The Clock Strikes Thirteen Part 38

Mr. Parker went to the telephone, stalling for time by pretending that he did not know the police station number.

"Garfield 4508," Blake supplied. "Say exactly what I tell you or you'll taste one of my little bullets!"

The real estate man stood with his back to the darkened dining room, in such position that he could cover both Mr. Parker and Penny. As the editor began to dial the phone, he backed a step nearer the archway.

Behind him, the dark velvet curtains moved slightly.

Penny noted the movement but gave no indication of it. The next instant a muscular arm reached through the velvet folds, seizing Blake from the rear. The revolver was torn from his hand.

Dropping the telephone, Mr. Parker s.n.a.t.c.hed up the weapon and covered Blake.

"All right, it's your turn to reach," he said.

As Blake slowly raised his hands, another man stepped into the circle of light. He wore rough garments and had not shaved in many days.

"Clem Davis!" Penny exclaimed.

"I came here to get Blake," the man said briefly. "I've thought for a long time he was the person responsible for all my trouble. Tonight when the clock struck thirteen, I watched the Hubell Tower. I saw Blake put on his hood and robe and then enter the building, so I knew he was the Master."

"You're willing to testify to that?" Mr. Parker asked.

"Yes," Clem Davis nodded, "I've been thinking things over. I'm ready to give myself up and tell what I know."

"You'll have a very difficult time of it proving your absurd charges,"

Blake said scathingly.

"I think not," Mr. Parker corrected. "Ben Bowman was captured tonight, and he's already confessed his part in the real estate swindle. Even if you weren't mixed up with the Hoods, you'd go to jail for that."

Blake sagged into a chair, for the first time looking shaken.

"I'll make a deal with you, Parker," he began, but the editor cut him short.

"You'll face the music! No, Blake, you can't squeeze out of it this time."

A car had drawn up in front of the house. Running to the window, Penny saw three policemen crossing the street. She hurried to the door to open it for them.

"Here's your man," Mr. Parker said as the policemen tramped into the living room.

Turning the revolver over to one of the officers, he disclosed exactly what had occurred. Blake was immediately placed under arrest. He was granted ten minutes to change into street clothing and prepare for his long sojourn in jail.

"I am being persecuted," he whined as he was led away. "This is all a trick to build up circulation for the _Star_. If there is such an organization as the Black Hoods, Clem Davis is the man who heads it!"

Penny and Mr. Parker felt very grateful to the fugitive who had come to their aid at such a timely moment. They wished to help him if they could, but they knew he could not escape arrest. Clem Davis realized it too, for he made no protest when told that Sheriff Daniels must be called.

"I'm ready to give myself up," he repeated. "I was a member of the Hoods, but I never went along with them once I learned that they meant to defraud the truck farmers. I hope I can prove my innocence."

Within a few minutes Sheriff Daniels arrived to a.s.sume charge of his prisoner. Entertaining no sympathy for the man, he told Penny and her father that in all likelihood Davis must serve a long sentence.

"He's wanted for setting fire to the Preston barn," the sheriff insisted.

"Unless he can prove an alibi for himself, he hasn't a chance."

"Can't you tell where you were at the time of the fire?" Mr. Parker asked the man.

"I was at a place called Toni's."

"Why, that's right, Dad!" Penny cried. "Don't you remember? We saw Davis leave the place, and he was followed by two men--probably members of the Hood organization."

"We saw a man leave there shortly after midnight," Mr. Parker agreed.

"You wouldn't swear he was Clem Davis?" the sheriff asked.

"I'm not sure," Mr. Parker admitted truthfully. "However, it's obvious that a man scarcely could have gone from Toni's at that time and still set fire to the barn. My daughter and I drove directly there, and when we arrived the building had been burning for some time."

"All of which proves nothing unless you can show that Clem Davis actually was at Toni's after midnight."

"Could the owner of the place identify you?" Penny thoughtfully inquired.

"I doubt it," Davis answered. "It might be worth a try, though."

"Perhaps I can prove that you weren't near the Preston farm at midnight!"

Penny exclaimed as a sudden idea came to her. "Clem, you heard the Hubell clock strike the hour?"

"Yes, I did."

"How many strokes were there?"

"Thirteen," Davis answered without hesitation. "I counted them and figured the Hoods were having one of their get-togethers."

"What is this?" the sheriff demanded in bewilderment.

"We can prove that the Hubell clock did strike thirteen on that particular night," Penny resumed. "It was a signal used by the Hoods, but that's not the point."

"What are you getting at?"

"Just this. The Hubell clock can't be heard at the Preston farm."

"True."

"One can still hear the clock at Toni's but not a quarter of a mile beyond it. You see, if Mr. Davis heard the thirteenth stroke, he couldn't have had time to reach the Preston farm and set the fire."

"That's an interesting argument," the sheriff said, smiling. "And you plead Clem's case very earnestly. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll investigate all these angles you've brought up, and if the evidence supports your theory, I promise he'll go free."

"That's fair enough," declared Mr. Parker.

The sheriff did not handcuff his prisoner. As they were leaving the house, Clem Davis turned to thank Penny for her interest in his behalf.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, taking a rectangular metal object from beneath his baggy coat. "Here's something for you."

"A rusty automobile license plate!" Penny exclaimed, staring at it.