A big, powerful, red touring-car, with a shining brass bell on the front of it, was standing
at the curb before our apartment late one afternoon as I entered. It was such a machine as
one frequently sees threading its reckless course in and out among the trucks and street-
cars, breaking all rules and regulations, stopping at nothing, the bell clanging with
excitement, policemen holding back traffic instead of trying to arrest the driver - in other
words, a Fire Department automobile.
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.
"Well, usually there is no rhyme or reason about the firebug," replied McCormick,
measuring his words, "but this time I think there is some method in his madness. You
know the Stacey department-stores and their allied dry-goods and garment-trade
interests?
Craig nodded. Of course we knew of the gigantic dry-goods combination. It had been the
talk of the press at the time of its formation, a few months ago, especially as it included
among its organisers one very clever business woman, Miss Rebecca Wend. There had
been considerable opposition to the combination in the trade, but Stacey had shattered it
by the sheer force of his personality. McCormick leaned forward and, shaking his
forefinger to emphasise his point, replied slowly, "Practically every one of these fires has
been directed against a Stacey subsidiary or a corporation controlled by them."
