I regarded it curiously for a moment, for everything connected with
modern fire-fighting is interesting. Then I forgot about it as I
was 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.
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