THE FIREBUG
A big, powerful, red touring-car, with a shining brass bell on the front of it, was standing at the curb before our apartment late one afternoon as I entered.It was such a machine as one frequently sees threading its reckless course in and out among the trucks and street-cars, breaking all rules and regulations, stopping at nothing, the bell clanging with excitement, policemen holding back traffic instead of trying to arrest the driver - in other words, a Fire Department automobile.
I regarded it curiously for a moment, for everything connected with modern fire-fighting is interesting.Then I forgot about it as Iwas whisked up in the elevator, only to have it recalled sharply by the sight of a strongly built, grizzled man in a blue uniform with red lining.He was leaning forward, earnestly pouring forth a story into Kennedy's ear.
"And back of the whole thing, sir," I heard him say as he brought his large fist down on the table, "is a firebug - mark my words."Before I could close the door, Craig caught my eye, and I read in his look that he had a new case - one that interested him greatly.
"Walter," he cried, "this is Fire Marshal McCormick.It's all right, McCormick.Mr.Jameson is an accessory both before and after the fact in my detective cases."A firebug! - one of the most dangerous of criminals.The word excited my imagination at once, for the newspapers had lately been making much of the strange and appalling succession of apparently incendiary fires that had terrorised the business section of the city.
"Just what makes you think that there is a firebug - one firebug, I mean - back of this curious epidemic of fires?" asked Kennedy, leaning back in his morris-chair with his finger-tips together and his eyes half closed as if expecting a revelation from some subconscious train of thought while the fire marshal presented his case.
"Well, usually there is no rhyme or reason about the firebug,"replied McCormick, measuring his words, "but this time I think there is some method in his madness.You know the Stacey department-stores and their allied dry-goods and garment-trade interests?
Craig nodded.Of course we knew of the gigantic dry-goods combination.It had been the talk of the press at the time of its formation, a few months ago, especially as it included among its organisers one very clever business woman, Miss Rebecca Wend.There had been considerable opposition to the combination in the trade, but Stacey had shattered it by the sheer force of his personality.McCormick leaned forward and, shaking his forefinger to emphasise his point, replied slowly, "Practically every one of these fires has been directed against a Stacey subsidiary or a corporation controlled by them.""But if it has gone as far as that," put in Kennedy, "surely the regular police ought to be of more assistance to you than I.""I have called in the police," answered McCormick wearily, "but they haven't even made up their minds whether it is a single firebug or a gang.And in the meantime, my God, Kennedy, the firebug may start a fire that will get beyond control!""You say the police haven't a single clue to any one who might be responsible for the fires?" I asked, hoping that perhaps the marshal might talk more freely of his suspicions to us than he had already expressed himself in the newspaper interviews I had read.
"Absolutely not a clue - except such as are ridiculous," replied McCormick, twisting his cap viciously.
No one spoke.We were waiting for McCormick to go on.
"The first fire," he began, repeating his story for my benefit, although Craig listened quite as attentively as if he had not heard it already, "was at the big store of Jones, Green & Co., the clothiers.The place was heavily insured.Warren, the manager and real head of the firm, was out of town at the time."The marshal paused as if to check off the strange facts in his mind as he went along.
"The next day another puzzling fire occurred.It was at the Quadrangle Cloak and Suit Co., on Fifth Avenue.There had been some trouble, I believe, with the employees, and the company had discharged a number of them.Several of the leaders have been arrested, but I can't say we have anything against any of them.
Still, Max Bloom, the manager of this company, insists that the fire was set for revenge, and indeed it looks as much like a fire for revenge as the Jones-Green fire does" - here he lowered his voice confidentially - "for the purpose of collecting insurance.
"Then came the fire in the Slawson Building, a new loft-building that had been erected just off Fourth Avenue.Other than the fact that the Stacey interests put up the money for financing this building there seemed to be no reason for that fire at all.The building was reputed to be earning a good return on the investment, and I was at a loss to account for the fire.I have made no arrests for it - just set it down as the work of a pure pyromaniac, a man who burns buildings for fun, a man with an inordinate desire to hear the fire-engines screech through the streets and perhaps get a chance to show a little heroism in 'rescuing' tenants.
However, the adjuster for the insurance company, Lazard, and the adjuster for the insured, Hartstein, have reached an agreement, and I believe the insurance is to be paid.""But," interposed Kennedy, "I see no evidence of organised arson so far.""Wait," replied the fire marshal."That was only the beginning, you understand.A little later came a fire that looked quite like an attempt to mask a robbery by burning the building afterward.
That was in a silk-house near Spring Street.But after a controversy the adjusters have reached an agreement on that case.
