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PAGE 6

The Crimeometer
by [?]

“Send them in to Mr. Willoughby,” he added. “I think he will be glad to pay them to hush up the scandal.”

We looked at each other in amazement at the revelation.

“But what about Annie Grayson?” persisted Donnelly.

“I have taken care of her,” responded Kennedy laconically. “She is already under arrest. Would you like to see why?”

A moment later we had all piled into Dr. Guthrie’s car, standing at the door.

At the cosy little Grayson villa we found two large eyed detectives and a very angry woman waiting impatiently. Heaped up on a table in the living room was a store of loot that readily accounted for the ocular peculiarity of the detectives.

The jumble on the table contained a most magnificent collection of diamonds, sapphires, ropes of pearls, emeralds, statuettes, and bronze and ivory antiques, books in rare bindings, and other baubles which wealth alone can command. It dazzled our eyes as we made a mental inventory of the heap. Yet it was a most miscellaneous collection. Beside a pearl collar with a diamond clasp were a pair of plain leather slippers and a pair of silk stockings. Things of value and things of no value were mixed as if by a lunatic. A beautiful neck ornament of carved coral lay near a half-dozen common linen handkerchiefs. A strip of silk hid a valuable collection of antique jewellery. Besides diamonds and precious stones by the score were gold and silver ornaments, silks, satins, laces, draperies, articles of virtu, plumes, even cutlery and bric-a-brac. All this must have been the result of countless excursions to the stores of New York and innumerable clever thefts.

We could only look at each other in amazement and wonder at the defiance written on the face of Annie Grayson.

“In all this strange tangle of events,” remarked Kennedy, surveying the pile with obvious satisfaction, “I find that the precise instruments of science have told me one more thing. Some one else discovered Mrs. Willoughby’s weakness, led her on, suggested opportunities to her, used her again and again, profited by her malady, probably to the extent of thousands of dollars. My telegraphone record hinted at that. In some way Annie Grayson secured the confidence of Mrs. Willoughby. The one took for the sake of taking; the other received for the sake of money. Mrs. Willoughby was easily persuaded by her new friend to leave here what she had stolen. Besides, having taken it, she had no further interest in it.

“The rule of law is that every one is responsible who knows the nature and consequences of his act. We have absolute proof that you, Annie Grayson, although you did not actually commit any of the thefts yourself, led Mrs. Willoughby on and profited by her. Dr. Guthrie will take care of the case of Mrs. Willoughby. But the law must deal with you for playing on the insanity of a kleptomaniac–the cleverest scheme yet of the queen of shoplifters.”

As Kennedy turned nonchalantly from the detectives who had seized Annie Grayson, he drew a little red folder from his pocket.

“You see, Walter,” he smiled, “how soon one gets into a habit? I’m almost a regular commuter, now. You know, they are always bringing out these little red folders just when things grow interesting.”

I glanced over his shoulder. He was studying the local timetable.

“We can get the last train from Glenclair if we hurry,” he announced, stuffing the folder back into his pocket. “They will take her to Newark by trolley, I suppose. Come on.”

We made our hasty adieux and escaped as best we could the shower of congratulations.

“Now for a rest,” he said, settling back into the plush covered seat for the long ride into town, his hat down over his eyes and his legs hunched up against the back of the next seat. Across in the tube and uptown in a nighthawk cab we went and at last we were home for a good sleep.