I mention these fires because they show practically all the types of work of the various kinds of firebug - insurance, revenge, robbery, and plain insanity.But since the Spring Street fire, the character of the fires has been more uniform.They have all been in business places, or nearly all."Here the fire marshal launched forth into a catalogue of fires of suspected incendiary origin, at least eight in all.I took them down hastily, intending to use the list some time in a box head with an article in the Star.When he had finished his list Ihastily counted up the number of killed.There were six, two of them firemen, and four employees.The money loss ranged into the millions.
McCormick passed his hand over his forehead to brush off the perspiration."I guess this thing has got on my nerves," he muttered hoarsely." Everywhere I go they talk about nothing else.
If I drop into the restaurant for lunch, my waiter talks of it.
If I meet a newspaper man, he talks of it.My barber talks of it - everybody.Sometimes I dream of it; other times I lie awake thinking about it.I tell you, gentlemen, I've sweated blood over this problem.""But," insisted Kennedy, "I still can't see why you link all these fires as due to one firebug.I admit there is an epidemic of fires.
But what makes you so positive that it is all the work of one man?""I was coming to that.For one thing, he isn't like the usual firebug at all.Ordinarily they start their fires with excelsior and petroleum, or they smear the wood with paraffin or they use gasoline, benzine, or something of that sort.This fellow apparently scorns such crude methods.I can't say how he starts his fires, but in every case I have mentioned we have found the remains of a wire.It has something to do with electricity - but what, I don't know.That's one reason why I think these fires are all connected.Here's another."McCormick pulled a dirty note out of his pocket and laid it on the table.We read it eagerly:
Hello, Chief! Haven't found the firebug yet, have you? You will know who he is only when I am dead and the fires stop.
I don't suppose you even realise that the firebug talks with you almost every day about catching the firebug.That's me.
I am the real firebug, that is writing this letter.I am going to tell you why I am starting these fires.There's money in it - an easy living.They never caught me in or anywhere, so you might as well quit looking for me and take your medicine.
A.SPARK.
"Humph!" ejaculated Kennedy, "he has a sense of humour, anyhow - A.
Spark!"
"Queer sense of humour," growled McCormick, gritting his teeth.
"Here's another I got to-day:
Say, Chief: We are going to get busy again and fire a big department-store next.How does that suit Your Majesty?
till the fun begins when the firebug gets to work again.
A.SPARK.
"Well, sir, when I got that letter," cried McCormick, "I was almost ready to ring in a double-nine alarm at once - they have me that bluffed out.But I said to myself, 'There's only one thing to do - see this man Kennedy.' So here I am.You see what I am driving at? I believe that firebug is an artist at the thing, does it for the mere fun of it and the ready money in it.But more than that, there must be some one back of him.Who is the man higher up - we must catch him.See?""A big department-store," mused Kennedy.
"That's definite - there are only a score or so of them, and the Stacey interests control several.Mac, I'll tell you what I'll do.
Let me sit up with you to-night at headquarters until we get an alarm.By George, I'll see this case through to a finish!
The fire marshal leaped to his feet and bounded over to where Kennedy was seated.With one hand on Craig's shoulder and the other grasping Craig's hand, he started to speak, but his voice choked.
"Thanks," he blurted out huskily at last."My reputation in the department is at stake, my promotion, my position itself, my - my family - er - er - ""Not a word, sir," said Kennedy, his features working sympathetically.
"To-night at eight I will go on watch with you.By the way, leave me those A.Spark notes."McCormick had so far regained his composure as to say a hearty farewell.He left the room as if ten years had been lifted off his shoulders.A moment later he stuck his head in the door again.
"I'll have one of the Department machines call for you, gentlemen,"he said.
After the marshal had gone, we sat for several minutes in silence.
Kennedy was reading and rereading the notes, scowling to himself as if they presented a particularly perplexing problem.I said nothing, though my mind was teeming with speculations.At length he placed the notes very decisively on the table and snapped out the remark, "Yes, it must be so.""What?" I queried, still drumming away at my typewriter, copying the list of incendiary fires against the moment when the case should be complete and the story released for publication, as it were.
"This note," he explained, picking up the first one and speaking slowly, "was written by a woman."I swung around in my chair quickly."Get out!" I exclaimed sceptically."No woman ever used such phrases.
"I didn't say composed by a woman - I said written by a woman," he replied.
"Oh," I said, rather chagrined.
"It is possible to determine *** from handwriting in perhaps eighty cases out of a hundred," Kennedy went on, enjoying my discomfiture.
"Once I examined several hundred specimens of writing to decide that point to my satisfaction.Just to test my conclusions I submitted the specimens to two professional graphologists.I found that our results were slightly different, but I averaged the thing up to four cases out of five correct.The so-called *** signs are found to be largely influenced by the amount of writing done, by age, and to a certain extent by practice and professional requirements, as in the conventional writing of teachers and the rapid hand of bookkeepers.
