The BLACK BOX
By E. PHILLIPS OPPENIIEIM
Author of-'Mr. Grex of Monte
Carlo, “ The Vanished Mess
enger." "The Lighted Way,"etc.
L
Novelized from Ae mottoo picture dram, of ,he aame name produced by the
universal him Manufacturing Company. Illustrated with
photographs from the motion picture production
I
(Copyright, 1S16. b^OUs^'^^ST8***5****2*^
SYNOPSIS.
Sanford Quest, master criminologist of
the world, finds that in bringing to Jus
tice Macdougal, the murderer of Lord
Ashleigh’s daughter, he has but Just be
gun a life-and-death struggle with a mys
terious master criminal. In a hidden hut
in Professor Ashleigh’s garden he has
seen an anthropoid ape skeleton and a liv
ing inhuman creature, half monkey, half
man, destroyed by fire. In his room have
appeared from nowhere black boxes, one
containing diamonds torn from a lovely
throat by a pair of armless, threatening
hands, both with sarcastic, threatening
notes signed by the incrutable hands. On
his return from finding the body of Mac
dougal, who had escaped on his way to
prison, he is arrested for the murder of
his valet. Ross Brown, and a Miss Quigg,
in his rocms. Laura and Lenora, his as
sistants, suspect Craig the professor’s
valet, trap Craig and rescue Quest from
the Tombs to hypnotize Craig into confes
sion. but when Quest arrives he finds that
Craig and I>*nora have both disappeared.
He dodges Police Inspector French, who
has discovered his escape.
SIXTH INSTALLMENT
THE UNSEEN TERROR.
CHAPTER XIV.
With a little gesture of despair
Quest turned away from the instru
ment which seemed suddenly to have
become so terribly unresponsive, and
looked across the vista of square
roofs and tangled masses of telephone
wires to where the lights of larger
New York flared up against the sky.
From his attic chamber the roar of
the city a few blocks away was al
ways in his ears. He had forgotten
in those hours of frenzied solitude to I
fear for his own safety. He thought
only of Lenora. He paused once more
before the little instrument.
“Lenora, where are you?” he sig- i
naltd. "I have taken a lodging in the j
Servants’ club. I am still In hiding, i
hoping that Craig may come here. 1 j
am very anxious about you ”
Still no reply! Quest drew a chair ,
up to the window and sat there with i
folded arms looking down into the I
street. Suddenly he sprang to his !
feet. The instrument quivered—there
was a message at last! He took it !
down wi'th a little choke of relief.
"I don't know where 1 am. I am ter
rified. t was outside the garage when
I was seized from behind. The 'Hands’ j
held me. I was unconscious until 1
found myself here. I am nowr in an
attic room with no window except the
skylight, which I cannot reach. I can
see nothing—hear nothing. No one
has hurt me, no one comes near me.
Food is pushed through a door, which
is locked again Immediately. The
house seems empty, yet I fancy that I
am being watched all the time. I am
terrified!”
Quest drew the Instrument towards
him.
”1 have your message," he signaled.
“Be brave! I am watching for Craig.
Through him I shall reach you before
long. Send me a mesage every now
and then.”
, Quest again took up his vigil in
front of the window. Once more his
eyes swept the narrow street with Its
coiistant stream of passers-by. Then
suddenly he found himself gripping
the window sill in a momentary thrill
of rare excitement. His vigil was
rewarded at last. The man for whom
he was waiting was there! Quest
watched him cross the street, glance
furtively to the right and to the left,
then enter the club. He turned back
to the little wireless and his fingers
worked as though iusplred.
“I am on Craig s track,” he signaled.
“Be brave.”
He waited for no reply, but opened
the door and, stealing softly out of the
room, suddenly confronted Craig in
the deserted hallway. Before he could
utter a cry Quest’s left hand was over
his mouth and the cold muzzle of an
automatic pistol was pressed to his
ribs.
"Turn round and mount those stairs,
Craig,” Quest ordered.
Craig turned slowly round and
•obeyed. He mounted the steps with
reluctant footsteps, followed by Quest.
“Through the door to your right,”
the latter directed. "That's right!
Now sit down in that chair facing
me.”
Quest closed the door carefully.
Craig sat where he had been ordered,
his Angers gripping the arms of the
chair. In his eyes shone the furtive,
terriAed light of the trapped crim
inal.
"What do you want with me?” Craig
asked doggedly.
“First of all,” Quest replied, "I
want to know what you have done
with my assistant, the girl whom you
carried off from the professor's gar
age.”
i, Craig shook his head.
“I know nothing about her.”
"She locked you in the .garage,”
•Quest continued, “and sent for me.
When I arrived I found the garage
door open, Lenora gone and you a
fugitive.”
Bewilderment struggled for a mo
ment with blank terror in Craig's ex
pression.
"How do you know ihat she locked
me in the garage?”
Quest smiled, stretched out his right
aim and his long Angers played soft
ly with the pocket wireless.
“In Just the same way,” he ex
plained, "that I am sending her this
message at the present moment—a
message which she will receive and
understand wherever she is hidden.
Would you like to know what I ain
telling her?”
The man shivered. His eyes, as
though fascinated, watched the little
instrument.
“I am saying this, Craig,” Quest
continued. “Craig is here and in my
power. He is sitting within a few
feet of me and will not leave this
room until he has told me your where
abouts. Keep up your courage, Le
nora. You shall be free in an hour.”
The trapped man looked away from
the instrument into Quest’s face.
There was a momentary flicker of
something that might have passed for
courage in his tone.
"Mr. Quest,” he said, “you are a
wonderful man, but there are limits to
your power. You can tear my tongue
out from my mouth, but you cannot
force me to speak.”
Quest leaned a little farther for
ward in his chair, his gaze became
more concentrated.
“That is where you are wrong,
Craig. That is where you make a mis
take. In a very few minutes you will
be telling me all the secrets of your
heart.”
Craig shivered, drew back a little
in his chair, tried to rise and fell
back again helpless.
“My God!” he cried. “Leave me
alone!”
>>nen you nave tom me the truth.
Quest answered swiftly, "and you will
tell me all I want to know in a few
minutes. . . Your eyelids are get
ting a little heavy, Craig. Don’t re
sist. Something which is like sleep is
coming over you. You see my will
has yours by the throat.”
Craig shook his head. A very weak
smile of triumph flickered for a mo
ment at the corners of his lips.
"Your torture chamber trick won’t
work on me!" he exclaimed. “You
can never—”
The whole gamut of emotions
seemed already to have spent them
selves in the man’s face, but at that
moment there was a new element, an
element of terrified curiosity in the
expression of his eyes as he stared
towards the door.
“Is this another trick of yours?” he
muttered.
Quest, too, turned hlB head and
sprang instantly to his feet. From un
derneath the door chme a little puff
of smoke. There was a queer sense
of heat of which both men were si
multaneously conscious. Down in
the street arose a chorus of warn
ing shouts, increasing momentarily In
i
"Mount Those Stairs, Craig.’’
volume. Quest threw open the door
and closed it again at once.
“The place is on Are," he announced
briefly. "Pull yourself together, man.
We shall have all we can dp to get
out of this.”
Craig turned to the door, but stag
gered back almost immediately.
“The stairs are going!” he shrieked.
“It is the kitchen that is on Are. We
are cut off! We cannot get down!”
Quest was on his hands and knees,
fumbling under his trucklebed. He
pulled out a crude form of tire es
cape, a rough sort of cradle with a
rope attached.
“Know how to use this?" he asked
Craig quickly. “Here, catch hold. Put
your arms inside this strap."
Yard by yard, swinging a little in
the air, Craig made his descent. When
be arrived In the street there were «
hundred willing hands to release him.
Quest drew up the rope quickly,
warned by a roar of anxioiiH voices
Then he commenced to descend, let
ting himself down hand over hand, al
ways with one eye upon that length
of rope that swung below. Suddenly,
as he reached the second floor a lit
tle cry from the crowd warned him
of what had happened. Tongues of
flame curling out from the blazing
building had caught the rope, which
was being burned through not a dozen
feet away from him. He descended
a little farther and paused in mid
air.
A shout from the crowd reached
him.
“The cables! Try the cables!”
He glanced round. Seven or eight
feet away, an* almost level with him,
was a double row of telegraph wires.
Almost as he saw them the rope below
him burned through and fell to the
ground. He swung a little towards
the side of the house, pushed himself
vigorously away from it with his feet,
and at the farthest point of the out
ward swing jumped. His hands grap
pled the telegraph wires safely. Even
in that tense moment he heard a little
sob of relief from the people below.
Hand over hand he made his way
to the nearest pole and slipped easily
to the ground. The crowd immediate
ly surged around him.
“Where is the man who came down
before ine?" he asked a bystander.
“Talking to the police in the car
over yonder,” was the hoarse reply.
“Say, guv'nor, you only just made
that!”
Craig pushed his way through the
crowd to where Craig was speaking
eagerly to French. He stopped short
and stooped down. He was near
enough to hear the former's words.
“Mr. French, you saw the man come
down the ropes and swing on the ca
bles? That was Quest, Sanford Quest,
the man who escaped from the Tombs
prison. He can't have got away yet.”
finest drew off his coat, turned it in
side out and replaced it swiftly, fie
coolly picked up a hat someone had
lost in the crowd and pulled it over
his, eyes. He passed within a few
feet of where Craig and the inspector
were talking.
“Say, boys, Sanford Quest is in the
crowd somewhere. He's the man who
jumped on the cable lines. A hun
dred dollars for his arrest!”
Quest turned reluctantly away. Men
were rushing about in all directions
for him.
CHAPTER XV.
The professor swung round In his
chair and greeted Quest with some
surprise, but also a little disappoint
ment.
"No news of Craig?" he asked.
"I got Craig, all right," he replied.
"He came to the Servants’ club, where
I was waiting for him. My luck’s out,
though. The place w'as burned to
the ground last night. I saved his
i life and then the brute gave me away
I to the police. I had to make my es
I cape as best I could."
The professor tapped the table pee
vishly.
"This is insufferable,” he declared.
“I have had no shaving water; my
coffee was undrinkable; I can find
nothing. I have a most important lec
ture to prepare and I cannot find any
of the notes I made upon the sub
ject."
Quest smoked in silence for a mo
ment.
"Any mail for me, professor?” he
asked abruptly.
'I’he professor opened a drawer and
handed him a telegram.
"Only this!”
Quest opened it and read it through.
It was from the sheriit of a small
town in Connecticut:
"The men you Inquired for are both
here. They have sold an automobile
and seem to be spending the proceeds.
Shall I arrest?”
Quest studied the message for a
moment.
“Say, this is rather interesting, pro
fessor," he remarked. “These are
the two thugs who set upon me
at the section house. They killed the
signal man, who could have been
my alibi, and swiped my car, in
which, as it cannot be found, French
supposes that I returned to New York.
With their arrest the case against
me collapses. I tell you frankly, pro
fessor," Quest continued frowning. "I
hate to leave the city without having
found that girl; but I am not sure
that the quickest way to set things
right would not he to go down, arrest
these men and bring them back here,
clear myself, and then go tooth and
nail for Craig."
“I agree with you most heartily,”
the professor declared. "I recommend
any course which will insure the re
turn of my man Craig!"
"I cannot promise you that you will
ever have Craig here again," Quest
observed grimly. “I rather fancy Sing
Sing will be his next home."
Quest stepped off the cars at Rothel
a little before noon that morning. The
sheriff met him at the depot and greet
ed him cordially but with obvious sur
prise.
“Say, Mr. Quest,” he exclaimed, as
they turned away, "I know these men
are wanted on your charge, but I
thought—you'll excuse me for saving
so—-that you were in some trouble
yourself.”
Quest nodded.
“I'm out of that-—came out yester
day. The moment my car is identi
fied and Ked tlallagher and his mate
arrested every scrap of evidence
against me goes."
“Well, here's the garage and the
man who bought the car," the sheriff
fexnarked, "and there's the car itself
m MR
Put It Away; You Know You Daren't Use It.”
in the road. It’s for you to say wheth
er it can be identified.”
Quest drew a sigh of relipf.
“That's mine, right enough,” he de
clared. "Now for the men.”
"Say, I want to tell you some
thing,” the sheriff began dubiously.
"These twrc are real thugs. They ain’t
going to take it lying down.”
“Where are they?” Quest de
manded.
“In the worst saloon here,” the sher
iff replied. "They’ve been there pret
ty well all night, drinking, and they’re
there again this morning, hard at. it.
They've got firearms, and though I
ain’t exactly a nervous man, Mr.
Quest—”
“You leave it to me," Quest inter
rupted. "This is my job and I want
to take the men myself."
“You’ll never do it,” the sheriff de
clared.
“Look here,” Quest explained, “if
I let you and your men go in, there
will be a free fight, and as likely as
not you will kill one. if not both of
the men. I want them alive.”
“Well, it's your show,” the sheriff
admitted, stopping before a disrepu
table looking building. "This is the
saloon.”
"Well." Quest derided. 'Tm going
ln. and I'm going in unarmed. You
ran bring your men in later, if I call
for help or if you hear any shoot
ing.”
“You’re ashing for trouble," the
sheriff warned him.
“I've got to do this my own wav,”
Quest insisted. "Stand by now."
lie pushed open the door of the sa
loon. There were a dozen men drink
ing around the bar and in the cen
ter of them Ited Gallagher and his
mate. Quest walked right up to the
two men.
"Gallagher," he said, “you’re my
prisoner. Are you coming quietly?”
Gallagher’s mate, who was half
drunk, swung round and fired a wild
shot in Quest's direction. The result
was a general stampede. Red Galla
gher alone remained motionless. Grim
and dangerously silent, he held a pis
tol within a few’ inches of Quest's
forehead.
“If my number's up," he exclaimed
ferociously, "it won't be you to take
me. "
"I think it will." Quest answered.
“Put that away.”
Gallagher hesitated. Quest's influ
ence over him was indomitable.
“Put it away," Quest repeated firm
ly. "You know’ you daren't use it.
Your account's pretty full up, as it
is.”
Gallagher's hand wavered. From out
side came the shouts of the sheriff and
his men, struggling to fight their way
in through the little crowd who were
rushing for safety. Suddenly Quest
backed, jerked the pistol up with his
right elbow, and with almost the same
movement struck Red Gallagher un
der the jaw. The man went over
with a crash. His mate, who had
been staggering about, cursing vicious
ly, fired another wild shot at Quest,
who swayed and fell forward.
“I’ve done him I" the man shouted.
“Get up. Red! I've done him, all
right! Finish your drink. We’ll get
out of this!”
He bent unsteadily over Quest. Sud
denly the latter sprang up, seized him
by the leg and sent him sprawling.
The gun fell from his hand. Quest
picked it tip and held it firmly out, cov
ering botli men. Gallagher was on his
knees, groping for his own weapon.
“Get the handcuffs on them." Quest
directed the sheriff, who with his men
had at last succeeded in forcing his
way into the saloon.
*******
Crouching in her chair, her pale,
terror-stricken face supported be
tween her hands, Lenora. her eyes
filled with hopeless misery, gazed at
the dumb instrument upon the table.
Her last gleam of hope seemed to be
passing. Her little friend was silent.
Once more her weary tingprs sitelled
out a final, despairing message
"What has happened to you? I am
waiting to hear all the time. Has Craig
told you where 1 am? I am afraid!"
There was still no reply. Her head
sank a little lower on her folded
arms. Even the luxury of tears seemed
denied her. Fear, the fear wfiich dwelt
with her day and night, had her in
its grip. Suddenly she leaped, scream
ing, from her place. Splinters of
glass fell all around her. Her first
wild thought wras of release; she
gazed upwards at the broken pane.
Then very faintly from the street he
low she heard the shout of a boy's
angry voice:
“You've done it now, Jimmy! You’re
a fine pitcher, ain't you? Lost it,
that's what you’ve gone and done!”
The thoughts formed themselves
mechanically in her mind. Her eyes
sought the ball which had come crash
ing into the room. There was life
once more in her pulses. She found
a scrap of paper and a pencil in her
pocket. With trembling fingers she
w’rote a few words:
“Police headquarters. I am Sanford
Quest’s assistant, abducted and im
prisoned here in the room where the
ball has fallen. Help! I am going
mad!"
She twisted the paper, looked
around the room vainly for string, and
finally tore a thin piece of ribbon
from her bosom. She tied the mes
sage round the ball, set her teeth and
threw it at the empty skylight. The
first time she was not successful and
the ball came back. The second time
it passed through the center of the
opening. She heard it strike the sound
portion of the glass outside, heard it
rumble down the roof. A few seconds
of breathless silence! Her heart al
most stopped beating. Had it rested
in some ledge or fallen into the street
below? Then she heard the boy’s
voice:
“Gee! Here’s the ball come back
again!”
A new light shone Into the room.
She seemed to be breathing a different
atmosphere—the atmosphere of hope.
She listened no longer with horror
for a creaking upon the stairs. She
walked backwards and forwards until
she was exhausted. . . . Curiously
enough, when the end came she was
, asleep, crouched upon the bed and
dreaming wildly. She sprang up to
find Inspector French, with a police
man behind him, standing upon the
threshold.
“Inspector!" she cried, rushing to
wards him. “Mr. Fivnch! Oh, thank
i God!”
Her feelings carried her away. She
threw herself at his feet. She was
laughing and crying and talking inco
i herently, all at the same time. The
inspector assisted her to a chair.
I “Say, what's all this mean?” he de
manded.
She told him her story, incoherent
ly, in broken phrases. French listened
with puzzled frown.
Then he realized that she was on
the point of a nervous breakdown
and in no condition for interrogations
“That'll do," he said. “I'll take care
of you for a time, young lady, and I'll
ask you a few questions later on. My
men are searching the house. You
and I will be getting on, if you can
tear yourself away.”
*******
The plainclothes man. who was
lounging in Quest's most comfortable
easy chair and smoking one of his
best cigars, suddenly laid down his
paper. He moved to the window. A
large, empty automobile stood in the
street outside, from which the occu
pants had presumably just descend
ed. He hastened towards the door,
which was opened, however, before he
was halfway across the room. The
cigar slipped from his fingers. It was
Sanford Quest, who stood there, fol
lowed by the sheriff of Bethel, two
country policemen and Red Gallagher
and his mate, heavily handcuffed.
“Say, aren't you wanted down yon
der, Mr. Quest?" the man inquired.
“That's all right now," Quest told
him. “I’m ringing up Inspector French
myself. You'd better stand by the
other fellows there and keep your
eye on Red Gallagher and his mate.”
“I guess Mr. Quest is all right," the
sheriff intervened. “We're ringing up
headquarters ourselves, anyway.”
The plain-clothes man did as he was
told. Quest took up the receiver from
his telephone instrument and arranged
the phototelesme.
"Police station No. 1, central," he
said—“through to Mr. French’s of
fice, if you please. Mr. Quest
wants to speak to him. Yes, San
ford Quest. No need to get excited!
. . . All right I’m through, am l?
. . . Hello, inspector?"
A rare expression of joy suddenly
transfigured Quest's face. He was
gazing downward into the little mir
ror.
"You've found Lenora, then, in
spector?” he exclaimed. “Bully for
you! . . What do I mean? What
I say! You forget that 1 am a sci
entific man, French. No end of ap
pliances here you haven’t had time
tc^look at. I can see you sitting there,
and l.enora and l.aura looking as
though you had them on the rack. You
ran drop that, French. I've got Red
Gallagher and his mate, got them
here with the sheriff of Bethel. They
went off with my auto and sold it.
We've got that. Also, in less than
five minutes . my chauffeur will be
here, lie s been lying in a farmhouse
unconscious, sine® that scrap. He
can tell you what time he saw me
last. Bring the girls along, French—
and hurry!”
Quest hung up the receiver.
Inspector French was as good, even
better than his word. In a surpris
ingly short time he entered the room,
followed by Laura and Lenora. Quest
gave them a hand each, hut it was
into Lenora's eyes that he looked.
"I mustn’t stop to hear your story,
Lenora,” Quest said. ‘’You're safe—
that's the great thing.”
"Found her in an empty house,”
French reported, “out Grayson avenue
way. Now, Mr. Quest. I don’t want to
come the official over you too much
but if you'll kindly remember you’re
an escaped prisoner—”
There was a knock at the door. A
young man entered in chauffeur's liv
ery, with his head still bandaged
Quest motioned him to come in.
“I'll just repeat my story of that
morning, Mr. French,” Quest said. "We
went out to find Macdougal, and sue
ceeded, as you know. Just as I was
starting for home those two thugr.
set upon me. You know how I made
my escape. They went off in my au
tomobile and sold it in Bethel. I ar
rested them there myself this morn
ing. Here's the sheriff who will bear
out what I say, also that they arrived
at the place in my automobile."
Inspector French held out his hand.
“Mr. Quest,” he said, "I reckon we'll
have to withdraw the case against
you. No hard feelings, I hope?”
"None at all," Quest replied prompt
ly, taking his hand.
Quest stood upon the threshold
watching the sheriff and his prison
ers leave the house. The former
turned round to wave his adieux.
“There's an elderly guy out here,”
he shouted, “seems to want to come
in.”
Quest leaned forward and saw the
professor.
“My dear Quest," he exclaimed, as
he wrung his hand, “my heartiest con
gratulations! As you know. I always
helieved your innocence. I am delight
ed that it has been proved."
The professor sank wearily into an
easy chair.
"I will take a little whisky and one
of your excellent cigars. Quest," he
said. “I must ask you to bear with
me if I seem upset. After more than
twenty years' service from one whom
I have always treated as a friend this
sudden separation, to a man of my
"Inspector!” She Cried, Rushing To
wards Him.
ape. is somewhat trying. I do not al
lude, as you perceive, Mr. Quest, to
the horrible suspicion you seem to
have formed of Craig.”
“All the same,” the Inspector re
marked thoughtfully, "someone who is
still at large committed those murders
and stole those jewels. What is your
theory about the Jewels, Mr. Quest?”
"I haven't had time to frame one
yet," the criminologist replied. “You've
been keeping me too busy looking
after myself. However.” he added,
‘‘it's time something was done.”
lie took a magnifying glass from
Ills pocket and examined very closely
the whole of the front of the safe.
"No sign of Anger prints.” he mut
tered. “The person who opened It
probably wore gloves."
He fitted the combination and swung
open the door. He stood there for a
moment speechless. Something in his
attitude attracted the inspector's at
tention.
“What is it, Mr. Quest?” he asked
eagerly.
Quest drew a little breath Exactly
facing him. In the spot where the jew
els had been, was a small black box.
He brought it to the table and re
moved the lid. Inside was a sheet of
paper, w-hich he quickly unfolded.
They all three read the few lines to
gether:
"Pitted against the Inherited cun
ning of the ages, you have no chance.
I will take compassion upon you.
l.ook in the right-hand drawer of your
desk.”
Underneath appeared the signature
of the "Hands.” Quest moved like one
in a dream to his cabinet and pulled
open the right hand drawer. He turned
around and faced the other two men.
In his hand was Mrs Rheinholdt's
necklace!
tTO BE CONTINUED.)