THE CLARION CALL
HALF of this story can be found in the records of the Police Department; the other half belongs behind the business counter of a newspaper office.
One afternoon two weeks after Millionaire Norcross was found in his apartment murdered by a burglar, the murderer, while strolling serenely down Broadway, ran plump against Detective Barney Woods.
“Is that you, Johnny Kernan?” asked Woods, who had been near-sighted in public for five years.
“No less,” cried Kernan, heartily. “If it isn’t Barney Woods, late and early of old Saint Jo! You’ll have to show me! What are you doing East? Do the green-goods circulars get out that far?”
“I’ve been in New York some years,” said Woods. “I’m on the city detective force.”
“Well, well!” said Kernan, breathing smiling joy and patting the detective’s arm.
“Come into Muller’s,” said Woods, “and let’s hunt a quiet table. I’d like to talk to you awhile.”
It lacked a few minutes to the hour of four. The tides of trade were not yet loosed, and they found a quiet corner of the café. Kernan, well dressed, slightly
[187]
