting."Some of the papers have done good work in thatline. There's the Morning Mars, for instance. Itwarmed up two or three trails, and got the man afterthe police had let 'em get cold.""I'll show you," said Tiernan, rising, and expand-ing his chest. "I'll show you what I think of news-papers in general, and your Morning Mars in par-ticular."Three feet from their table was the telephonebooth. Kernan went inside and sat at the instrument,leaving the door open. He found a number in thebook, took down the receiver and made his demandupon Central. Woods sat still, looking at the sneer-ing, cold, vigilant face waiting close to the trans-mitter, and listened to the words that came from thethin, truculent lips curved into a contemptuous smile."That the Morning Mars? . . . I want tospeak to the managing editor . . . Why, tellhim it's some one who wants to talk to him about theNorcross murder."You the editor? . . . All right. . . . Iam the man who killed old Norcross . . . Wait!Hold the wire; I'm not the usual crank . . . oh,there isn't the slightest danger. I've just been dis-cussing it with a detective friend of mine. I killedthe old man at 2:30 A. M. two weeks ago to-morrow. . . . Have a drink with you? Now,hadn't you better leave that kind of talk to yourfunny man? Can't you tell whether a man's guyingyou or whether you're being offered the biggest scoopyour dull dishrag of a paper ever had? . . .Well, that's so; it's a bobtail scoop -- but you canhardly expect me to 'phone in my name and address.. . . Why? Oh, because I beard you make aspecialty of solving mysterious crimes that stump thepolice. . . . No, that's not all. I want to tellyou that your rotten, lying, penny sheet is of no moreuse in tracking an intelligent murderer or highway-man than a blind poodle would be. . . . What?. . . Oh, no, this isn't a rival newspaper office;you're getting it straight. I did the Norcross job,and I've got the jewels in my suit case at -- 'thename of the hotel could not be learned' -- you recog-nize that phrase, don't you? I thought so. You'veused it often enough. Kind of rattles you, doesn'tit, to have the mysterious villain call up your great,big, all-powerful organ of right and justice and goodgovernment and tell you what a helpless old gas-bagyou are? . . . Cut that out; you're not that biga fool -- no, you don't think I'm a fraud. I can tellit by your voice. . . . Now, listen, and I'll giveyou a pointer that will prove it to you. Of courseyou've had this murder case worked over by your staffof bright young blockheads. Half of the second but-ton on old Mrs. Norcross's nightgown is broken off.I saw it when I took the garnet ring off her finger.I thought it was a ruby. . . . -- Stop that! itwon't work."Kernan turned to Woods with a diabolic smile."I've got him going. He believes me now. Hedidn't quite cover the transmitter with his hand whenhe told somebody to call up Central on another 'phoneand get our number. I'll give him just one more dig,and then we'll make a 'get-away.'"Hello! . . . Yes. I'm here yet. Youdidn't think -- I'd run from such a little subsidized, turn-coat rag of a newspaper, did you? . . . Haveme inside of forty-eight hours? Say, will you quitbeing funny? Now, you let grown men alone and at-tend to your business of hunting up divorce casesand street-car accidents and printing the filth andscandal that you make your living by. Good-by, oldboy -- sorry I haven't time to call on you. I'd feelperfectly safe in your sanctum asinorum. Tra-la!""He's as mad as a cat that's lost a mouse," saidKernan, hanging up the receiver and coming out."And now, Barney, my boy, we'll go to a show andenjoy ourselves until a reasonable bedtime. Fourhours' sleep for me, and then the west-bound."The two dined in a Broadway restaurant. Kernanwas pleased with himself. He spent money like aprince of fiction. And then a weird and gorgeousmusical comedy engaged their attention. Afterwardthere was a late supper in a grillroom, withchampagne, and Kernan at the height of his com-placency.Half-past three in the morning found them in acorner of an all-night cafe, Kernan still boasting ina vapid and rambling way, Woods thinking moodilyover the end that had come to his usefulness as anupholder of the law.But, as he pondered, his eye brightened with aspeculative light."I wonder if it's possible," be said to himself, "Iwon-der if it's pos-si-ble!And then outside the cafe the comparative stillnessof the early morning was punctured by faint, uncer-tain cries that seemed mere fireflies of sound, somegrowing louder, some fainter, waxing and waningamid the rumble of milk wagons and infrequent cars.Shrill cries they were when near -- well-known criesthat conveyed many meanings to the ears of those ofthe slumbering millions of the great city who wakedto hear them. Cries that bore upon their significant,small volume the weight of a world's woe and laugh-ter and delight and stress. To some, cowering be-neath the protection of a night's ephemeral cover,they brought news of the hideous, bright day; toothers, wrapped in happy sleep, they announced amorning that would dawn blacker than sable night.To many of the rich they brought a besom to sweepaway what had been theirs while the stars shone; tothe poor they brought -- another day.All over the city the cries were starting up, keenand sonorous, heralding the chances that the slip-ping of one cogwheel in the machinery of time hadmade; apportioning to the sleepers while they layat the mercy of fate, the vengeance, profit, grief,reward and doom that the new figure in the calen-dar had brought them. Shrill and yet plaintivewere the cries, as if the young voices grieved that somuch evil and so little good was in their irresponsiblehands. Thus echoed in the streets of the helplesscity the transmission of the latest decrees of the gods,the cries of the newsboys -- the Clarion Call of thePress.Woods flipped a dime to the waiter, and said:"Get me a Morning Mars."When the paper came he glanced at its first page,and then tore a leaf out of his memorandum bookand began to write on it with the little old pencil."What's the news?"' yawned Kernan.Woods flipped over to him the piece of writing:"The New York Morning Mars:"Please pay to the order of John Kernan the one thousanddollars reward coming to me for his arrest and conviction."BARNARD WOODS.""I kind of thought they would do that," saidWoods, "when you were jollying them so hard. Now,Johnny, you'll come to the police station with me."
The Clarion Call was featured as
TheShort Story of the Day on
Mon, Oct 14, 2013
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