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“CRAIG KENNEDY”
The Great Scientific Detective of Fiction, Made Famous
in the Entrancing Stories by Arthur B„ Reeve
(Continued from Preceding Page.)
mysterious clutching fist. Last week it
trie the robbery of the Haxworth jewels
'-•id the killing of old Haxworth. Again
lal curious sign of the hand. Then
*ere was the dastardly attempt on Sher-
>ume, the steel magnate. Not a trace of
the assailant except this same clutching
fist. So it has gone, Jameson—the most
alarming and inexplicable series of mur
ders that has ever happened in this coun
try. And nothing but this uncanny hand
to trace them by.”
The editor paused a moment, then ex
claimed: ‘‘Why, this fellow seems to take
a diabolical—1 might almost say patho
logies]—pleasure in crimes of violence,
revenge, avarice and self-protection.
Sometimes it seems as if he delights in
he pure deviltry of the thing. It is
eird.”
He leaned over and spoke in n low,
erfse tone. ‘‘Strangest, of all, the tip has
iu't come to us that Fletcher, Haxworth,
i). irburne and all the rest of these
veulthy men were insured in the Consoli-
lated Mutual Life. Now, Jameson, I
’ant you to find Taylor Dodge, the presi-
ent. and interview him. Get what you
in, at any cost.”
I had naturally thought first, of Ken
edy, but there was no time now to call
\ ira up and, besides, I must see Dodge
nmedlately.
Dodge, I discovered over the telephone,
was not at homo nor at any of the clubs
to which he belonged. Late though it
was T concluded that he was at his office.
No amount of persuasion could get me
past the door, and, though I found out
later and shall tell soon what was going
on there, I determined, about 9 o’clock,
. that the best way to get at Dodge was to
go to his house on Fifth avenue, if I had
to camp on his front doorstep until morn
ing. The harder I found the story to get
he more I wanted it.
With some misgivings about being ad-
■nittsd, I rang the bell of the splendid,
^igh not very modern, Dodge rcsi-
*hce. An English butler, with a nose
lat must, have been his fortune, opened
Je door and gravely informed me that
Jr. Dodge was not at homo, but was ex
acted at any moment.
lOnce in, I was not going lightly to give
that advantage. I bethought myself
• his daughter Elaine, one of the most
ipular debutantes of the season, and
nt in my card to her, on a chance of
t.eresting her and seeing her father,
riting on the bottom of the card:
' Would like to interview Mr. Dodge re
garding Clutching Hand.”
Summoning up what assurance I had,
which is sometimes considerable, I fol
lowed the butler down the hall as he
bore my card. As he opened the door of
the drawing room, I caught a vision of a
slip of a girl in evening clothes.
Elaine Dodge was both the ingenue and
gpe athlete—the thoroughly modern type
girl—equally nt home with tennis and
|| ugo, table talk and tea. Vivacious eyes
tat hinted at a stunning amber brown
varkled beneath masses of the most
onderful auburn hair. Her pearly
eeth, when she smiled, were marvellous.
And she smiled often, for life to her
cemed a continuous film of enjoyment.
Near her I recognized from his pic
tures Harry Bennett, the rising young
corporation lawyer, a mighty good look
ing fellow, with an affable, pleasing way
about him, pehaps thirty-five years old or
so, but already prominent and quite
friendly with Dodge.
On a table I saw a book, as though
Elaine had cast it down when the lawyer
arrived to call on the daughter under
pretense of waiting for her father.
Crumpled on the table was the Star. They
had read the story.
‘‘Who is it, Jenningst” she asked.
“A reporter, Miss Dodge,” answered
the butler glancing superciliously back
at me. “And you know how your father
dislikes to see anyone here at the house,”
he added deferentially to her.
1 took iD the situation at a glance.
Bennett was trying not to look discourte
ous, but this was a call on Elaine, and it
had been interrupted. I could expect no
help from that quarter. Still, I fancied
that Elaine was not averse to trying to
pique her visitor, and determined at least
to try It.
“Alias Dodge,” I pleaded, bowing as if
1 had known them all my life, “I’ve beeD
trying to find your father all the evening.
It'd very important
She looked up at me surprised and in
doubt whether to laugh or stamp her
pretty little foot in indignation at my
stupendous nerve.
She laughed. “Yon are a very brave
young man,” she rippled with a roguish
look at Bennett’s discomfiture over the
interruption of the tete-a-tete.
There was a note of seriousness in it,
too, that made me ask quickly, “Why?”
The smile flitted from her face, and in
its place came a frank earnest expression,
which I later learned to like and respect
very much. “My father has declared he
will eat the very next reporter who tries
to interview him here,” she answered.
I was about to prolong the waiting
time by some jolly about such a stunning
girl not having by any possibility such a
cannibal of a parent, when the rattle of
the changing gears of a car outside told
of the approach of a limousine.
The big front door opened, and Elaine
flung herself in the arms of an elderly,
stern-faced, gray-haired man. “Why,
Dad,” she cried, “where have you been?
1 missed you so much at dinner. I'll be
so glad when this terrible business gets
cleared up. Tell—me. What is on your
mind? What is it that worries you now?”
I notieed then that Dodge seemed
wrought up and a bit unnerved, for he
sank rather heavily into a chair, brushed
his face with his handkerchief and
breathed heavily. Elaine hovered over
him solicitously, repeating her question.
With a mighty effort he seemed to get
himself together. He rose and turned to
Bennett.
“Harry,” he exclaimed, “I’ve got the
Clutching Hand!”
The two men stared at each other.
“Yes,” continued Dodge, “I’ve found
out how to trace it, and to-morrow I am
going to set the alarms of the city at rest
by exposing”
Just then Dodge caught sight of me.
For the moment I thought perhaps he was
going to fulfill his threat.
“Who the devil—why didn’t you tell
me a reporter was here, Jennings?” he
sputtered indignantly, pointing toward
the door.
Argument, entreaty, were of no avail.
He stamped crustily into the library, tak
ing Bennett with him and leaving me
with Elaine. Inside I could hear them
talking, and managed to catch enough to
piece together the story. I wanted to
stay, but Elaine, smiling at my enthusi
asm, shook her head and held out her
hand in one of her frank, straight-arm
handshakes. There was nothing to do
but go.
At least, I reflected, I had the ^renter
part of tho story—all except the one big
thing, however—the name of the criminal
But Dodge would know him to-morrow 1
I hurried back to the Star to write my
story in time to catch the last morning
edition.
Meanwhile, if I may anticipate my
story, I must tell of what we later learned
had happened to Dodge so completely to
upset him.
Ever since the Consolidated Mutual had
been hit by the murders, he had had
many lines out in the hope of enmeshing
rne perpetrator. That night, as I found
out the next day, he had at last heard of
a clue. One of the company’s detectives
had brought in a red-headed, lame, partly
paralyzed crook, who enjoyed the expres
sive monniker of “Limpy Red.” “Limpy
Red” was a gunman of some renown,
evil faced and, having nothing much to
lose, desperate. Whoever the master
criminal of the clutching hand might
have been he had seen fit to employ
“Limpy,” but had not taken the precau
tion of getting rid of him soon enough
when he was through.
Therefore Limpy had a grievance, and
how descended under pressure to the low
level of snitching to Dodge in his office.
“No, Governor,” the trembling wretch
had said as he handed over a grimy en
velope, “I ain’t never seen his face—but
here is directions how to find his hang
out.”
As Limpy ambled out, he turned to
Dodge, quivering at the enormity of his
unpardonable sin in gangland: “For
God’s sake, Governor,” he implored,
“don’t let on how you found out!”
And yet Limpy Red had scarcely left
with his promise not to tell, when Dodge,
happening *to turn over some papers,
came upon an envelope left on his own
desk, bearing that mysterious clutching
hand!
He tore it open, and read in amaze
ment :
“Destroy Limpy Red’s instructions
within the next hour.”
Dodge gnzed about in wonder. This
thing was getting on his nerves. He de
termined to go home and rest.
Outside the house, as he left his ear,
pasted over the monogram on the door,
he had found another note, with the
same weird mark and the single word:
“Remember!”
Much of this I had already gathered
from what I overheard Dodge telling Ben
nett as they entered the library. Some,
also, I have pieced together from the
story of a servant who overheard.
At any rate, in spite of the pleadings
of young Bennett, Dodge refused to take
warning. Into the safe in his beautifully
fitted library he deposited Limpy’s docu
ment in an envelope containing all the
Craig Kennedy (Arnold Daly) Discovers That the Finger Prints the Murderer Has Left on the Bust Are
Identical with His Own.
This Is From the
correspondence that had led up to the
final step in the discovery.
It was late in the evening when I re
turned to our apartment and, not finding
Kennedy there, knew that I would dis
cover him at the laboratory.
“Craig,” I cried as I burst in on him,
“I’ve got a case for you—greater than
any ever before.”
Kennedy looked up calmly from the
ruck of scientific instruments that sur
rounded him—test tubes, beakers, care
fully labelled bottles.
He had been examining a piece of cloth,
and had laid it aside in disappointment
near his magnifying glass. Just now he
was watching a reaction in a series of
test tubes standing on his table. He was
looking dejectedly at the floor as I came
in.
“Indeed?” he remarked, coolly going
back to the reaction.
Elaine (Pearl White) Shows Bennett, the Young Lawyer, the Body of Her Father, Victim of “The
Clutching Hand.”
This Is From the Motion Picture Production of ‘‘The Exploits of Elaine,” by the Famous Pathe Players.
Motion Picture Production of “The Exploits of
“Yes,” I cried. “It is a scientific
criminal who seems to leave no clues.”
Kennedy looked up gravely. “Every
criminal leaves a trace,” he said quietly.
“If it hasn’t been found then it must be
because no one has ever looked for it in
the right way.”
Still gazing at me keenly, he added:
“Yes, I already knew there was such a
man at large. I have been called in on
that Fletcher case—he was a trustee of
the university, you know.”
“All right,” I exclaimed, a little net
tled that he should have anticipated me
even so much in the case. “But you
haven’t heard the latest.”
“What is it?” he asked with provoking
calmness.
“Taylor Dodge,” I blurted out, “has
the clue. To-morrow he will track down
the man!”
Kennedy fairly jumped as I repeated
the news.
“How long has he known?” he de
manded eagerly.
“Perhaps three or four hours,” I haz
arded.
Kennedy’ gazed at me fixedly.
“Then Taylor Dodge is dead!” he ex
claimed, throwing off his acid-stained
laboratory coat, which had once been a
smoking jacket, and hurrying ipto his
street clothes.
“Impossible!” I ejaculated.
Kennedy paid no attention to the ob
jection. “Come, Walter, he urged. “We
must hurry before the trail gets cold.”
There was something positively un
canny about Kennedy’s assurance. I
doubted—yet I feared.
It was well past the middle of the night
when we pulled up in a night-hawk taxi
cab before the Dodge house, mounted the
steps and rang the bell.
Jennings answered sleepily, but not so
much so that he did not recognize me.
He was about to bang the door shut when
Kennedy interposed his foot.
“Where is Mr. Dodge?” asked Ken
nedy. “Is he all right?”
“Of course he is—in bed,” replied the
butler.
Just then we heard a faint cry, like
nothing exactly human. Or was it our
heightened imaginations, under the spell
of the darkness?
“Listen!” cautioned Kennedy.
We did, standing there now in the hall.
Kennedy’ was the only one of us who was
cool. Jennings's face blanched, then he
turned tremblingly and went down to the
library door, whence the sounds had
seemed to come.
He called, but there was no answer. He
turned the knob and opened the door.
The Dodge library was a large room. In
the centre stood a big flat-topped desk of
Elaine," by the Famous Pathe Players.
heavy mahogany. It was brilliantly
lighted. .
At one end of the desk was a telephone.
Taylor Dodge was lying on the floor at
that end of the desk—perfectly rigid—
his face distorted—a ghastly figure. A
pet dog ran over, sniffed frantically at
his master’s legs and suddenly began to
howl dismally.
Dodge was dead!
“Help!” shouted Jennings.
Others of the servants came rushing in.
There was, for the moment, the greatest
excitement and confusion.
Suddenly a wild figure in flying gar
ments flitted down the stairs and into the
library, dropping beside the dead man,
without seeming to notice us at all.
“Father!” shrieked a woman’s voice,
heart-broken. “Father! Oh—my God—
he—he is dead!”
It was Elaine Dodge.
With a mighty effort, the heroic girl
seemed to pull herself together.
“Jennings,” she cried, “Call Air. Ben
nett—immediately! ’ ’
From the one-sided, excited conversa
tion of the butler over the telephone, I
gathered that Bennett had been in the
process of disrobing in his own apart
ment uptown, and would be right down.
Together, Kennedy, Elaine and myself
lifted Dodge to a sofa and Elaine’s aunt,
Josephine, with whom she lived, appeared
on the scene, trying to quiet the sobbing
girl.
Kennedy and I withdrew a little way,
and he looked about curiously.
“What was it?” I whispered. “Was it
natural, an accident, or—or murder?”
The word seemed to stick in my throat.
If it was a murder, what was the motive?
Could it have been to get the evidence
which Dodge had that would incriminate
the master criminal?
Kennedy moved over quietly and ex
amined the body of Dodge. When he
rose his face had a peculiar look.
‘ ‘ Terrible! ” he whispered tome. “Ap
parently he had been working at his ac
customed place at the desk when the tele
phone rang, ne rose and crossed over to
it. See! That brought his feet on this
register let into the floor. As he took the
telephone receiver down a flash of light
must have shot from it to his ear. It
shows the characteristic electric bum.”
“The motive?” I queried.
“Evidently his pockets had been gone
through, though none of the valuables
were missing. Things on his desk show
that a hasty search has been made.”
Just then the door opened and Bennett
burst in.
As he stood over the body, gazing down
at it, repressing the emotions of a strong
(Continued on Next Page.)