Read The Avenger 23 - The Wilder Curse for Free Online Page B

sympathetic in tone, “late at night. Did he often work nights?”
    “He used to. But during the time he was so scared, he hardly ever went out of the house after dinner.”
    “Did he say why he went, that night?”
    “No. He seemed more nervous than ever. I was awfully surprised that he went out. But somebody phoned him just before, and I guess some matter was discussed that seemed to Carl to be so important he’d better see about it personally.”
    “Oh, so someone phoned just before he went out!”
    “Yes.” Mrs. Foley looked beautifully reproachful. “I’ve told the regular police all this already,” she complained.
    “Has anyone but the police—and friends—called here since Muster Foley died?” Mac asked suddenly.
    “No.” Mrs. Foley shook her head. Then, after a moment, she said, “But what do you mean, anyone besides police and our friends?”
    “I mean— anyone,” said the Scot.
    “An electrician came yesterday,” said Mrs. Foley with indifference. “He said Mr. Foley had called him just before he . . . it happened. He said he’d been told to fix the lights.”
    “What lights?” Mac said.
    “I don’t know. I was out. When I got back, the second-floor maid told me about it. He did something to the lights in Mr. Foley’s upstairs study. I’d thought they were all right before he came.”
    “Could we see those lights?”
    “Of course,” sighed Mrs. Foley.
    They went up broad, curved stairs. Cole said, “Did you tell this to the regular police?”
    “No,” said Mrs. Foley. “They didn’t ask, and I didn’t think to tell them. It didn’t seem important. Is it?”
    “Don’t know yet,” Mac said.
    They looked at the lights in the small, book-lined study. There was a central fixture and four around the walls.
    No one of them had been repaired, damaged or touched in any way whatever, as far as Mac and Cole could tell. The electrician might never have monkeyed with them, for all the evidence that was left.
    Then Cole’s sharp black eyes were drawn to the shiny plate over the wall switch. It had been taken off and put back on recently. You could tell because it hadn’t been put back exactly as before. A hairline of paint showed fresher than the rest.
    Cole promptly took it off again. Underneath was the wadded wire and switch mechanism, innocent, correct. There was nothing wrong here.
    They thanked Mrs. Foley and went out. As they started down the stairs, they were almost bumped into by someone coming up.
    This was a young fellow, about Cole’s age and build, but with yellow hair and a face almost too good-looking. He looked eagerly, almost boyishly, at the two.
    “You’re with Justice, Inc., aren’t you?” he said. “I’ve heard of you. Spotted you by the names. Maid said you were here. I’m Clarence Beck, Mr. Foley’s nephew.”
    Mac and Cole hardly had time to nod acknowledgment, when he rushed on:
    “Uncle Carl and I were pals as well as relatives. Say, I’d like to help in catching his murderer. Didn’t ask the regular cops, because I knew there was no chance. But I’ve heard about how you work. I don’t see why I couldn’t stick around with you. I’d sure like to help.”
    “Well,” began Mac doubtfully, “I harrdly think—”
    “Swell!” Clarence Beck said. “I’m sure I can be of some use. I know, for instance, who phoned Uncle Carl just before he was killed—the phone call that got him out of here and to his office, that night. I found out after the police were here. I’ll be glad to tell—”
    He stopped suddenly and snapped his fingers. “What do you know!” he exclaimed. “Forgot something. Very important, too. Don’t go ’way, now. I’ve got to make a phone call. A girl named Myra.”
    He dashed into the first-floor library.
    “Brain like a feather,” muttered Mac.
    “I think he’s all right. Just impulsive,” Cole said defensively. He had a weak spot for others like himself.
    “Just the same, we can get along without him verrra