Now and then a stream of a hose spat out of a window, showing that the men were still alive and working.About the ground floors the red-helmeted salvage corps were busy covering up what they could of the goods with rubber sheets to protect them from water.
Doctors with black bags and white trousers were working over the injured.Kennedy and I were busy about the engine, and there was plenty for us to do.
Above the shrill whistle for more coal I heard a voice shout, "Began with an explosion - it's the fire- bug, all right." Ilooked up.It was McCormick, dripping and grimy, in a high state of excitement, talking to Kennedy.
I had been so busy trying to make myself believe that I was really of some assistance about the engine that I had not taken time to watch the fire itself.It was now under control.The sharp and scientific attack had nipped what might have been one of New York's historic conflagrations.
"Are you game to go inside?" I heard McCormick ask.
For answer Kennedy simply nodded.As for me, where Craig went Iwent.
The three of us drove through the scorching door, past twisted masses of iron still glowing dull red in the smoke and steam, while the water hissed and spattered and slopped.The smoke was still suffocating, and every once in a while we were forced to find air close to the floor and near the wall.My hands and arms and legs felt like lead, yet on we drove.
Coughing and choking, we followed McCormick to what had been the heart of the fire, the office.Men with picks and axes and all manner of cunningly devised instruments were hacking and tearing at the walls and woodwork, putting out the last smouldering sparks while a thousand gallons of water were pouring in at various parts of the building where the fire still showed spirit.
There on the floor of the office lay a charred, shapeless, unrecognisable mass.What was that gruesome odour in the room?
Burned human flesh? I recoiled from what had once been the form of a woman.
McCormick uttered a cry, and as I turned my eyes away, I saw him holding a wire with the insulation burned off.He had picked it up from the wreckage of the floor.It led to a bent and blackened can - that had once been a can of ether.
My mind worked rapidly, but McCormick blurted out the words before I could form them, "Caught in her own trap at last!"Kennedy said nothing, but as one of the firemen roughly but reverently covered the remains with a rubber sheet, he stooped down and withdrew from the breast of the woman a long letter-file.
"Come, let us go," he said.
Back in our apartment again we bathed our racking heads, gargled our parched throats, and washed out our bloodshot eyes, in silence.The whole adventure, though still fresh and vivid in my mind, seemed unreal, like a dream.The choking air, the hissing steam, the ghastly object under the tarpaulin - what did it all mean? Who was she? I strove to reason it out, but could find no answer.
It was nearly dawn when the door opened and McCormick came in and dropped wearily into a chair."Do you know who that woman was?" he gasped." It was Miss Wend herself.""Who identified her?" asked Kennedy calmly.
"Oh, several people.Stacey recognised her at once.Then Hartstein, the adjuster for the insured, and Lazard, the adjuster for the company, both of whom had had more or less to do with her in connection with settling up for other fires, recognised her.She was a very clever woman, was Miss Wend, and a very important cog in the Stacey enterprises.And to think she was the firebug, after all.I can hardly believe it.""Why believe it?" asked Kennedy quietly.
"Why believe it?" echoed McCormick."Stacey has found shortages in his books due to the operation of her departments.The bookkeeper who had charge of the accounts in her department, a man named Douglas, is missing.She must have tried to cover up her operations by fires and juggling the accounts.Failing in that she tried to destroy Stacey's store itself, twice.She was one of the few that could get into the office unobserved.Oh, it's a clear case now.
To my mind, the heavy vapours of ether - they are heavier than air, you know - must have escaped along the surface of the floor last night and become ignited at a considerable distance from where she expected.She was caught in a back-draught, or something of the sort.Well, thank God, we've seen the last of this firebug business.
What's that?"
Kennedy had laid the letter-file on the table."Nothing.Only Ifound this embedded in Miss Wend's breast right over her heart.""Then she was murdered?" exclaimed McCormick.
"We haven't come to the end of this case yet," replied Craig evasively."On the contrary, we have just got our first good clue.
No, McCormick, your theory will not hold water.The real point is to find this missing bookkeeper at any cost.You must persuade him to confess what he knows.Offer him immunity - he was only a pawn in the hands of those higher up."McCormick was not hard to convince.Tired as he was, he grabbed up his hat and started off to put the final machinery in motion to wind up the long chase for the firebug.
"I must get a couple of hours' sleep," he yawned as he left us,"but first I want to start something toward finding Douglas.Ishall try to see you about noon."
I was too exhausted to go to the office.In fact, I doubt if Icould have written a line.But I telephoned in a story of personal experiences at the Stacey fire and told them they could fix it up as they chose and even sign my name to it.
About noon McCormick came in again, looking as fresh as if nothing had happened.He was used to it.
"I know where Douglas is," he announced breathlessly.
