Read Ebook: The hollow lens by Leverage Henry

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Ebook has 195 lines and 9968 words, and 4 pages

"A burning-glass," said Fay, "does not necessarily need to be solid. I intend to paste the edges together with plaster of Paris and fill the whole thing with clear water."

"Going to make a sun-motor?" asked the artisan.

"Something like that. Wrap it in tissue paper. I don't want to break it on my way to Pasadena."

Having thus thrown off all clues, Fay carried the hollow lens to the studio. Saidee Isaacs had received the package, left it unopened on the dark-room floor and pinned a brief note to the table in the reception-room.

"Gone for the day. Have a headache. Will be at my hotel if you want to call me up."

Fay destroyed the note, took off his coat, tie and collar and started to work rigging the mirrors and the hollow lens upon a scaffolding beneath the skylight.

It was shortly after midnight when he finished adjusting the device to his satisfaction. He went to the window, peered out, saw the night-watchman talking with a uniformed policeman on the street-corner, and smiled with some slight degree of satisfaction.

The hole he cut directly over the vault and beneath the scaffolding was aimed to miss two floor-beams which he had located by a line of nail-heads. He reached, before dawn, the first and upper plate of vanadium steel which protected the vault. He cleared a square space and emptied the plaster and shavings in a box.

A neat trapdoor, hinged on the lower side, was the work of a silent hour wherein he used screws instead of nails on the hinges. He covered the floor with a matting, swept out the corners for chance evidence and washed up.

The arrangement of mirrors, the hollow lens, which had not yet been filled with water, the adjustable scaffolding beneath the skylight, all resembled a part of a photograph outfit designed to intensify the overhead rays of the California sun. The lens reminded Fay of a large goldfish bowl.

Saidee Isaacs came in at seven o'clock. She looked at the scaffolding, removed her gloves, lifted her broad-brimmed hat from her sherry-colored hair and exclaimed:

"You're the limit! I thought I'd got in the wrong studio."

"I've been working all night, Saidee."

"What is that thing?"

"An up-to-date method of cutting steel--particularly vanadium, chrome or high-carbon stuff. It's new in the history of safe-breaking. There's nothing like being original--even in your sinning."

"But will it work?"

"I'll tell you at noon. Lock the front door, pull down the blinds, and if the boy comes send him away. We're going to cop 'The Black Cougar's' bank-roll by Sunday. All we'll leave him is the rubber-band."

"I'm curious about that spool of iron wire, Chester."

"Same here."

"I don't see why he should lock up a ridiculous thing like that."

"He's got the reputation of being very clever. He's been an usurer--for the underworld. He's a telegraph operator and an electrician of sorts. I think he was mixed up with Larry Anderson and 'Blondie' in a phantom-circuit around a pool-room's fast wire. I expected to find the vault protected on top, but they overlooked that. Queer, isn't it, that a clever man like him--a fiend for money and a brain-worker of the first class--should neglect an important trifle?"

Saidee Isaacs said: "They all overlook the essential trifle. We must be careful we don't overlook anything. I'm not afraid of the police half as much as 'The Black Cougar.'"

Fay glanced at the matting over the trapdoor. "You're sure there's going to be two hundred thousand in the vault?"

"His last statement given to the post-office authorities showed that much, or more, balance. He also has money with the Coast National."

"How do you know?"

"It was in the newspapers three weeks ago when the trial was going on."

Fay was satisfied with the girl's answer. He heard her moving around in the dark-room. He rolled the grass matting to one side and lifted the trapdoor over the vault.

The bright sunlight illuminated the room. A beam reflected from the mirrors on the scaffolding. The city roared beyond the locked door.

Fay drew a piece of blue chalk from his pocket, knelt down on the vanadium steel plate and carefully outlined an oblong--three feet long and two feet wide. He rose and stared at his design. He went to work filling the hollow lens with water. Saidee mixed the plaster of Paris. The edges were quickly sealed. A small opening was left at the top. Through this aperture the air rushed out as the liquid ran in. This hole was finally stopped with chewing-gum.

"Useful stuff," said the girl. "With that and a hairpin you could fix anything."

Fay climbed upon the table and adjusted the hollow lens. He blocked one edge so that it could be shifted. He raised and lowered the frame upon which it rested. A sudden flash, followed by a small cloud of smoke, indicated that the focused rays had touched the woodwork at the edge of the trapdoor.

"Hotter than any electric-arc," he said. "Now watch when I get the point of light on the vanadium. This is the same scheme old Archimedes used centuries ago to burn ships."

"I thought he used mirrors--"

"Perhaps he did. I've got mirrors to heat the vanadium and keep the temperature of the plate high. Our chief difficulty will be in the loss of heat due to radiation. The--"

Saidee Isaacs sprang back from the opening. A sizzling sounded. Blue smoke filled the room. The plate was being melted along the line Fay had drawn. The movement of the sun, from east to west, was changing the position of the ray.

Fay climbed to the table and adjusted his curved mirrors. He focused them about the spot of whiter light that coned down from the hollow lens. The California sun is bright. The skylight did not require opening.

"We're getting on!" he exclaimed. "I've gone through the first plate and reached the fireproofing. I'll have to change the lens and spot across the oblong. My east and west lines are easy. The cross lines will take some time."

"How about the heat melting the paint in the vault?"

"The asbestos layers between the plates will prevent that. See! We were lucky that 'The Black Cougar's' was both fireproof and burglar-proof. But then, Saidee, they make them all that way."

The girl shielded her eyes and leaned over the opening in the floor. A narrow channel showed where the spot of light had cut through the first vanadium plate. The fused metal formed bubbles along the edges. Beneath the bubbles was the white fireproofing material.

Fay pulled her back. "Look out for that ray," he said. "I estimate its temperature to be all of five thousand degrees Fahrenheit. That'll melt anything--particularly high-carbon steel."

"Could you have done the same thing with the oxy-acetylene blow-torch?"

"No! You have to have an edge to start on. All we had here was a flat plate. This is the only way we could have done it. The electric-arc requires a heavy amperage--far more than can be obtained from a lamp-circuit. Besides, the coppers would suspect me if I used an arc."

"They're going to think this was done by electricity."

"No, they're not. We'll leave the mirrors behind us. It'll throw them off my trail."

Saidee went out at noon and returned with two lunches bought at a restaurant. She found Fay standing on the table and holding the lens so that it spotted tiny blisters first along the north, then south, lines of the oblong. The sun went behind a cloud. Fay sprang to the floor lightly. He sat down, turned in his chair, and stared at the top of the vault. "We've got the first plate pretty well cut through," he said. "Suppose you look and see what 'The Black Cougar' is doing."

She rose and dusted her knees after a long study of the operator's office.

"He's got that spool of iron wire on his desk. He's been running it through the little box. There's a lot of tape scattered about. It must be a quotation machine of some kind, Chester."

"No. The days of the old swindle are gone. He couldn't get away with fake quotations. He may have a fast wire and a slow wire in his offices. The customer trades on the slow wire while the firm sells on the fast wire. But then, I understand 'The Black Cougar's' business is done mostly through the mails. That spool he has down there has something to do with his mail game. Maybe it's a system to beat the market."

"There never will be such a thing!"

Fay nodded. "You're very wise," he mused, staring directly at her. "You don't remind me of your old man, at all. He did a lot of very heavy work--such as blasting and using a can-opener. You inherited your quick-wittedness from your mother's side, I suppose?"

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