"I know," Demarest agreed, with an exasperating air of shrewdness; "but Griggs is dead.You see, Burke, you couldn't in a trial even repeat what he told you.It's not permissible evidence.""Oh, the law!" the Inspector snorted, with much choler."Well, then," he went on belligerently, "I'll charge young Gilder with murder, and call the Turner woman as a witness."The District Attorney laughed aloud over this project.
"You can't question her on the witness-stand," he explained patronizingly to the badgered police official."The law doesn't allow you to make a wife testify against her husband.And, what's more, you can't arrest her, and then force her to go into the witness-stand, either.No, Burke," he concluded emphatically, "your only chance of getting the murderer of Griggs is by a confession.""Then, I'll charge them both with the murder," the Inspector growled vindictively."And, by God, they'll both go to trial unless somebody comes through." He brought his huge fist down on the desk with violence, and his voice was forbidding."If it's my last act on earth," he declared, "I'm going to get the man who shot Eddie Griggs."Demarest was seriously disturbed by the situation that had developed.He was under great personal obligations to Edward Gilder, whose influence in fact had been the prime cause of his success in attaining to the important official position he now held, and he would have gone far to serve the magnate in any difficulty that might arise.He had been perfectly willing to employ all the resources of his office to relieve the son from the entanglement with a woman of unsavory notoriety.Now, thanks to the miscarried plotting of Burke to the like end, what before had been merely a vicious state of affairs was become one of the utmost dreadfulness.The worst of crimes had been committed in the house of Edward Gilder himself, and his son acknowledged himself as the murderer.The District Attorney felt a genuine sorrow in thinking of the anguish this event must have brought on the father.He had, as well, sympathy enough for the son.His acquaintance with the young man convinced him that the boy had not done the deed of bloody violence.In that fact was a mingling of comfort and of anxiety.It had been better, doubtless, if indeed **** had shot Griggs, had indicted a just penalty on a housebreaker.But the District Attorney was not inclined to credit the confession.Burke's account of the plot in which the stool-pigeon had been the agent offered too many complications.Altogether, the aspect of the case served to indicate that **** could not have been the slayer....Demarest shook his head dejectedly.
"Burke," he said, "I want the boy to go free.I don't believe for a minute that **** Gilder ever killed this pet stool-pigeon of yours.And, so, you must understand this: I want him to go free, of course."Burke frowned refusal at this suggestion.Here was a matter in which his rights must not be invaded.He, too, would have gone far to serve a man of Edward Gilder's standing, but in this instance his professional pride was in revolt.He had been defied, trapped, made a victim of the gang who had killed his most valued informer.
"The youngster'll go free when he tells what he knows," he said angrily, "and not a minute before." His expression lightened a little."Perhaps the old gentleman can make him talk.I can't.
He's under that woman's thumb, of course, and she's told him he mustn't say a word.So, he don't." A grin of half-embarrassed appreciation moved the heavy jaws as he glanced at the District Attorney."You see," he explained, "I can't make him talk, but Imight if circumstances were different.On account of his being the old man's son, I'm a little cramped in my style."It was, in truth, one thing to browbeat and assault a convict like Dacey or Chicago Red, but quite another to employ the like violence against a youth of **** Gilder's position in the world.
Demarest understood perfectly, but he was inclined to be sceptical over the Inspector's theory that **** possessed actual cognizance as to the killing of Griggs.
"You think that young Gilder really knows?" he questioned, doubtfully.
"I don't think anything--yet!" Burke retorted."All I know is this: Eddie Griggs, the most valuable crook that ever worked for me, has been murdered." The official's voice was charged with threatening as he went on."And some one, man or woman, is going to pay for it!""Woman?" Demarest repeated, in some astonishment.
Burke's voice came merciless.
"I mean, Mary Turner," he said slowly.
Demarest was shocked.
"But, Burke," he expostulated, "she's not that sort." The Inspector sneered openly.
"How do you know she ain't?" he demanded."Well, anyhow, she's made a monkey out of the Police Department, and, first, last, and all the time, I'm a copper...And that reminds me," he went on with a resumption of his usual curt bluntness, "I want you to wait for Mr.Gilder outside, while I get busy with the girl they've brought down from Mary Turner's flat."
