University of Virginia Library
PS;3545;.R846;C3;1927A
ALD
The Canary murder case; a Ph
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University of Virginia
Libraries


ALKALINE PAPER
PRESERVATION PHOTOCOPY
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
+
1
THE PHILO VANCE SERIES
THE BENSON MURDER CASE
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
In Preparation
THE GREENE MURDER CASE
THE "CANARY"
MURDER CASE
1
THE "CANARY"
MURDER CASE
A PHILO VANCE STORY
By
S. S. VAN DINE
First appearances deceive many: the
intelligence alone perceives what has
been carefully hidden in the recesses
of the mind.-Phædrus.
VU
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
MCMXXVII
19279
PS
3545
.R846C3
1927
496903
COPY 3.
Copyright, 1927, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
HV

INTRODUCTORY
For many years I was the personal attorney and
constant companion of Mr. Philo Vance; and this
period covered the four years during which Mr. John
F.-X. Markham, Vance's closest friend, was District
Attorney of New York. As a result it was my
privilege to be a spectator of what I believe was
the most amazing series of criminal cases that ever
passed before the eyes of a young lawyer. Indeed, the
grim dramas I witnessed during that period constitute
one of the most astonishing secret documents in
American police history.
Of these dramas Vance was the central character.
By an analytical and interpretative process which, as
far as I know, has never before been applied to crimi-
nal activities, he succeeded in solving many of the
important crimes on which both the police and the
District Attorney's office had hopelessly fallen down.
Due to my peculiar relations with Vance it hap-
pened that not only did I participate in all the cases
with which he was connected, but I was also present
at most of the informal discussions concerning them
which took place between him and the District At-
torney; and, being of methodical temperament, I kept
a complete record of them. It is fortunate that I
performed this gratuitous labor of accumulation and
transcription, for now that circumstances have ren-
dered possible my making the cases public, I am able
V
vi
INTRODUCTORY
to present them in full detail and with all their vari-
ous sidelights and succeeding steps.
In another volume "The Benson Murder Case"
-I have related how Vance happened to become in-
volved in criminal investigation, and have also set
forth the unique analytic methods of crime detection
by which he solved the problem of Alvin Benson's
mysterious murder.
The present chronicle has to do with Vance's solu-
tion of the brutal murder of Margaret Odell-a cause
célèbre which came to be known as the "Canary"
murder. The strangeness, the daring, the seeming
impenetrability of the crime marked it as one of the
most singular and astonishing cases in New York's
police annals; and had it not been for Philo Vance's
participation in its solution, I firmly believe it would
have remained one of the great unsolved mysteries of
this country.
New York.
S. S. VAN DINE.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
I.
THE "CANARY"
1
II.
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
9
III.
THE MURDER
18
IV.
THE PRINT OF A HAND
34
•
V.
ས.
THE BOLTED DOOR.
48
VI.
A CALL FOR HELP
58
.
VII. A NAMELESS VISITOR
67
VIII. THE INVISIBLE MURDERER
78
IX. THE PACK IN FULL CRY
87
X.
A FORCED INTERVIEW.
102
XI.
SEEKING INFORMATION
114
XII.
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
126
XIII.
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
136
•
·
XIV.
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
146
•
·
XV.
FOUR POSSIBILITIES..
157
XVI.
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
167
XVII.
CHECKING AN ALIBI
179
·
XVIII. THE TRAP.
190
XIX. THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
200
XX. A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
211
XXI. A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
222
XXII. A TELEPHONE CALL
234
vii
viii
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
XXIII. THE TEN O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT 247
XXIV. AN ARREST
257
XXV. VANCE DEMONSTRATES
270
XXVI.
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
282
•
•
•
XXVII. A GAME OF POKER
295
XXVIII. THE GUILTY MAN
307
XXIX. BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE"
319
XXX. THE END
•
•
333
CHARACTERS OF THE BOOK
PHILO VANCE
JOHN F.-X. MARKHAM
District Attorney of New York County.
MARGARET ODELL (THE "CANARY")
Famous Broadway beauty and ex-Follies girl,
who was mysteriously murdered in her apart-
ment.
AMY GIBSON
Margaret Odell's maid.
CHARLES CLEAVER
A man-about-town.
KENNETH SPOTSWOODE
A manufacturer.
LOUIS MANNIX
An importer.
DR. AMBROISE LINDQUIST
A fashionable neurologist.
TONY SKEEL
A professional burglar.
WILLIAM ELMER JESSUP
Telephone operator.
HARRY SPIVELY
Telephone operator.
ALYS LA FOSSE
A musical-comedy actress.
WILEY ALLEN
A gambler.
POTTS
A street-cleaner.
ix
X
CHARACTERS OF THE BOOK
AMOS FEATHERGILL
Assistant District Attorney.
WILLIAM M. MORAN
Commanding Officer of the Detective Bureau.
ERNEST HEATH
Sergeant of the Homicide Bureau.
SNITKIN
Detective of the Homicide Bureau.
GUILFOYLE
BURKE
Detective of the Homicide Bureau.
Detective of the Homicide Bureau.
TRACY
Detective assigned to District Attorney's office.
DEPUTY-INSPECTOR CONRAD BRENNER
Burglar-tools expert.
CAPTAIN DUBOIS
Finger-print expert.
DETECTIVE BELLAMY
Finger-print expert.
PETER QUACKENBUSH
Official photographer.
DR. DOREMUS
Medical Examiner.
SWACKER
Secretary to the District Attorney.
CURRIE
Vance's valet.
THE "CANARY"
MURDER CASE
CHAPTER I
66
THE 'CANARY"
In the offices of the Homicide Bureau of the
Detective Division of the New York Police Depart-
ment, on the third floor of the Police Headquarters
building in Center Street, there is a large steel filing
cabinet; and within it, among thousands of others
of its kind, there reposes a small green index-card
on which is typed: "ODELL, MARGARET. 184
West 71st Street. Sept. 10. Murder: Strangled about
11 p. m. Apartment ransacked. Jewelry stolen. Body
found by Amy Gibson, maid."
Here, in a few commonplace words, is the bleak,
unadorned statement of one of the most astonishing
crimes in the police annals of this country—a crime
so contradictory, so baffling, so ingenious, so unique,
that for many days the best minds of the Police De-
partment and the District Attorney's office were
completely at a loss as to even a method of ap-
proach. Each line of investigation only tended to
prove that Margaret Odell could not possibly have
been murdered. And yet, huddled on the great silken
davenport in her living-room lay the girl's strangled
body, giving the lie to so grotesque a conclusion.
The true story of this crime, as it eventually
came to light after a disheartening period of utter
darkness and confusion, revealed many strange and
bizarre ramifications, many dark recesses of man's
1
2
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
unexplored nature, and the uncanny subtlety of a
human mind sharpened by desperate and tragic de-
spair. And it also revealed a hidden page of pas-
sional melodrama which, in its essence and organ-
isms, was no less romantic and fascinating than that
vivid, theatrical section of the Comédie Humaine
which deals with the fabulous love of Baron Nucingen
for Esther van Gobseck, and with the unhappy Tor-
pille's tragic death.
Margaret Odell was a product of the bohemian
demi-monde of Broadway-a scintillant figure who
seemed somehow to typify the gaudy and spurious
romance of transient gaiety. For nearly two years
before her death she had been the most conspicuous
and, in a sense, popular figure of the city's night
life. In our grandparents' day she might have had
conferred upon her that somewhat questionable
designation, "the toast of the town"; but to-day
there are too many aspirants for this classification,
too many cliques and violent schisms in the Lepi-
doptera of our café life, to permit of any one com-
petitor being thus singled out. But, for all the dar-
lings of both professional and lay press-agents,
Margaret Odell was a character of unquestioned
fame in her little world.
Her notoriety was due in part to certain legen-
dary tales of her affairs with one or two obscure
potentates in the backwashes of Europe. She had
spent two years abroad after her first success in
"The Bretonne Maid"-a popular musical comedy
in which she had been mysteriously raised from ob-
scurity to the rank of “star”—and, one may cyni-
cally imagine, her press-agent took full advantage
THE "CANARY"
of her absence to circulate vermilion tales of her
conquests.
Her appearance went far toward sustaining her
somewhat equivocal fame. There was no question
that she was beautiful in a hard, slightly flamboyant
way. I remember seeing her dancing one night at
the Antlers Club-a famous rendezvous for post-
midnight pleasure-seekers, run by the notorious Red
Raegan.* She impressed me then as a girl of un-
common loveliness, despite the calculating, preda-
tory cast of her features. She was of medium height,
slender, graceful in a leonine way, and, I thought,
a trifle aloof and even haughty in manner-a result,
perhaps, of her reputed association with European
royalty. She had the traditional courtesan's full,
red lips, and the wide, mongoose eyes of Rossetti's
"Blessed Damozel." There was in her face that
strange combination of sensual promise and spiri-
tual renunciation with which the painters of all ages
have sought to endow their conceptions of the Eter-
nal Magdalene. Hers was the type of face, volup-
tuous and with a hint of mystery, which rules man's
emotions and, by subjugating his mind, drives him
to desperate deeds.
Margaret Odell had received the sobriquet of
Canary as a result of a part she had played in an
elaborate ornithological ballet of the "Follies,” in
which each girl had been gowned to represent a va-
riety of bird. To her had fallen the rôle of canary;
and her costume of white-and-yellow satin, together
with her mass of shining golden hair and pink-and-
*The Antlers Club has since been closed by the police; and Red
Raegan is now serving a long term in Sing Sing for grand larceny.
4
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
white complexion, had distinguished her in the eyes
of the spectators as a creature of outstanding charm.
Before a fortnight had passed-so eulogistic were
her press notices, and so unerringly did the audience
single her out for applause-the “Bird Ballet” was
changed to the "Canary Ballet," and Miss Odell
was promoted to the rank of what might charitably
be called première danseuse, at the same time hav-
ing a solo waltz and a song* interpolated for the
special display of her charms and talents.
She had quitted the "Follies" at the close of the
season, and during her subsequent spectacular career
in the haunts of Broadway's night life she had been
popularly and familiarly called the Canary. Thus
it happened that when her dead body was found,
brutally strangled, in her apartment, the crime im-
mediately became known, and was always thereafter
referred to, as the Canary murder.
My own participation in the investigation of the
Canary murder case or rather my rôle of Boswell-
ian spectator constituted one of the most memora-
ble experiences of my life. At the time of Margaret
Odell's murder John F.-X. Markham was District
Attorney of New York, having taken office the pre-
ceding January. I need hardly remind you that
during the four years of his incumbency he distin-
guished himself by his almost uncanny success as a
criminal investigator. The praise which was con-
stantly accorded him, however, was highly distaste-
ful to him; for, being a man with a keen sense of
honor, he instinctively shrank from accepting credit
for achievements not wholly his own. The truth is
* Written especially for her by B. G. De Sylva.´
THE "CANARY"
5
that Markham played only a subsidiary part in the
majority of his most famous criminal cases. The
credit for their actual solution belonged to one of
Markham's very close friends, who refused, at the
time, to permit the facts to be made public.
This man was a young social aristocrat, whom,
for purposes of anonymity, I have chosen to call
Philo Vance.
Vance had many amazing gifts and capabilities.
He was an art collector in a small way, a fine ama-
teur pianist, and a profound student of æsthetics
and psychology. Although an American, he had
largely been educated in Europe, and still retained
a slight English accent and intonation. He had a
liberal independent income, and spent considerable
time fulfilling the social obligations which devolved
on him as a result of family connections; but he was
neither an idler nor a dilettante. His manner was
cynical and aloof; and those who met him only
casually, set him down as a snob. But knowing
Vance, as I did, intimately, I was able to glimpse
the real man beneath the surface indications; and
I knew that his cynicism and aloofness, far from
being a pose, sprang instinctively from a nature
which was at once sensitive and solitary.
Vance was not yet thirty-five, and, in a cold,
sculptural fashion, was impressively good-looking.
His face was slender and mobile; but there was a
stern, sardonic expression to his features, which acted
as a barrier between him and his fellows. He was
not emotionless, but his emotions were, in the main,
intellectual. He was often criticised for his asceti-
cism, yet I have seen him exhibit rare bursts of en-
6
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
thusiasm over an æsthetic or psychological problem.
However, he gave the impression of remaining re-
mote from all mundane matters; and, in truth, he
looked upon life like a dispassionate and impersonal
spectator at a play, secretly amused and debonairly
cynical at the meaningless futility of it all. Withal,
he had a mind avid for knowledge, and few details
of the human comedy that came within his sphere
of vision escaped him.
It was as a direct result of this intellectual in-
quisitiveness that he became actively, though un-
officially, interested in Markham's criminal investi-
gations.
I kept a fairly complete record of the cases in
which Vance participated as a kind of amicus curiæ,
little thinking that I would ever be privileged to
make them public; but Markham, after being de-
feated, as you remember, on a hopelessly split ticket
at the next election, withdrew from politics; and last
year Vance went abroad to live, declaring he would
never return to America. As a result, I obtained
permission from both of them to publish my notes
in full. Vance stipulated only that I should not re-
veal his name; but otherwise no restrictions were
placed upon me.
I have related elsewhere* the peculiar circum-
stances which led to Vance's participation in crim-
inal research, and how, in the face of almost in-
superable contradictory evidence, he solved the
mysterious shooting of Alvin Benson. The present
chronicle deals with his solution of Margaret Odell's
murder, which took place in the early fall of the
"The Benson Murder Case" (Scribner's, 1926).
THE "CANARY"
7
same year, and which, you will recall, created an
even greater sensation than its predecessor.*
A curious set of circumstances was accountable
for the way in which Vance was shouldered with this
new investigation. Markham for weeks had been
badgered by the anti-administration newspapers for
the signal failures of his office in obtaining convic-
tions against certain underworld offenders whom the
police had turned over to him for prosecution. As
a result of prohibition a new and dangerous, and
wholly undesirable, kind of night life had sprung
up in New York. A large number of well-financed
cabarets, calling themselves night clubs, had made
their appearance along Broadway and in its side
streets; and already there had been an appalling
number of serious crimes, both passional and mone-
tary, which, it was said, had had their inception in
these unsavory resorts.
At last, when a case of murder accompanying a
hold-up and jewel robbery in one of the family hotels
up-town was traced directly to plans and prepara-
tions made in one of the night clubs, and when two
detectives of the Homicide Bureau investigating the
case were found dead one morning in the neighbor-
hood of the club, with bullet wounds in their backs,
Markham decided to pigeonhole the other affairs of
*The Loeb-Leopold crime, the Dorothy King case, and the Hall-
Mills murder came later; but the Canary murder proved fully as con-
spicuous a case as the Nan Patterson-"Cæsar" Young affair, Durant's
murder of Blanche Lamont and Minnie Williams in San Francisco, the
Molineux arsenic-poisoning case, and the Carlyle Harris morphine mur-
der. To find a parallel in point of public interest one must recall the
Borden double-murder in Fall River, the Thaw case, the shooting of
Elwell, and the Rosenthal murder.
8
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
his office and take a hand personally in the intoler-
able criminal conditions that had arisen.*
* The case referred to here was that of Mrs. Elinor Quiggly, a wealthy
widow living at the Adlon Hotel in West 96th Street. She was found on
the morning of September 5 suffocated by a gag which had been placed
on her by robbers who had evidently followed her home from the Club
Turque a small but luxurious all-night café at 89 West 48th Street.
The killing of the two detectives, McQuade and Cannison, was, the
police believe, due to the fact that they were in possession of incrimi-
nating evidence against the perpetrators of the crime. Jewellery amount-
ing to over $50,000 was stolen from the Quiggly apartment.
CHAPTER II
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
(Sunday, September 9)
On the day following his decision, Markham and
Vance and I were sitting in a secluded corner of the
lounge-room of the Stuyvesant Club. We often
came together there, for we were all members of the
club, and Markham frequently used it as a kind of
unofficial up-town headquarters.*
"It's bad enough to have half the people in this
city under the impression that the District Attor-
ney's office is a kind of high-class collection agency,"
he remarked that night, "without being necessitated
to turn detective because I'm not given sufficient
evidence, or the right kind of evidence, with which
to secure convictions."
Vance looked up with a slow smile, and regarded
him quizzically.
"The difficulty would seem to be," he returned,
with an indolent drawl, "that the police, being un-
versed in the exquisite abracadabra of legal proce-
dure, labor under the notion that evidence which
would convince a man of ordin'ry intelligence, would
also convince a court of law. A silly notion, don't
y' know. Lawyers don't really want evidence: they
* The Stuyvesant was a large club, somewhat in the nature of a glori-
fied hotel; and its extensive membership was drawn largely from the
political, legal, and financial ranks.
9
10
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
want erudite technicalities. And the average police-
man's brain is too forthright to cope with the pedan-
tic demands of jurisprudence."
"It's not as bad as that," Markham retorted, with
an attempt at good nature, although the strain of
the past few weeks had tended to upset his habitual
equanimity. "If there weren't rules of evidence,
grave injustice would too often be done innocent
persons. And even a criminal is entitled to protec-
tion in our courts.'
99
Vance yawned mildly.
"Markham, you should have been a pedagogue.
It's positively amazin' how you've mastered all the
standard oratorical replies to criticism. And yet,
I'm unconvinced. You remember the Wisconsin case
of the kidnapped man whom the courts declared
presumably dead. Even when he reappeared, hale
and hearty, among his former neighbors, his status
of being presumably dead was not legally altered.
The visible and demonstrable fact that he was actu-
ally alive was regarded by the court as an immaterial
and impertinent side-issue.* Then there's the
touchin' situation-so prevalent in this fair country
-of a man being insane in one State and sane in
another.... Really, y' know, you can't expect a
mere lay intelligence, unskilled in the benign proc-
esses of legal logic, to perceive such subtle nuances.
Your layman, swaddled in the darkness of ordin'ry
common sense, would say that a person who is a
lunatic on one bank of a river would still be a luna-
tic if he was on the opposite bank. And he'd also
*The case to which Vance referred, I ascertained later, was Shatter-
ham v. Shatterham, 417 Mich., 79-a testamentary case.
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
11
hold erroneously, no doubt that if a man was
living, he would presumably be alive."
"Why this academic dissertation?" asked Mark-
ham, this time a bit irritably.
"It seems to touch rather vitally on the source of
your present predicament," Vance explained equably.
"The police, not being lawyers, have apparently got
you into hot water, what? Why not start an
agitation to send all detectives to law school?"
"You're a great help," retorted Markham.
Vance raised his eyebrows slightly.
· •
"Why disparage my suggestion? Surely you must
perceive that it has merit. A man without legal
training, when he knows a thing to be true, ignores
all incompetent testimony to the contr❜ry, and clings
to the facts. A court of law listens solemnly to a
mass of worthless testimony, and renders a de-
cision not on the facts but according to a compli-
cated set of rules. The result, d' ye see, is that a
court often acquits a prisoner, realizing full well
that he is guilty. Many a judge has said, in effect,
to a culprit: 'I know, and the jury knows, that you
committed the crime, but in view of the legally ad-
missible evidence, I declare you innocent. Go and
sin again.""
Markham grunted. "I'd hardly endear myself to
the people of this county if I answered the current
strictures against me by recommending law courses
for the Police Department."
"Permit me, then, to suggest the alternative of
Shakespeare's butcher: 'Let's kill all the lawyers.""
"Unfortunately, it's a situation, not a utopian
theory, that has to be met."
12
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"And just how," asked Vance lazily, "do you
propose to reconcile the sensible conclusions of the
police with what you touchingly call correctness of
legal procedure?"
"To begin with," Markham informed him, “I've
decided henceforth to do my own investigating of
all important night-club criminal cases. I called a
conference of the heads of my departments yester-
day, and from now on there's going to be some real
activity radiating direct from my office. I intend to
produce the kind of evidence I need for convictions."
Vance slowly took a cigarette from his case and
tapped it on the arm of his chair.
"Ah! So you are going to substitute the convic-
tion of the innocent for the acquittal of the guilty?"
Markham was nettled; turning in his chair he
frowned at Vance.
"I won't pretend not to understand your remark,'
he said acidulously. "You're back again on your fa-
vorite theme of the inadequacy of circumstantial evi-
dence as compared with your psychological theories
and æsthetic hypotheses."
"Quite so," agreed Vance carelessly. "Y' know,
Markham, your sweet and charmin' faith in cir-
cumstantial evidence is positively disarming. Be-
fore it, the ordin'ry powers of ratiocination are be-
numbed. I tremble for the innocent victims you are
about to gather into your legal net. You'll eventu-
ally make the mere attendance at any cabaret a
frightful hazard.”
Markham smoked a while in silence. Despite the
seeming bitterness at times in the discussions of
these two men, there was at bottom no animosity
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
13
in their attitude toward each other. Their friendship
was of long standing, and, despite the dissimilarity
of their temperaments and the marked difference in
their points of view, a profound mutual respect
formed the basis of their intimate relationship.
At length Markham spoke.
"Why this sweeping deprecation of circumstantial
evidence? I admit that at times it may be mislead-
ing; but it often forms powerful presumptive proof
of guilt. Indeed, Vance, one of our greatest legal
authorities has demonstrated that it is the most
powerful actual evidence in existence. Direct evi-
dence, in the very nature of crime, is almost always
unavailable. If the courts had to depend on it,
the great majority of criminals would still be at
large."
"I was under the impression that this precious
majority had always enjoyed its untrammelled free-
dom."
Markham ignored the interruption.
"Take this example: A dozen adults see an animal
running across the snow, and testify that it was a
chicken; whereas a child sees the same animal, and
declares it was a duck. They thereupon examine the
animal's footprints and find them to be the web-
footed tracks made by a duck. Is it not conclusive,
then, that the animal was a duck and not a chicken,
despite the preponderance of direct evidence?"
"I'll grant you your duck," acceded Vance in-
differently.
"And having gratefully accepted the gift," pur-
sued Markham, "I propound a corollary: A dozen
adults see a human figure crossing the snow, and
14
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
take oath it was a woman; whereas a child asserts
that the figure was a man. Now, will you not also
grant that the circumstantial evidence of a man's
footprints in the snow would supply incontroverti-
ble proof that it was, in fact, a man, and not a
woman?"
"Not at all, my dear Justinian," replied Vance,
stretching his legs languidly in front of him; “un-
less, of course, you could show that a human being
possesses no higher order of brains than a duck.”
"What have brains to do with it?" Markham
asked impatiently. "Brains don't affect one's foot-
prints."
"Not those of a duck, certainly. But brains might
very well-and, no doubt, often do affect the foot-
prints of a human being.”
"Am I having a lesson in anthropology, Dar-
winian adaptability, or merely metaphysical specu-
lation ?"
"In none of those abstruse subjects," Vance as-
sured him. "I'm merely stating a simple fact culled
from observation.'
99
"Well, according to your highly and peculiarly
developed processes of reasoning, would the circum-
stantial evidence of those masculine footprints indi-
cate a man or a woman?”
"Not necessarily either," Vance answered; "or,
rather, a possibility of each. Such evidence, when
applied to a human being-to a creature, that is,
with a reasoning mind-would merely mean to me
that the figure crossing the snow was either a man
in his own shoes, or a woman in man's shoes; or per-
haps, even, a long-legged child. In short, it would
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
15
convey to my purely unlegal intelligence only that
the tracks were made by some descendant of the
Pithecanthropus erectus wearing men's shoes on his
nether limbs-sex and age unknown. A duck's
spoors, on the other hand, I might be tempted to
take at their face value."
"I'm delighted to observe," said Markham, “that,
at least, you repudiate the possibility of a duck
dressing itself up in the gardener's boots."
Vance was silent for a moment; then he said:
"The trouble with you modern Solons, d' ye see,
is that you attempt to reduce human nature to a
formula; whereas the truth is that man, like life, is
infinitely complex. He's shrewd and tricky-skilled
for centuries in all the most diabolical chicaneries.
He is a creature of low cunning, who, even in the
normal course of his vain and idiotic struggle for
existence, instinctively and deliberately tells ninety-
nine lies to one truth. A duck, not having had the
heaven-kissing advantages of human civilization, is
a straightforward and eminently honest bird."
"How," asked Markham, "since you jettison all
the ordinary means of arriving at a conclusion, would
you decide the sex or species of this person who left
the masculine footprints in the snow?"
Vance blew a spiral of smoke toward the ceiling.
"First, I'd repudiate all the evidence of the twelve
astigmatic adults and the one bright-eyed child.
Next, I'd ignore the footprints in the snow. Then,
with a mind unprejudiced by dubious testimony
and uncluttered with material clues, I'd determine
the exact nature of the crime which this fleeing per-
son had committed. After having analyzed its vari-
16
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
ous factors, I could infallibly tell you not only
whether the culprit was a man or a woman, but I
could describe his habits, character, and personality.
And I could do all this whether the fleeing figure left
male or female or kangaroo tracks, or used stilts, or
rode off on a velocipede, or levitated without leav-
ing tracks at all."
Markham smiled broadly. "You'd be worse than
the police in the matter of supplying me legal evi-
dence, I fear."
66
“I, at least, wouldn't procure evidence against
some unsuspecting person whose boots had been ap-
propriated by the real culprit," retorted Vance.
'And, y' know, Markham, as long as you pin your
faith to footprints you'll inevitably arrest just those
persons whom the actual criminals want you to-
namely, persons who have had nothing to do with
the criminal conditions you're about to investigate.
He became suddenly serious.
99
"See here, old man; there are some shrewd intelli-
gences at present allied with what the theologians
call the powers of darkness. The surface appearances
of many of these crimes that are worrying you are
palpably deceptive. Personally, I don't put much
stock in the theory that a malevolent gang of cut-
throats have organized an American camorra, and
made the silly night clubs their headquarters. The
idea is too melodramatic. It smacks too much of
the gaudy journalistic imagination: it's too Eugène
Sue-ish. Crime isn't a mass instinct except during
war-time, and then it's merely an obscene sport.
Crime, d'ye see, is a personal and individual busi-
ness. One doesn't make up a partie carrée for a mur-
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
17
Markham,
der as one does for a bridge game. . .
old dear, don't let this romantic criminological idea
lead you astray. And don't scrutinize the figurative
footprints in the snow too closely. They'll confuse
you most horribly-you're far too trustin' and lit-
eral for this wicked world. I warn you that no clever
criminal is going to leave his own footprints for your
tape-measure and calipers."
He sighed deeply, and gave Markham a look of
bantering commiseration.
"And have you paused to consider that your first
case may even be devoid of footprints? . . . Alas!
What, then, will you do?"
"I could overcome that difficulty by taking you
along with me," suggested Markham, with a touch
of irony. "How would you like to accompany me
on the next important case that breaks?"
“I am ravished by the idea," said Vance.
Two days later the front pages of our metropoli-
tan press carried glaring headlines telling of the
murder of Margaret Odell.
CHAPTER III
THE MURDER
(Tuesday, September 11; 8.30 a. m.)
It was barely half past eight on that momentous
morning of September the 11th when Markham
brought word to us of the event.
I was living temporarily with Vance at his home
in East 38th Street-a large remodelled apartment
occupying the two top floors of a beautiful mansion.
For several years I had been Vance's personal legal
representative and adviser, having resigned from my
father's law firm of Van Dine, Davis and Van Dine
to devote myself to his needs and interests. His af-
fairs were by no means voluminous, but his personal
finances, together with his numerous purchases of
paintings and objets d'art, occupied my full time
without burdening me. This monetary and legal
stewardship was eminently congenial to my tastes;
and my friendship with Vance, which had dated
from our undergraduate days at Harvard, supplied
the social and human element in an arrangement
which otherwise might easily have degenerated into
one of mere drab routine.
On this particular morning I had risen early and
was working in the library when Currie, Vance's
valet and majordomo, announced Markham's pres-
ence in the living-room. I was considerably aston-
ished at this early-morning visit, for Markham well
knew that Vance, who rarely rose before noon, re-
18
THE MURDER
19
sented any intrusion upon his matutinal slumbers.
And in that moment I received the curious impression
that something unusual and portentous was toward.
I found Markham pacing restlessly up and down,
his hat and gloves thrown carelessly on the centre-
table. As I entered he halted and looked at me with
harassed eyes. He was a moderately tall man, clean-
shaven, gray-haired, and firmly set up. His appear-
ance was distinguished, and his manner courteous
and kindly. But beneath his gracious exterior there
was an aggressive sternness, an indomitable, grim
strength, that gave one the sense of dogged efficiency
and untiring capability.
·
99
"Good morning, Van," he greeted me, with im-
patient perfunctoriness. "There's been another half-
world murder-the worst and ugliest thus far.
He hesitated, and regarded me searchingly. "You
recall my chat with Vance at the club the other
night? There was something damned prophetic in
his remarks. And you remember I half promised to
take him along on the next important case. Well, the
case has broken-with a vengeance. Margaret Odell,
whom they called the Canary, has been strangled in
her apartment; and from what I just got over the
phone, it looks like another night-club affair. I'm
headed for the Odell apartment now....
What
about rousing out the sybarite?"
"By all means," I agreed, with an alacrity which,
I fear, was in large measure prompted by purely sel-
fish motives. The Canary! If one had sought the
city over for a victim whose murder would stir up
excitement, there could have been but few selections
better calculated to produce this result.
20
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Hastening to the door, I summoned Currie, and
told him to call Vance at once.
"I'm afraid, sir-
tant.
"began Currie, politely hesi-
"Calm your fears," cut in Markham. "I'll take
all responsibility for waking him at this indecent
hour."
Currie sensed an emergency and departed.
A minute or two later Vance, in an elaborately
embroidered silk kimono and sandals, appeared at
the living-room door.
"My word!" he greeted us, in mild astonishment,
glancing at the clock. "Haven't you chaps gone to
bed yet?"
He strolled to the mantel, and selected a gold-
tipped Régie cigarette from a small Florentine humi-
dor.
Markham's eyes narrowed: he was in no mood for
levity.
"The Canary has been murdered," I blurted out.
Vance held his wax vesta poised, and gave me a
look of indolent inquisitiveness. "Whose canary?"
66
'Margaret Odell was found strangled this morn-
ing," amended Markham brusquely. "Even you,
wrapped in your scented cotton-wool, have heard of
her. And you can realize the significance of the
crime. I'm personally going to look for those foot-
prints in the snow; and if you want to come along,
as you intimated the other night, you'll have to get
a move on."
Vance crushed out his cigarette.
"Margaret Odell, eh?-Broadway's blonde As-
pasia or was it Phryne who had the coiffure d'or?
THE MURDER
21
Most distressin'!" Despite his offhand man-
ner, I could see he was deeply interested. "The base
enemies of law and order are determined to chivvy
you most horribly, aren't they, old dear? Deuced
inconsiderate of 'em! . . . Excuse me while I seek
habiliments suitable to the occasion."
He disappeared into his bedroom, while Markham
took out a large cigar and resolutely prepared it for
smoking, and I returned to the library to put away
the papers on which I had been working.
In less than ten minutes Vance reappeared, dressed
for the street.
66
‘Bien, mon vieux," he announced gaily, as Currie
handed him his hat and gloves and a malacca cane.
Allons-y!"
66
We rode up-town along Madison Avenue, turned
into Central Park, and came out by the West 72d
Street entrance. Margaret Odell's apartment was
at 184 West 71st Street, near Broadway; and as we
drew up to the curb, it was necessary for the patrol-
man on duty to make a passage for us through the
crowd that had already gathered as a result of the
arrival of the police.
Feathergill, an assistant District Attorney, was
waiting in the main hall for his Chief's arrival.
"It's too bad, sir," he lamented. "A rotten show
all round. And just at this time! . . ." He shrugged
his shoulders discouragingly.
"It may collapse quickly," said Markham, shak-
ing the other's hand. "How are things going? Ser-
geant Heath phoned me right after you called, and
said that, at first glance, the case looked a bit stub-
born."
22
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Stubborn?" repeated Feathergill lugubriously.
"It's downright impervious. Heath is spinning
round like a turbine. He was called off the Boyle
case, by the way, to devote his talents to this new
shocker Inspector Moran arrived ten minutes ago,
and gave him the official imprimatur.”
· ·
“Well, Heath's a good man," declared Markham.
"We'll work it out. Which is the apartment?"
Feathergill led the way to a door at the rear of
the main hall.
"Here you are, sir," he announced. "I'll be run-
ning along now. I need sleep. Good luck!" And
he was gone.
It will be necessary to give a brief description of
the house and its interior arrangement, for the some-
what peculiar structure of the building played a vital
part in the seemingly insoluble problem posed by the
murder.
The house, which was a four-story stone structure
originally built as a residence, had been remodelled,
both inside and outside, to meet the requirements of
an exclusive individual apartment dwelling. There
were, I believe, three or four separate suites on
each floor; but the quarters up-stairs need not con-
cern us. The main floor was the scene of the crime,
and here there were three apartments and a dentist's
office.
The main entrance to the building was directly
on the street, and extending straight back from the
front door was a wide hallway. Directly at the rear
of this hallway, and facing the entrance, was the
door to the Odell apartment, which bore the nu-
meral "3." About half-way down the front hall,
APARTMENT
APARTMENT
MAIN
HALLWAY
WEST SEVENTY-FIRST STREET
UP
DENTIST'S
OFFICE
ODELL APARTMENT
LIVING ROOM
BED ROOM
PASSAGEWAY
RECEPTION
ROOM
STREET
COURT
ALLEYWAY TO
24
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
on the right-hand side, was the stairway leading to
the floors above; and directly beyond the stairway,
also on the right, was a small reception-room with
a wide archway instead of a door. Directly opposite
to the stairway, in a small recess, stood the telephone
switchboard. There was no elevator in the house.
Another important feature of this ground-floor
plan was a small passageway at the rear of the
main hall and at right angles to it, which led past
the front walls of the Odell apartment to a door
opening on a court at the west side of the building.
This court was connected with the street by an
alley four feet wide.
In the accompanying diagram this arrangement
of the ground floor can be easily visualized, and I
suggest that the reader fix it in his mind; for I doubt
if ever before so simple and obvious an architectural
design played such an important part in a criminal
mystery. By its very simplicity and almost conven-
tional familiarity-indeed, by its total lack of any
puzzling complications-it proved so baffling to the
investigators that the case threatened, for many
days, to remain forever insoluble.
As Markham entered the Odell apartment that
morning Sergeant Ernest Heath came forward at
once and extended his hand. A look of relief passed
over his broad, pugnacious features; and it was ob-
vious that the animosity and rivalry which always
exist between the Detective Division and the District
Attorney's office during the investigation of any
criminal case had no place in his attitude on this
occasion.
"I'm glad you've come, sir," he said; and meant it.
THE MURDER
25
He then turned to Vance with a cordial smile, and
held out his hand.*
"So the amachoor sleuth is with us again!" His
tone held a friendly banter.
"Oh, quite," murmured Vance. "How's your in-
duction coil working this beautiful September morn-
ing, Sergeant?"
"I'd hate to tell you!" Then Heath's face grew
suddenly grave, and he turned to Markham. "It's
a raw deal, sir. Why in hell couldn't they have picked
some one besides the Canary for their dirty work?
There's plenty of Janes on Broadway who coulda
faded from the picture without causing a second
alarm; but they gotta go and bump off the Queen of
Sheba !"
As he spoke, William M. Moran, the commanding
officer of the Detective Bureau, came into the little
foyer and performed the usual hand-shaking cere-
mony. Though he had met Vance and me but once
before, and then casually, he remembered us both
and addressed us courteously by name.
"Your arrival," he said to Markham, in a well-
bred, modulated voice, "is very welcome. Sergeant
Heath will give you what preliminary information
you want. I'm still pretty much in the dark myself
-only just arrived."
"A lot of information I've got to give," grumbled
Heath, as he led the way into the living-room.
Margaret Odell's apartment was a suite of two
fairly large rooms connected by a wide archway
draped with heavy damask portières. The entrance
* Heath had become acquainted with Vance during the investigation
of the Benson murder case two months previously.
26
26
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
door from the main hall of the building led into a
small rectangular foyer about eight feet long and
four feet deep, with double Venetian-glass doors
opening into the main room beyond. There was no
other entrance to the apartment, and the bedroom
could be reached only through the archway from
the living-room.
There was a large davenport, covered with bro-
caded silk, in front of the fireplace in the left-hand
wall of the living-room, with a long narrow library-
table of inlaid rosewood extending along its back.
On the opposite wall, between the foyer and the
archway into the bedroom, hung a triplicate Marie
Antoinette mirror, beneath which stood a mahogany
gate-legged table. On the far side of the archway,
near the large oriel window, was a baby grand Stein-
way piano with a beautifully designed and decorated
case of Louis-Seize ornamentation. In the corner
to the right of the fireplace was a spindle-legged
escritoire and a square hand-painted waste-paper
basket of vellum. To the left of the fireplace stood
one of the loveliest Boule cabinets I have ever seen.
Several excellent reproductions of Boucher, Frago-
nard, and Watteau hung about the walls. The bed-
room contained a chest of drawers, a dressing-table,
and several gold-leaf chairs. The whole apartment
seemed eminently in keeping with the Canary's
fragile and evanescent personality.
As we stepped from the little foyer into the living-
room and stood for a moment looking about, a scene
bordering on wreckage met our eyes. The rooms had
apparently been ransacked by some one in a frenzy
of haste, and the disorder of the place was appalling.
FIREPLACE
ESCRITOIRE
-DAVENPORT
LAND
+LAMP
BED ROOM
*
TABLE
WHERE MARGARET ODEEL
WAS STRANGLED.
RBOULE CABINET
CLOTHES
CLOSET
FOYER.
ONLY DOOR TO·
ODELL APARTMENT
GATE-LEO TABLE
MIRROR
28
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"They didn't exactly do the job in dainty fash-
ion," remarked Inspector Moran.
"I suppose we oughta be grateful they didn't blow
the joint up with dynamite," returned Heath acridly.
But it was not the general disorder that most at-
tracted us. Our gaze was almost immediately drawn
and held by the body of the dead girl, which rested
in an unnatural, semi-recumbent attitude in the cor-
ner of the davenport nearest to where we stood.
Her head was turned backward, as if by force, over
the silken tufted upholstery; and her hair had come
unfastened and lay beneath her head and over her
bare shoulder like a frozen cataract of liquid gold.
Her face, in violent death, was distorted and un-
lovely. Her skin was discolored; her eyes were star-
ing; her mouth was open, and her lips were drawn
back. Her neck, on either side of the thyroid car-
tilage, showed ugly dark bruises. She was dressed
in a flimsy evening gown of black Chantilly lace over
cream-colored chiffon, and across the arm of the
davenport had been thrown an evening cape of cloth-
of-gold trimmed with ermine.
There were evidences of her ineffectual struggle
with the person who had strangled her. Besides the
dishevelled condition of her hair, one of the shoulder-
straps of her gown had been severed, and there was
a long rent in the fine lace across her breast. A small
corsage of artificial orchids had been torn from her
bodice, and lay crumpled in her lap. One satin slip-
per had fallen off, and her right knee was twisted
inward on the seat of the davenport, as if she had
sought to lift herself out of the suffocating clutches
of her antagonist. Her fingers were still flexed, no
THE MURDER
29
doubt as they had been at the moment of her capitu-
lation to death, when she had relinquished her grip
upon the murderer's wrists.
The spell of horror cast over us by the sight of
the tortured body was broken by the matter-of-fact
tones of Heath.
"You see, Mr. Markham, she was evidently sit-
ting in the corner of this settee when she was grabbed
suddenly from behind.”
Markham nodded. "It must have taken a pretty
strong man to strangle her so easily."
"I'll say!" agreed Heath. He bent over and
pointed to the girl's fingers, on which showed sev-
eral abrasions. "They stripped her rings off, too;
and they didn't go about it gentle, either." Then he
indicated a segment of fine platinum chain, set with
tiny pearls, which hung over one of her shoulders.
"And they grabbed whatever it was hanging round
her neck, and broke the chain doing it. They weren't
overlooking anything, or losing any time. . . . A
swell, gentlemanly job. Nice and refined."
"Where's the Medical Examiner?" asked Mark-
ham.
"He's coming," Heath told him. "You can't get
Doc Doremus to go anywheres without his break-
fast."
"He may find something else something that
doesn't show."
"There's plenty showing for me," declared Heath.
“Look at this apartment. It wouldn't be much
worse if a Kansas cyclone had struck it.”
We turned from the depressing spectacle of the
dead girl and moved toward the centre of the room.
30
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Be careful not to touch anything, Mr. Mark-
ham," warned Heath. "I've sent for the finger-print
experts-they'll be here any minute now."
Vance looked up in mock astonishment.
"Finger-prints? You don't say-really! How
delightful! Imagine a johnnie in this enlightened
day leaving his finger-prints for you to find."
"All crooks aren't clever, Mr. Vance," declared
Heath combatively.
"Oh, dear, no! They'd never be apprehended if
they were. But, after all, Sergeant, even an authen-
tic finger-print merely means that the person who
made it was dallying around at some time or other.
It doesn't indicate guilt."
"Maybe so," conceded Heath doggedly. "But
I'm here to tell you that if I get any good honest-to-
God finger-prints outa this devastated area, it's not
going so easy with the bird that made 'em.”
Vance appeared to be shocked. "You positively
terrify me, Sergeant. Henceforth I shall adopt mit-
tens as a permanent addition to my attire. I'm al-
ways handling the furniture and the teacups and the
various knickknacks in the houses where I call, don't
y' know."
Markham interposed himself at this point, and
suggested they make a tour of inspection while wait-
ing for the Medical Examiner.
"They didn't add anything much to the usual
methods," Heath pointed out. "Killed the girl, and
then ripped things wide open."
The two rooms had apparently been thoroughly
ransacked. Clothes and various articles were strewn
about the floor. The doors of both clothes-closets
THE MURDER
31
(there was one in each room) were open, and to judge
from the chaos in the bedroom closet, it had been
hurriedly searched; although the closet off of the
living-room, which was given over to the storage of
infrequently used items, appeared to have been ig-
nored. The drawers of the dressing-table and chest
had been partly emptied on to the floor, and the
bedclothes had been snatched away and the mat-
tress turned back. Two chairs and a small occasional
table were upset; several vases were broken, as if
they had been searched and then thrown down in
the wrath of disappointment; and the Marie Antoi-
nette mirror had been broken. The escritoire was
open, and its pigeonholes had been emptied in a
jumbled pile upon the blotter. The doors of the
Boule cabinet swung wide, and inside there was the
same confusion of contents that marked the interior
of the escritoire. The bronze-and-porcelain lamp on
the end of the library-table was lying on its side, its
satin shade torn where it had struck the sharp corner
of a silver bonbonnière.
Two objects in the general disarray particularly
attracted my attention-a black metal document-
box of the kind purchasable at any stationery store,
and a large jewel-case of sheet steel with a circular
inset lock. The latter of these objects was destined
to play a curious and sinister part in the investiga-
tion to follow.
The document-box, which was now empty, had
been placed on the library-table, next to the over-
turned lamp. Its lid was thrown back, and the key
was still in the lock. In all the litter and disorganiza-
tion of the room, this box seemed to be the one out-
32
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
standing indication of calm and orderly activity on
the part of the wrecker.
The jewel-case, on the other hand, had been vio-
lently wrenched open. It sat on the dressing-table
in the bedroom, dinted and twisted out of shape by
the terrific leverage that had been necessary to
force it, and beside it lay a brass-handled, cast-iron
poker which had evidently been brought from the
living-room and used as a makeshift chisel with
which to prize open the lock.
Vance had glanced but casually at the different
objects in the rooms as we made our rounds, but
when he came to the dressing-table, he paused
abruptly. Taking out his monocle, he adjusted it
carefully, and leaned over the broken jewel-case.
"Most extr'ordin'ry!" he murmured, tapping the
edge of the lid with his gold pencil. "What do you
make of that, Sergeant?"
Heath had been eyeing Vance with narrowed lids
as the latter bent over the dressing-table.
"What's in your mind, Mr. Vance?" he, in turn,
asked.
"Oh, more than you could ever guess," Vance an-
swered lightly. "But just at the moment I was toy-
ing with the idea that this steel case was never torn
open by that wholly inadequate iron poker, what?"
Heath nodded his head approvingly. "So you,
too, noticed that, did you? . . . And you're dead
right. That poker might've twisted the box a little,
but it never snapped that lock."
He turned to Inspector Moran.
"That's the puzzler I've sent for 'Prof' Brenner
to clean up-if he can. The jimmying of that jewel-
THE MURDER
33
case looks to me like a high-class professional job.
No Sunday-school superintendent did it."
Vance continued for a while to study the box, but
at length he turned away with a perplexed frown.
"I say!" he commented. "Something devilish
queer took place here last night.”
"Oh, not so queer," Heath amended. "It was a
thorough job, all right, but there's nothing mysteri-
ous about it."
Vance polished his monocle and put it away.
"If you go to work on that basis, Sergeant,” he
returned carelessly, "I greatly fear you'll run aground
on a reef. And may kind Heaven bring you safe to
shore!"
CHAPTER IV
THE PRINT OF A HAND
(Tuesday, September 11; 9.30 a. m.)
A few minutes after we had returned to the living-
room Doctor Doremus, the Chief Medical Examiner,
arrived, jaunty and energetic. Immediately in his
train came three other men, one of whom carried a
bulky camera and a folded tripod. These were Cap-
tain Dubois and Detective Bellamy, finger-print ex-
perts, and Peter Quackenbush, the official photog-
rapher.
"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Doctor Doremus.
"Quite a gathering of the clans. More trouble, eh?
I wish your friends, Inspector, would choose a
more respectable hour for their little differences.
This early rising upsets my liver.”
He shook hands with everybody in a brisk, busi-
nesslike manner.
"Where's the body?" he demanded breezily, look-
ing about the room. He caught sight of the girl on
the davenport. "Ah! A lady."
Stepping quickly forward, he made a rapid exami-
nation of the dead girl, scrutinizing her neck and
fingers, moving her arms and head to determine the
condition of rigor mortis, and finally unflexing her
stiffened limbs and laying her out straight on the
long cushions, preparatory to a more detailed nec-
ropsy.
34
THE PRINT OF A HAND
35
The rest of us moved toward the bedroom, and
Heath motioned to the finger-print men to follow.
"Go over everything," he told them. "But take
a special look at this jewel-case and the handle of
this poker, and give that document-box in the other
room a close up-and-down."
"Right,” assented Captain Dubois. "We'll begin
in here while the doc's busy in the other room."
And he and Bellamy set to work.
Our interest naturally centred on the Captain's
labors. For fully five minutes we watched him in-
specting the twisted steel sides of the jewel-case and
the smooth, polished handle of the poker. He held
the objects gingerly by their edges, and, placing a
jeweller's glass in his eye, flashed his pocket-light
on every square inch of them. At length he put them
down, scowling.
"No finger-prints here," he announced. "Wiped
clean."
"I migata known it," grumbled Heath. "It was
a professional job, all right." He turned to the other
expert. "Found anything, Bellamy?"
"Nothing to help," was the grumpy reply. "A
few old smears with dust over 'em."
"Looks like a washout," Heath commented irrita-
bly; "though I'm hoping for something in the other
room."
At this moment Doctor Doremus came into the
bedroom and, taking a sheet from the bed, returned
to the davenport and covered the body of the mur-
dered girl. Then he snapped shut his case, and put-
ting on his hat at a rakish angle, stepped forward
with the air of a man in great haste to be on his way.
36
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Simple case of strangulation from behind," he
said, his words running together. "Digital bruises
about the front of the throat; thumb bruises in the
sub-occipital region. Attack must have been unex-
pected. A quick, competent job though deceased
evidently battled a little.”
"How do you suppose her dress became torn,
doctor?" asked Vance.
"Oh, that? Can't tell. She may have done it her-
self-instinctive motions of clutching for air.”
"Not likely though, what?"
"Why not? The dress was torn and the bouquet
was ripped off, and the fellow who was choking her
had both hands on her throat. Who else could've
done it ?"
Vance shrugged his shoulders, and began lighting
a cigarette.
Heath, annoyed by his apparently inconsequen-
tial interruption, put the next question.
"Don't those marks on the fingers mean that her
rings were stripped off?"
"Possibly. They're fresh abrasions. Also, there's
a couple of lacerations on the left wrist and slight
contusions on the thenar eminence, indicating that
a bracelet may have been forcibly pulled over her
hand."
"That fits O. K.," pronounced Heath, with satis-
faction. "And it looks like they snatched a pendant
of some kind off her neck.”
"Probably," indifferently agreed Doctor Doremus.
"The piece of chain had cut into her flesh a little
behind the right shoulder."
"And the time?"
THE PRINT OF A HAND
37
"Nine or ten hours ago. Say, about eleven-thirty
-maybe a little before. Not after midnight, any-
way." He had been teetering restlessly on his toes.
"Anything else?"
Heath pondered.
"I'll get
"I guess that's all, doc," he decided.
the body to the mortuary right away. Let's have
the post-mortem as soon as you can."
"You'll get a report in the morning." And despite
his apparent eagerness to be off, Doctor Doremus
stepped into the bedroom, and shook hands with
Heath and Markham and Inspector Moran before
he hurried out.
Heath followed him to the door, and I heard him
direct the officer outside to telephone the Depart-
ment of Public Welfare to send an ambulance at once
for the girl's body.
"I positively adore that official archiater of yours,"
Vance said to Markham. "Such detachment! Here
are you stewing most distressingly over the passing
of one damsel fair and frail, and that blithe medicus
is worrying only over a sluggish liver brought on by
early rising."
"What has he to be upset over?" complained
Markham. "The newspapers are not riding him
with spurs.
And by the way, what was the
point of your questions about the torn dress?"
Vance lazily inspected the tip of his cigarette.
"Consider," he said. "The lady was evidently
taken by surprise; for, had there been a struggle be-
forehand, she would not have been strangled from
behind while sitting down. Therefore, her gown and
corsage were undoubtedly intact at the time she
38
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
was seized. But-despite the conclusion of your
dashing Paracelsus-the damage to her toilet was
not of a nature that could have been self-inflicted
in her struggle for air. If she had felt the constric-
tion of the gown across her breast, she would have
snatched the bodice itself by putting her fingers in-
side the band. But, if you noticed, her bodice was
intact; the only thing that had been torn was the
deep lace flounce on the outside; and it had been
torn, or rather ripped, by a strong lateral pull;
whereas, in the circumstances, any wrench on her
part would have been downward or outward."
Inspector Moran was listening intently, but Heath
seemed restless and impatient; apparently he re-
garded the torn gown as irrelevant to the simple
main issue.
"Moreover," Vance went on, "there is the cor-
sage. If she herself had torn it off while being
strangled, it would doubtless have fallen to the floor;
for, remember, she offered considerable resistance.
Her body was twisted sidewise; her knee was drawn
- up, and one slipper had been kicked off. Now, no
bunch of silken posies is going to remain in a lady's
lap during such a commotion. Even when ladies sit
still, their gloves and hand-bags and handkerchiefs
and programmes and serviettes are forever sliding
off of their laps on to the floor, don't y' know."
"But if your argument's correct," protested Mark-
ham, "then the tearing of the lace and the snatch-
ing off of the corsage could have been done only
after she was dead. And I can't see any object in
such senseless vandalism."
"Neither can I,” sighed Vance. "It's all devilish
queer.
99
THE PRINT OF A HAND
30
Heath looked up at him sharply. "That's the
second time you've said that. But there's nothing
what you'd call queer about this mess. It is a straight-
away case." He spoke with an overtone of insistence,
like a man arguing against his own insecurity of
opinion. "The dress might've been torn almost any
time," he went on stubbornly. "And the flower
might've got caught in the lace of her skirt so it
couldn't roll off."
"And how would you explain the jewel-case, Ser-
geant?" asked Vance.
"Well, the fellow might've tried the poker, and
then, finding it wouldn't work, used his jimmy.'
"If he had the efficient jimmy," countered Vance,
"why did he go to the trouble of bringing the silly
poker from the living-room?"
The Sergeant shook his head perplexedly.
"You never can tell why some of these crooks act
the way they do."
"Tut, tut!" Vance chided him. "There should
be no such word as 'never' in the bright lexicon of
detecting."
Heath regarded him sharply. "Was there any-
thing else that struck you as queer?" His subtle
doubts were welling up again.
"Well, there's the lamp on the table in the other
room."
99
We were standing near the archway between the
two rooms, and Heath turned quickly and looked
blankly at the fallen lamp.
"I don't see anything queer about that.”
"It has been upset-eh, what?" suggested Vance.
"What if it has?" Heath was frankly puzzled.
40
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Damn near everything in this apartment has been
knocked crooked."
"Ah! But there's a reason for most of the other
things having been disturbed-like the drawers and
pigeonholes and closets and vases. They all indi-
cate a search; they're consistent with a raid for loot.
But that lamp, now, d' ye see, doesn't fit into the
picture. It's a false note. It was standing on the
opposite end of the table to where the murder was
committed, at least five feet away; and it couldn't
possibly have been knocked over in the struggle.
No, it won't do. It's got no business being upset,
any more than that pretty mirror over the gate-
legged table has any business being broken. That's
why it's queer.
""
"What about those chairs and the little table?"
asked Heath, pointing to two small gilded chairs
which had been overturned, and a fragile tip-table
that lay on its side near the piano.
"Oh, they fit into the ensemble," returned Vance.
"They're all light pieces of furniture which could
easily have been knocked over, or thrown aside, by
the hasty gentleman who rifled these rooms.
99
"The lamp might've been knocked over in the
same way," argued Heath.
Vance shook his head. "Not tenable, Sergeant.
It has a solid bronze base, ard isn't at all top-heavy;
and being set well back on the table, it wasn't in
any one's way. That lamp was upset deliber-
ately."
...
The Sergeant was silent for a while. Experience
had taught him not to underestimate Vance's ob-
servations; and, I must confess, as I looked at the
lamp lying on its side on the end of the library-table,
THE PRINT OF A HAND
41
well removed from any of the other disordered objects
in the room, Vance's argument seemed to possess
considerable force. I tried hard to fit it into a hasty
reconstruction of the crime, but was utterly unable
to do so.
"Anything else that don't seem to fit into the
picture?" Heath at length asked.
Vance pointed with his cigarette toward the
clothes-closet in the living-room. This closet was
alongside of the foyer, in the corner near the Boule
cabinet, directly opposite to the end of the daven-
port.
"You might let your mind dally a moment with
the condition of that clothes-press," suggested Vance
carelessly. "You will note that, though the door's
ajar, the contents have not been touched. And it's
about the only area in the apartment that hasn't
been disturbed."
Heath walked over and looked into the closet.
“Well, anyway, I'll admit that's queer," he finally
conceded.
Vance had followed him indolently, and stood gaz-
ing over his shoulder.
"And my word!" he exclaimed suddenly. "The
key's on the inside of the lock. Fancy that, now!
One can't lock a closet door with the key on the in-
side can one, Sergeant?"
"The key may not mean anything," Heath ob-
served hopefully. "Maybe the door was never locked.
Anyhow, we'll find out about that pretty soon. I'm
holding the maid outside, and I'm going to have her
on the carpet as soon as the Captain finishes his job
here."
He turned to Dubois, who, having completed his
42
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
search for finger-prints in the bedroom, was now in-
specting the piano.
"Any luck yet?"
The Captain shook his head.
"Gloves," he answered succinctly.
"Same here," supplemented Bellamy gruffly, on
his knees before the escritoire.
Vance, with a sardonic smile, turned and walked to
the window, where he stood looking out and smoking
placidly, as if his entire interest in the case had
evaporated.
At this moment the door from the main hall
opened, and a short thin little man, with gray hair
and a scraggly gray beard, stepped inside and stood
blinking against the vivid sunlight.
"Good morning, Professor," Heath greeted the
newcomer. "Glad to see you. I've got something
nifty, right in your line."
Deputy-Inspector Conrad Brenner was one of
that small army of obscure, but highly capable, ex-
perts who are connected with the New York Police
Department, and who are constantly being con-
sulted on abstruse technical problems, but whose
names and achievements rarely get into the public
prints. His specialty was locks and burglars' tools;
and I doubt if, even among those exhaustively pains-
taking criminologists of the University of Lausanne,
there was a more accurate reader of the evidential
signs left by the implements of house-breakers. In
appearance and bearing he was like a withered little
college professor.* His black, unpressed suit was
* It is an interesting fact that for the nineteen years he had been con-
nected with the New York Police Department, he had been referred to,
by his superiors and subordinates alike, as "the Professor."
THE PRINT OF A HAND
43
old-fashioned in cut; and he wore a very high stiff
collar, like a fin-de-siècle clergyman, with a narrow
black string tie. His gold-rimmed spectacles were so
thick-lensed that the pupils of his eyes gave the im-
pression of acute belladonna poisoning.
When Heath had spoken to him, he merely stood
staring with a sort of detached expectancy; he seemed
utterly unaware that there was any one else in the
room. The Sergeant, evidently familiar with the
little man's idiosyncrasies of manner, did not wait
for a response, but started at once for the bedroom.
"This way, please, Professor," he directed cajol-
ingly, going to the dressing-table and picking up
the jewel-case. "Take a squint at this, and tell
me what you see.'
99
Inspector Brenner followed Heath, without look-
ing to right or left, and, taking the jewel-case, went
silently to the window and began to examine it.
Vance, whose interest seemed suddenly to be re-
awakened, came forward and stood watching him.
For fully five minutes the little expert inspected
the case, holding it within a few inches of his my-
opic eyes. Then he lifted his glance to Heath and
winked several times rapidly.
"Two instruments were used in opening this
case." His voice was small and high-pitched, but
there was in it an undeniable quality of authority.
"One bent the lid and made several fractures on
the baked enamel. The other was, I should say, a
steel chisel of some kind, and was used to break the
lock. The first instrument, which was blunt, was
employed amateurishly, at the wrong angle of lever-
age; and the effort resulted only in twisting the over-
!
44
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
hang of the lid. But the steel chisel was inserted
with a knowledge of the correct point of oscillation,
where a minimum of leverage would produce the
counteracting stress necessary to displace the lock-
bolts."
"A professional job?" suggested Heath.
"Highly so," answered the Inspector, again blink-
ing. "That is to say, the forcing of the lock was pro-
fessional. And I would even go so far as to advance
the opinion that the instrument used was one es-
pecially constructed for such illegal purposes.
99
"Could this have done the job?" Heath held out
the poker.
The other looked at it closely, and turned it over
several times.
"It might have been the instrument that bent the
cover, but it was not the one used for prying open
the lock. This poker is cast iron and would have
snapped under any great pressure; whereas this box
is of cold rolled eighteen-gauge steel plate, with an
inset cylinder pin-tumbler lock taking a paracentric
key. The leverage force necessary to distort the
flange sufficiently to lift the lid could have been
made only by a steel chisel."
"Well, that's that." Heath seemed well satisfied
with Inspector Brenner's conclusion. "I'll send the
box down to you, Professor, and you can let me
know what else you find out.”
"I'll take it along, if you have no objection.'
And the little man tucked it under his arm and
shuffled out without another word.
Heath grinned at Markham. "Queer bird. He
ain't happy unless he's measuring jimmy marks on
THE PRINT OF A HAND
45
doors and windows and things. He couldn't wait
till I sent him the box. He'll hold it lovingly on his
lap all the way down in the subway, like a mother
with a baby."
Vance was still standing near the dressing-table,
gazing perplexedly into space.
"Markham," he said, “the condition of that jewel-
case is positively astounding. It's unreasonable,
illogical-insane. It complicates the situation most
damnably. That steel box simply couldn't have been
chiselled open by a professional burglar . . . and
yet, don't y' know, it actually was."
Before Markham could reply, a satisfied grunt
from Captain Dubois attracted our attention.
"I've got something for you, Sergeant," he an-
nounced.
We moved expectantly into the living-room. Du-
bois was bending over the end of the library-table
almost directly behind the place where Margaret
Odell's body had been found. He took out an insuf-
flator, which was like a very small hand-bellows, and
blew a fine light-yellow powder evenly over about a
square foot of the polished rosewood surface of the
table-top. Then he gently blew away the surplus
powder, and there appeared the impression of a hu-
man hand distinctly registered in saffron. The bulb
of the thumb and each fleshy hummock between the
joints of the fingers and around the palm stood out
like tiny circular islands. All the papillary ridges
were clearly discernible. The photographer then
hooked his camera to a peculiar adjustable tripod
and, carefully focusing his lens, took two flash-light
pictures of the hand-mark.
46
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"This ought to do." Dubois was pleased with his
find. “It's the right hand—a clear print-and the
guy who made it was standing right behind the
dame. . . . And it's the newest print in the place.'
"What about this box?" Heath pointed to the
black document-box on the table near the over-
turned lamp.
"Not a mark-wiped clean."
Dubois began putting away his paraphernalia.
"I say, Captain Dubois," interposed Vance, "did
you take a good look at the inside door-knob of that
clothes-press?"
The man swung about abruptly, and gave Vance
a glowering look.
"People ain't in the habit of handling the inside
knobs of closet doors. They open and shut closets
from the outside."
Vance raised his eyebrows in simulated astonish-
ment.
"Do they, now, really?-Fancy that!... Still,
don't y' know, if one were inside the closet, one
couldn't reach the outside knob."
"The people I know don't shut themselves in
clothes-closets." Dubois's tone was ponderously
sarcastic.
"You positively amaze me!" declared Vance.
"All the people I know are addicted to the habit—
a sort of daily pastime, don't y' know."
Markham, always diplomatic, intervened.
"What idea have you about that closet, Vance?”
"Alas! I wish I had one," was the dolorous an-
swer. "It's because I can't, for the life of me, make
sense of its neat and orderly appearance that I'm so
THE PRINT OF A HAND
47
interested in it. Really, y' know, it should have been
artistically looted."
Heath was not entirely free from the same vague
misgivings that were disturbing Vance, for he turned
to Dubois and said:
"You might go over the knob, Captain. As this
gentleman says, there's something funny about the
condition of that closet."
Dubois, silent and surly, went to the closet door
and sprayed his yellow powder over the inside knob.
When he had blown the loose particles away, he bent
over it with his magnifying-glass. At length he
straightened up, and gave Vance a look of ill-natured
appraisal.
"There's fresh prints on it, all right," he grudg-
ingly admitted; "and unless I'm mistaken they were
made by the same hand as those on the table. Both
thumb-marks are ulnar loops, and the index-fingers
are both whorl patterns. Here, Pete," he or-
dered the photographer, "make some shots of that
knob."
·
When this had been done, Dubois, Bellamy, and
the photographer left us.
A few moments later, after an interchange of pleas-
antries, Inspector Moran also departed. At the door
he passed two men in the white uniform of internes,
who had come to take away the girl's body.
CHAPTER V
THE BOLTED DOOR
(Tuesday, September 11; 10.30 a. m.)
Markham and Heath and Vance and I were now
alone in the apartment. Dark, low-hanging clouds
had drifted across the sun, and the gray spectral
light intensified the tragic atmosphere of the rooms.
Markham had lighted a cigar, and stood leaning
against the piano, looking about him with a dis-
consolate but determined air. Vance had moved
over to one of the pictures on the side wall of the
living-room-Boucher's "La Bergère Endormie" I
think it was and stood looking at it with cynical
contempt.
"Dimpled nudities, gambolling Cupids and woolly
clouds for royal cocottes," he commented. His dis-
taste for all the painting of the French decadence
under Louis XV was profound. "One wonders what
pictures courtesans hung in their boudoirs before the
invention of these amorous eclogues, with their blue
verdure and beribboned sheep."
"I'm more interested at present in what took
place in this particular boudoir last night," retorted
Markham impatiently.
"There's not much doubt about that, sir," said
Heath encouragingly. "And I've an idea that when
48
THE BOLTED DOOR
49
Dubois checks up those finger-prints with our files,
we'll about know who did it."
Vance turned toward him with a rueful smile.
99
"You're so trusting, Sergeant. I, in turn, have
an idea that, long before this touchin' case is clari-
fied, you'll wish the irascible Captain with the insect-
powder had never found those finger-prints. He
made a playful gesture of emphasis. "Permit me
to whisper into your ear that the person who left
his sign-manuals on yonder rosewood table and cut-
glass door-knob had nothing whatever to do with
the precipitate demise of the fair Mademoiselle
Odell."
"What is it you suspect?" demanded Markham
sharply.
"Not a thing, old dear," blandly declared Vance.
"I'm wandering about in a mental murk as empty
of sign-posts as interplanetary space. The jaws of
darkness do devour me up; I'm in the dead vast
and middle of the night. My mental darkness is
Egyptian, Stygian, Cimmerian-I'm in a perfect
Erebus of tenebrosity.'
Markham's jaw tightened in exasperation; he was
familiar with this evasive loquacity of Vance's.
Dismissing the subject, he addressed himself to
Heath.
"Have you done any questioning of the people
in the house here?"
"I talked to Odell's maid and to the janitor and
the switchboard operators, but I didn't go much
into details-I was waiting for you. I'll say this,
though: what they did tell me made my head swim.
If they don't back down on some of their statements,
we're up against it."
50
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Let's have them in now, then," suggested Mark-
ham; "the maid first." He sat down on the piano-
bench with his back to the keyboard.
Heath rose, but instead of going to the door,
walked to the oriel window.
"There's one thing I want to call your attention
to, sir, before you interview these people, and that's
the matter of entrances and exits in this apartment."
He drew aside the gold-gauze curtain. "Look at
that iron grating. All the windows in this place, in-
cluding the ones in the bathroom, are equipped with
iron bars just like these. It's only eight or ten feet
to the ground here, and whoever built this house
wasn't taking any chances of burglars getting in
through the windows."
He released the curtain, and strode into the foyer.
"Now, there's only one entrance to this apart-
ment, and that's this door here opening off the main
hall. There isn't a transom or an air-shaft or a dumb-
waiter in the place, and that means that the only
way-the only way-that anybody can get in or out
of this apartment is through this door. Just keep
that fact in your mind, sir, while you're listening to
the stories of these people. . Now, I'll have the
maid brought in.'
99
In response to Heath's order a detective led in a
mulatto woman about thirty years old. She was
neatly dressed, and gave one the impression of capa-
bility. When she spoke it was with a quiet, clear
enunciation which attested to a greater degree of
education than is ordinarily found in members of
her class.
Her name, we learned, was Amy Gibson; and the
THE BOLTED DOOR
51
i
information elicited by Markham's preliminary ques-
tioning consisted of the following facts:
She had arrived at the apartment that morning a few minutes
after seven, and, as was her custom, had let herself in with her
own key, as her mistress generally slept till late.
Once or twice a week she came early to do sewing and mend-
ing for Miss Odell before the latter arose. On this particular
morning she had come early to make an alteration in a gown.
As soon as she had opened the door she had been confronted
by the disorder of the apartment, for the Venetian-glass doors
of the foyer were wide open; and almost simultaneously she had
noticed the body of her mistress on the davenport.
She had called at once to Jessup, the night telephone oper-
ator then on duty, who, after one glance into the living-room,
had notified the police. She had then sat down in the public
reception-room and waited for the arrival of the officers.
Her testimony had been simple and direct and in-
telligently stated. If she was nervous or excited,
she managed to keep her feelings well under control.
"Now," continued Markham, after a short pause,
"let us go back to last night.-At what time did you
leave Miss Odell?"
"A few minutes before seven, sir," the woman
answered, in a colorless, even tone which seemed to
be characteristic of her speech.
"Is that your usual hour for leaving?"
"No; I generally go about six. But last night
Miss Odell wanted me to help her dress for dinner."
"Don't you always help her dress for dinner?”
"No, sir. But last night she was going with some
gentleman to dinner and the theatre, and wanted to
look specially nice."
"Ah!" Markham leaned forward. "And who
was this gentleman ?"
i
1
52
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"I don't know, sir-Miss Odell didn't say."
"And you couldn't suggest who it might have
been?"
"I couldn't say, sir."
"And when did Miss Odell tell you that she
wanted you to come early this morning?"
"When I was leaving last night.'
""
"So she evidently didn't anticipate any danger,
or have any fear of her companion."
"It doesn't look that way." The woman paused,
as if considering. "No, I know she didn't. She was
in good spirits."
99
Markham turned to Heath.
"Any other questions you want to ask, Sergeant ?"
Heath removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth,
and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees.
"What jewellery did this Odell woman have on
last night?" he demanded gruffly.
The maid's manner became cool and a bit haughty.
"Miss Odell"-she emphasized the "Miss," by
way of reproaching him for the disrespect implied in
his omission-“wore all her rings, five or six of them,
and three bracelets one of square diamonds, one
of rubies, and one of diamonds and emeralds. She
also had on a sunburst of pear-shaped diamonds on
a chain round her neck, and she carried a platinum
lorgnette set with diamonds and pearls."
"Did she own any other jewellery?"
"A few small pieces, maybe, but I'm not sure."
"And did she keep 'em in a steel jewel-case in the
bedroom?"
"Yes-when she wasn't wearing them." There
was more than a suggestion of sarcasm in the reply.
THE BOLTED DOOR
53
"Oh, I thought maybe she kept 'em locked up
when she had 'em on." Heath's antagonism had been
aroused by the maid's attitude; he could not have
failed to note that she had consistently omitted the
punctilious "sir" when answering him. He now
stood up and pointed loweringly to the black docu-
ment-box on the rosewood table.
"Ever see that before?"
The woman nodded indifferently. "Many times."
"Where was it generally kept?"
"In that thing." She indicated the Boule cabinet
with a motion of the head.
"What was in the box?”
"How should I know?”
"You don't know-huh?" Heath thrust out his
jaw, but his bullying attitude had no effect upon the
impassive maid.
"I've got no idea," she replied calmly. "It was
always kept locked, and I never saw Miss Odell
open it."
The Sergeant walked over to the door of the living-
room closet.
"See that key?" he asked angrily.
Again the woman nodded; but this time I detected
a look of mild astonishment in her eyes.
"Was that key always kept on the inside of the
door?"
"No; it was always on the outside."
Heath shot Vance a curious look. Then, after a
moment's frowning contemplation of the knob, he
waved his hand to the detective who had brought
the maid in.
"Take her back to the reception-room, Snitkin,
54
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
and get a detailed description from her of all the
Odell jewellery. . . . And keep her outside; I'll want
her again.
When Snitkin and the maid had gone out, Vance
lay back lazily on the davenport, where he had sat
during the interview, and sent a spiral of cigarette
smoke toward the ceiling.
"Rather illuminatin', what?" he remarked. "The
dusky demoiselle got us considerably forrader. Now
we know that the closet key is on the wrong side of
the door, and that our fille de joie went to the theatre
with one of her favorite inamorati, who presumably
brought her home shortly before she took her de-
parture from this wicked world.”
"You think that's helpful, do you?" Heath's tone
was contemptuously triumphant. "Wait till you hear
the crazy story the telephone operator's got to tell."
"All right, Sergeant," put in Markham impa-
tiently. "Suppose we get on with the ordeal."
"I'm going to suggest, Mr. Markham, that we
question the janitor first. And I'll show you why."
Heath went to the entrance door of the apartment,
and opened it. "Look here for just a minute, sir.”
He stepped out into the main hall, and pointed
down the little passageway on the left. It was about
ten feet in length, and ran between the Odell apart-
ment and the blank rear wall of the reception-room.
At the end of it was a solid oak door which gave on
the court at the side of the house.
"That door," explained Heath, "is the only side
or rear entrance to this building; and when that door
is bolted nobody can get into the house except by the
front entrance. You can't even get into the build-
THE BOLTED DOOR
55
ing through the other apartments, for every window
on this floor is barred. I checked up on that point
as soon as I got here.”
He led the way back into the living-room.
"Now, after I'd looked over the situation this
morning," he went on, "I figured that our man had
entered through that side door at the end of the
passageway, and had slipped into this apartment
without the night operator seeing him. So I tried
the side door to see if it was open. But it was bolted
on the inside-not locked, mind you, but bolted.
And it wasn't a slip-bolt, either, that could have
been jimmied or worked open from the outside, but
a tough old-fashioned turn-bolt of solid brass.
And now I want you to hear what the janitor's got
to say about it."
Markham nodded acquiescence, and Heath called
an order to one of the officers in the hall. A moment
later a stolid, middle-aged German, with sullen fea-
tures and high cheek-bones, stood before us. His
jaw was clamped tight, and he shifted his eyes from
one to the other of us suspiciously.
Heath straightway assumed the rôle of inquisitor.
"What time do you leave here at night?" He
had, for some reason, assumed a belligerent manner.
"Six o'clock-sometimes earlier, sometimes later."
The man spoke in a surly monotone. He was ob-
viously resentful at this unexpected intrusion upon
his orderly routine.
"And what time do you get here in the morning?"
"Eight o'clock, regular."
"What time did you go home last night?”
"About six-maybe quarter past."
56
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Heath paused and finally lighted the cigar on
which he had been chewing at intervals during the
past hour.
"Now, tell me about that side door," he went on,
with undiminished aggressiveness. "You told me
you lock it every night before you leave-is that
right?"
"Ja-that's right." The man nodded his head af-
firmatively several times. "Only I don't lock it-
I bolt it."
"All right, you bolt it, then." As Heath talked his
cigar bobbed up and down between his lips: smoke
and words came simultaneously from his mouth.
"And last night you bolted it as usual about six
o'clock ?"
"Maybe a quarter past," the janitor amended,
with Germanic precision.
"You're sure you bolted it last night?" The ques-
tion was almost ferocious.
66
Ja, ja. Sure, I am. I do it every night. I never
miss."
The man's earnestness left no doubt that the door
in question had indeed been bolted on the inside at
about six o'clock of the previous evening. Heath,
however, belabored the point for several minutes,
only to be reassured doggedly that the door had been
bolted. At last the janitor was dismissed.
"Really, y' know, Sergeant," remarked Vance with
an amused smile, "that honest Rheinlander bolted
the door."
"Sure, he did," spluttered Heath; "and I found
it still bolted this morning at quarter of eight.
That's just what messes things up so nice and pretty.
THE BOLTED DOOR
57
If that door was bolted from six o'clock last evening
until eight o'clock this morning, I'd appreciate hav-
ing some one drive up in a hearse and tell me how
the Canary's little playmate got in here last night.
And I'd also like to know how he got out."
"Why not through the main entrance?" asked
Markham. "It seems the only logical way left, ac-
cording to your own findings.'
99
"That's how I had it figured out, sir," returned
Heath. "But wait till you hear what the phone
operator has to say."
"And the phone operator's post," mused Vance,
"is in the main hall half-way between the front door
and this apartment. Therefore, the gentleman who
caused all the disturbance hereabouts last night
would have had to pass within a few feet of the op-
erator both on arriving and departing-eh, what?"
"That's it!" snapped Heath. "And, according
to the operator, no such person came or went."
Markham seemed to have absorbed some of
Heath's irritability.
"Get the fellow in here, and let me question him,"
he ordered.
Heath obeyed with a kind of malicious alacrity.
CHAPTER VI
A CALL FOR HELP
(Tuesday, September 11; 11 a. m.)
Jessup made a good impression from the moment
he entered the room. He was a serious, determined-
looking man in his early thirties, rugged and well
built; and there was a squareness to his shoulders
that carried a suggestion of military training. He
walked with a decided limp-his right foot dragged
perceptibly-and I noted that his left arm had been
stiffened into a permanent arc, as if by an unreduced
fracture of the elbow. He was quiet and reserved,
and his eyes were steady and intelligent. Markham
at once motioned him to a wicker chair beside the
closet door, but he declined it, and stood before the
District Attorney in a soldierly attitude of respect-
ful attention. Markham opened the interrogation
with several personal questions. It transpired that
Jessup had been a sergeant in the World War,* had
twice been seriously wounded, and had been inva-
lided home shortly before the Armistice. He had
held his present post of telephone operator for over
a year.
"Now, Jessup," continued Markham, "there are
things connected with last night's tragedy that you
can tell us."
99
"Yes, sir.' There was no doubt that this ex-
* His full name was William Elmer Jessup, and he had been attached
to the 308th Infantry of the 77th Division of the Overseas Forces.
58
A CALL FOR HELP
59
soldier would tell us accurately anything he knew,
and also that, if he had any doubt as to the correct-
ness of his information, he would frankly say so.
He possessed all the qualities of a careful and well-
trained witness.
"First of all, what time did you come on duty last
night?"
66
'At ten o'clock, sir." There was no qualification
to this blunt statement; one felt that Jessup would
arrive punctually at whatever hour he was due. “It
was my short shift. The day man and myself alter-
nate in long and short shifts."
"And did you see Miss Odell come in last night
after the theatre?”
"Yes, sir. Every one who comes in has to pass
the switchboard."
"What time did she arrive?”
"It couldn't have been more than a few minutes
after eleven."
"Was she alone?"
"No, sir. There was a gentleman with her."
"Do you know who he was?"
"I don't know his name, sir. But I have seen him
several times before when he has called on Miss
Odell."
"You could describe him, I suppose."
"Yes, sir. He's tall and clean-shaven except for
a very short gray moustache, and is about forty-five,
I should say. He looks-if you understand me, sir-
like a man of wealth and position."
66
Markham nodded. 'And now, tell me: did he ac-
company Miss Odell into her apartment, or did he
go immediately away?"
60
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"He went in with Miss Odell, and stayed about
half an hour."
Markham's eyes brightened, and there was a
suppressed eagerness in his next words.
"Then he arrived about eleven, and was alone
with Miss Odell in her apartment until about half
past eleven. You're sure of these facts?"
"Yes, sir, that's correct," the man affirmed.
Markham paused and leaned forward.
"Now, Jessup, think carefully before answering:
did any one else call on Miss Odell at any time last
night?"
"No one, sir," was the unhesitating reply.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I would have seen them, sir. They would have
had to pass the switchboard in order to reach this
apartment."
"And don't you ever leave the switchboard?"
asked Markham.
"No, sir," the man assured him vigorously, as if
protesting against the implication that he would
desert a post of duty. "When I want a drink of
water, or go to the toilet, I use the little lavatory
in the reception-room; but I always hold the door
open and keep my eye on the switchboard in case
the pilot-light should show up for a telephone call.
Nobody could walk down the hall, even if I was in
the lavatory, without my seeing them.'
""
One could well believe that the conscientious Jes-
sup kept his eye at all times on the switchboard lest
a call should flash and go unanswered. The man's
earnestness and reliability were obvious; and there
was no doubt in any of our minds, I think, that if
A CALL FOR HELP
61
Miss Odell had had another visitor that night, Jes-
sup would have known of it.
But Heath, with the thoroughness of his nature,
rose quickly and stepped out into the main hall. In
a moment he returned, looking troubled but satisfied.
"Right!" he nodded to Markham. "The lava-
tory door's on a direct unobstructed line with the
switchboard."
Jessup took no notice of this verification of his
statement, and stood, his eyes attentively on the
District Attorney, awaiting any further questions
that might be asked him. There was something both
admirable and confidence-inspiring in his unruffled
demeanor.
"What about last night?" resumed Markham.
"Did you leave the switchboard often, or for long?'
"Just once, sir; and then only to go to the lava-
tory for a minute or two. But I watched the board
the whole time.'
"And you'd be willing to state on oath that no
one else called on Miss Odell from ten o'clock on,
and that no one, except her escort, left her apart-
ment after that hour?"
"Yes, sir, I would."
He was plainly telling the truth, and Markham
pondered several moments before proceeding.
"What about the side door?”
"That's kept locked all night, sir. The janitor
bolts it when he leaves, and unbolts it in the morn-
ing. I never touch it."
Markham leaned back and turned to Heath.
"The testimony of the janitor and Jessup here,"
he said, "seems to limit the situation pretty nar-
62
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
rowly to Miss Odell's escort. If, as seems reason-
able to assume, the side door was bolted all night,
and if no other caller came or went through the
front door, it looks as if the man we wanted to find
was the one who brought her home."
Heath gave a short mirthless laugh.
"That would be fine, sir, if something else hadn't
happened around here last night." Then, to Jessup:
"Tell the District Attorney the rest of the story
about this man."
Markham looked toward the operator with ex-
pectant interest; and Vance, lifting himself on one
elbow, listened attentively.
Jessup spoke in a level voice, with the alert and
careful manner of a soldier reporting to his superior
officer.
“It was just this, sir. When the gentleman came
out of Miss Odell's apartment at about half past
eleven, he stopped at the switchboard and asked
me to get him a Yellow Taxicab. I put the call
through, and while he was waiting for the car, Miss
Odell screamed and called for help. The gentleman
turned and rushed to the apartment door, and I fol-
lowed quickly behind him. He knocked; but at first
there was no answer. Then he knocked again, and
at the same time called out to Miss Odell and asked
her what was the matter. This time she answered.
She said everything was all right, and told him to
go home and not to worry. Then he walked back
with me to the switchboard, remarking that he
guessed Miss Odell must have fallen asleep and had
a nightmare. We talked for a few minutes about
the war, and then the taxicab came. He said good
A CALL FOR HELP
63
night, and went out, and I heard the car drive
away."
It was plain to see that this epilogue of the de-
parture of Miss Odell's anonymous escort completely
upset Markham's theory of the case. He looked
down at the floor with a baffled expression, and
smoked vigorously for several moments. At last he
asked:
"How long was it after this man came out of the
apartment that you heard Miss Odell scream?"
"About five minutes. I had put my connection
through to the taxicab company, and it was a min-
ute or so later that she screamed."
"Was the man near the switchboard?"
"Yes, sir. In fact, he had one arm resting on it."
"How many times did Miss Odell scream? And
just what did she say when she called for help?"
"She screamed twice, and then cried 'Help! Help!""
"And when the man knocked on the door the
second time, what did he say?"
"As near as I can recollect, sir, he said: 'Open the
door, Margaret! What's the trouble?""
"And can you remember her exact words when
she answered him?"
Jessup hesitated, and frowned reflectively.
"As I recall, she said: "There's nothing the matter.
I'm sorry I screamed. Everything's all right, so
please go home, and don't worry.'. . .
Of course,
that may not be exactly what she said, but it was
something very close to it."
"You could hear her plainly through the door,
then ?"
"Oh, yes. These doors are not very thick."
64
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Markham rose, and began pacing meditatively.
At length, halting in front of the operator, he asked
another question:
"Did you hear any other suspicious sounds in this
apartment after the man left ?"
"Not a sound of any kind, sir," Jessup declared.
"Some one from outside the building, however, tele-
phoned Miss Odell about ten minutes later, and a
man's voice answered from her apartment."
"What's this!" Markham spun round, and Heath
sat up at attention, his eyes wide. "Tell me every
detail of that call.”
Jessup complied unemotionally.
"About twenty minutes to twelve a trunk-light
flashed on the board, and when I answered it, a man
asked for Miss Odell. I plugged the connection
through, and after a short wait the receiver was
lifted from her phone you can tell when a receiver's
taken off the hook, because the guide-light on the
board goes out-and a man's voice answered 'Hello.'
I pulled the listening-in key over, and, of course,
didn't hear any more.
There was silence in the apartment for several
minutes. Then Vance, who had been watching Jes-
sup closely during the interview, spoke.
66
"By the bye, Mr. Jessup," he asked carelessly,
'were you yourself, by any chance, a bit fascinated
-let us say by the charming Miss Odell?”
For the first time since entering the room the man
appeared ill at ease. A dull flush overspread his
cheeks.
"I thought she was a very beautiful lady," he an-
swered resolutely.
A CALL FOR HELP
65
Markham gave Vance a look of disapproval, and
then addressed himself abruptly to the operator.
"That will be all for the moment, Jessup."
The man bowed stiffly and limped out.
"This case is becoming positively fascinatin","
murmured Vance, relaxing once more upon the
davenport.
"It's comforting to know that some one's enjoy-
ing it." Markham's tone was irritable. "And what,
may I ask, was the object of your question concern-
ing Jessup's sentiments toward the dead woman?”
“Oh, just a vagrant notion struggling in my brain,”
returned Vance. "And then, y' know, a bit of bou-
doir racontage always enlivens a situation, what?"
Heath, rousing himself from gloomy abstraction,
spoke up.
“We've still got the finger-prints, Mr. Markham.
And I'm thinking that they're going to locate our
man for us.'
99
"But even if Dubois does identify those prints,'
said Markham, "we'll have to show how the owner
of them got into this place last night. He'll claim,
of course, they were made prior to the crime."
"Well, it's a sure thing," declared Heath stub-
bornly, "that there was some man in here last night
when Odell got back from the theatre, and that he
was still here until after the other man left at half
past eleven. The woman's screams and the answer-
ing of that phone call at twenty minutes to twelve
prove it. And since Doc Doremus said that the mur-
der took place before midnight, there's no getting
away from the fact that the guy who was hiding in
here did the job."
66
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"That appears incontrovertible," agreed Mark-
ham. "And I'm inclined to think it was some one
she knew. She probably screamed when he first re-
vealed himself, and then, recognizing him, calmed
down and told the other man out in the hall that
nothing was the matter. . . . Later on he strangled
her."
"And, I might suggest," added Vance, "that his
place of hiding was that clothes-press."
"Sure," the Sergeant concurred. "But what's
bothering me is how he got in here. The day oper-
ator who was at the switchboard until ten last night
old me that the man who called and took Odell
out to dinner was the only visitor she had."
Markham gave a grunt of exasperation.
"Bring the day man in here," he ordered. "We've
got to straighten this thing out. Somebody got in
here last night, and before I leave I'm going to find
out how it was done."
Vance gave him a look of patronizing amusement.
“Y' know, Markham," he said, "I'm not blessed
with the gift of psychic inspiration, but I have one
of those strange, indescribable feelings, as the minor
poets say, that if you really contemplate remaining
in this bestrewn boudoir till you've discovered how
the mysterious visitor gained admittance here last
night, you'd do jolly well to send for your toilet
access'ries and several changes of fresh linen-not
to mention your pyjamas. The chap who engineered
this little soirée planned his entrance and exit most
carefully and perspicaciously."
Markham regarded Vance dubiously, but made
no reply.
CHAPTER VII
A NAMELESS VISITOR
(Tuesday, September 11; 11.15 a. m.)
Heath had stepped out into the hall, and now re-
turned with the day telephone operator, a sallow
thin young man who, we learned, was named Spively.
His almost black hair, which accentuated the pal-
lor of his face, was sleeked back from his forehead
with pomade; and he wore a very shallow moustache
which barely extended beyond the alæ of his nostrils.
He was dressed in an exaggeratedly dapper fashion,
in a dazzling chocolate-colored suit cut very close
to his figure, a pair of cloth-topped buttoned shoes,
and a pink shirt with a stiff turn-over collar to match.
He appeared nervous, and immediately sat down in
the wicker chair by the door, fingering the sharp
creases of his trousers, and running the tip of his
tongue over his lips.
Markham went straight to the point.
"I understand you were at the switchboard yes-
terday afternoon and last night until ten o'clock.
Is that correct?"
Spively swallowed hard, and nodded his head.
"Yes, sir."
"What time did Miss Odell go out to dinner?”
"About seven o'clock. I'd just sent to the res-
taurant next door for some sandwiches"
67
68
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
"Did she go alone?" Markham interrupted his
explanation.
"No. A fella called for her."
"Did you know this 'fella'?"
"I'd seen him a couple of times calling on Miss
Odell, but I didn't know who he was."
"What did he look like?" Markham's question
was uttered with hurried impatience.
Spively's description of the girl's escort tallied
with Jessup's description of the man who had ac-
companied her home, though Spively was more
voluble and less precise than Jessup had been.
Patently, Miss Odell had gone out at seven and re-
turned at eleven with the same man.
"Now," resumed Markham, putting an added
stress on his words, "I want to know who else called
on Miss Odell between the time she went out to
dinner and ten o'clock when you left the switch-
board."
Spively was puzzled by the question, and his thin
arched eyebrows lifted and contracted.
"I don't understand," he stammered. "How
could any one call on Miss Odell when she was out?"
"Some one evidently did," said Markham. "And
he got into her apartment, and was there when she
returned at eleven."
The youth's eyes opened wide, and his lips full
apart.
"My God, sir!" he exclaimed. "So that's how
they murdered her!-laid in wait for her! . . ." He
stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing his own prox-
imity to the mysterious chain of events that had led
up to the crime. "But nobody got into her apart-
A NAMELESS VISITOR
69
ment while I was on duty," he blurted, with fright-
ened emphasis. "Nobody! I never left the board
from the time she went out until quitting time."
"Couldn't any one have come in the side door?"
"What! Was it unlocked?" Spively's tone was
startled. "It never is unlocked at night. The jani-
tor bolts it when he leaves at six."
"And you didn't unbolt it last night for any pur-
pose? Think!”
"No, sir, I didn't!" He shook his head earnestly.
"And you are positive that no one got into the
apartment through the front door after Miss Odell
left?"
"Positive! I tell you I didn't leave the board
the whole time, and nobody could've got by me with-
out my knowing it. There was only one person that
called and asked for her "
"Oh! So some one did call!" snapped Markham.
"When was it? And what happened?-Jog your
memory before you answer.'
99
"It wasn't anything important," the youth as-
sured him, genuinely frightened. "Just a fella
who came in and rang her bell and went right out
again."
"Never mind whether it was important or not."
Markham's tone was cold and peremptory. “What
time did he call?”
"About half past nine."
"And who was he?"
"A young fella I've seen come here several times
to see Miss Odell. I don't know his name."
"Tell me exactly what took place," pursued Mark-
ham.
70
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Again Spively swallowed hard and wetted his lips.
"It was like this," he began, with effort. "The
fella came in and started walking down the hall,
and I said to him: 'Miss Odell isn't in.' But he kept
on going, and said: 'Oh, well, I'll ring the bell any-
way to make sure.' A telephone call came through
just then, and I let him go on. He rang the bell and
knocked on the door, but of course there wasn't
any answer; and pretty soon he came on back and
said: 'I guess you were right.' Then he tossed me
half a dollar, and went out."
"You actually saw him go out?" There was a
note of disappointment in Markham's voice.
"Sure, I saw him go out. He stopped just inside
the front door and lit a cigarette. Then he opened
the door and turned toward Broadway."
"One by one the rosy petals fall,"" came Vance's
indolent voice. "A most amusin' situation!"
Markham was loath to relinquish his hope in the
criminal possibilities of this one caller who had come
and gone at half past nine.
"What was this man like?" he asked. "Can you
describe him?"
·
Spively sat up straight, and when he answered, it
was with an enthusiasm that showed he had taken
special note of the visitor.
"He was good-looking, not so old-maybe thirty.
And he had on a full-dress suit and patent-leather
pumps, and a pleated silk shirt-
99
"What, what?" demanded Vance, in simulated
unbelief, leaning over the back of the davenport.
"A silk shirt with evening dress! Most extr'ordi-
n'ry!"
A NAMELESS VISITOR
71
"Oh, a lot of the best dressers are wearing them,"
Spively explained, with condescending pride. "It's
all the fashion for dancing."
"You don't say-really!" Vance appeared dumb-
founded. "I must look into this.
...
And, by the
bye, when this Beau Brummel of the silk shirt paused
by the front door, did he take his cigarette from a
long flat silver case carried in his lower waistcoat
pocket?"
The youth looked at Vance in admiring astonish-
ment.
"How did you know?" he exclaimed.
"Simple deduction," Vance explained, resuming
his recumbent posture. "Large metal cigarette-cases
carried in the waistcoat pocket somehow go with
silk shirts for evening wear.'
""
Markham, clearly annoyed at the interruption,
cut in sharply with a demand for the operator to
proceed with his description.
"He wore his hair smoothed down," Spively con-
tinued, "and you could see it was kind of long;
but it was cut in the latest style. And he had a
small waxed moustache; and there was a big carna-
tion in the lapel of his coat, and he had on chamois
gloves..
""
"My word!" murmured Vance. "A gigolo!"
Markham, with the incubus of the night clubs
riding him heavily, frowned and took a deep breath.
Vance's observation evidently had launched him
on an unpleasant train of thought.
"Was this man short or tall?" he asked next.
"He wasn't so tall-about my height," Spively
explained. "And he was sort of thin.”
72
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
There was an easily recognizable undercurrent of
admiration in his tone, and I felt that this youthful
telephone operator had seen in Miss Odell's caller a
certain physical and sartorial ideal. This palpable
admiration, coupled with the somewhat outré clothes
affected by the youth, permitted us to read between
the lines of his remarks a fairly accurate description
of the man who had unsuccessfully rung the dead
girl's bell at half past nine the night before.
When Spively had been dismissed, Markham rose
and strode about the room, his head enveloped in a
cloud of cigar smoke, while Heath sat stolidly watch-
ing him, his brows knit.
Vance stood up and stretched himself.
"The absorbin' problem, it would seem, remains
in statu quo," he remarked airily. "How, oh how,
did the fair Margaret's executioner get in?”
"You know, Mr. Markham," rumbled Heath sen-
tentiously, "I've been thinking that the fellow may
have come here earlier in the afternoon-say, before
that side door was locked. Odell herself may have
let him in and hidden him when the other man came
to take her to dinner."
"It looks that way," Markham admitted. "Bring
the maid in here again, and we'll see what we can
find out."
When the woman had been brought in, Markham
questioned her as to her actions during the afternoon,
and learned that she had gone out at about four to
do some shopping, and had returned about half past
five.
"Did Miss Odell have any visitor with her when
you got back?"
A NAMELESS VISITOR
73
"No, sir," was the prompt answer.
alone."
"She was
"Did she mention that any one had called?"
"No, sir."
"Now," continued Markham, "could any one
have been hidden in this apartment when you went
home at seven ?"
The maid was frankly astonished, and even a little
horrified.
"Where could any one hide?" she asked, looking
round the apartment.
"There are several possible places,” Markham sug-
gested: "in the bathroom, in one of the clothes-
closets, under the bed, behind the window drap-
eries.
·
The woman shook her head decisively. "No one
could have been hidden," she declared. "I was in
the bathroom half a dozen times, and I got Miss
Odell's gown out of the clothes-closet in the bedroom.
As soon as it began to get dark I drew all the win-
dow-shades myself. And as for the bed, it's built
almost down to the floor; no one could squeeze un-
der it." (I glanced closely at the bed, and realized
that this statement was quite true.)
"What about the clothes-closet in this room?"
Markham put the question hopefully, but again the
maid shook her head.
"Nobody was in there. That's where I keep my
own hat and coat, and I took them out myself when
I was getting ready to go. I even put away one of
Miss Odell's old dresses in that closet before I left."
"And you are absolutely certain," reiterated
Markham, "that no one could have been hidden
74
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
anywhere in these rooms at the time you went
home?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Do you happen to remember if the key of this
clothes-closet was on the inside or the outside of
the lock when you opened the door to get your hat?”
The woman paused, and looked thoughtfully at
the closet door.
"It was on the outside, where it always was,"
she announced, after several moments' reflection.
"I remember because it caught in the chiffon of the
old dress I put away."
Markham frowned and then resumed his ques-
tioning.
"You say you don't know the name of Miss
Odell's dinner companion last night. Can you tell
us the names of any men she was in the habit of
going out with ?"
"Miss Odell never mentioned any names to me,"
the woman said. "She was very careful about it,
too-secretive, you might say. You see, I'm only
here in the daytime, and the gentlemen she knew
generally came in the evening."
"And you never heard her speak of any one of
whom she was frightened-any one she had reason
to fear?"
"No, sir-although there was one man she was
trying to get rid of. He was a bad character-I
wouldn't have trusted him anywhere and I told
Miss Odell she'd better look out for him. But she'd
known him a long time, I guess, and had been pretty
soft on him once.'
99
"How do you happen to know this?"
A NAMELESS VISITOR
75
"One day, about a week ago," the maid explained,
"I came in after lunch, and he was with her in the
other room. They didn't hear me, because the por-
tières were drawn. He was demanding money, and
when she tried to put him off, he began threatening
her. And she said something that showed she'd
given him money before. I made a noise, and then
they stopped arguing; and pretty soon he went out."
"What did this man look like?" Markham's in-
terest was reviving.
66
"He was kind of thin-not very tall—and I'd say
he was around thirty. He had a hard face-good-
looking, some would say-and pale blue eyes that
gave you the shivers. He always wore his hair
greased back, and he had a little yellow moustache
pointed at the ends."
"Ah!" said Vance. "Our gigolo!"
"Has this man been here since?" asked Markham.
"I don't know, sir-not when I was here."
"That will be all," said Markham; and the woman
went out.
99
"She didn't help us much," complained Heath.
"What!" exclaimed Vance. "I think she did re-
markably well. She cleared up several moot points.'
"And just what portions of her information do
you consider particularly illuminating?" asked Mark-
ham, with ill-concealed annoyance.
"We now know, do we not," rejoined Vance
serenely, "that no one was lying perdu in here when
the bonne departed yesterevening."
"Instead of that fact being helpful," retorted
Markham, "I'd say it added materially to the com-
plications of the situation."
76
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"It would appear that way, wouldn't it, now?
But, then-who knows?-it may prove to be your
brightest and most comfortin' clue. . . . Further-
more, we learned that some one evidently locked
himself in that clothes-press, as witness the shifting
of the key, and that, moreover, this occultation did
not occur until the abigail had gone, or, let us say,
after seven o'clock."
"Sure," said Heath with sour facetiousness; "when
the side door was bolted and an operator was sit-
ting in the front hall, who swears nobody came in
that way.
99
"It is a bit mystifyin'," Vance conceded sadly.
'Mystifying? It's impossible!" grumbled Mark-
66
ham.
Heath, who was now staring with meditative pug-
nacity into the closet, shook his head helplessly.
"What I don't understand," he ruminated, "is
why, if the fellow was hiding in the closet, he didn't
ransack it when he came out, like he did all the rest
of the apartment.
66
99
Sergeant," said Vance, "you've put your finger
on the crux of the matter. ... Y'know, the neat,
undisturbed aspect of that closet rather suggests
that the crude person who rifled these charming
rooms omitted to give it his attention because it
was locked on the inside and he couldn't open it."
"Come, come!" protested Markham. "That the-
ory implies that there were two unknown persons in
here last night.
Vance sighed. "Harrow and alas! I know it. And
we can't introduce even one into this apartment
logically.... Distressin', ain't it?"
A NAMELESS VISITOR
77
Heath sought consolation in a new line of thought.
"Anyway," he submitted, "we know that the
fancy fellow with the patent-leather pumps who
called here last night at half past nine was probably
Odell's lover, and was grafting on her."
“And in just what recondite way does that obvi-
ous fact help to roll the clouds away?" asked Vance.
"Nearly every modern Delilah has an avaricious
amoroso. It would be rather singular if there wasn't
such a chap in the offing, what?"
"That's all right, too," returned Heath. "But
I'll tell you something, Mr. Vance, that maybe you
don't know. The men that these girls lose their
heads over are generally crooks of some kind-pro-
fessional criminals, you understand. That's why,
knowing that this job was the work of a professional,
it don't leave me cold, as you might say, to learn
that this fellow who was threatening Odell and graft-
ing on her was the same one who was prowling round
here last night. . . . And I'll say this, too: the de-
scription of him sounds a whole lot like the kind of
high-class burglars that hang out at these swell all-
night cafés."
"You're convinced, then," asked Vance mildly,
"that this job, as you call it, was done by a profes-
sional criminal?”
Heath was almost contemptuous in his reply.
"Didn't the guy wear gloves, and use a jimmy? It
was a yeggman's job, all right."
CHAPTER VIII
THE INVISIBLE MURDERER
(Tuesday, September 11; 11.45 a. m.)
Markham went to the window and stood, his
hands behind him, looking down into the little paved
rear yard. After several minutes he turned slowly.
“The situation, as I see it," he said, "boils down
to this:-The Odell girl has an engagement for din-
ner and the theatre with a man of some distinction.
He calls for her a little after seven, and they go out
together. At eleven o'clock they return. He goes
with her into her apartment and remains half an
hour. He leaves at half past eleven and asks the
phone operator to call him a taxi. While he is wait-
ing the girl screams and calls for help, and, in re-
sponse to his inquiries, she tells him nothing is wrong
and bids him go away. The taxi arrives, and he de-
parts in it. Ten minutes later some one telephones
her, and a man answers from her apartment. This
morning she is found murdered, and the apartment
ransacked."
He took a long draw on his cigar.
"Now, it is obvious that when she and her escort
returned last night, there was another man in this
place somewhere; and it is also obvious that the
78
THE INVISIBLE MURDERER
79
girl was alive after her escort had departed. There-
fore, we must conclude that the man who was al-
ready in the apartment was the person who mur-
dered her. This conclusion is further corroborated
by Doctor Doremus's report that the crime occurred
between eleven and twelve. But since her escort did
not leave till half past eleven, and spoke with her
after that time, we can put the actual hour of the
murder as between half past eleven and midnight.
... These are the inferable facts from the evidence
thus far adduced."
"There's not much getting away from 'em," agreed
Heath.
"At any rate, they're interestin'," murmured
Vance.
Markham, walking up and down earnestly, con-
tinued:
"The features of the situation revolving round
these inferable facts are as follows:-There was no
one hiding in the apartment at seven o'clock-the
hour the maid went home. Therefore, the murderer
entered the apartment later. First, then, let us con-
sider the side door. At six o'clock-an hour before
the maid's departure the janitor bolted it on the
inside, and both operators disavow emphatically that
they went near it. Moreover, you, Sergeant, found
it bolted this morning. Hence, we may assume that
the door was bolted on the inside all night, and that
nobody could have entered that way. Consequently,
we are driven to the inevitable alternative that the
murderer entered by the front door. Now, let us
consider this other means of entry. The phone op-
erator who was on duty until ten o'clock last night
80
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
asserts positively that the only person who entered
the front door and passed down the main hall to this
apartment was a man who rang the bell and, get-
ting no answer, immediately walked out again. The
other operator, who was on duty from ten o'clock
until this morning, asserts with equal positiveness
that no one entered the front door and passed the
switchboard coming to this apartment. Add to all
this the fact that every window on this floor is barred,
and that no one from up-stairs can descend into the
main hall without coming face to face with the op-
erator, and we are, for the moment, confronted with
an impasse.
""
Heath scratched his head, and laughed mirth-
lessly.
"It don't make sense, does it, sir?"
"What about the next apartment?" asked Vance,
"the one with the door facing the rear passageway
-No. 2, I think?"
Heath turned to him patronizingly. “I looked
into that the first thing this morning. Apartment
No. 2 is occupied by a single woman; and I woke
her up at eight o'clock and searched the place.
Nothing there. Anyway, you have to walk past the
switchboard to reach her apartment the same as
you do to reach this one; and nobody called on her
or left her apartment last night. What's more, Jes-
sup, who's a shrewd sound lad, told me this woman
is a quiet, ladylike sort, and that she and Odell
didn't even know each other."
"You're so thorough,
thorough, Sergeant!" murmured
Vance.
"Of course," put in Markham, "it would have
THE INVISIBLE MURDERER
81
been possible for some one from the other apartment
to have slipped in here behind the operator's back
between seven and eleven, and then to have slipped
back after the murder. But as Sergeant Heath's
search this morning failed to uncover any one, we
can eliminate the possibility of our man having op-
erated from that quarter."
99
"I dare say you're right," Vance indifferently ad-
mitted. "But it strikes me, Markham old dear,
that your own affectin' recapitulation of the situa-
tion jolly well eliminates the possibility of your
man's having operated from any quarter. . . . And
yet he came in, garroted the unfortunate damsel,
and departed-eh, what? . . . It's a charmin' little
problem. I wouldn't have missed it for worlds."
·
"It's uncanny," pronounced Markham gloomily.
"It's positively spiritualistic," amended Vance.
"It has the caressin' odor of a séance. Really, y'
know, I'm beginning to suspect that some medium
was hovering in the vicinage last night doing some
rather tip-top materializations. . . . I say, Mark-
ham, could you get an indictment against an ecto-
plasmic emanation?"
"It wasn't no spook that made those finger-prints,”
growled Heath, with surly truculence.
Markham halted his nervous pacing and regarded
Vance irritably.
"Damn it! This is rank nonsense. The man got
in some way, and he got out, too. There's something
wrong somewhere. Either the maid is mistaken
about some one being here when she left, or else one
of those phone operators went to sleep and won't
admit it."
82
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Or else one of 'em's lying," supplemented Heath.
Vance shook his head. "The dusky fille de cham-
bre, I'd say, is eminently trustworthy. And if there
was any doubt about any one's having come in the
front door unnoticed, the lads on the switchboard
would, in the present circumstances, be only too
eager to admit it.
No, Markham, you'll sim-
ply have to approach this affair from the astral plane,
so to speak.
· · ·
Markham grunted his distaste of Vance's jocu-
larity.
"That line of investigation I leave to you with
your metaphysical theories and esoteric hypoth-
eses.
99
"But, consider," protested Vance banteringly.
"You've proved conclusively-or, rather, you've
demonstrated legally-that no one could have en-
tered or departed from this apartment last night;
and, as you've often told me, a court of law must
decide all matters, not in accord with the known or
suspected facts, but according to the evidence; and
the evidence in this case would prove a sound alibi
for every corporeal being extant. And yet, it's not
exactly tenable, d' ye see, that the lady strangled
herself. If only it had been poison, what an exquisite
'and satisfyin' suicide case you'd have! . . . Most
inconsiderate of her homicidal visitor not to have
used arsenic instead of his hands!"
“Well, he strangled her," pronounced Heath.
"Furthermore, I'll lay my money on the fellow who
called here last night at half past nine and couldn't
get in. He's the bird I want to talk to."
"Indeed?" Vance produced another cigarette.
THE INVISIBLE MURDERER
83
"I shouldn't say, to judge from our description of
him, that his conversation would prove particularly
fascinatin"."
An ugly light came into Heath's eyes.
"We've got ways," he said through his teeth, "of
getting damn interesting conversation outa people
who haven't no great reputation for repartee."
Vance sighed. "How the Four Hundred needs
you, my Sergeant!"
Markham looked at his watch.
"I've got pressing work at the office," he said,
"and all this talk isn't getting us anywhere." He
put his hand on Heath's shoulder. "I leave you to
go ahead. This afternoon I'll have these people
brought down to my office for another questioning
-maybe I can jog their memories a bit. . . . You've
got some line of investigation planned?"
"The usual routine,” replied Heath drearily. “I'll
go through Odell's papers, and I'll have three or
four of my men check up on her."
"You'd better get after the Yellow Taxicab Com-
pany right away," Markham suggested. "Find out,
if you can, who the man was who left here at half
past eleven last night, and where he went."
"Do you imagine for one moment," asked Vance,'
"that if this man knew anything about the murder,
he would have stopped in the hall and asked the
operator to call a taxi for him?"
"Oh, I don't look for much in that direction."
Markham's tone was almost listless. "But the girl
may have said something to him that'll give us a
lead."
Vance shook his head facetiously. "O welcome
84
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope, thou hovering
angel, girt with golden wings!"
Markham was in no mood for chaffing. He turned
to Heath, and spoke with forced cheeriness.
"Call me up later this afternoon. I may get some
new evidence out of the outfit we've just interviewed.
And," he added, "be sure to put a man on
guard here. I want this apartment kept just as it
is until we see a little more light."
"I'll attend to that," Heath assured him.
Markham and Vance and I went out and entered
the car. A few minutes later we were winding rap-
idly across town through Central Park.
"Recall our recent conversazione about footprints
in the snow?" asked Vance, as we emerged into Fifth
Avenue and headed south.
Markham nodded abstractedly.
"As I remember," mused Vance, "in the hypo-
thetical case you presented there were not only foot-
prints but a dozen or more witnesses-including a
youthful prodigy-who saw a figure of some kind
cross the hibernal landscape.
Grau, teurer
· ·
Freund, ist alle Theorie! Here you are in a most
beastly pother because of the disheartenin' fact that
there are neither footprints in the snow nor witnesses
who saw a fleeing figure. In short, you are bereft of
both direct and circumstantial evidence. . . . Sad,
sad."
He wagged his head dolefully.
"Y' know, Markham, it appears to me that the
testimony in this case constitutes conclusive legal
proof that no one could have been with the deceased
THE INVISIBLE MURDERER
85
at the hour of her passing, and that, ergo, she is pre-
sumably alive. The strangled body of the lady is,
I take it, simply an irrelevant circumstance from
the standpoint of legal procedure. I know that you
learned lawyers won't admit a murder without a
body; but how, in sweet Heaven's name, do you get
around a corpus delicti without a murder?"
"You're talking nonsense Markham rebuked
him, with a show of anger.
"And yet, it's a dis-
"Oh, quite," agreed Vance.
tressin' thing for a lawyer not to have footprints of
some kind, isn't it, old dear? It leaves one so up in
the air."
Suddenly Markham swung round. "You, of course,
don't need footprints, or any other kind of material
clues," he flung at Vance tauntingly. "You have
powers of divination such as are denied ordinary
mortals. If I remember correctly, you informed
me, somewhat grandiloquently, that, knowing the
nature and conditions of a crime, you could lead
me infallibly to the culprit, whether he left foot-
prints or not. You recall that boast? ... Well,
here's a crime, and the perpetrator left no foot-
prints coming or going. Be so good as to end my
suspense by confiding in me who killed the Odell
girl."
Vance's serenity was not ruffled by Markham's
ill-humored challenge. He sat smoking lazily for
several minutes; then he leaned over and flicked his
cigarette ash out of the window.
"Pon my word, Markham," he rejoined evenly,
"I'm half inclined to look into this silly murder. I
86
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
think I'll wait, though, and see whom the nonplussed
Heath turns up with his inquiries."
Markham grunted scoffingly, and sank back on the
cushions.
"Your generosity wrings me," he said.
CHAPTER IX
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
(Tuesday, September 11; afternoon)
On our way down-town that morning we were
delayed for a considerable time in the traffic con-
gestion just north of Madison Square, and Markham
anxiously looked at his watch.
"It's past noon," he said. "I think I'll stop at the
club and have a bite of lunch.
I presume that
eating at this early hour would be too plebeian for so
exquisite a hothouse flower as you."
Vance considered the invitation.
66
'Since you deprived me of my breakfast,” he
decided, "I'll permit you to buy me some eggs
Bénédictine."
A few minutes later we entered the almost empty
grill of the Stuyvesant Club, and took a table near
one of the windows looking southward over the tree-
tops of Madison Square.
Shortly after we had given our order a uniformed
attendant entered and, bowing deferentially at the
District Attorney's elbow, held out an unaddressed
communication sealed in one of the club's envelopes.
Markham read it with an expression of growing curi-
osity, and as he studied the signature a look of mild
surprise came into his eyes. At length he looked up
and nodded to the waiting attendant. Then, excusing
himself, he left us abruptly. It was fully twenty
minutes before he returned.
4
87
88
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
"Funny thing," he said. "That note was from
the man who took the Odell woman to dinner and
the theatre last night. A small world," he
mused. "He's staying here at the club-he's a non-
resident member and makes it his headquarters when
he's in town."
"You know him?" Vance put the question dis-
interestedly.
"I've met him several times-chap named Spots-
woode." Markham seemed perplexed. "He's a man
of family, lives in a country house on Long Island,
and is regarded generally as a highly respectable
member of society-one of the last persons I'd sus-
pect of being mixed up with the Odell girl. But,
according to his own confession, he played around
a good deal with her during his visits to New York-
'sowing a few belated wild oats,' as he expressed it—
and last night took her to Francelle's for dinner and
to the Winter Garden afterwards."
"Not my idea of an intellectual, or even edifyin',
evening," commented Vance. "And he selected a
deuced unlucky day for it. . . . I say, imagine
opening the morning paper and learning that your
petite dame of the preceding evening had been
strangled! Disconcertin', what?"
"He's certainly disconcerted," said Markham.
"The early afternoon papers were out about an hour
ago, and he'd been phoning my office every ten min-
utes, when I suddenly walked in here. He's afraid
his connection with the girl will leak out and dis-
grace him."
"And won't it?"
"I hardly see the necessity. No one knows who
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
89
her escort was last evening; and since he obviously
had nothing to do with the crime, what's to be gained
by dragging him into it? He told me the whole
story, and offered to stay in the city as long as I
wanted him to."
"I infer, from the cloud of disappointment that
enveloped you when you returned just now, that his
story held nothing hopeful for you in the way of
clues."
"No," Markham admitted. "The girl apparently
never spoke to him of her intimate affairs; and he
couldn't give me a single helpful suggestion. His
account of what happened last night agreed per-
fectly with Jessup's. He called for the girl at seven,
brought her home at about eleven, stayed with her
half an hour or so, and then left her. When he heard
her call for help he was frightened, but on being
assured by her there was nothing wrong, he concluded
she had dozed off into a nightmare, and thought no
more of it. He drove direct to the club here, arriving
about ten minutes to twelve. Judge Redfern, who
saw him descend from the taxi, insisted on his coming
up-stairs and playing poker with some men who were
waiting in the Judge's rooms for him. They played
until three o'clock this morning."
"Your Long Island Don Juan has certainly not
supplied you with any footprints in the snow."
66
'Anyway, his coming forward at this time closes
one line of inquiry over which we might have wasted
considerable time."
"If many more lines of inquiry are closed," re-
marked Vance dryly, "you'll be in a distressin'
dilemma, don't y' know."
90
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"There are enough still open to keep me busy,"
said Markham, pushing back his plate and calling
for the check. He rose; then pausing, regarded Vance
meditatingly. "Are you sufficiently interested to
want to come along?"
"Eh, what? My word! . . . Charmed, I'm sure.
But, I say, sit down just a moment-there's a good
fellow!-till I finish my coffee."
I was considerably astonished at Vance's ready
acceptance, careless and bantering though it was,
for there was an exhibition of old Chinese prints at
the Montross Galleries that afternoon, which he had
planned to attend. A Riokai and a Moyeki, said to
be very fine examples of Sung painting, were to be
shown; and Vance was particularly eager to acquire
them for his collection.
We rode with Markham to the Criminal Courts
building and, entering by the Franklin Street door,
took the private elevator to the District Attorney's
spacious but dingy private office which overlooked
the gray-stone ramparts of the Tombs. Vance seated
himself in one of the heavy leather-upholstered chairs
near the carved oak table on the right of the desk,
and lighted a cigarette with an air of cynical amuse-
ment.
"I await with anticipat❜ry delight the grinding of
the wheels of justice," he confided, leaning back
lazily.
"You are doomed not to hear the first turn of those
wheels," retorted Markham. "The initial revolution
will take place outside of this office." And he disap-
peared through a swinging door which led to the
judges' chambers.
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
91
Five minutes later he returned, and sat down in
the high-backed swivel chair at his desk, with his
back to the four tall narrow windows in the south
wall of the office.
"I just saw Judge Redfern," he explained-“it
happened to be the midday recess-and he verified
Spotswoode's statement in regard to the poker game.
The Judge met him outside of the club at ten minutes
before midnight, and was with him until three in the
morning. He noted the time because he had prom-
ised his guests to be back at half past eleven, and
was twenty minutes late."
"Why all this substantiation of an obviously un-
important fact?" asked Vance.
"A matter of routine," Markham told him, slightly
impatient. "In a case of this kind every factor,
however seemingly remote to the main issue, must
be checked."
"Really, y' know, Markham"-Vance laid his head
back on the chair and gazed dreamily at the ceiling-
"one would think that this eternal routine, which you
lawyer chaps worship so devoutly, actually got one
somewhere occasionally; whereas it never gets one
anywhere. Remember the Red Queen in 'Through
the Looking-Glass-
"I'm too busy at present to debate the question
of routine versus inspiration," Markham answered
brusquely, pressing a button beneath the edge of
his desk.
Swacker, his youthful and energetic secretary,
appeared at the door which communicated with a
narrow inner chamber between the District At-
torney's office and the main waiting-room.
92
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Yes, Chief?" The secretary's eyes gleamed ex-
pectantly behind his enormous horn-rimmed glasses.
"Tell Ben to send me in a man at once.
"" *
Swacker went out through the corridor door, and
a minute or two later a suave, rotund man, dressed
immaculately and wearing a pince-nez, entered, and
stood before Markham with an ingratiating smile.
"Morning, Tracy." Markham's tone was pleasant
but curt. "Here's a list of four witnesses in connec-
tion with the Odell case that I want brought down
here at once-the two phone operators, the maid, and
the janitor. You'll find them at 184 West 71st Street:
Sergeant Heath is holding them there.”
"Right, sir." Tracy took the memorandum, and
with a priggish, but by no means inelegant, bow went
out.
During the next hour Markham plunged into the
general work that had accumulated during the fore-
noon, and I was amazed at the man's tremendous
vitality and efficiency. He disposed of as many im-
portant matters as would have occupied the ordinary
business man for an entire day. Swacker bobbed in
and out with electric energy, and various clerks ap-
peared at the touch of a buzzer, took their orders,
and were gone with breathless rapidity. Vance, who
had sought diversion in a tome of famous arson trials,
looked up admiringly from time to time, and shook
his head in mild reproach at such spirited activity.
It was just half past two when Swacker announced
the return of Tracy with the four witnesses; and for
two hours Markham questioned and cross-questioned
* "Ben" was Colonel Benjamin Hanlon, the commanding officer of
the Detective Division attached to the District Attorney's office.
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
93
them with a thoroughness and an insight that even I,
as a lawyer, had rarely seen equalled. His interroga-
tion of the two phone operators was quite different
from his casual questioning of them earlier in the day;
and if there had been a single relevant omission in
their former testimony, it would certainly have been
caught now by Markham's gruelling catechism.
But when, at last, they were told they could go, no
new information had been brought to light. Their
stories now stood firmly grounded: no one-with
the exception of the girl herself and her escort, and
the disappointed visitor at half past nine-had
entered the front door and passed down the hall to
the Odell apartment from seven o'clock on; and no
one had passed out that way. The janitor reiterated
stubbornly that he had bolted the side door a little
after six, and no amount of wheedling or aggression
could shake his dogged certainty on that point. Amy
Gibson, the maid, could add nothing to her former
testimony. Markham's intensive examination of her
produced only repetitions of what she had already
told him.
Not one new possibility—not one new suggestion—
was brought out. In fact, the two hours' interlocu-
tory proceedings resulted only in closing up every
loophole in a seemingly incredible situation. When,
at half past four, Markham sat back in his chair with
a weary sigh, the chance of unearthing a promising
means of approach to the astonishing problem seemed
more remote than ever.
Vance closed his treatise on arson, and threw away
his cigarette.
"I tell you, Markham old chap," he grinned, "this
case requires umbilicular contemplation, not routine.
94
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Why not call in an Egyptian seeress with a flair for
crystal-gazing?"
"If this sort of thing goes on much longer," re-
turned Markham dispiritedly, "I'll be tempted to
take your advice."
Just then Swacker looked in through the door to
say that Inspector Brenner was on the wire. Mark-
ham picked up the telephone receiver, and as he
.listened he jotted down some notes on a pad. When
the call had ended, he turned to Vance.
"You seemed disturbed over the condition of the
steel jewel-case we found in the bedroom. Well, the
expert on burglar tools just called up; and he verifies
his opinion of this morning. The case was pried
open with a specially made cold chisel such as only
a professional burglar would carry or would know
how to use. It had an inch-and-three-eighths
bevelled bit and a one-inch flat handle. It was an
old instrument-there was a peculiar nick in the
blade-and is the same one that was used in a suc-
cessful house-break on upper Park Avenue early last
Does that highly exciting information
ameliorate your anxiety?"
summer.
·
•
"Can't say that it does." Vance had again become
serious and perplexed. "In fact, it makes the situa-
tion still more fantastic. . . . I could see a glimmer
of light-eerie and unearthly, perhaps, but still a
perceptible illumination-in all this murkiness if it
wasn't for that jewel-case and the steel chisel."
Markham was about to answer when Swacker
again looked in and informed him that Sergeant
Heath had arrived and wanted to see him.
Heath's manner was far less depressed than when
we had taken leave of him that morning. He ac-
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
95
cepted the cigar Markham offered him, and seating
himself at the conference table in front of the Dis-
trict Attorney's desk, drew out a battered note-book.
"We've had a little good luck," he began. "Burke
and Emery-two of the men I put on the case-got
a line on Odell at the first place they made inquiries.
From what they learned, she didn't run around with
many men-limited herself to a few live wires, and
played the game with what you'd call finesse. .
The principal one-the man who's been seen most
with her-is Charles Cleaver."
Markham sat up.
"I know Cleaver-if it's the same one."
·
"It's him, all right," declared Heath. "Former
Brooklyn Tax Commissioner; been interested in a
pool-room for pony-betting over in Jersey City ever
since. Hangs out at the Stuyvesant Club, where
he can hobnob with his old Tammany Hall cronies."
"That's the one," nodded Markham. "He's a
kind of professional gay-dog-known as Pop, I
believe."
Vance gazed into space.
"Well, well," he murmured. "So old Pop Cleaver
was also entangled with our subtle and sanguine
Dolores. She certainly couldn't have loved him for
his beaux yeux.”
"I thought, sir," went on Heath, "that, seeing
as how Cleaver is always in and out of the Stuy-
vesant Club, you might ask him some questions
about Odell. He ought to know something."
"Glad to, Sergeant." Markham made a note on
his pad. "I'll try to get in touch with him to-night.
Any one else on your list?"
·
96
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"There's a fellow named Mannix-Louis Mannix
-who met Odell when she was in the 'Follies'; but
she chucked him over a year ago, and they haven't
been seen together since. He's got another girl now.
He's the head of the firm of Mannix and Levine, fur
importers, and is one of your night-club rounders-a
heavy spender. But I don't see much use of barking
up that tree-his affair with Odell went cold too
long ago."
"Yes," agreed Markham; "I think we can elimi-
nate him."
"I say, if you keep up this elimination much
longer," observed Vance, “you won't have anything
left but the lady's corpse.
99
"And then, there's the man who took her out last
night,” pursued Heath. "Nobody seems to know his
name-he must've been one of those discreet, careful
old boys. I thought at first he might have been
Cleaver, but the descriptions don't tally. . . . And
by the way, sir, here's a funny thing: when he left
Odell last night he took the taxi down to the Stuy-
vesant Club, and got out there."
...
Markham nodded. "I know all about that, Ser-
geant. And I know who the man was; and it wasn't
Cleaver."
Vance was chuckling.
"The Stuyvesant Club seems to be well in the fore-
front of this case," he said. "I do hope it doesn't
suffer the sad fate of the Knickerbocker Athletic."*
* Vance was here referring to the famous Molineux case, which, in
1898, sounded the death-knell of the old Knickerbocker Athletic Club
at Madison Avenue and 45th Street. But it was commercialism that
ended the Stuyvesant's career. This club, which stood on the north side of
Madison Square, was razed a few years later to make room for a skyscraper.
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
97
Heath was intent on the main issue.
"Who was the man, Mr. Markham ?"
Markham hesitated, as if pondering the advisa-
bility of taking the other into his confidence. Then
he said: "I'll tell you his name, but in strict confi-
dence. The man was Kenneth Spotswoode."
He then recounted the story of his being called
away from lunch, and of his failure to elicit any help-
ful suggestions from Spotswoode. He also informed
Heath of his verification of the man's statements
regarding his movements after meeting Judge Red-
fern at the club.
"And," added Markham, "since he obviously left
the girl before she was murdered, there's no necessity
to bother him. In fact, I gave him my word I'd keep
him out of it for his family's sake."
"If you're satisfied, sir, I am." Heath closed his
note-book and put it away. "There's just one other
little thing. Odell used to live on 110th Street, and
Emery dug up her former landlady and learned that
this fancy guy the maid told us about used to call on
her regularly."
"That reminds me, Sergeant." Markham picked
up the memorandum he had made during Inspector
Brenner's phone call. "Here's some data the Pro-
fessor gave me about the forcing of the jewel-case."
Heath studied the paper with considerable eager-
ness. "Just as I thought!" He nodded his head with
satisfaction. "Clear-cut professional job, by some-
body who's been in the line of work before."
Vance roused himself.
"Still, if such is the case," he said, "why did this
experienced burglar first use the insufficient poker?
98
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
And why did he overlook the living-room clothes-
press?"
"I'll find all that out, Mr. Vance, when I get my
hands on him," asserted Heath, with a hard look in
his eyes. "And the guy I want to have a nice quiet
little chat with is the one with the pleated silk shirt
and the chamois gloves."
"Chacun à son goût,” sighed Vance. "For myself,
I have no yearning whatever to hold converse with
him. Somehow, I can't just picture a professional
looter trying to rend a steel box with a cast-iron
poker."
"Forget the poker," Heath advised gruffly. "He
jimmied the box with a steel chisel; and that same
chisel was used last summer in another burglary on
Park Avenue. What about that?"
"Ah! That's what torments me, Sergeant. If it
wasn't for that disturbin' fact, d' ye see, I'd be light-
some and sans souci this afternoon, inviting my soul
over a dish of tea at Claremont."
Detective Bellamy was announced, and Heath
sprang to his feet.
"That'll mean news about those finger-prints," he
prophesied hopefully.
Bellamy entered unemotionally, and walked up to
the District Attorney's desk.
"Cap'n Dubois sent me over," he said. "He
thought you'd want the report on those Odell prints."
He reached into his pocket and drew out a small flat
folder which, at a sign from Markham, he handed to
Heath. "We identified 'em. Both made by the same
hand, like Cap'n Dubois said; and that hand be-
longed to Tony Skeel."
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
99
"Dude' Skeel, eh?" The Sergeant's tone was
vibrant with suppressed excitement. "Say, Mr.
Markham, that gets us somewhere. Skeel's an ex-
convict and an artist in his line.”
He opened the folder and took out an oblong card
and a sheet of blue paper containing eight or ten
lines of typewriting. He studied the card, gave a
satisfied grunt, and handed it to Markham. Vance
and I stepped up and looked at it. At the top was
the familiar rogues'-gallery photograph showing the
full face and profile of a regular-featured youth with
thick hair and a square chin. His eyes were wide-set
and pale, and he wore a small, evenly trimmed mous-
tache with waxed, needle-point ends. Below the
double photograph was a brief tabulated description
of its sitter, giving his name, aliases, residence, and
Bertillon measurements, and designating the char-
acter of his illegal profession. Underneath were ten
little squares arranged in two rows, each containing
a finger-print impression made in black ink-the
upper row being the impressions of the right hand,
the lower row those of the left.
"So that's the arbiter elegantiarum who introduced
the silk shirt for full-dress wear! My word!" Vance
regarded the identification card satirically. "I wish
he'd start a craze for gaiters with dinner-jackets-
these New York theatres are frightfully drafty in
winter."
Heath put the card back in the folder, and glanced
over the typewritten paper that had accompanied it.
"He's our man, and no mistake, Mr. Markham.
Listen to this: "Tony (Dude) Skeel. Two years El-
mira Reformatory, 1902 to 1904. One year in the
100
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Baltimore County jail for petit larceny, 1906. Three
years in San Quentin for assault and robbery, 1908
to 1911. Arrested Chicago for house-breaking, 1912;
case dismissed. Arrested and tried for burglary in
Albany, 1913; no conviction. Served two years and
eight months in Sing Sing for house-breaking and
burglary, 1914 to 1916."" He folded the paper and
put it, with the card, into his breast-pocket. "Sweet
little record.”
"That dope what you wanted?" asked the imper-
turbable Bellamy.
"I'll say!" Heath was almost jovial.
Bellamy lingered expectantly with one eye on the
District Attorney; and Markham, as if suddenly
remembering something, took out a box of cigars
and held it out.
"Much obliged, sir," said Bellamy, helping him-
self to two Mi Favoritas; and putting them into his
waistcoat pocket with great care, he went out.
"I'll use your phone now, if you don't mind, Mr.
Markham," said Heath.
He called the Homicide Bureau.
"Look up Tony Skeel-Dude Skeel-pronto, and
bring him in as soon as you find him," were his
orders to Snitkin. "Get his address from the files,
and take Burke and Emery with you. If he's hopped
it, send out a general alarm and have him picked up-
some of the boys'll have a line on him. Lock him up
without booking him, see? . . . And, listen. Search
his room for burglar tools: he probably won't have
any laying around, but I specially want a one-and-
three-eighths-inch chisel with a nick in the blade....
I'll be at Headquarters in half an hour."
THE PACK IN FULL CRY
101
He hung up the receiver and rubbed his hands to-
gether.
"Now we're sailing," he rejoiced.
Vance had gone to the window, and stood staring
down on the "Bridge of Sighs," his hands thrust
deep into his pockets. Slowly he turned, and fixed
Heath with a contemplative eye.
"It simply won't do, don't y' know," he asserted.
"Your friend, the Dude, may have ripped open that
bally box, but his head isn't the right shape for the
rest of last evening's performance.
Heath was contemptuous.
""
"Not being a phrenologist, I'm going by the shape
of his finger-prints."
"A woeful error in the technic of criminal approach,
sergente mio," replied Vance dulcetly. "The question
of culpability in this case isn't so simple as you
imagine. It's deuced complicated. And this glass of
fashion and mould of form whose portrait you're
carryin' next to your heart has merely added to its
intricacy."
CHAPTER X
A FORCED INTERVIEW
(Tuesday, September 11; 8 p. m.)
Markham dined at the Stuyvesant Club, as was
his custom, and at his invitation Vance and I re-
mained with him. He no doubt figured that our
presence at the dinner-table would act as a bulwark
against the intrusion of casual acquaintances; for he
was in no mood for the pleasantries of the curious.
Rain had begun to fall late in the afternoon, and when
dinner was over it had turned into a steady downpour
which threatened to last well into the night. Dinner
over, the three of us sought a secluded corner of the
lounge-room, and settled ourselves for a protracted
smoke.
We had been there less than a quarter of an hour
when a slightly rotund man, with a heavy, florid
face and thin gray hair, strolled up to us with a
stealthy, self-assured gait, and wished Markham a
jovial good evening. Though I had not met the new-
comer I knew him to be Charles Cleaver.
"Got your note at the desk saying you wanted to
see me." He spoke with a voice curiously gentle for
a man of his size; but, for all its gentleness, there was
in it a timbre of calculation and coldness.
Markham rose and, after shaking hands, intro-
duced him to Vance and me-though, it seemed,
Vance had known him slightly for some time. He
102
A FORCED INTERVIEW
103
took the chair Markham indicated, and, producing a
Corona Corona, he carefully cut the end with a gold
clipper attached to his heavy watch-chain, rolled the
cigar between his lips to dampen it, and lighted it in
closely cupped hands.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr. Cleaver," began
Markham, "but, as you probably have read, a young
woman by the name of Margaret Odell was murdered
last night in her apartment in 71st Street. ..
He paused. He seemed to be considering just how
he could best broach a subject so obviously delicate;
and perhaps he hoped that Cleaver would volunteer
the fact of his acquaintance with the girl. But not a
muscle of the man's face moved; and, after a moment,
Markham continued.
"In making inquiries into the young woman's life
I learned that you, among others, were fairly well
acquainted with her."
Again he paused. Cleaver lifted his eyebrows al-
most imperceptibly, but said nothing.
"The fact is," went on Markham, a trifle annoyed
by the other's deliberately circumspect attitude, “my
report states that you were seen with her on many
occasions during a period of nearly two years. In-
deed, the only inference to be drawn from what I've
learned is that you were more than casually interested
in Miss Odell."
"Yes?" The query was as non-committal as it
was gentle.
"Yes," repeated Markham. "And I may add,
Mr. Cleaver, that this is not the time for pretenses or
suppressions. I am talking to you to-night, in large
measure ex officio, because it occurred to me that you
104
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
could give me some assistance in clearing the matter
up. I think it only fair to say that a certain man is
now under grave suspicion, and we hope to arrest
him very soon. But, in any event, we will need help,
and that is why I requested this little chat with you
at the club."
"And how can I assist you?" Cleaver's face re-
mained blank; only his lips moved as he put the
question.
"Knowing this young woman as well as you did,”
explained Markham patiently, "you are no doubt in
possession of some information-certain facts or
confidences, let us say—which would throw light on
her brutal, and apparently unexpected, murder."
Cleaver was silent for some time. His eyes had
shifted to the wall before him, but otherwise his
features remained set.
"I'm afraid I can't accommodate you," he said at
length.
"Your attitude is not quite what might be expected
in one whose conscience is entirely clear," returned
Markham, with a show of resentment.
The man turned a mildly inquisitive gaze upon the
District Attorney.
"What has my knowing the girl to do with her
being murdered? She didn't confide in me who her
murderer was to be. She didn't even tell me that
she knew any one who intended to strangle her. If
she'd known, she most likely could have avoided
being murdered."
Vance was sitting close to me, a little removed
from the others, and, leaning over, murmured in my
ear sotto voce:
A FORCED INTERVIEW
105
"Markham's up against another lawyer-poor
dear!... A crumplin' situation."
But however inauspiciously this interlocutory
skirmish may have begun, it soon developed into a
grim combat which ended in Cleaver's complete sur-
render. Markham, despite his suavity and gracious-
ness, was an unrelenting and resourceful antagonist;
and it was not long before he had forced from Cleaver
some highly significant information.
In response to the man's ironically evasive re-
joinder, he turned quickly and leaned forward.
"You're not on the witness-stand in your own de-
fense, Mr. Cleaver," he said sharply, "however much
you appear to regard yourself as eligible for that
position."
Cleaver glared back fixedly without replying; and
Markham, his eyelids level, studied the man opposite,
determined to decipher all he could from the other's
phlegmatic countenance. But Cleaver was appar-
ently just as determined that his vis-à-vis should
decipher absolutely nothing; and the features that
met Markham's scrutiny were as arid as a desert.
At length Markham sank back in his chair.
"It doesn't matter particularly," he remarked
indifferently, "whether you discuss the matter or
not here in the club to-night. If you prefer to be
brought to my office in the morning by a sheriff with a
subpoena, I'll be only too glad to accommodate you.'
"That's up to you," Cleaver told him hostilely.
"And what's printed in the newspapers about it
will be up to the reporters," rejoined Markham.
"I'll explain the situation to them and give them a
verbatim report of the interview."
106
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"But I've nothing to tell you." The other's tone
was suddenly conciliatory; the idea of publicity was
evidently highly distasteful to him.
"So you informed me before," said Markham
coldly. "Therefore I wish you good evening."
He turned to Vance and me with the air of a man
who had terminated an unpleasant episode.
Cleaver, however, made no move to go. He smoked
thoughtfully for a minute or two; then he gave a
short, hard laugh which did not even disturb the
contours of his face.
"Oh, hell!" he grumbled, with forced good nature.
"As you said, I'm not on the witness-stand. . . .
What do you want to know?"
"I've told you the situation." Markham's voice
betrayed a curious irritation. "You know the sort of
thing I want. How did this Odell girl live? Who
were her intimates? Who would have been likely to
want her out of the way? What enemies had she?-
Anything that might lead us to an explanation of her
death. . . . And incidentally," he added with tart-
ness, "anything that'll eliminate yourself from any
suspected participation, direct or indirect, in the
affair."
Cleaver stiffened at these last words, and started
to protest indignantly. But immediately he changed
his tactics. Smiling contemptuously, he took out a
leather pocket-case and, extracting a small folded
paper, handed it to Markham.
"I can eliminate myself easily enough," he pro-
claimed, with easy confidence. "There's a speeding
summons from Boonton, New Jersey. Note the date
and the time: September the 10th-last night—at
A FORCED INTERVIEW
107
half past eleven. Was driving down to Hopatcong,
and was ticketed by a motorcycle cop just as I had
passed Boonton and was heading for Mountain
Lakes. Got to appear in court there to-morrow morn-
ing. Damn nuisance, these country constables."
He gave Markham a long, calculating look. "You
couldn't square it for me, could you? It's a rotten
ride to Jersey, and I've got a lot to do to-morrow.'
""
Markham, who had inspected the summons casu-
ally, put it in his pocket.
"I'll attend to it for you," he promised, smiling
amiably. "Now tell me what you know."
Cleaver puffed meditatively on his cigar. Then,
leaning back and crossing his knees, he spoke with
apparent candor.
"I doubt if I know much that'll help you. . . . I
liked the Canary, as she was called-in fact, was
pretty much attached to her at one time. Did a
number of foolish things; wrote her a lot of damn-
fool letters when I went to Cuba last year. Even had
my picture taken with her down at Atlantic City."
He made a self-condemnatory grimace. "Then
she began to get cool and distant; broke several
appointments with me. I raised the devil with
her, but the only answer I got was a demand for
money.
· •
•
""
He stopped and looked down at his cigar ash. A
venomous hatred gleamed from his narrowed eyes,
and the muscles of his jowls hardened.
"No use lying about it. She had those letters and
things, and she touched me for a neat little sum be-
fore I got 'em back...
"When was this?"
108
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
There was a momentary hesitation. "Last June,"
Cleaver replied. Then he hurried on: "Mr. Mark-
ham"-his voice was bitter-"I don't want to throw
mud on a dead person; but that woman was the
shrewdest, coldest-blooded blackmailer it's ever been
my misfortune to meet. And I'll say this, too: I
wasn't the only easy mark she squeezed. She had
others on her string. I happen to know she once
dug into old Louey Mannix for a plenty-he told
me about it.”
•
"Could you give me the names of any of these
other men?" asked Markham, attempting to dis-
semble his eagerness. "I've already heard of the
Mannix episode.'
"No, I couldn't." Cleaver spoke regretfully.
"I've seen the Canary here and there with different
men; and there's one in particular I've noticed lately.
But they were all strangers to me."
"I suppose the Mannix affair is dead and buried
by this time?"
"Yes-ancient history. You won't get any line
on the situation from that angle. But there are
others—more recent than Mannix-who might bear
looking into, if you could find them. I'm easy-going
myself; take things as they come. But there's a lot
of men who'd go red-headed if she did the things to
them that she did to me."
Cleaver, despite his confession, did not strike me
as easy-going, but rather as a cold, self-contained,
nerveless person whose immobility was at all times
dictated by policy and expediency.
Markham studied him closely.
"You think, then, her death may have been due
A FORCED INTERVIEW
109
to vengeance on the part of some disillusioned ad-
mirer?”
Cleaver carefully considered his answer.
"Seems reasonable," he said finally. "She was
riding for a fall."
There was a short silence; then Markham asked:
"Do you happen to know of a young man she was
interested in-good-looking, small, blond moustache,
light blue eyes-named Skeel?”
Cleaver snorted derisively.
"That wasn't the Canary's specialty-she let the
young ones alone, as far as I know."
At this moment a page-boy approached Cleaver,
and bowed.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a phone call
for your brother. Party said it was important and,
as your brother isn't in the club now, the operator
thought you might know where he'd gone.'
99
"How would I know?" fumed Cleaver. "Don't
ever bother me with his calls."
"Your brother in the city?" asked Markham
casually. "I met him years ago. He's a San Fran-
ciscan, isn't he?"
"Yes-rabid Californian. He's visiting New York
for a couple of weeks so he'll appreciate Frisco more
when he gets back.'
99
It seemed to me that this information was given
reluctantly; and I got the impression that Cleaver,
for some reason, was annoyed. But Markham,
apparently, was too absorbed in the problem before
him to take notice of the other's disgruntled air,
for he reverted at once to the subject of the murder.
"I happen to know one man who has been inter-
110
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
ested in the Odell woman recently; he may be the
same one you've seen her with-tall, about forty-
five, and wears a gray, close-cropped moustache."
(He was, I knew, describing Spotswoode.)
99
"That's the man," averred Cleaver. "Saw them
together only last week at Mouquin's.
Markham was disappointed.
"Unfortunately, he's checked off the list.
•
But there must be somebody who was in the girl's
confidence. You're sure you couldn't cudgel your
brains to any advantage?"
Cleaver appeared to think.
"If it's merely a question of some one who had
her confidence," he said, "I might suggest Doctor
Lindquist first name's Ambroise, I think; and he
lives somewhere in the Forties near Lexington
Avenue. But I don't know that he'd be of any value
to you. Still, he was pretty close to her at one time."
"You mean that this Doctor Lindquist might have
been interested in her otherwise than professionally?"
"I wouldn't like to say." Cleaver smoked for a
while as if inwardly debating the situation. "Any-
way, here are the facts: Lindquist is one of these ex-
clusive society specialists-a neurologist he calls
himself and I believe he's the head of a private
sanitarium of some kind for nervous women. He
must have money, and, of course, his social standing
is a vital asset to him-just the sort of man the
Canary might have selected as a source of income.
And I know this: he came to see her a good deal
oftener than a doctor of his type would be apt to.
I ran into him one night at her apartment, and when
she introduced us, he wasn't even civil."
A FORCED INTERVIEW
111
"It will at least bear looking into,” replied Mark-
ham unenthusiastically. "You've no one else in
mind who might know something helpful?"
Cleaver shook his head.
"No-no one.
""
"And she never mentioned anything to you that
indicated she was in fear of any one, or anticipated
trouble?"
"Not a word. Fact is, I was bowled over by the
news. I never read any paper but the morning
Herald-except, of course, The Daily Racing Form at
night. And as there was no account of the murder
in this morning's paper, I didn't hear about it until
just before dinner. The boys in the billiard-room
were talking about it, and I went out and looked at
an afternoon paper. If it hadn't been for that, I
might not have known of it till to-morrow morning.
""
Markham discussed the case with him until half
past eight, but could elicit no further suggestions.
Finally Cleaver rose to go.
"Sorry I couldn't give you more help," he said.
His rubicund face was beaming now, and he shook
hands with Markham in the friendliest fashion.
"You wangled that viscid old sport rather cleverly,
don't y' know," remarked Vance, when Cleaver had
gone. "But there's something deuced queer about
him. The transition from his gambler's glassy stare
to his garrulous confidences was too sudden—sus-
piciously sudden, in fact. I may be evil-minded, but
he didn't impress me as a luminous pillar of truth.
Maybe it's because I don't like those cold, boiled
eyes of his somehow they didn't harmonize with his
gushing imitation of open-hearted frankness."
112
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
"We can allow him something for his embarrassing
position," suggested Markham charitably. "It isn't
exactly pleasant to admit having been taken in and
blackmailed by a charmer."
"Still, if he got his letters back in June, why did
he continue paying court to the lady? Heath re-
ported he was active in that sector right up to the
end."
"He may be the complete amorist," smiled
Markham.
"Some like Abra, what?—
'Abra was ready ere I call'd her name;
And, though I call'd another, Abra came.'
Maybe-yes. He might qualify as a modern Cayley
Drummle."
"At any rate, he gave us, in Doctor Lindquist, a
possible source of information."
"Quite so," agreed Vance. "And that's about the
only point of his whole passionate unfoldment that I
particularly put any stock in, because it was the only
point he indicated with any decent reticence.
My advice is that you interview this Esculapius of
the fair sex without further delay."
"I'm dog-tired," objected Markham. "Let it
wait till to-morrow."
Vance glanced at the great clock over the stone
mantel.
"It's latish, I'll admit, but why not, as Pittacus
advised, seize time by the forelock?
'Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find:
Occasion once past by, is bald behind.'
A FORCED INTERVIEW
113
But the elder Cato anticipated Cowley. In his
'Disticha de Moribus' he wrote: Fronte capillata"
"Come!" pleaded Markham, rising. "Anything
to dam this flow of erudition."
CHAPTER XI
SEEKING INFORMATION
(Tuesday, September 11; 9 p. m.)
Ten minutes later we were ringing the bell of a
stately old brownstone house in East 44th Street.
A resplendently caparisoned butler opened the
door, and Markham presented his card.
"Take this to the doctor at once, and say that it's
urgent."
"The doctor is just finishing dinner," the stately
seneschal informed him; and conducted us into a
richly furnished reception-room, with deep com-
fortable chairs, silken draperies, and subdued lights.
"A typical gynecologist's seraglio," observed
Vance, looking around. "I'm sure the pasha himself
is a majestic and elegant personage.'
The prediction proved true. Doctor Lindquist
entered the room a moment later inspecting the
District Attorney's card as if it had been a cuneiform
inscription whose import he could not quite decipher.
He was a tall man in his late forties, with bushy hair
and eyebrows, and a complexion abnormally pale.
His face was long, and, despite the asymmetry of
his features, he might easily have been called hand-
some. He was in dinner clothes, and he carried him-
self with the self-conscious precision of a man unduly
impressed with his own importance. He seated him-
114
SEEKING INFORMATION
115
self at a kidney-shaped desk of carved mahogany,
and lifted his eyes with polite inquiry to Markham.
"To what am I indebted for the honor of this
call?" he asked in a studiously melodious voice,
lingering over each word caressingly. "You are
most fortunate to have found me in," he added,
before Markham could speak. "I confer with
patients only by appointment." One felt that he
experienced a certain humiliation at having received
us without elaborate ceremonial preliminaries.
Markham, whose nature was opposed to all cir-
cumlocution and pretense, came direct to the point.
"This isn't a professional consultation, doctor;
but it happens that I want to speak to you about one
of your former patients-a Miss Margaret Odell."
Doctor Lindquist regarded the gold paper-weight
before him with vacantly reminiscent eyes.
"Ah, yes. Miss Odell. I was just reading of her
violent end. A most unfortunate and tragic affair.
In just what way can I be of service to you?-
You understand, of course, that the relationship
between a physician and his patient is one of sacred
confidence-
99
"I understand that thoroughly," Markham as-
sured him abruptly. "On the other hand, it is the
sacred duty of every citizen to assist the authorities
in bringing a murderer to justice. And if there is
anything you can tell me which will help toward that
end, I shall certainly expect you to tell me.'
99
The doctor raised his hand slightly in polite prot-
estation.
"I shall, of course, do all I can to assist you, if you
will but indicate your desires."
116
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"There's no need to beat about the bush, doctor,"
said Markham. "I know that Miss Odell was a
patient of yours for a long time; and I realize that
it is highly possible, not to say probable, that she
told you certain personal things which may have
direct bearing on her death."
"But, my dear Mr. -"-Doctor Lindquist glanced
ostentatiously at the card—“ah—Markham, my re-
lations with Miss Odell were of a purely professional
character."
"I had understood, however," ventured Markham,
"that, while what you say may be technically true,
nevertheless there was an informality, let me say, in
that relationship. Perhaps I may state it better by
saying that your professional attitude transcended a
merely scientific interest in her case."
I heard Vance chuckle softly; and I myself could
hardly suppress a smile at Markham's verbose and
orbicular accusation. But Doctor Lindquist, it
seemed, was in no wise disconcerted. Assuming an
air of beguiling pensiveness, he said:
"I will confess, in the interests of strict accuracy,
that during my somewhat protracted treatment of
her case, I came to regard the young woman with a
certain-shall I say, fatherly liking? But I doubt if
she was even aware of this mild sentiment on my
part."
The corners of Vance's mouth twitched slightly.
He was sitting with drowsy eyes, watching the doctor
with a look of studious amusement.
"And she never at any time told you of any private
or personal affairs that were causing her anxiety?"
persisted Markham.
T
SEEKING INFORMATION
117
Doctor Lindquist pyramided his fingers, and ap-
peared to give the question his undivided thought.
"No, I can't recall a single statement of that
nature." His words were measured and urbane.
"I know, naturally, in a general way, her manner of
living; but the details, you will readily perceive,
were wholly outside my province as a medical con-
sultant. The disorganization of her nerves was due-
so my diagnosis led me to conclude to late hours,
excitement, irregular and rich eating-what, I be-
lieve, is referred to vulgarly as going the pace. The
modern woman, in this febrile age, sir"
"When did you see her last, may I ask?" Mark-
ham interrupted impatiently.
""
The doctor made a pantomime of eloquent surprise.
"When did I see her last? ... Let me see.'
He could, apparently, recall the occasion only with
considerable difficulty. "A fortnight ago, perhaps―
though it may have been longer. I really can't re-
call. . . . Shall I refer to my files?"
"That won't be necessary," said Markham. He
paused, and regarded the doctor with a look of dis-
arming affability. "And was this last visit a pa-
ternal or merely a professional one?”
"Professional, of course." Doctor Lindquist's
eyes were impassive and only mildly interested; but
his face, I felt, was by no means the unedited reflec-
tion of his thoughts.
"Did the meeting take place here or at her apart-
ment?"
"I believe I called on her at her home.”
"You called on her a great deal, doctor-so I am
informed-and at rather unconventional hours.
•
118
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Is this entirely in accord with your practice of seeing
patients only by appointment?"
Markham's tone was pleasant, but from the nature
of his question I knew that he was decidedly irritated
by the man's bland hypocrisy, and felt that he was
deliberatly withholding relevant information.
Before Doctor Lindquist could reply, however, the
butler appeared at the door, and silently indicated
an extension telephone on a taboret beside the desk.
With an unctuously murmured apology, the doctor
turned and lifted the receiver.
Vance took advantage of this opportunity to
scribble something on a piece of paper and pass it
surreptitiously to Markham.
His call completed, Doctor Lindquist drew himself
up haughtily, and faced Markham with chilling scorn.
"Is it the function of the District Attorney," he
asked distantly, "to harass respectable physicians
with insulting questions? I did not know that it was
illegal or even original, for that matter-for a doctor
to visit his patients."
"I am not discussing now"-Markham emphasized
the adverb-"your infractions of the law; but since
you suggest a possibility which, I assure you, was
not in my mind, would you be good enough to tell
me merely as a matter of form-where you were
last night between eleven and twelve?"
The question produced a startling effect. Doctor
Lindquist became suddenly like a tautly drawn rope,
and, rising slowly and stiffly, he glared, with cold in-
tense venom, at the District Attorney. His velvety
mask had fallen off; and I detected another emotion
beneath his repressed anger: his expression cloaked
SEEKING INFORMATION
119
a fear, and his wrath but partly veiled a passionate
uncertainty.
"My whereabouts last night is no concern of
." He spoke with great effort, his breath com-
ing and going noisily.
yours.
Markham waited, apparently unmoved, his eyes
riveted on the trembling man before him. This calm
scrutiny completely broken down the other's self-
control.
"What do you mean by forcing yourself in here
with your contemptible insinuations?" he shouted.
His face, now livid and mottled, was hideously con-
torted; his hands made spasmodic movements; and
his whole body shook as with a tremor. "Get out
of here you and your two myrmidons! Get out,
before I have you thrown out!"
Markham, himself enraged now, was about to
reply, when Vance took him by the arm.
"The doctor is gently hinting that we go,” he said.
And with amazing swiftness he spun Markham
round, and led him firmly out of the room.
When we were again in the taxicab on our way
back to the club, Vance sniggered gaily.
"A sweet specimen, that! Paranoia. Or, more
likely, manic-depressive insanity-the folie circu-
laire type: recurring periods of maniacal excitement
alternating with periods of the clearest sanity, don't
y' know. Anyway, the doctor's disorder belongs in
the category of psychoses-associated with the mat-
uration or waning of the sexual instinct. He's just
the right age, too. Neurotic degenerate-that's
what this oily Hippocrates is. In another minute
he would have attacked you. . . . My word! It's
120
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
a good thing I came to the rescue. Such chaps are
about as safe as rattlesnakes."
He shook his head in a mock discouragement.
"Really, y' know, Markham, old thing," he added,
"you should study the cranial indications of your
fellow man more carefully-vultus est index animi.
Did you, by any chance, note the gentleman's wide
rectangular forehead, his irregular eyebrows, and
pale luminous eyes, and his outstanding ears with
their thin upper rims, their pointed tragi and split
lobes? . . . A clever devil, this Ambroise-but a
moral imbecile. Beware of those pseudo-pyriform
faces, Markham; leave their Apollonian Greek sug-
gestiveness to misunderstood women."
"I wonder what he really knows?" grumbled
Markham irritably.
"Oh, he knows something-rest assured of that!
And if only we knew it, too, we'd be considerably
further along in the investigation. Furthermore, the
information he is hiding is somewhat unpleasantly
connected with himself. His euphoria is a bit shaken.
He frightfully overdid the grand manner; his vale-
dict'ry fulmination was the true expression of his
feeling toward us.'
99
"Yes," agreed Markham. "That question about
last night acted like a petard. What prompted you
to suggest my asking it?"
"A number of things his gratuitous and obvi-
ously mendacious statement that he had just read
of the murder; his wholly insincere homily on the
sacredness of professional confidences; the cautious
and Pecksniffian confession of his fatherly regard
for the girl; his elaborate struggle to remember when
SEEKING INFORMATION
121
he had last seen her-this particularly, I think, made
me suspicious; and then, the psychopathic indicants
of his physiognomy."
"Well," admitted Markham, "the question had its
effect. . . . I feel that I shall see this fashionable
M.D. again.
99
"You will," iterated Vance. "We took him una-
wares. But when he has had time to ponder the mat-
ter and concoct an appealin' tale, he'll become down-
right garrulous. . . . Anyhow, the evening is over,
and you can meditate on buttercups till the morrow.
But the evening was not quite over as far as the
Odell case was concerned. We had been back in the
lounge-room of the club but a short time when a man
walked by the corner in which we sat, and bowed with
formal courtesy to Markham. Markham, to my sur-
prise, rose and greeted him, at the same time indi-
cating a chair.
"There's something further I wanted to ask you,
Mr. Spotswoode," he said, "if you can spare a mo-
ment."
At the mention of the name I regarded the man
closely, for, I confess, I was not a little curious about
the anonymous escort who had taken the girl to
dinner and the theatre the night before. Spotswoode
was a typical New England aristocrat, inflexible,
slow in his movements, reserved, and quietly but
modishly dressed. His hair and moustache were
slightly gray-which, no doubt, enhanced the pink-
ness of his complexion. He was just under six feet
tall, and well proportioned, but a trifle angular.
Markham introduced him to Vance and me, and
briefly explained that we were working with him on
122
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
the case, and that he had thought it best to take us
fully into his confidence.
Spotswoode gave him a dubious look, but imme-
diately bowed his acceptance of the decision.
"I'm in your hands, Mr. Markham,” he replied,
in a well-bred but somewhat high-pitched voice,
“and I concur, of course, with whatever you think
advisable." He turned to Vance with an apologetic
smile. "I'm in a rather unpleasant position, and
naturally feel a little sensitive about it."
"I'm something of an antinomian," Vance pleas-
antly informed him. “At any rate, I'm not a mor-
alist; so my attitude in the matter is quite academic."
Spotswoode laughed softly.
"I wish my family held a similar point of view;
but I'm afraid they would not be so tolerant of my
foibles."
"It's only fair to tell you, Mr. Spotswoode," inter-
posed Markham, "that there is a bare possibility I
may have to call you as a witness."
The man looked up quickly, his face clouding
over, but he made no comment.
"The fact is," continued Markham, "we are about
to make an arrest, and your testimony may be
needed to establish the time of Miss Odell's return to
her apartment, and also to substantiate the fact
that there was presumably some one in her rooms
after you had left. Her screams and calls for help,
which you heard, may prove vital evidence in ob-
taining a conviction."
Spotswoode seemed rather appalled at the thought
of his relations with the girl becoming public, and
for several minutes he sat with averted eyes.
SEEKING INFORMATION
123
"I see your point," he acknowledged at length.
"But it would be a terrible thing for me if the fact
of my delinquencies became known.'
99
"That contingency may be entirely avoided,”
Markham encouraged him. "I promise you that you
will not be called upon unless it is absolutely neces-
sary. And now, what I especially wanted to ask
you is this: do you happen to know a Doctor Lind-
quist who, I understand, was Miss Odell's personal
physician?"
·
Spotswoode was frankly puzzled. "I never heard
the name," he answered. "In fact, Miss Odell never
mentioned any doctor to me."
"And did you ever hear her mention the name of
Skeel . . . or refer to any one as Tony?"
"Never." His answer was emphatic.
Markham lapsed into a disappointed silence.
Spotswoode, too, was silent: he sat as if in a revery.
"You know, Mr. Markham," he said, after several
minutes, "I ought to be ashamed to admit it, but the
truth is I cared a good deal for the girl. I suppose
you've kept her apartment intact. . He hesi-
tated, and a look almost of appeal came into his eyes.
"I'd like to see it again if I could.”
""
Markham regarded him sympathetically, but
finally shook his head.
"It wouldn't do. You'd be sure to be recognized by
the operator or there might be a reporter about-
and then I'd be unable to keep you out of the case."
The man appeared disappointed, but did not pro-
test; and for several minutes no one spoke. Then
Vance raised himself slightly in his chair.
"I say, Mr. Spotswoode, do you happen to re-
124
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
member anything unusual occurring last night dur-
ing the half-hour you remained with Miss Odell after
the theatre?"
"Unusual?" The man's manner was eloquent of
his astonishment. "To the contrary. We chatted a
while, and then, as she seemed tired, I said good
night and came away, making a luncheon appoint-
ment with her for to-day."
"And yet, it now seems fairly certain that some
other man was hiding in the apartment when you
were there."
"There's little doubt on that point," agreed Spots-
woode, with the suggestion of a shudder. "And her
screams would seem to indicate that he came forth
from hiding a few minutes after I went."
"And you had no suspicion of the fact when you
heard her call for help?"
“I did at first-naturally. But when she assured
me that nothing was the matter, and told me to go
home, I attributed her screams to a nightmare. I
knew she had been tired, and I had left her in the
wicker chair near the door, from where her screams
seemed to come; so I naturally concluded she had
dozed off and called out in her sleep. . . . If only I
hadn't taken so much for granted!"
"It's a harrowin' situation." Vance was silent for
a while; then he asked: "Did you, by any chance,
notice the door of the living-room closet? Was it
open or closed?"
Spotswoode frowned, as if attempting to visualize
the picture; but the result was a failure.
"I suppose it was closed. I probably would have
noticed it if it had been open."
SEEKING INFORMATION
125
"Then you couldn't say if the key was in the lock
or not?"
"Good Lord, no! I don't even know if it ever had
a key."
The case was discussed for another half-hour; then
Spotswoode excused himself and left us.
"Funny thing," ruminated Markham, "how a man
of his upbringing could be so attracted by the empty-
headed, butterfly type."
99
"I'd say it was quite natural," returned Vance....
"You're such an incorrigible moralist, Markham."
CHAPTER XII
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
(Wednesday, September 12; 9 a. m.)
The following day, which was Wednesday, not
only brought forth an important and, as it appeared,
conclusive development in the Odell case, but marked
the beginning of Vance's active co-operation in the
proceedings. The psychological elements in the
case had appealed to him irresistibly, and he felt,
even at this stage of the investigation, that a final
answer could never be obtained along the usual
police lines. At his request Markham had called for
him at a little before nine o'clock, and we had driven
direct to the District Attorney's office.
Heath was waiting impatiently when we arrived.
His eager and covertly triumphant expression plainly
indicated good news.
"Things are breaking find and dandy," he an-
nounced, when we had sat down. He himself was too
elated to relax, and stood before Markham's desk
rolling a large black cigar between his fingers. "We
got the Dude-six o'clock yesterday evening-and
we got him right. One of the C. O. boys, named
Riley, who was patrolling Sixth Avenue in the Thir-
ties, saw him swing off a surface car and head for
McAnerny's Pawn-Shop. Right away Riley wig-
wags the traffic officer on the corner, and follows the
Dude into McAnerny's. Pretty soon the traffic
126
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
127
officer comes in with a patrolman, who he's picked
up; and the three of 'em nab our stylish friend in the
act of pawning this ring."
He tossed a square solitaire diamond in a filigreed
platinum setting on the District Attorney's desk.
"I was at the office when they brought him in, and
I sent Snitkin with the ring up to Harlem to see
what the maid had to say about it, and she identified
it as belonging to Odell."
"But, I say, it wasn't a part of the bijouterie the
lady was wearing that night, was it, Sergeant ?"
Vance put the question casually.
Heath jerked about and eyed him with sullen
calculation.
"What if it wasn't? It came out of that jimmied
jewel-case or I'm Ben Hur."
"Of course it did," murmured Vance, lapsing into
lethargy.
"And that's where we're in luck," declared Heath,
turning back to Markham. "It connects Skeel di-
rectly with the murder and the robbery."
66
What has Skeel to say about it?" Markham was
leaning forward intently. "I suppose you questioned
him."
"I'll say we did," replied the Sergeant; but his
tone was troubled. "We had him up all night giving
him the works. And the story he tells is this: he says
the girl gave him the ring a week ago, and that he
didn't see her again until the afternoon of day before
yesterday. He came to her apartment between four
and five-you remember the maid said she was out
then-and entered and left the house by the side
door, which was unlocked at that time. He admits he
128
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
called again at half past nine that night, but he says
that when he found she was out, he went straight
home and stayed there. His alibi is that he sat up
with his landlady till after midnight playing Khun
Khan and drinking beer. I hopped up to his place
this morning, and the old girl verified it. But that
don't mean anything. The house he lives in is a
pretty tough hang-out, and this landlady, besides
being a heavy boozer, has been up the river a coupla
times for shoplifting."
"What does Skeel say about the finger-prints?"
"He says, of course, he made 'em when he was
there in the afternoon."
"And the one on the closet door-knob ?"
Heath gave a derisive grunt.
"He's got an answer for that, too-says he thought
he heard some one coming in, and locked himself in
the clothes-closet. Didn't want to be seen and spoil
any game Odell mighta been playing."
"Most considerate of him to keep out of the way
of the belles poires," drawled Vance. "Touchin'
loyalty, what?”
"You don't believe the rat, do you, Mr. Vance?"
asked Heath, with indignant surprise.
"Can't say that I do. But our Antonio at least
spins a consistent yarn."
"Too damn consistent to suit me," growled the
Sergeant.
"That's all you could get out of him?" It was
plain that Markham was not pleased with the results
of Heath's third degree of Skeel.
"That's about all, sir. He stuck to his story like a
leech."
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
129
"You found no chisel in his room?"
Heath admitted that he hadn't.
"But you couldn't expect him to keep it around,'
he added.
99
Markham pondered the facts for several minutes.
"I can't see that we've got a very good case, how-
ever much we may be convinced of Skeel's guilt.
His alibi may be thin, but taken in connection with
the phone operator's testimony, I'm inclined to
think it would hold tight in court.'
""
"What about the ring, sir?" Heath was desper-
ately disappointed. "And what about his threats,
and his finger-prints, and his record of similar burglar-
ies ?"
"Contributory factors only," Markham explained.
"What we need for a murder is more than a prima
facie case. A good criminal lawyer could have him
discharged in twenty minutes, even if I could secure
an indictment. It's not impossible, you know, that
the woman gave him the ring a week ago-you recall
that the maid said he was demanding money from
her about that time. And there's nothing to show
that the finger-prints were not actually made late
Monday afternoon. Moreover, we can't connect him
in any way with the chisel, for we don't know who did
the Park Avenue job last summer. His whole story
fits the facts perfectly; and we haven't anything
contradictory to offer."
Heath shrugged helplessly: all the wind had been
taken out of his sails.
66
'What do you want dɔne with him?” he asked
desolately.
Markham considered-he, too, was discomfited.
130
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Before I answer I think I'll have a go at him
myself."
He pressed a buzzer, and ordered a clerk to fill out
the necessary requisition. When it had been signed in
duplicate, he sent Swacker with it to Ben Hanlon.
"Do ask him about those silk shirts," suggested
Vance. "And find out, if you can, if he considers a
white waistcoat de rigueur with a dinner-jacket."
"This office isn't a male millinery shop," snapped
Markham.
"But, Markham dear, you won't learn anything
else from this Petronius.'
Ten minutes later a Deputy Sheriff from the Tombs
entered with his handcuffed prisoner.
Skeel's appearance that morning belied his sobri-
quet of Dude. He was haggard and pale: his ordeal
of the previous night had left its imprint upon him.
He was unshaven; his hair was uncombed; the ends
of his moustache drooped; and his cravat was awry.
But despite his bedraggled condition, his manner
was jaunty and contemptuous. He gave Heath a
defiant leer, and faced the District Attorney with
swaggering indifference.
To Markham's questions he doggedly repeated the
same story he had told Heath. He clung tenaciously
to every detail of it with the ready accuracy of a
man who had painstakingly memorized a lesson and
was thoroughly familiar with it. Markham coaxed,
threatened, bullied. All hint of his usual affability
was gone: he was like an inexorable dynamic ma-
chine. But Skeel, whose nerves seemed to be made of
iron, withstood the vicious fire of his cross-question-
ing without wincing; and, I confess, his resistance
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
131
somewhat aroused my admiration despite my revul-
sion toward him and all he stood for.
After half an hour Markham gave up, completely
baffled in his efforts to elicit any damaging admissions
from the man. He was about to dismiss him when
Vance rose languidly and strolled to the District
Attorney's desk. Seating himself on the edge of it,
he regarded Skeel with impersonal curiosity.
"So you're a devotee of Khun Khan, eh?" he re-
marked indifferently. "Silly game, what? More
interestin' than Conquain or Rum, though. Used to
be played in the London clubs. Of East Indian
origin, I believe. . . . You still play it with two
decks, I suppose, and permit round-the-corner mat-
ing?"
An involuntary frown gathered on Skeel's forehead.
He was used to violent district attorneys, and familiar
with the bludgeoning methods of the police, but here
was a type of inquisitor entirely new to him; and it
was plain that he was both puzzled and apprehensive.
He decided to meet this novel antagonist with a smirk
of arrogant amusement.
"By the bye," continued Vance, with no change in
tone, "can any one hidden in the clothes-press of the
Odell living-room see the davenport through the key-
hole?"
Suddenly all trace of a smile was erased from the
man's features.
"And I say," Vance hurried on, his eyes fixed
steadily on the other, "why didn't you give the
alarm?"
I was watching Skeel closely, and, though his set
expression did not alter, I saw the pupils of his eyes
132
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
dilate. Markham, also, I think, noted this phe-
nomenon.
"Don't bother to answer," pursued Vance, as the
man opened his lips to speak. "But tell me: didn't
the sight shake you up a bit?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Skeel
retorted with sullen impertinence. But, for all his
sang-froid, one sensed an uneasiness in his manner.
There was an overtone of effort in his desire to appear
indifferent, which robbed his words of complete
conviction.
"Not a pleasant situation, that." Vance ignored
his retort. "How did you feel, crouching there in the
dark, when the closet door-knob was turned and some
one tried to get in ?" His eyes were boring into the
man, though his voice retained its casual intonation.
The muscles of Skeel's face tightened, but he did
not speak.
"Lucky thing you took the precaution of locking
yourself in-eh, what?" Vance went on. "Suppose
he'd got the door open-my word! Then what?...
99
He paused and smiled with a kind of silky sweet-
ness which was more impressive than any glowering
aggression.
"I say, did you have your steel chisel ready for
him? Maybe he'd have been too quick and strong
for you-maybe there would have been thumbs press-
ing against your larynx too before you could have
struck him—eh? ... Did you think of that, there
in the dark?... No, not precisely a pleasant situa-
tion. A bit gruesome, in fact.”
"What are you raving about?" Skeel spat out in-
solently."You're balmy." But his swagger had
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
!
133
been forgotten, and a look akin of horror had passed
across his face. This slackening of pose was momen-
tary, however; almost at once his smirk returned,
and his head swayed in contempt.
Vance sauntered back to his chair and stretched
himself in it listlessly, as if all his interest in the case
had again evaporated.
Markham had watched the little drama attentively,
but Heath had sat smoking with ill-concealed annoy-
ance. The silence that followed was broken by Skeel.
"Well, I suppose I'm to be railroaded. Got it all
planned, have you? . . . Try and railroad me!" He
laughed harshly. "My lawyer's Abe Rubin, and you
might phone him that I'd like to see him."*
Markham, with a gesture of annoyance, waved to
the Deputy Sheriff to take Skeel back to the Tombs.
"What were you trying to get at?" he asked
Vance, when the man was gone.
"Just an elusive notion in the depths of my being
struggling for the light." Vance smoked placidly a
moment. "I thought Mr. Skeel might be persuaded
to pour out his heart to us. So I wooed him with
words."
"That's just bully," gibed Heath. "I was expect-
ing you any minute to ask him if he played mumbly-
peg or if his grandmother was a hoot-owl."
66
Sergeant, dear Sergeant," pleaded Vance, “don't
be unkind. I simply couldn't endure it. . . .
... And
really, now, didn't my chat with Mr. Skeel suggest
a possibility to you?"
* Abe Rubin was at that time the most resourceful and unscrupulous
criminal lawyer in New York. Since his disbarment two years ago, little
has been heard from him.
134
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Sure," said Heath, "-that he was hiding in the
closet when Odell was killed. But where does that
get us? It lets Skeel out, although the job was a pro-
fessional one, and he was caught red-handed with
some of the swag.
99
He turned disgustedly to the District Attorney.
"And now what, sir?"
"I don't like the look of things," Markham com-
plained. "If Skeel has Abe Rubin to defend him,
we won't stand a chance with the case we've got. I
feel convinced he was mixed up in it; but no judge
will accept my personal feelings as evidence."
"We could turn the Dude loose, and have him
tailed," suggested Heath grudgingly. "We might
catch him doing something that'll give the game
away."
99
Markham considered.
"That might be a good plan," he acceded. "We'll
certainly get no more evidence on him as long as he's
locked up."
"It looks like our only chance, sir."
99
"Very well," agreed Markham. "Let him think
we're through with him: he may get careless. I'll
leave the whole thing to you, Sergeant. Keep a
couple of good men on him day and night. Some-
thing may happen."
Heath rose, an unhappy man.
"Right, sir. I'll attend to it."
"And I'd like to have more data on Charles
Cleaver," added Markham. "Find out what you
can of his relations with the Odell girl.—Also, get me
a line on Doctor Ambroise Lindquist. What's his
history?what are his habits?-you know the kind
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
135
""
of thing. He treated the girl for some mysterious or
imaginary ailment; and I think he has something up
his sleeve. But don't go near him personally—yet.'
Heath jotted the name down in his note-book,
without enthusiasm.
""
"And before you set your stylish captive free,'
put in Vance, yawning, "you might, don't y' know,
see if he carries a key that fits the Odell apartment.'
Heath jerked up short, and grinned.
""
"Now, that idea's got some sense to it.
Funny I didn't think of it myself." And shaking
hands with all of us, he went out.
CHAPTER XIII
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
(Wednesday, September 12; 10.30 a. m.)
Swacker was evidently waiting for an opportunity
to interrupt, for, when Sergeant Heath had passed
through the door, he at once stepped into the room.
"The reporters are here, sir," he announced, with
a wry face. "You said you'd see them at ten-thirty."
In response to a nod from his Chief, he held open
the door, and a dozen or more newspaper men came
trooping in.
"No questions, please, this morning," Markham
begged pleasantly. "It's too early in the game. But
I'll tell you all I know. . . . I agree with Sergeant
Heath that the Odell murder was the work of a pro-
fessional criminal-the same who broke into Arn-
heim's house on Park Avenue last summer."
Briefly he told of Inspector Brenner's findings in
connection with the chisel.
"We've made no arrests, but one may be expected
in the very near future. In fact, the police have the
case well in hand, but are going carefully in order to
avoid any chance of an acquittal. We've already
recovered some of the missing jewellery.
·
·
99
He talked to the reporters for five minutes or so,
but he made no mention of the testimony of the maid
or the phone operators, and carefully avoided the
mention of any names.
136
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
137
When we were again alone, Vance chuckled ad-
miringly.
"A mastery evasion, my dear Markham! Legal
training has its advantages-decidedly it has its
advantages.
'We've recovered some of the
missing jewellery!' Sweet wingèd words! Not an
untruth-oh, no!-but how deceivin'! Really, y'
know, I must devote more time to the caressin' art
of suggestio falsi and suppressio veri. You should be
crowned with an anadem of myrtle."
"Leaving all that to one side," Markham rejoined
impatiently, "suppose you tell me, now that Heath's
gone, what was in your mind when you applied your
verbal voodooism to Skeel. What was all the con-
jurer-talk about dark closets, and alarums, and
pressing thumbs, and peering through keyholes?"
"Well, now, I didn't think my little chit-chat was
so cryptic," answered Vance. "The recherché Tony
was undoubtedly ambuscaded à la sourdine in the
clothes-press at some time during the fatal evening;
and I was merely striving, in my amateurish way,
to ascertain the exact hour of his concealment.'
"And did you?”
"Not conclusively." Vance shook his head sadly.
"Y' know, Markham, I'm the proud possessor of a
theory-it's vague and obscure and unsubstantial;
and it's downright unintelligible. And even if it
were verified, I can't see how it would help us any,
for it would leave the situation even more incompre-
hensible than it already is. . . . I almost wish I
hadn't questioned Heath's Beau Nash. He upset my
ideas frightfully."
"From what I could gather, you seem to think it
138
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
possible that Skeel witnessed the murder. That
couldn't, by any stretch of the imagination, be your
precious theory?”
"That's part of it, anyway.
99
"My dear Vance, you do astonish me!" Markham
laughed outright. "Skeel, then, according to you, is
innocent; but he keeps his knowledge to himself, in-
vents an alibi, and doesn't even tattle when he's
arrested. . . . It won't hold water.”
"I know," sighed Vance. "It's a veritable sieve.
And yet, the notion haunts me-it rides me like a
hag-it eats into my vitals."
"Do you realize that this mad theory of yours
presupposes that, when Spotswoode and Miss Odell
returned from the theatre, there were two men hidden
in the apartment-two men unknown to each other
namely Skeel and your hypothetical murderer?"
"Of course I realize it; and the thought of it is
breaking down my reason."
•
"Furthermore, they must have entered the apart-
ment separately, and hidden separately. . . How,
may I ask, did they get in? And how did they get
out? And which one caused the girl to scream after
Spotswoode had left? And what was the other one
doing in the meantime? And if Skeel was a passive
spectator, horrified and mute, how do you account
for his breaking open the jewel-case and securing the
ring?"
"Stop! Stop! Don't torture me so," Vance
pleaded. "I know I'm insane. Been given to hallu-
cinations since birth; but-Merciful Heaven !—I've
never before had one as crazy as this."
"On that point at least, my dear Vance, we are
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
139
in complete and harmonious agreement," smiled
Markham.
Just then Swacker came in and handed Markham
a letter.
"Brougnt by messenger, and marked 'immedi-
ate,'
"" he explained.
The letter, written on heavy engraved stationery,
was from Doctor Lindquist, and explained that be-
tween the hours of 11 P. M. and 1 A. M. on Monday
night he had been in attendance on a patient at
his sanitarium. It also apologized for his actions
when asked regarding his whereabouts, and offered
a wordy, but not particularly convincing, explana-
tion of his conduct. He had had an unusually trying
day, it seemed-neurotic cases were trying, at best-
and the suddenness of our visit, together with the
apparently hostile nature of Markham's questions,
had completely upset him. He was more than sorry
for his outburst, he said, and stood ready to assist
in any way he could. It was unfortunate for all con-
cerned, he added, that he had lost his temper, for it
would have been a simple matter for him to explain
about Monday night.
"He has thought the situation over calmly," said
Vance, "and hereby offers you a neat little alibi
which, I think, you will have difficulty in shaking.
An artful beggar-like all these unbalanced
pseudo-psychiatrists. Observe: he was with a pa-
tient. To be sure! What patient? Why, one too
ill to be questioned. . . There you are. A cul-de-
sac masquerading as an alibi. Not bad, what?”
•
"It doesn't interest me overmuch." Markham put
the letter away. "That pompous professional ass
140
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
could never have got into the Odell apartment with-
out having been seen; and I can't picture him sneak-
ing in by devious means." He reached for some
papers. "And now, if you don't object, I'll
make an effort to earn my $15,000 salary.'
•
""
But Vance, instead of making a move to go, saun-
tered to the table and opened a telephone directory.
"Permit me a suggestion, Markham," he said,
after a moment's search. "Put off your daily grind
for a bit, and let's hold polite converse with Mr. Louis
Mannix. Y'know, he's the only presumptive swain
of the inconstant Margaret, so far mentioned, who
hasn't been given an audience. I hanker to gaze upon
him and hearken to his rune. He'd make the family
circle complete, so to speak. . . He still holds
forth in Maiden Lane, I see; and it wouldn't take
long to fetch him here."
Markham had swung half round in his chair at the
mention of Mannix's name. He started to protest,
but he knew from experience that Vance's suggestions
were not the results of idle whims; and he was silent
for several moments weighing the matter. With prac-
tically every other avenue of inquiry closed for the
moment, I think the idea of questioning Mannix
rather appealed to him.
"All right," he consented, ringing for Swacker;
"though I don't see how he can help. According to
Heath, the Odell girl gave him his congé a year ago.
99
"He may still have hay on his horns, or, like Hot-
spur, be drunk with choler. You can't tell." Vance
resumed his chair. "With such a name, he'd bear
investigation ipso facto.”
Markham sent Swacker for Tracy; and when the
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
141
latter arrived, suave and beaming, he was given
instructions to take the District Attorney's car and
bring Mannix to the office.
"Get a subpoena," said Markham; “and use it if
necessary."
Half an hour or so later Tracy returned.
"Mr. Mannix made no difficulty about coming,"
he reported. "Was quite agreeable, in fact. He's in
the waiting-room now."
Tracy was dismissed, and Mannix was ushered in.
He was a large man, and he walked with the forced
elasticity of gait which epitomizes the silent struggle
of incipiently corpulent middle age to deny the on-
rush of the years and cling to the semblance of
youth. He carried a slender wanghee cane; and his
checkered suit, brocaded waistcoat, pearl-gray gai-
ters, and gaily beribboned Homburg hat gave him an
almost foppish appearance. But these various indica-
tions of sportiveness were at once forgotten when one
inspected his features. His small eyes were bright
and crafty; his nose was bibative, and appeared dis-
proportionately small above his thick sensual lips
and prognathous jaw. There was an oiliness and
shrewdness in the man's manner which were at once
repulsive and arresting.
At a gesture from Markham he sat down on the
edge of a chair, placing a podgy hand on each knee.
His attitude was one of alert suspicion.
"Mr. Mannix," said Markham, an engaging note
of apology in his voice, "I am sorry to have discom-
moded you; but the matter in hand is both serious
and urgent. . . A Miss Margaret Odell was
murdered night before last, and in the course of our
142
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
inquiries we learned that you had at one time known
her quite well. It occurred to me that you might be
in possession of some facts about her that would
assist us in our investigation."
A saponaceous smile, meant to be genial, parted
the man's heavy lips.
"Sure, I knew the Canary—a long time ago, y'
understand." He permitted himself a sigh. "A fine,
high-class girl, if I do say so. A good looker and a
good dresser. Too damn bad she didn't go on with
the show business. But"-he made a repudiative
motion with his hand-"I haven't seen the lady, y'
understand, for over a year-not to speak to, if you
know what I mean."
Mannix clearly was on his guard, and his beady
little eyes did not once leave the District Attorney's
face.
"You had a quarrel with her perhaps?" Markham
asked the question incuriously.
"Well, now, I wouldn't go so far as to say we
quarrelled. No." Mannix paused, seeking the cor-
rect word. "You might say we disagreed-got tired
of the arrangement and decided to separate; kind of
drifted apart. Last thing I told her was, if she ever
needed a friend she'd know where to find me."
"Very generous of you," murmured Markham.
"And you never renewed your little affair?”
"Never never. Don't remember ever speaking
to her from that day to this."
"In view of certain things I've learned, Mr.
Mannix"-Markham's tone was regretful-"I must
ask you a somewhat personal question. Did she
ever make an attempt to blackmail you?”
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
143
Mannix hesitated, and his eyes seemed to grow
even smaller, like those of a man thinking rapidly.
"Certainly not!" he replied, with belated empha-
sis. "Not at all. Nothing of the kind." He raised
both hands in protest against the thought. Then he
asked furtively: "What gave you such an idea?”
"I have been told," explained Markham, "that
she had extorted money from one or two of her ad-
mirers."
Mannix made a wholly unconvincing grimace of
astonishment.
"Well, well! You don't tell me! Can it be pos-
sible?" He peered shrewdly at the District Attorney.
"Maybe it was Charlie Cleaver she blackmailed-
yes?"
Markham picked him up quickly.
"Why do you say Cleaver?"
Again Mannix waved his thick hand, this time
deprecatingly.
"No special reason, y' understand. Just thought
it might be him. . . . No special reason."
"Did Cleaver ever tell you he'd been black-
mailed?"
"Cleaver tell me? . . . Now, I ask you, Mr.
Markham: why should Cleaver tell me such a story—
why should he?"
66
'And you never told Cleaver that the Odell girl
had blackmailed you?"
"Positively not!" Mannix gave a scornful laugh
which was far too theatrical to have been genuine.
"Me tell Cleaver I'd been blackmailed? Now, that's
funny, that is."
"Then why did you mention Cleaver a moment
ago?"
144
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"No reason at all-like I told you.
the Canary; but that ain't no secret."
Markham dropped the subject.
• •
He knew
"What do you know about Miss Odell's relations
with a Doctor Ambroise Lindquist ?"
Mannix was now obviously perplexed.
"Never heard of him-no, never. She didn't know
him when I was taking her around."
"Whom else besides Cleaver did she know well?"
Mannix shook his head ponderously.
"Now, that I couldn't say—positively I couldn't
say. Seen her with this man and that, same as every-
body saw her; but who they were I don't know-
absolutely."
"Ever hear of Tony Skeel?" Markham quickly
leaned over and met the other's gaze inquiringly.
Once more Mannix hesitated, and his eyes glittered
calculatingly.
"Well, now that you ask me, I believe I did hear
of the fellow. But I couldn't swear to it, y' under-
stand.. What makes you think I heard of this
Skeel fellow?"
· ·
Markham ignored the question.
"Can you think of no one who might have borne
Miss Odell a grudge, or had cause to fear her?"
Mannix was volubly emphatic on the subject of
his complete ignorance of any such person; and after
a few more questions, which elicited only denials,
Markham let him go.
"Not bad at all, Markham old thing-eh, what?”
Vance seemed pleased with the conference. "Wonder
why he's so coy? Not a nice person, this Mannix.
And he's so fearful lest he be informative. Again, I
wonder why. He was so careful-oh, so careful."
AN ERSTWHILE GALLANT
145
"He was sufficiently careful, at any rate, not to
tell us anything," declared Markham gloomily.
"I shouldn't say that, don't y' know." Vance
lay back and smoked placidly. "A ray of light
filtered through here and there. Our fur-importing
philogynist denied he'd been blackmailed-which
was obviously untrue-and tried to make us believe
that he and the lovely Margaret cooed like turtle-
doves at parting.-Tosh! . . . And then, that men-
tion of Cleaver. That wasn't spontaneous-dear me,
no. Brother Mannix and spontaneity are as the
poles apart. He had a reason for bringing Cleaver
in; and I fancy that if you knew what that reason
was, you'd feel like flinging roses riotously, and that
sort of thing. Why Cleaver? That secret-de-Polichi-
nelle explanation was a bit weak. The orbits of these
two paramours cross somewhere. On that point,
at least, Mannix inadvertently enlightened us.
Moreover, it's plain that he doesn't know our fash-
ionable healer with the satyr ears. But, on the other
hand, he's aware of the existence of Mr. Skeel, and
would rather like to deny the acquaintance. . . . So
-voilà l'affaire. Plenty of information; but-my
word!-what to do with it?"
"I give it up," acknowledged Markham hopelessly.
"I know: it's a sad, sad world," Vance com-
miserated him. "But you must face the olla podrida
with a bright eye. It's time for lunch, and a fillet of
sole Marguéry will cheer you no end."
Markham glanced at the clock, and permitted
himself to be led to the Lawyers Club.
CHAPTER XIV
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
(Wednesday, September 12; evening)
Vance and I did not return to the District At-
torney's office after lunch, for Markham had a busy
afternoon before him, and nothing further was likely
to transpire in connection with the Odell case until
Sergeant Heath had completed his investigations of
Cleaver and Doctor Lindquist. Vance had seats for
Giordano's "Madame Sans-Gêne," and two o'clock
found us at the Metropolitan. Though the perform-
ance was excellent, Vance was too distrait to enjoy
it; and it was significant that, after the opera, he
directed the chauffeur to the Stuyvesant Club. I
knew he had a tea appointment, and that he had
planned to motor to Longue Vue for dinner; and the
fact that he should have dismissed these social en-
gagements from his mind in order to be with Mark-
ham showed how intensely the problem of the murder
had absorbed his interest.
It was after six o'clock when Markham came in,
looking harassed and tired. No mention of the case
was made during dinner, with the exception of
Markham's casual remark that Heath had turned in
his reports on Cleaver and Doctor Lindquist and
Mannix. (It seemed that, immediately after lunch,
he had telephoned to the Sergeant to add Mannix's
name to the two others as a subject for inquiry.) It
146
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
147
was not until we had retired to our favorite corner of
the lounge-room that the topic of the murder was
brought up for discussion.
And that discussion, brief and one-sided, was the
beginning of an entirely new line of investigation—a
line which, in the end, led to the guilty person
Markham sank wearily into his chair. He had
begun to show the strain of the last two days of
fruitless worry. His eyes were a trifle heavy, and
there was a grim tenacity in the lines of his mouth.
Slowly and deliberately he lighted a cigar, and took
several deep inhalations.
“Damn_the_newspapers!" he grumbled. "Why
can't they let the District Attorney's office handle
its business in its own way? . . . Have you seen
the afternoon papers? They're all clamoring for
the murderer. You'd think I had him up my sleeve."
"You forget, my dear chap," grinned Vance, "that
we are living under the benign and upliftin' reign of
Democritus, which confers upon every ignoramus
the privilege of promiscuously criticising his betters."
Markham snorted.
"I don't complain about criticism: it's the lurid
imagination of these bright young reporters that
galls me. They're trying to turn this sordid crime
into a spectacular Borgia melodrama, with passion
running rampant, and mysterious influences at work,
and all the pomp and trappings of a medieval ro-
You'd think even a schoolboy could
see that it was only an ordinary robbery and murder
of the kind that's taking place regularly throughout
the country."
mance.
·
•
Vance paused in the act of lighting a cigarette,
148
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
and his eyebrows lifted. Turning, he regarded Mark-
ham with a look of mild incredulity.
"I say! Do you really mean to tell me that your
statement for the press was given out in good faith?”
Markham looked up in surprise.
"Certainly it was. . . .
"good faith'?"
Vance smiled indolently.
What do you mean by
"I rather thought, don't y' know, that your ora-
tion to the reporters was a bit of strategy to lull the
real culprit into a state of false security, and to give
you a clear field for investigation.'
99
Markham contemplated him a moment.
"See here, Vance," he demanded irritably, "what
are you driving at?"
"Nothing at all-really, old fellow," the other
assured him affably. "I knew that Heath was deadly
sincere about his belief in Skeel's guilt, but it never
occurred to me, d' ye see, that you yourself actually
regarded the crime as one committed by a profes-
sional burglar. I foolishly thought that you let
Skeel go this morning in the hope that he would lead
you somehow to the guilty person. I rather imagined
you were spoofing the trusting Sergeant by pretend-
ing to fall in with his silly notion."
66
'Ah, I see! Still clinging to your weird theory that
a brace of villains were present, hiding in separate
clothes-closets, or something of the kind." Markham
made no attempt to temper his sarcasm. "A sapi-
ent idea―so much more intelligent than Heath's!"
"I know it's weird. But it happens not to be any
weirder than your theory of a lone yeggman."
"And for what reason, pray," persisted Markham,
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
149
with considerable warmth, "do you consider the
yeggman theory weird?”
"For the simple reason that it was not the crime
of a professional thief at all, but the wilfully deceptive
act of a particularly clever man who doubtless spent
weeks in its preparation."
Markham sank back in his chair and laughed
heartily.
وو
"Vance, you have contributed the one ray of sun-
shine to an otherwise gloomy and depressing case.
Vance bowed with mock humility.
"It gives me great pleasure," was his dulcet re-
joinder, "to be able to bring even a wisp of light into
so clouded a mental atmosphere."
A brief silence followed. Then Markham asked:
“Is this fascinating and picturesque conclusion of
yours regarding the highly intellectual character of
the Odell woman's murderer based on your new and
original psychological methods of deduction ?"
There was no mistaking the ridicule in his voice.
"I arrived at it," explained Vance sweetly, “by
the same processes of logic I used in determining the
guilt of Alvin Benson's murderer."
Markham smiled.
"Touché! ... Don't think I'm so ungrateful as
to belittle the work you did in that case. But this
time, I fear, you've permitted your theories to lead
you hopelessly astray. The present case is what the
police call an open-and-shut affair.”
"Particularly shut," amended Vance dryly. "And
both you and the police are in the distressin' situation
of waiting inactively for your suspected victim to give
the game away."
150
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"I'll admit the situation is not all one could de-
sire." Markham spoke morosely. "But even so, I
can't see that there's any opportunity in this affair
for your recondite psychological methods. The
thing's too obvious-that's the trouble. What we
need now is evidence, not theories. If it wasn't for
the spacious and romantic imaginings of the news-
paper men, public interest in the case would already
have died out."
"Markham," said Vance quietly, but with un-
wonted seriousness, "if that's what you really be-
lieve, then you may as well drop the case now; for
you're foredoomed to failure. You think it's an
obvious crime. But let me tell you, it's a subtle
crime, if ever there was one. And it's as clever as it
is subtle. No common criminal committed it-believe
me. It was done by a man of very superior intellect
and astoundin' ingenuity."
Vance's assured, matter-of-fact tone had a curi-
ously convincing quality; and Markham, restraining
his impulse to scoff, assumed an air of indulgent irony.
“Tell me,” he said, “by what cryptic mental
process you arrived at so fantastic a conclusion.”
"With pleasure." Vance took a few puffs on his
cigarette, and lazily watched the smoke curl up-
ward.*
"Y' know, Markham," he began, in his emotion-
less drawl, "every genuine work of art has a quality
which the critics call élan-namely, enthusiasm and
spontaneity. A copy, or imitation, lacks that dis-
*I sent a proof of the following paragraphs to Vance, and he edited
and corrected them; so that, as they now stand, they represent his
theories in practically his own words.
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
151
tinguishing characteristic; it's too perfect, too care-
fully done, too exact. Even enlightened scions of the
law, I fancy, are aware that there is bad drawing in
Botticelli and disproportions in Rubens, what? In
an original, d' ye see, such flaws don't matter. But
an imitator never puts 'em in: he doesn't dare-he's
too intent on getting all the details correct. The imi-
tator works with a self-consciousness and a meticu-
lous care which the artist, in the throes of creative
labor, never exhibits. And here's the point: there's
no way of imitating that enthusiasm and spontaneity
-that élan-which an original painting possesses.
However closely a copy may resemble an original,
there's a vast psychological difference between them.
The copy breathes an air of insincerity, of ultra-per-
fection, of conscious effort. . . .
You follow me,
eh?"
"Most instructive, my dear Ruskin."
Vance meekly bowed his appreciation, and pro-
ceeded pleasantly.
"Now, let us consider the Odell murder. You and
Heath are agreed that it is a commonplace, brutal,
sordid, unimaginative crime. But, unlike you two
bloodhounds on the trail, I have ignored its mere
appearances, and have analyzed its various factors-
I have looked at it psychologically, so to speak.
And I have discovered that it is not a genuine and
sincere crime that is to say, an original-but only
a sophisticated, self-conscious and clever imitation,
done by a skilful copyist. I grant you it is correct
and typical in every detail. But just there is where
it fails, don't y' know. Its technic is too good, its
craftsmanship too perfect. The ensemble, as it were,
152
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
is not convincing-it lacks élan. Esthetically speak-
ing, it has all the earmarks of a tour de force. Vul-
garly speaking, it's a fake." He paused and gave
Markham an engaging smile. "I trust this somewhat
oracular peroration has not bored you."
"Pray continue," urged Markham, with exagger-
ated politeness. His manner was jocular, but some-
thing in his tone led me to believe that he was seri-
ously interested.
"What is true of art is true of life," Vance re-
sumed placidly. "Every human action, d' ye see,
conveys unconsciously an impression either of genu-
ineness or of spuriousness of sincerity or calcula-
tion. For example, two men at table eat in a similar
way, handle their knives and forks in the same
fashion, and apparently do the identical things. Al-
though the sensitive spectator cannot put his finger
on the points of difference, he none the less senses
at once which man's breeding is genuine and in-
stinctive and which man's is imitative and self-con-
scious."
He blew a wreath of smoke toward the ceiling, and
settled more deeply into his chair.
"Now, Markham, just what are the universally
recognized features of a sordid crime of robbery and
murder? ... Brutality, disorder, haste, ransacked
drawers, cluttered desks, broken jewel-cases, rings
stripped from the victim's fingers, severed pendant
chains, torn clothing, tipped-over chairs, upset lamps,
broken vases, twisted draperies, strewn floors, and so
forth. Such are the accepted immemorial indications
-eh, what? But-consider a moment, old chap.
Outside of fiction and the drama, in how many crimes
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
153
do they all appear-all in perfect ordination, and
without a single element to contradict the general
effect? That is to say, how many actual crimes are
technically perfect in their settings? . . . None!
And why? Simply because nothing actual in this
life-nothing that is spontaneous and genuine runs
to accepted form in every detail. The law of chance
and fallibility invariably steps in."
He made a slight indicative gesture.
"But regard this particular crime: look at it
closely. What do you find? You will perceive that
its mise-en-scène has been staged, and its drama en-
acted, down to every minute detail-like a Zola
novel. It is almost mathematically perfect. And
therein, d' ye see, lies the irresistible inference of its
having been carefully premeditated and planned. To
use an art term, it is a tickled-up crime. Therefore,
its conception was not spontaneous.
And yet,
don't y' know, I can't point out any specific flaw;
for its great flaw lies in its being flawless. And noth-
ing flawless, my dear fellow, is natural or genuine."
Markham was silent for a while.
•
"You deny even the remote possibility of a common
thief having murdered the girl?" he asked at length;
and now there was no hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"If a common thief did it," contended Vance,
"then there's no science of psychology, there are no
philosophic truths, and there are no laws of art. If
it was a genuine crime of robbery, then, by the same
token, there is no difference whatever between an old
master and a clever technician's copy."
"You'd entirely eliminate robbery as the motive, I
take it."
154
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"The robbery," Vance affirmed, "was only a manu-
factured detail. The fact that the crime was com-
mitted by a highly astute person indicates unques-
tionably that there was a far more potent motive
behind it. Any man capable of so ingenious and
clever a piece of deception is obviously a person of
education and imagination; and he most certainly
would not have run the stupendous risk of killing a
woman unless he had feared some overwhelming dis-
aster unless, indeed, her continuing to live would
have caused him greater mental anguish, and would
have put him in greater jeopardy, even than the
crime itself. Between two colossal dangers, he chose
the murder as the lesser.”
Markham did not speak at once: he seemed lost
in reflection. But presently he turned and, fixing
Vance with a dubious stare, said:
"What about that chiselled jewel-box? A pro-
fessional burglar's jimmy wielded by an experienced
hand doesn't fit into your æsthetic hypothesis-it is,
in fact, diametrically opposed to such a theory."
·
"I know it only too well." Vance nodded slowly.
"And I've been harried and hectored by that steel
chisel ever since I beheld the evidence of its work
that first morning. Markham, that chisel is
the one genuine note in an otherwise spurious per-
formance. It's as if the real artist had come along
at the moment the copyist had finished his faked
picture, and painted in a single small object with the
hand of a master."
99
"But doesn't that bring us back inevitably to
Skeel?"
"Skeel-ah, yes. That's the explanation, no
VANCE OUTLINES A THEORY
155
doubt; but not the way you conceive it. Skeel ripped
the box open-I don't question that; but-deuce take
it!-it's the only thing he did do: it's the only thing
that was left for him to do. That's why he got only
a ring which La Belle Marguerite was not wearing
that night. All her other baubles-to wit, those that
adorned her had been stripped from her and were
gone."
"Why are you so positive on this point?"
"The poker, man-the poker! . . . Don't you
see? That amateurish assault upon the jewel-case
with a cast-iron coal-prodder couldn't have been
made after the case had been prized open-it would
have had to be made before. And that seemingly in-
sane attempt to break steel with cast iron was part
of the stage-setting. The real culprit didn't care if
he got the case open or not. He merely wanted it to
look as if he had tried to get it open; so he used the
poker and then left it lying beside the dinted box."
"I see what you mean." This point, I think, im-
pressed Markham more strongly than any other
Vance had raised; for the presence of the poker on
the dressing-table had not been explained away either
by Heath or Inspector Brenner. "Is that the
reason you questioned Skeel as if he might have
been present when your other visitor was there?"
·
•
•
"Exactly. By the evidence of the jewel-case I
knew he either was in the apartment when the bogus
crime of robbery was being staged, or else had come
upon the scene when it was over and the stage-direc-
tor had cleared out. . . . From his reactions to my
questions I rather fancy he was present."
"Hiding in the closet?"
156
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
"Yes. That would account for the closet not hav-
ing been disturbed. As I see it, it wasn't ransacked,
for the simple and rather grotesque reason that the
elegant Skeel was locked within. How else could
that one clothes-press have escaped the rifling activ-
ities of the pseudo-burglar? He wouldn't have
omitted it deliberately, and he was far too thorough-
going to have overlooked it accidentally.—Then
there are the finger-prints on the knob. . . ."
Vance lightly tapped on the arm of his chair.
"I tell you, Markham old dear, you simply must
build your conception of the crime on this hypothesis,
and proceed accordingly. If you don't, each edifice
you rear will come toppling about your ears."
CHAPTER XV
FOUR POSSIBILITIES
(Wednesday, September 12; evening)
When Vance finished speaking, there was a long
silence. Markham, impressed by the other's earnest-
ness, sat in a brown study. His ideas had been
shaken. The theory of Skeel's guilt, to which he
had clung from the moment of the identification of
the finger-prints, had, it must be admitted, not en-
tirely satisfied him, although he had been able to
suggest no alternative. Now Vance had categorically
repudiated this theory and at the same time had ad-
vanced another which, despite its indefiniteness, had
nevertheless taken into account all the physical
points of the case; and Markham, at first antago-
nistic, had found himself, almost against his will,
becoming more and more sympathetic to this new
point of view.
"Damn it, Vance!" he said. "I'm not in the
least convinced by your theatrical theory. And yet,
I feel a curious undercurrent of plausibility in your
analyses. I wonder
·
""
He turned sharply, and scrutinized the other stead-
fastly for a moment.
"Look here! Have you any one in mind as the
protagonist of the drama you've outlined?"
"Pon my word, I haven't the slightest notion as
157
158
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
to who killed the lady," Vance assured him. "But
if you are ever to find the murderer, you must look
for a shrewd, superior man with nerves of iron,
who was in imminent danger of being irremediably
ruined by the girl—a man of inherent cruelty and
vindictiveness; a supreme egoist; a fatalist more or
less; and I'm inclined to believe something of a
madman."
"Mad!"
"Oh, not a lunatic-just a madman, a perfectly
normal, logical, calculating madman-same as you
and I and Van here. Only, our hobbies are harm-
less, d'ye see. This chap's mania is outside your
preposterously revered law. That's why you're after
him. If his aberration were stamp-collecting, or golf,
you wouldn't give him a second thought. But his
perfectly rational penchant for eliminating déclassées
ladies who bothered him, fills you with horror: it's
not your hobby. Consequently, you have a hot
yearning to flay him alive."
"I'll admit,” said Markham coolly, "that a homi-
cidal mania is my idea of madness."
"But he didn't have a homicidal mania, Markham
old thing. You miss all the fine distinctions in psy-
chology. This man was annoyed by a certain per-
son, and set to work, masterfully and reasonably, to
do away with the source of his annoyance. And he
did it with surpassin' cleverness. To be sure, his act
was a bit grisly. But when, if ever, you get your
hands on him, you'll be amazed to find how normal
he is. And able, too-oh, able no end."
Again Markham lapsed into a long thoughtful
silence. At last he spoke.
FOUR POSSIBILITIES
159
"The only trouble with your ingenious deductions
is that they don't accord with the known circum-
stances of the case. And facts, my dear Vance, are
still regarded by a few of us old-fashioned lawyers
as more or less conclusive."
"Why this needless confession of your short-
comings?" inquired Vance whimsically. Then, after
a moment: "Let me have the facts which appear to
you antagonistic to my deductions."
"Well, there are only four men of the type you
describe who could have had any remote reason for
murdering the Odell woman. Heath's scouts went
into her history pretty thoroughly, and for over two
years that is, since her appearance in the 'Follies'
-the only persona grata at her apartment have
been Mannix, Doctor Lindquist, Pop Cleaver, and,
of course, Spotswoode. The Canary was a bit ex-
clusive, it seems; and no other man got near enough
to her even to be considered as a possible murderer."
"It appears, then, that you have a complete
quartet to draw on." Vance's tone was apathetic.
"What do you crave-a regiment ?"
"No," answered Markham patiently. "I crave
only one logical possibility. But Mannix was through
with the girl over a year ago; Cleaver and Spots-
woode both have water-tight alibis; and that leaves
only Doctor Lindquist, whom I can't exactly picture
as a strangler and meretricious burglar, despite his
irascibility. Moreover, he, too, has an alibi; and it
may be a genuine one."
Vance wagged his head.
"There's something positively pathetic about the
childlike faith of the legal mind."
160
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"It does cling to rationality at times, doesn't it?”
observed Markham.
"My dear fellow!" Vance rebuked him. "The
presumption implied in that remark is most im-
modest. If you could distinguish between ration-
ality and irrationality you wouldn't be a lawyer—
you'd be a god. . . . No; you're going at this thing
the wrong way. The real factors in the case are not
what you call the known circumstances, but the
unknown quantities-the human 's, so to speak-
the personalities, or natures, of your quartet.'
He lit a fresh cigarette, and lay back, closing his
eyes.
"9
"Tell me what you know of these four cavalieri
serventi―you say Heath has turned in his report.
Who were their mamas? What do they eat for
breakfast? Are they susceptible to poison-ivy?
...
Let's have Spotswoode's dossier first. Do you
know anything about him?"
"In a general way," returned Markham. "Old
Puritan stock, I believe governors, burgomasters,
a few successful traders. All Yankee forebears-no
intermixture. As a matter of fact, Spotswoode rep-
resents the oldest and hardiest of the New England
aristocracy-although I imagine the so-called wine of
the Puritans has become pretty well diluted by now.
His affair with the Odell girl is hardly consonant
with the older Puritans' mortification of the flesh."
"It's wholly consonant, though, with the psy-
chological reactions which are apt to follow the in-
hibitions produced by such mortification," sub-
mitted Vance. "But what does he do? Whence
cometh his lucre?"
FOUR POSSIBILITIES
161
"His father manufactured automobile accessories,
made a fortune at it, and left the business to him.
He tinkers at it, but not seriously, though I believe
he has designed a few appurtenances."
"I do hope the hideous cut-glass olla for holding
paper bouquets is not one of them. The man who in-
vented that tonneau decoration is capable of any
fiendish crime."
"It couldn't have been Spotswoode then," said
Markham tolerantly, "for he certainly can't qualify
as your potential strangler. We know the girl was
alive after he left her, and that, during the time she
was murdered, he was with Judge Redfern.
Even you, friend Vance, couldn't manipulate those
facts to the gentleman's disadvantage.
""
·
"On that, at least, we agree," conceded Vance.
"And that's all you know of the gentleman?"
"I think that's all, except that he married a well-
to-do woman—a daughter of a Southern senator, I
believe."
"Doesn't help any. . . . And now, let's have
Mannix's history."
Markham referred to a typewritten sheet of paper.
"Both parents immigrants-came over in the steer-
age. Original name Mannikiewicz, or something like
that. Born on the East Side; learned the fur business
in his father's retail shop in Hester Street; worked for
the Sanfrasco Cloak Company, and got to be factory
foreman. Saved his money, and sweetened the pot
by manipulating real estate; then went into the fur
business for himself, and steadily worked up to his
present opulent state. Public school, and night com-
mercial college. Married in 1900 and divorced a year
162
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
later. Lives a gay life—helps support the night clubs,
but never gets drunk. I suppose he comes under the
head of a spender and wine-opener. Has invested
some money in musical comedies, and always has a
stage beauty in tow. Runs to blondes."
"Not very revealin'," sighed Vance. "The city is
full of Mannixes. . . . What did you garner in con-
nection with our bon-ton medico?"
"The city has its quota of Doctor Lindquists, too,
I fear. He was brought up in a small Middle-West
bailiwick-French and Magyar extraction; took his
M.D. from the Ohio State Medical, practised in
Chicago-some shady business there, but never con-
victed; came to Albany and got in on the X-ray-
machine craze; invented a breast-pump and formed
a stock company-made a small fortune out of it;
went to Vienna for two years
"Ah, the Freudian motif!"
""
"-returned to New York, and opened a private
sanitarium; charged outrageous prices, and thereby
endeared himself to the nouveau riche. Has been at
the endearing process ever since. Was defendant in
a breach-of-promise suit some years ago, but the case
was settled out of court. He's not married."
"He wouldn't be," commented Vance. "Such
gentry never are. ... Interestin' summary, though
-yes, decidedly interestin'. I'm tempted to develop
a psychoneurosis and let Ambroise treat me. I do so
want to know him better. And where oh, where
was this egregious healer at the moment of our err-
ing sister's demise? Ah, who can tell, my Markham:
who knows-who knows?"
"In any event, I don't think he was murdering
any one.'
99
FOUR POSSIBILITIES
163
"You're so prejudicial!" said Vance. "But let us
move reluctantly on.-What's your portrait parlé of
Cleaver? The fact that he's familiarly called Pop is
helpful as a starter. You simply couldn't imagine
Beethoven being called Shorty, or Bismarck being
referred to as Snookums."
"Cleaver has been a politician most of his life—a
Tammany Hall 'regular.' Was a ward-boss at twen-
ty-five; ran a Democratic club of some kind in Brook-
lyn for a time; was an alderman for two terms, and
practised general law. Was appointed Tax Commis-
sioner; left politics, and raised a small racing-stable.
Later secured an illegal gambling concession at Sara-
toga; and now operates a pool-room in Jersey City.
He's what you might call a professional sport. Loves
his liquor."
"No marriages?"
"None on the records.-But see here: Cleaver's
out of it. He was ticketed in Boonton that night at
half past eleven."
"Is that, by any chance, the water-tight alibi you
mentioned a moment ago?"
"In my primitive legal way I considered it as
such." Markham resented Vance's question. “The
summons was handed him at half past eleven: it's so
marked and dated. And Boonton is fifty miles from
here a good two hours' motor ride. Therefore,
Cleaver unquestionably left New York about half
past nine; and even if he'd driven directly back, he
couldn't have reached here until long after the time
the Medical Examiner declared the girl was dead.
As a matter of routine, I investigated the summons,
and even spoke by phone to the officer who issued it.
164
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
It was genuine enough-I ought to know: I had it
quashed."
"Did this Boonton Dogberry know Cleaver by
sight?"
"No, but he gave me an accurate description of
him. And naturally he took the car's number.”
Vance looked at Markham with open-eyed sorrow.
"My dear Markham-my very dear Markham—
can't you see that all you've actually proved is that
a bucolic traffic Nemesis handed a speed-violation
summons to a smooth-faced, middle-aged, stout man
who was driving Cleaver's car near Boonton at half
past eleven on the night of the murder? . . . And,
my word! Isn't that exactly the sort of alibi the old
boy would arrange if he intended taking the lady's
life at midnight or thereabouts?"
"Come, come!" laughed Markham. "That's a bit
too far-fetched. You'd give every law-breaker credit
for concocting schemes of the most diabolical cun-
ning.
99
"So I would," admitted Vance apathetically.
"And-d'ye know?—I rather fancy that's just the
kind of schemes a law-breaker would concoct, if he
was planning a murder, and his own life was at stake.
What really amazes me is the naïve assumption of
you investigators that a murderer gives no intelligent
thought whatever to his future safety. It's rather
touchin', y' know."
Markham grunted.
"Well, you can take it from me, it was Cleaver
himself who got that summons.”
"I dare say you're right," Vance conceded. "I
merely suggested the possibility of deception, don't
FOUR POSSIBILITIES
165
y' know. The only point I really insist on is that the
fascinatin' Miss Odell was killed by a man of subtle
and superior mentality.'
66
99
'And I, in turn,” irritably rejoined Markham,
"insist that the only men of that type who touched
her life intimately enough to have had any reason to
do it are Mannix, Cleaver, Lindquist, and Spots-
woode. And I further insist that not one of them can
be regarded as a promising possibility."
"I fear I must contradict you, old dear," said
Vance serenely. "They're all possibilities-and one
of them is guilty."
Markham glared at him derisively.
"Well, well! So the case is settled! Now, if you'll
but indicate which is the guilty one, I'll arrest him
at once, and return to my other duties."
"You're always in such haste," Vance lamented.
"Why leap and run? The wisdom of the world's
philosophers is against it. Festina lente, says Cæsar;
or, as Rufus has it, Festinatio tarda est. And the
Koran says quite frankly that haste is of the Devil.
Shakespeare was constantly belittling speed:
and
'He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes';
"Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast.'
Then there was Molière-remember 'Sganarelle'?—:
'Le trop de promptitude à l'erreur nous expose.' Chau-
cer also held similar views. 'He hasteth wel,' said he,
'that wysely can abyde.' Even God's common peo-
ple have embalmed the idea in numberless proverbs:
'Good and quickly seldom meet'; and 'Hasty men
never want woe-
166
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Markham rose with a gesture of impatience.
"Hell! I'm going home before you start a bed-
time story," he growled.
The ironical aftermath of this remark was that
Vance did tell a "bedtime story" that night; but he
told it to me in the seclusion of his own library; and
the gist of it was this:
"Heath is committed, body and soul, to a belief
in Skeel's guilt; and Markham is as effectively
strangled with legal red tape as the poor Canary was
strangled with powerful hands. Eheu, Van! There's
nothing left for me but to set forth to-morrow a cap-
pella, like Gaboriau's Monsieur Lecoq, and see what
can be done in the noble cause of justice. I shall
ignore both Heath and Markham, and become as a
pelican of the wilderness, an owl of the desert, a
sparrow alone upon the housetop. . . . Really, y'
know, I'm no avenger of society, but I do detest an
unsolved problem."
CHAPTER XVI
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
(Thursday, September 13; forenoon)
Greatly to Currie's astonishment Vance gave in-
structions to be called at nine o'clock the following
morning; and at ten o'clock we were sitting on his
little roof-garden having breakfast in the mellow
mid-September sunshine.
"Van," he said to me, when Currie had brought
us our second cup of coffee, "however secretive a
woman may be, there's always some one to whom
she unburdens her soul. A confidant is an essential
to the feminine temperament. It may be a mother,
or a lover, or a priest, or a doctor, or, more generally,
a girl chum. In the Canary's case we haven't a
mother or a priest. Her lover-the elegant Skeel—
was a potential enemy; and we're pretty safe in
ruling out her doctor she was too shrewd to con-
fide in such a creature as Lindquist. The girl chum,
then, remains. And to-day we seek her." He lit a
cigarette and rose. "But, first, we must visit Mr.
Benjamin Browne of Seventh Avenue."
Benjamin Browne was a well-known photographer
of stage celebrities, with galleries in the heart of the
city's theatrical district; and as we entered the re-
ception-room of his luxurious studio later that morn-
ing my curiosity as to the object of our visit was at
the breaking-point. Vance went straight to the desk,
167
168
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
behind which sat a young woman with flaming red
hair and mascaro-shaded eyes, and bowed in his
most dignified manner. Then, taking a small un-
mounted photograph from his pocket, he laid it be-
fore her.
99
"I am producing a musical comedy, mademoiselle,'
he said, "and I wish to communicate with the young
lady who left this picture of herself with me. Un-
fortunately I've misplaced her card; but as her
photograph bore the imprint of Browne's, I thought
you might be good enough to look in your files and
tell me who she is and where I may find her."
He slipped a five-dollar bill under the edge of the
blotter, and waited with an air of innocent expec-
tancy.
The young woman looked at him quizzically, and
I thought I detected the hint of a smile at the cor-
ners of her artfully rouged lips. But after a moment
she took the photograph without a word and dis-
appeared through a rear door. Ten minutes later
she returned and handed Vance the picture. On the
back of it she had written a name and address.
"The young lady is Miss Alys La Fosse, and she
lives at the Belafield Hotel." There was now no
doubt as to her smile. "You really shouldn't be so
careless with the addresses of your applicants-some
poor girl might lose an engagement." And her smile
suddenly turned into soft laughter.
66
Mademoiselle," replied Vance, with mock seri-
ousness, "in the future I shall be guided by your
warning." And with another dignified bow, he went
out.
"Good Lord!" he said, as we emerged into
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
169
Seventh Avenue. "Really, y' know, I should have
disguised myself as an impresario, with a gold-headed
cane, a derby, and a purple shirt. That young woman
is thoroughly convinced that I'm contemplating an
intrigue. . . . A jolly smart tête-rouge, that."
99
He turned into a florist's shop at the corner, and
selecting a dozen American Beauties, addressed them
to "Benjamin Browne's Receptionist."
"And now," he said, "let us stroll to the Bela-
field, and seek an audience with Alys."
As we walked across town Vance explained.
"That first morning, when we were inspecting
the Canary's rooms, I was convinced that the mur-
der would never be solved by the usual elephantine
police methods. It was a subtle and well-planned
crime, despite its obvious appearances. No routine
investigation would suffice. Intimate information
was needed. Therefore, when I saw this photograph
of the xanthous Alys half hidden under the litter of
papers on the escritoire, I reflected: 'Ah! A girl
friend of the departed Margaret's. She may know
just the things that are needed.' So, when the Ser-
geant's broad back was turned, I put the picture in
my pocket. There was no other photograph about
the place, and this one bore the usual sentimental
inscription, 'Ever thine,' and was signed 'Alys.' I
concluded, therefore, that Alys had played Anactoria
to the Canary's Sappho. Of course I erased the in-
scription before presenting the picture to the pene-
trating sibyl at Browne's. And here we are at
the Belafield, hopin' for a bit of enlightenment.
The Belafield was a small, expensive apartment-
hotel in the East Thirties, which, to judge from the
...
99
170
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
guests to be seen in the Americanized Queen Anne
lobby, catered to the well-off sporting set. Vance sent
his card up to Miss La Fosse, and received the mes-
sage that she would see him in a few minutes. The
few minutes, however, developed into three-quarters
of an hour, and it was nearly noon when a resplendent
bell-boy came to escort us to the lady's apartment.
Nature had endowed Miss La Fosse with many
of its arts, and those that Nature had omitted, Miss
La Fosse herself had supplied. She was slender and
blonde. Her large blue eyes were heavily lashed, but
though she looked at one with a wide-eyed stare,
she was unable to disguise their sophistication. Her
toilet had been made with elaborate care; and as I
looked at her, I could not help thinking what an ex-
cellent model she would have been for Chéret's pas-
tel posters.
"So you are Mr. Vance," she cooed. "I've often
seen your name in Town Topics."
66
Vance gave a shudder.
"And this is Mr. Van Dine," he said sweetly,
-a mere attorney, who, thus far, has been denied
the pages of that fashionable weekly."
"Won't you sit down?" (I am sure Miss La Fosse
had spoken the line in a play: she made of the invi-
tation an impressive ceremonial.) "I really don't
know why I should have received you. But I sup-
pose you called on business. Perhaps you wish me
to appear at a society bazaar, or something of the
kind. But I'm so busy, Mr. Vance. You simply
can't imagine how occupied I am with my work. . .
I just love my work," she added, with an ecstatic
sigh.
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
171
"And I'm sure there are many thousands of others
who love it, too," returned Vance, in his best draw-
ing-room manner. "But unfortunately I have no
bazaar to be graced by your charming presence. I
have come on a much more serious matter.
You were a very close friend of Miss Margaret
Odell's-
" 99
The mention of the Canary's name brought Miss
La Fosse suddenly to her feet. Her ingratiating air
of affected elegance had quickly disappeared. Her
eyes flashed, and their lids drooped harshly. A sneer
distorted the lines of her cupid's-bow mouth, and
she tossed her head angrily.
"Say, listen! Who do you think you are? I don't
know nothing, and I got nothing to say. So run
along-you and your lawyer.'
But Vance made no move to obey. He took out
his cigarette-case and carefully selected a Régie.
"Do you mind if I smoke?—And won't you have
one? I import them direct from my agent in Con-
stantinople. They're exquisitely blended."
The girl snorted, and gave him a look of cold dis-
dain. The doll-baby had become a virago.
"Get yourself outa my apartment, or I'll call the
house detective." She turned to the telephone on
the wall at her side.
Vance waited until she had lifted the receiver.
"If you do that, Miss La Fosse, I'll order you
taken to the District Attorney's office for question-
ing," he told her indifferently, lighting his cigarette
and leaning back in his chair.
Slowly she replaced the receiver and turned.
"What's your game, anyway? . . . Suppose I
172
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
did know Margy-then what? And where do you
fit into the picture?"
"Alas! I don't fit in at all." Vance smiled
pleasantly. "But, for that matter, nobody seems to
fit in. The truth is, they're about to arrest a poor
blighter for killing your friend, who wasn't in the
tableau, either. I happen to be a friend of the Dis-
trict Attorney's; and I know exactly what's being
done. The police are scouting round in a perfect
frenzy of activity, and it's hard to say what trail
they'll strike next. I thought, don't y' know, I
might save you a lot of unpleasantness by a friendly
little chat. . . . Of course," he added, "if you prefer
to have me give your name to the police, I'll do so,
and let them hold the audition in their own inimitable
but crude fashion. I might say, however, that, as yet,
they are blissfully unaware of your relationship
with Miss Odell, and that, if you are reasonable, I
see no reason why they should be informed of it."
The girl had stood, one hand on the telephone,
studying Vance intently. He had spoken carelessly
and with a genial inflection; and she at length re-
sumed her seat.
"Now, won't you have one of my cigarettes?" he
asked, in a tone of gracious reconciliation.
Mechanically she accepted his offer, keeping her
eyes on him all the time, as if attempting to determine
how far he was to be trusted.
"Who are they thinking of arresting?" She asked
the question with scarcely a movement of her fea-
tures.
"A johnny named Skeel.-Silly idea, isn't it?”
"Him!" Her tone was one of mingled contempt
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
173
and disgust. "That cheap crook? He hasn't got
nerve enough to strangle a cat."
"Precisely. But that's no reason for sending him
to the electric chair, what?" Vance leaned forward
and smiled engagingly. "Miss La Fosse, if you will
talk to me for five minutes, and forget I'm a stranger,
I'll give you my word of honor not to let the police
or the District Attorney know anything about you.
I'm not connected with the authorities, but somehow
I dislike the idea of seeing the wrong man punished.
And I'll promise to forget the source of any informa-
tion you will be kind enough to give me. If you will
trust me, it will be infinitely easier for you in the
end."
The girl made no answer for several minutes. She
was, I could see, trying to estimate Vance; and evi-
dently she decided that, in any case, she had nothing
to lose-now that her friendship with the Canary
had been discovered-by talking to this man who
had promised her immunity from further annoyance.
"I guess you're all right," she said, with a reser-
vation of dubiety; "but I don't know why I should
think so." She paused. "But, look here: I was told
to keep out of this. And if I don't keep out of it, I'm
apt to be back hoofing it in the chorus again. And
that's no life for a sweet young thing like me with
extravagant tastes-believe me, my friend!"
"That calamity will never befall you through any
lack of discretion on my part," Vance assured her,
with good-natured earnestness.
"Who told
you to keep out of it?"
"My-fiancé." She spoke somewhat coquettishly.
"He's very well known, and he's afraid there might
174
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
be scandal if I got mixed up in the case as a witness,
or anything like that."
"I can readily understand his feelings." Vance
nodded sympathetically. "And who, by the bye, is
this luckiest of men?"
"Say! You're good." She complimented him
with a coy moue. "But I'm not announcing my en-
gagement yet."
"Don't be horrid," begged Vance. "You know
perfectly well that I could find out his name by
making a few inquiries. And if you drove me to
learn the facts elsewhere, then my promise to keep
your name a secret would no longer bind me."
Miss La Fosse considered this point.
"I guess you could find out, all right . . . so I
might as well tell you-only I'm trusting to your
word to protect me." She opened her eyes wide and
gave Vance a melting look. "I know you wouldn't
let me down."
"My dear Miss La Fosse!" His tone was one of
pained surprise.
"Well, my fiancé is Mr. Mannix, and he's the
head of a big fur-importing house. . . . You see"
--she became clingingly confidential-"Louey-that
is, Mr. Mannix-used to go round with Margy.
That's why he didn't want me to get mixed up in
the affair. He said the police might bother him with
questions, and his name might get into the papers.
And that would hurt his commercial standing.'
99
"I quite understand," murmured Vance. "And
do you happen to know where Mr. Mannix was
Monday night ?"
The girl looked startled.
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
175
"Of course I know. He was right here with me
from half past ten until two in the morning. We
were discussing a new musical show he was inter-
ested in; and he wanted me to take the leading
rôle."
"I'm sure it will be a success. "Vance spoke with
disarming friendliness. "Were you home alone all
Monday evening?"
"Hardly." The idea seemed to amuse her. "I
went to the 'Scandals'-but I came home early. I
knew Louey-Mr. Mannix-was coming.'
"I trust he appreciated your sacrifice." Vance, I
believe, was disappointed by this unexpected alibi
of Mannix's. It was, indeed, so final that further
interrogation concerning it seemed futile. After a
momentary pause, he changed the subject.
"Tell me; what do you know about a Mr. Charles
Cleaver? He was a friend of Miss Odell's."
"Oh, Pop's all right." The girl was plainly re-
lieved by this turn in the conversation. "A good
scout. He was certainly gone on Margy. Even after
she threw him over for Mr. Spotswoode, he was faith-
ful, as you might say-always running after her,
sending her flowers and presents. Some men are like
that. Poor old Pop! He even phoned me Monday
night to call up Margy for him and try to arrange
a party. Maybe if I'd done it, she wouldn't be
dead now. . . . It's a funny world, isn't it?”
...
"Oh, no end funny." Vance smoked calmly for
a minute; I could not help admiring his self-control.
"What time did Mr. Cleaver phone you Monday
night do you recall?" From his voice one would
have thought the question of no importance.
176
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Let me see.
"She pursed her lips prettily.
"It was just ten minutes to twelve. I remember that
the little chime clock on the mantel over there was
striking midnight, and at first I couldn't hear Pop
very well. You see, I always keep my clock ten
minutes fast so I'll never be late for an appointment."
Vance compared the clock with his watch.
"Yes, it's ten minutes fast.-And what about the
party?"
"Oh, I was too busy talking about the new show,
and I had to refuse. Anyway, Mr. Mannix didn't
want to have a party that night. . . . It wasn't
my fault, was it?"
as yours.
•
"Not a bit of it," Vance assured her. "Work
comes before pleasure especially work as important
And now, there is one other man I
want to ask you about, and then I won't bother you
any more. What was the situation between Miss
Odell and Doctor Lindquist ?"
Miss La Fosse became genuinely perturbed.
"I was afraid you were going to ask me about
him." There was apprehension in her eyes. "I
don't know just what to say. He was wildly in love
with Margy; and she led him on, too. But she was
sorry for it afterward, because he got jealous-like
a crazy person. He used to pester the life out of her.
And once-do you know!-he threatened to shoot
her and then shoot himself. I told Margy to look
out for him. But she didn't seem to be afraid. Any-
way, I think she was taking awful chances. .
Oh! Do you think it could have been-do you really
think?"
•
"And wasn't there any one else," Vance inter-
SIGNIFICANT DISCLOSURES
177
rupted, "who might have felt the same way?—any
one Miss Odell had reason to fear?"
"No." Miss La Fosse shook her head. "Margy
didn't know many men intimately. She didn't
change often, if you know what I mean. There wasn't
anybody else outside of those you've mentioned, ex-
cept, of course, Mr. Spotswoode. He cut Pop out-
several months ago. She went to dinner with him
Monday night, too. I wanted her to go to the
'Scandals' with me-that's how I know."
Vance rose and held out his hand.
"You've been very kind. And you have nothing
whatever to fear. No one shall ever know of our
little visit this morning."
"Who do you think killed Margy?" There was
genuine emotion in the girl's voice. "Louey says it
was probably some burglar who wanted her jewels."
"I'm too wise to sow discord in this happy ménage
by even questioning Mr. Mannix's opinion," said
Vance half banteringly. "No one knows who's
guilty; but the police agree with Mr. Mannix."
For a moment the girl's doubts returned, and she
gave Vance a searching look.
"Why are you so interested? You didn't know
Margy, did you? She never mentioned you.”
Vance laughed.
•
"My dear child! I only wish I knew why I am so
deuced concerned in this affair. 'Pon my word, I
can't give you even the sketchiest explanation.
No, I never met Miss Odell. But it would offend my
sense of proportion if Mr. Skeel were punished and
the real culprit went free. Maybe I'm getting senti-
mental. A sad fate, what?"
178
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"I guess I'm getting soft, too." She nodded her
head, still looking Vance squarely in the eyes. "I
risked my happy home to tell you what I did, because
somehow I believed you. . . . Say, you weren't
stringing me, by any chance?"
Vance put his hand on his heart, and became
serious.
"My dear Miss La Fosse, when I leave here it will
be as though I had never entered. Dismiss me and
Mr. Van Dine here from your mind."
Something in his manner banished her misgivings,
and she bade us a kittenish farewell.
CHAPTER XVII
CHECKING AN ALIBI
(Thursday, September 13; afternoon)
"My sleuthing goes better," exulted Vance, when
we were again in the street. "Fair Alys was a
veritable mine of information-eh, what? Only, you
should have controlled yourself better when she
mentioned her beloved's name really, you should,
Van old thing. I saw you jump and heard you heave.
Such emotion is most unbecoming in a lawyer."
From a booth in a drug-store near the hotel he
telephoned Markham: “I am taking you to lunch.
I have numerous confidences I would pour into your
ear." A debate ensued, but in the end Vance emerged
triumphant; and a moment later a taxicab was driv-
ing us down-town.
66
'Alys is clever—there are orains in that fluffy
head," he ruminated. "She's much smarter than
Heath; she knew at once that Skeel wasn't guilty.
Her characterization of the immaculate Tony was
inelegant but how accurate-oh, how accurate! And
you noticed, of course, how she trusted me. Touchin',
wasn't it? . . . It's a knotty problem, Van. Some-
thing's amiss somewhere."
He was silent, smoking, for several blocks.
"Mannix. . . . Curious he should crop up again.
And he issued orders to Alys to keep mum. Now,
179
180
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
why? Maybe the reason he gave her was the real
one. Who knows?-On the other hand, was he with
his chère amie from half past ten till early morning?
Well, well. Again, who knows? Something queer
about that business discussion. . . Then Cleaver.
He called up just ten minutes before midnight—oh,
yes, he called up. That wasn't a fairy-tale. But how
could he telephone from a speeding car? He couldn't.
Maybe he really wanted to have a party with his
recalcitrant Canary, don't y' know. But then, why
the brummagem alibi? Funk? Maybe. But why
the circuitousness?—why didn't he call his lost love
direct? Ah, perhaps he did! Some one certainly
called her by phone at twenty minutes to twelve.
We must look into that, Van. . . . Yes, he may
have called her, and then when a man answered—
who the deuce was that man, anyway?-he may have
appealed to Alys. Quite natural, y' know. Anyway,
he wasn't in Boonton.-Poor Markham! How upset
he'll be when he finds out! . . . But what really
worries me is that story of the doctor. Jealous
mania: it squares with Ambroise's character per-
fectly. He's the kind that does go off his head. I
knew his confession of paternalism was a red herring.
My word! So the doctor was making threats and
flourishing pistols, eh? Bad, bad. I don't like it.
With those ears of his, he wouldn't hesitate to pull
the trigger. Paranoia-that's it. Delusions of perse-
cution. Probably thought the girl and Pop-or may-
be the girl and Spotswoode were plotting his misery
and laughing at him. You can't tell about those
chaps. They're deep--and they're dangerous. The
canny Alys had him sized up-warned the Canary
CHECKING AN ALIBI
181
against him. . . . Taken by and large, it's a devilish
tangle. Anyway, I feel rather bucked. We're moving
-oh, undoubtedly we're moving-though in what
direction I can't even guess. It's beastly annoyin'."
Markham was waiting for us at the Bankers' Club.
He greeted Vance irritably.
"What have you got to tell me that's so damned
important?"
"Now, don't get ratty.'
." Vance was beaming.
"How's your lode-star, Skeel, behaving?"
"So far he's done everything that's pure and re-
fined except join the Christian Endeavor Society."
"Sunday's coming. Give him time. ... So you're
not happy, Markham dear?"
"Was I dragged away from another engagement
to report on my state of mind?"
"No need. Your state of mind's execrable.
Cheerio! I've brought you something to think
about."
"Damn it! I've got too much to think about now."
"Here, have some brioche." Vance gave the
order for lunch without consulting either of us.
"And now for my revelations. Imprimis: Pop
Cleaver wasn't in Boonton last Monday night. He
was very much in the midst of our modern Gomorrah,
trying to arrange a midnight party.”
"Wonderful!" snorted Markham. "I lave in the
font of your wisdom. His alter ego, I take it, was on
the road to Hopatcong. The supernatural leaves me
cold."
"You may be as pancosmic as you choose. Cleaver
was in New York at midnight Monday, craving
excitement."
182
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"What about the summons for speeding?"
"That's for you to explain. But if you'll take my
advice you'll send for this Boonton catchpole, and
let him have a look at Pop. If he says Cleaver is the
man he ticketed, I'll humbly do away with myself."
"Well! That makes it worth trying. I'll have the
officer at the Stuyvesant Club this afternoon, and
I'll point out Cleaver to him. . . . What other stag-
gering revelations have you in store?"
"Mannix will bear looking into."
Markham put down his knife and fork and leaned
back.
"I'm overcome! Such Himalayan sagacity! With
that evidence against him, he should be arrested at
once. .. Vance, my dear old friend, are you feeling
quite normal? No dizzy spells lately? No shooting
pains in the head? Knee-jerks all right?”
"Furthermore, Doctor Lindquist was wildly in-
fatuated with the Canary, and insanely jealous.
Recently threatened to take a pistol and hold a little
pogrom of his own."
"That's better." Markham sat up. "Where did
you get this information?"
"Ah! That's my secret.'
Markham was annoyed.
"Why so mysterious?"
99
"Needs must, old chap. Gave my word, and all
that sort of thing. And I'm a bit quixotic, don't
y' know-too much Cervantes in my youth." He
spoke lightly, but Markham knew him too well to
push the question.
In less than five minutes after we had returned to
the District Attorney's office Heath came in.
CHECKING AN ALIBI
183
"I got something else on Mannix, sir; thought you
might want to add it to the report I turned in yes-
terday. Burke secured a picture of him, and showed
it to the phone operators at Odell's house. Both of
'em recognized it. He's been there several times, but
it wasn't the Canary he called on. It was the woman
in Apartment 2. She's named Frisbee, and used to
be one of Mannix's fur models. He's been to see her
several times during the past six months, and has
taken her out once or twice; but he hasn't called on
her for a month or more. Any good?"
•
"Can't tell." Markham shot Vance an inquisitive
look. "But thanks for the information, Sergeant."
"By the bye," said Vance dulcetly, when Heath
had left us, "I'm feeling tophole. No pains in the
head; no dizzy spells. Knee-jerks perfect.”
"Delighted. Still, I can't charge a man with mur-
der because he calls on his fur model."
"You're so hasty! Why should you charge him
with murder?" Vance rose and yawned. "Come,
Van. I'd rather like to gaze on Perneb's tomb at
the Metropolitan this afternoon. Could you bear
it?" At the door he paused. "I say, Markham,
what about the Boonton bailiff?"
Markham rang for Swacker.
"I'll see to it at once. Drop in at the club around
five, if you feel like it. I'll have the officer there then,
as Cleaver is sure to come in before dinner."
When Vance and I returned to the club late that
afternoon, Markham was stationed in the lounge-
room facing the main door of the rotunda; and be-
side him sat a tall, heavy-set, bronzed man of about
forty, alert but ill at ease.
184
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Traffic Officer Phipps arrived from Boonton a
little while ago," said Markham, by way of intro-
duction. "Cleaver is expected at any moment now.
He has an appointment here at half past five."
Vance drew up a chair.
"I do hope he's a punctual beggar."
"So do I," returned Markham viciously. "I'm
looking forward to your felo-de-se.'
""
"Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair,''
murmured Vance.
Less than ten minutes later Cleaver entered the
rotunda from the street, paused at the desk, and
sauntered into the lounge-room. There was no
escaping the observation point Markham had cho-
sen; and as he walked by us he paused and exchanged
greetings. Markham detained him a moment with
a few casual questions; and then Cleaver passed on.
"That the man you ticketed, officer?" asked
Markham, turning to Phipps.
Phipps was scowling perplexedly.
"It looks something like him, sir; there's a kind of
resemblance. But it ain't him." He shook his head.
"No, sir; it ain't him. The fellow I hung a summons
on was stouter than this gent, and wasn't as tall."
"You're positive?”
"Yes, sir-no mistake. The guy I tagged tried
to argue with me, and then he tried to slip me a
fiver to forget it. I had my headlight on him full."
Phipps was dismissed with a substantial pourboire.
“Væ misero mihi!" sighed Vance. "My worth-
less existence is to be prolonged. Sad. But you must
try to bear it. . . . I say, Markham, what does
Pop Cleaver's brother look like?"
CHECKING AN ALIBI
185
"That's it," nodded Markham. "I've met his
brother; he's shorter and stouter. . . . This thing
is getting beyond me. I think I'll have it out with
Cleaver now."
He started to rise, but Vance forced him back into
his seat.
"Don't be impetuous. Cultivate patience.
Cleaver's not going to do a bunk; and there are
one or two prelimin'ry steps strongly indicated.
Mannix and Lindquist still seduce my curiosity."
Markham clung to his point.
"Neither Mannix nor Lindquist is here now, and
Cleaver is. And I want to know why he lied to me
about that summons."
"I can tell you that," said Vance. "He wanted
you to think he was in the wilds of New Jersey at
midnight Monday. Simple, what?"
"The inference is a credit to your intelligence!
But I hope you don't seriously think that Cleaver
is guilty. It's possible he knows something; but I
certainly cannot picture him as a strangler."
"And why?"
"He's not the type. It's inconceivable even if
there were evidence against him."
"Ah! The psychological judgment! You elimi-
nate Cleaver because you don't think his nature
harmonizes with the situation. I say, doesn't that
come perilously near being an esoteric hypothesis?
or a metaphysical deduction? . . . However, I
don't entirely agree with you in your application of
the theory to Cleaver. That fish-eyed gambler has
unsuspected potentialities for evil. But with the
theory itself I am wholly in accord. And behold,
186
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
my dear Markham: you yourself apply psychology
in its abecedarian implications, yet ridicule my ap-
plication of it in its higher developments. Consis-
tency may be the hobgoblin of little minds, y' know,
but it's none the less a priceless jewel. How
about a cup of tea?"
·
We sought the Palm Room, and sat down at a
table near the entrance. Vance ordered oolong tea,
but Markham and I took black coffee. A very capa-
ble four-piece orchestra was playing Tchaikovsky's
Casse-Noisette Suite, and we sat restfully in the
comfortable chairs without speaking. Markham was
tired and dispirited, and Vance was busy with the
problem that had absorbed him continuously since
Tuesday morning. Never before had I seen him so
preoccupied.
We had been there perhaps half an hour when
Spotswoode strolled in. He stopped and spoke, and
Markham asked him to join us. He, too, appeared
depressed, and his eyes showed signs of worry.
"I hardly dare ask you, Mr. Markham," he said
diffidently, after he had ordered a ginger ale, “but
how do my chances stand now of being called as a
witness?"
"That fate is certainly no nearer than when I last
saw you," Markham replied. "In fact, nothing has
happened to change the situation materially."
"And the man you had under suspicion?"
"He's still under suspicion, but no arrest has been
made. We're hoping, however, that something will
break before long.'
"9
"And I suppose you still want me to remain in
the city?"
CHECKING AN ALIBI
187
"If you can arrange it—yes.”
Spotswoode was silent for a time; then he said:
"I don't want to appear to shirk any responsi-
bility-and perhaps it may seem wholly selfish for
me even to suggest it-but, in any event, wouldn't
the testimony of the telephone operator as to the
hour of Miss Odell's return and her calls for help be
sufficient to establish the facts, without my corrobo-
ration ?"
"I have thought of that, of course; and if it is
at all possible to prepare the case for the prosecu-
tion without summoning you to appear, I assure
you it will be done. At the moment, I can see no
necessity of your being called as a witness. But one
never knows what may turn up. If the defense
hinges on a question of exact time, and the opera-
tor's testimony is questioned or disqualified for any
reason, you may be required to come forward. Other-
wise not."
Spotswoode sipped his ginger ale. A little of his
depression seemed to have departed.
...
"You're very generous, Mr. Markham. I wish
there was some adequate way of thanking you."
He looked up hesitantly. "I presume you are still
opposed to my visiting the apartment. . . . I know
you think me unreasonable and perhaps sentimental;
but the girl represented something in my life that I
find very difficult to tear out. I don't expect you to
understand it-I hardly understand it myself."
"I think it's easily understandable, don't y'
know," remarked Vance, with a sympathy I had
rarely seen him manifest. "Your attitude needs no
apology. History and fable are filled with the same
188
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
situation, and the protagonists have always ex-
hibited sentiments similar to yours. Your most
famous prototype, of course, was Odysseus on the
citron-scented isle of Ogygia with the fascinatin'
Calypso. The soft arms of sirens have gone snaking
round men's necks ever since the red-haired Lilith
worked her devastatin' wiles on the impressionable
Adam. We're all sons of that racy old boy."
Spotswoode smiled.
"You at least give me an historic background,"
he said. Then he turned to Markham. "What will
become of Miss Odell's possessions-her furniture
and so forth?"
"Sergeant Heath heard from an aunt of hers in
Seattle," Markham told him. "She's on her way
to New York, I believe, to take over what there is
of the estate."
"And everything will be kept intact until then?"
"Probably longer, unless something unexpected
happens. Anyway, until then."
"There are one or two little trinkets I'd like to
keep," Spotswoode confessed, a bit shamefacedly, I
thought.
After a few more minutes of desultory talk he rose,
and, pleading an engagement, bade us good after-
noon.
"I hope I can keep his name clear of the case,'
said Markham, when he had gone.
99
"Yes; his situation is not an enviable one," con-
curred Vance. "It's always sad to be found out.
The moralist would set it down to retribution."
"In this instance chance was certainly on the side
of righteousness. If he hadn't chosen Monday night
CHECKING AN ALIBI
189
for the Winter Garden, he might now be in the bosom
of his family, with nothing more troublesome to
bother him than a guilty conscience."
"It certainly looks that way." Vance glanced at
his watch. "And your mention of the Winter Gar-
den reminds me. Do you mind if we dine early?
Frivolity beckons me to-night. I'm going to the
'Scandals.'
We both looked at him as though he had taken
leave of his senses.
"Don't be so horrified, my Markham. Why
should I not indulge an impulse? . . . And, inci-
dentally, I hope to have glad tidings for you by
lunch-time to-morrow."
CHAPTER XVIII
THE TRAP
(Friday, September 14; noon)
Vance slept late the following day. I had accom-
panied him to the "Scandals" the night before, ut-
terly at a loss to understand his strange desire to
attend a type of entertainment which I knew he de-
tested. At noon he ordered his car, and instructed
the chauffeur to drive to the Belafield Hotel.
"We are about to call again on the allurin' Alys,"
he said. “I'd bring posies to lay at her shrine, but I
fear dear Mannix might question her unduly about
them.
Miss La Fosse received us with an air of crestfallen
resentment.
"I might've known it!" She nodded her head
with sneering perception. "I suppose you've come
to tell me the cops found out about me without the
slightest assistance from you." Her disdain was al-
most magnificent. "Did you bring 'em with you?
... A swell guy you are!-But it's my own fault
for being a damn fool."
Vance waited unmoved until she had finished her
contemptuous tirade. Then he bowed pleasantly.
"Really, y' know, I merely dropped in to pay my
respects, and to tell you that the police have turned
in their report of Miss Odell's acquaintances, and
190
THE TRAP
191
that your name was not mentioned in it. You
seemed a little worried yesterday on that score, and
it occurred to me I could set your mind wholly at
ease.
99
The vigilance of her attitude relaxed.
"Is that straight? ... My God! I don't know
what would happen if Louey'd find out I'd been
blabbing."
"I'm sure he won't find out, unless you choose to
tell him. . . Won't you be generous and ask me
to sit down a moment?"
"Of course I'm so sorry. I'm just having my
coffee. Please join me." She rang for two extra ser-
vices.
Vance had drunk two cups of coffee less than half
an hour before, and I marvelled at his enthusiasm
for this atrocious hotel beverage.
99
"I was a belated spectator of the 'Scandals' last
night, he remarked in a negligent, conversational
tone. "I missed the revue earlier in the season.
How is it you yourself were so late in seeing it?"
"I've been so busy," she confided. "I was re-
hearsing for 'A Pair of Queens'; but the production's
been postponed. Louey couldn't get the theatre he
wanted."
"Do you like revues?" asked Vance. "I should
think they'd be more difficult for the principals than
the ordin❜ry musical comedy."
"They are." Miss La Fosse adopted a professional
air. "And they're unsatisfactory. The individual
is lost in them. There's no real scope for one's talent.
They're breathless, if you know what I mean.”
"I should imagine so." Vance bravely sipped his
192
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
coffee. "And yet, there were several numbers in the
'Scandals' that you could have done charmingly;
they seemed particularly designed for you. I thought
of you doing them, and-d' ye know?-the thought
rather spoiled my enjoyment of the young lady who
appeared in them.”
“You flatter me, Mr. Vance. But, really, I have
a good voice. I've studied very hard. And I learned
dancing with Professor Markoff."
"Indeed!" (I'm sure Vance had never heard the
name before, but his exclamation seemed to imply
that he regarded Professor Markoff as one of the
world's most renowned ballet-masters.) "Then you
certainly should have been starred in the 'Scandals.'
The young lady I have in mind sang rather indif-
ferently, and her dancing was most inadequate.
Moreover, she was many degrees your inferior in
personality and attractiveness. . . . Confess: didn't
you have just a little desire last Monday night to be
singing the 'Chinese Lullaby' song?"
"Oh, I don't know." Miss La Fosse carefully con-
sidered the suggestion. "They kept the lights aw-
fully low; and I don't look so well in cerise. But the
costumes were adorable, weren't they?"
"On you they certainly would have been adorable.
What color are you partial to?"
"I love the orchid shades," she told him en-
thusiastically; "though I don't look at all bad in
turquoise blue. But an artist once told me I should
always wear white. He wanted to paint my portrait,
but the gentleman I was engaged to then didn't like
him."
Vance regarded her appraisingly.
THE TRAP
193
"I think your artist friend was right. And, y'
know, the St. Moritz scene in the 'Scandals' would
have suited you perfectly. The little brunette who
sang the snow song, all in white, was delightful; but
really, now, she should have had golden hair. Dusky
beauties belong to the southern climes. And she im-
pressed me as lacking the sparkle and vitality of a
Swiss resort in midwinter. You could have supplied
those qualities admirably.”
"Yes; I'd have liked that better than the Chinese
number, I think. White fox is my favorite fur, too.
But, even so, in a revue you're on in one number and
off in another. When it's all over, you're forgot-
ten." She sighed unhappily.
Vance set down his cup, and looked at her with
whimsically reproachful eyes. After a moment he
said:
“My dear, why did you fib to me about the time
Mr. Mannix returned to you last Monday night?
It wasn't a bit nice of you."
"What do you mean!" Miss La Fosse exclaimed
in frightened indignation, drawing herself up into an
attitude of withering hauteur.
"You see," explained Vance, "the St. Moritz
scene of the 'Scandals' doesn't go on until nearly
eleven, and it closes the bill. So you couldn't possi-
bly have seen it and also received Mr. Mannix here
at half past ten.-Come. What time did he arrive
here Monday night?"
The girl flushed angrily.
"You're pretty slick, aren't you? You shoulda
been a cop.
Well, what if I didn't get home till
after the show? Any crime in that?"
194
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"None whatever," answered Vance mildly. "Only
a little breach of good faith in telling me you came
home early." He bent forward earnestly. "I'm not
here to make you trouble. On the contr'ry, I'd like
to protect you from any distress or bother. You see,
if the police go nosing round, they may run on to you.
But if I'm able to give the District Attorney accurate
information about certain things connected with
Monday night, there'll be no danger of the police
being sent to look for you.
Miss La Fosse's eyes grew suddenly hard and her
brow crinkled with determination.
"Listen! I haven't got anything to hide, and
neither has Louey. But if Louey asks me to say he's
somewhere at half past ten, I'm going to say it-see?
That's my idea of friendship. Louey had some good
reason to ask it, too, or he wouldn't have done it.
However, since you're so smart, and have accused
me of playing unfair, I'm going to tell you that he
didn't get in till after midnight. But if anybody else
asks me about it, I'll see 'em in hell before I tell 'em
anything but the half-past-ten story. Get that?"
Vance bowed.
"I get it; and I like you for it."
"But don't go away with the wrong idea," she
hurried on, her eyes sparkling with fervor. "Louey
may not have got here till after midnight, but if you
think he knows anything about Margy's death,
you're crazy. He was through with Margy a year
ago. Why, he hardly knew she was on earth. And
if any fool cop gets the notion in his head that Louey
was mixed up in the affair, I'll alibi him-so help me
God!-if it's the last thing I do in this world."
THE TRAP
195
"I like you more and more," said Vance; and when
she gave him her hand at parting he lifted it to his lips.
As we rode down-town Vance was thoughtful. We
were nearly to the Criminal Courts Building before
he spoke.
"The primitive Alys rather appeals to me," he
said. "She's much too good for the oleaginous Man-
nix. . . . Women are so shrewd and so gullible. A
woman can read a man with almost magical insight;
but, on the other hand, she is inexpressibly blind
when it comes to her man. Witness sweet Alys's
faith in Mannix. He probably told her he was slav-
ing at the office Monday night. Naturally, she does-
n't believe it; but she knows-knows, mind you that
her Louey just couldn't have been concerned in the
Canary's death. Ah, well, let us hope she's right and
that Mannix is not apprehended—at least not until
her new show is financed. . . . My word! If this
being a detective involves many more revues, I shall
have to resign. Thank Heaven, though, the lady
didn't attend the cinema Monday night!"
When we arrived at the District Attorney's office
we found Heath and Markham in consultation.
Markham had a pad before him, several pages of
which were covered with tabulated and annotated
entries. A cloud of cigar-smoke enveloped him.
Heath sat facing him, his elbows on the table, his
chin resting in his hands. He looked pugnacious but
disconsolate.
99
"I'm going over the case with the Sergeant,
Markham explained, with a brief glance in our direc-
tion. "We're trying to get all the salient points down
in some kind of order, to see if there are any connect-
196
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
ing links we've overlooked. I've told the Sergeant
about the doctor's infatuation and his threats, and of
the failure of Traffic Officer Phipps to identify Clea-
ver. But the more we learn, the worse, apparently,
the jumble grows."
He picked up the sheets of paper and fastened
them together with a clip.
"The truth is, we haven't any real evidence against
anybody. There are suspicious circumstances con-
nected with Skeel and Doctor Lindquist and Cleaver;
and our interview with Mannix didn't precisely allay
suspicions in his direction, either. But when we come
right down to it, what's the situation?-We've got
some finger-prints of Skeel, which might have been
made late Monday afternoon.-Doctor Lindquist
goes berserk when we ask him where he was Monday
night, and then offers us a weak alibi. He admits a
fatherly interest in the girl, whereas he's really in
love with her a perfectly natural bit of mendacity.
-Cleaver lent his car to his brother and lied about
it, so that I'd think he was in Boonton Monday at
midnight.—And Mannix gives us a number of shifty
answers to our questions concerning his relations
with the girl.... Not an embarrassment of riches."
"I wouldn't say your information was exactly neg-
ligent," observed Vance, taking a chair beside the
Sergeant. "It may all prove devilish valuable if only
it could be put together properly. The difficulty, it
appears to me, is that certain parts of the puzzle are
missing. Find 'em, and I'll warrant everything will
fit beautifully-like a mosaic."
"Easy enough to say 'find 'em,"" grumbled Mark-
ham. "The trouble is to know where to look."
THE TRAP
197
Heath relighted his dead cigar and made an impa-
tient gesture.
"You can't get away from Skeel. He's the boy
that did it, and, if it wasn't for Abe Rubin, I'd sweat
the truth outa him.-And by the way, Mr. Vance,
he had his own private key to the Odell apartment,
all right." He glanced at Markham hesitantly. "I
don't want to look as if I was criticising, sir, but I
got a feeling we're wasting time chasing after these
gentlemen friends of Odell-Cleaver and Mannix and
this here doctor."
"You may be right." Markham seemed inclined
to agree with him. "However, I'd like to know why
Lindquist acted the way he did."
"Well, that might help some," Heath compro-
mised. "If the doc was so far gone on Odell as to
threaten to shoot her, and if he went off his head
when you asked him to alibi himself, maybe he could
tell us something. Why not throw a little scare into
him? His record ain't any too good, anyway."
"An excellent idea," chimed in Vance.
Markham looked up sharply. Then he consulted
his appointment book.
"I'm fairly free this afternoon, so suppose you
bring him down here, Sergeant. Get a subpœna if
you have to only see that he comes. And make it
as soon after lunch as you can." He tapped on the
desk irritably. "If I don't do anything else, I'm go-
ing to eliminate some of this human flotsam that's
cluttering up the case. And Lindquist is as good as
any to start with. I'll either develop these various
suspicious circumstances into something workable,
or I'll root them up. Then we'll see where we stand."
198
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
Heath shook hands pessimistically and went out.
"Poor hapless man!" sighed Vance, looking after
him. "He giveth way to all the pangs and fury of
despair."
"And so would you," snapped Markham, "if the
newspapers were butchering you for a political holi-
day. By the way, weren't you to be a harbinger of
glad tidings this noon, or something of the sort?"
"I believe I did hold out some such hope." Vance
sat looking meditatively out of the window for sev-
eral minutes. "Markham, this fellow Mannix lures
me like a magnet. He irks and whirrets me. He in-
fests my slumbers. He's the raven on my bust of
Pallas. He plagues me like a banshee.”
"Does this jeremiad come under the head of tid-
ings?"
“I sha'n't rest peacefully," pursued Vance, "until
I know where Louey the furrier was between eleven
o'clock and midnight Monday. He was somewhere
he shouldn't have been. And you, Markham, must
find out. Please make Mannix the second offensive
in your assault upon the flotsam. He'll parley, with
the right amount of pressure. Be brutal, old dear;
let him think you suspect him of the throttling. Ask
him about the fur model-what's her name?-Fris-
bee ." He stopped short and knit his brows. "My
eye oh, my eye! I wonder.. Yes, yes, Mark-
ham; you must question him about the fur model.
Ask him when he saw her last; and try to look wise
and mysterious when you're doing it.
· •
"See here, Vance"-Markham was exasperated-
"you've been harping on Mannix for three days.
What's keeping your nose to that scent?"
THE TRAP
199
"Intuition-sheer intuition. My psychic tempera-
ment, don't y' know."
"I'd believe that if I hadn't known you for fifteen
years." Markham inspected him shrewdly; then
shrugged his shoulders. "I'll have Mannix on the
tapis when I'm through with Lindquist."
CHAPTER XIX
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
(Friday, September 14; 2 p. m.)
We lunched in the District Attorney's private
sanctum; and at two o'clock Doctor Lindquist was
announced. Heath accompanied him, and, from the
expression on the Sergeant's face, it was plain he did
not at all like his companion.
The doctor, at Markham's request, seated himself
facing the District Attorney's desk.
"What is the meaning of this new outrage?" he
demanded coldly. "Is it your prerogative to force a
citizen to leave his private affairs in order to be bul-
lied ?"
"It's my duty to bring murderers to justice,” re-
plied Markham, with equal coldness. "And if any
citizen considers that giving aid to the authorities is
an outrage, that's his prerogative. If you have any-
thing to fear by answering my questions, doctor, you
are entitled to have your attorney present. Would
you care to phone him to come here now and give
you legal protection?"
Doctor Lindquist hesitated. "I need no legal pro-
tection, sir. Will you be good enough to tell me at
once why I was brought here?"
66
Certainly; to explain a few points which have
been discovered regarding your relationship with
Miss Odell, and to elucidate-if you care to your
200
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
201
reasons for deceiving me, at our last conference, in
regard to that relationship."
"You have, I infer, been prying unwarrantably
into my private affairs. I had heard that such prac-
tices were once common in Russia.
"If the prying was unwarranted, you can, Doc-
tor Lindquist, easily convince me on that point;
and whatever we may have learned concerning you
will be instantly forgotten.-It is true, is it not,
that your interest in Miss Odell went somewhat
beyond mere paternal affection?”
"Are not even a man's sacred sentiments re-
spected by the police of this country?" There was
insolent scorn in the doctor's tone.
99
"Under some conditions, yes; under others, no.
Markham controlled his fury admirably. "You need
not answer me, of course; but, if you choose to be
frank, you may possibly save yourself the humilia-
tion of being questioned publicly by the People's
attorney in a court of law."
Doctor Lindquist winced and considered the mat-
ter at some length.
"And if I admit that my affection for Miss Odell
was other than paternal—what then?”
Markham accepted the question as an affirmation.
"You were intensely jealous of her, were you not,
doctor?"
"Jealousy," Doctor Lindquist remarked, with an
air of ironic professionalism, "is not an unusual ac-
companiment to an infatuation. Authorities such as
Krafft-Ebing, Moll, Freud, Ferenczi, and Adler, I
believe, regard it as an intimate psychological corol-
lary of amatory attraction."
202
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Most instructive," Markham nodded his head
appreciatively. "I am to assume, then, that you
were infatuated with-or, let us say, amatorily at-
tracted by-Miss Odell, and that on occasions you
exhibited the intimate psychological corollary of
jealousy ?"
"You may assume what you please. But I fail
to understand why my emotions are any of your
affair."
"Had your emotions not led you to highly ques-
tionable and suspicious acts, I would not be inter-
ested in them. But I have it on unimpeachable au-
thority that your emotions so reacted on your better
judgment that you threatened to take Miss Odell's
life and also your own. And, in view of the fact
that the young woman has since been murdered, the
law naturally-and reasonably-is curious."
The doctor's normally pale face seemed to turn
yellow, and his long splay fingers tightened over the
arms of his chair; but otherwise he sat immobile
and rigidly dignified, his eyes fixed intently on the
District Attorney.
"I trust," added Markham, "you will not aug-
ment my suspicions by any attempt at denial."
Vance was watching the man closely. Presently
he leaned forward.
"I say, doctor, what method of extermination
did you threaten Miss Odell with?"
Doctor Lindquist jerked round, thrusting his head
toward Vance. He drew in a long rasping breath,
and his whole frame became tense. Blood suffused
his cheeks; and there was a twitching of the muscles
about his mouth and throat. For a moment I was
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
203
afraid he was going to lose his self-control. But after
a moment's effort he steadied himself.
"You think perhaps I threatened to strangle her?"
His words were vibrant with the intensity of his
passionate anger. "And you would like to turn my
threat into a noose to hang me?-Paugh!" He
paused, and when he spoke again his voice had be-
come calmer. "It is quite true I once inadvisedly
attempted to frighten Miss Odell with a threat to
kill her and to commit suicide. But if your informa-
tion is as accurate as you would have me believe,
you are aware that I threatened her with a revolver.
It is the weapon, I believe, that is conventionally
mentioned when making empty threats. I certainly
would not have threatened her with thuggee, even
had I contemplated so abominable an act."
"True," nodded Vance. "And it's a rather good
point, don't y' know."
The doctor was evidently encouraged by Vance's
attitude. He again faced Markham and elaborated
his confession.
"A threat, I presume you know, is rarely the fore-
runner of a violent deed. Even a brief study of the
human mind would teach you that a threat is prima
facie evidence of one's innocence. A threat, gener-
ally, is made in anger, and acts as its own safety-
valve." He shifted his eyes. "I am not a married
man; my emotional life has not been stabilized, as
it were; and I am constantly coming in close contact
with hypersensitive and overwrought people. Dur-
ing a period of abnormal susceptibility I conceived
an infatuation for the young woman, an infatuation
which she did not reciprocate-certainly not with an
204
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
ardor commensurate with my own. I suffered deeply;
and she made no effort to mitigate my sufferings.
Indeed, I suspected her, more than once, of deliber-
ately and perversely torturing me with other men.
At any rate, she took no pains to hide her infideli-
ties from me. I confess that once or twice I was
almost distracted. And it was in the hope of fright-
ening her into a more amenable and considerate atti-
tude that I threatened her.-I trust that you are a
sufficiently discerning judge of human nature to be-
lieve me.'
99
"Leaving that point for a moment," answered
Markham non-committally, "will you give me more
specific information as to your whereabouts Monday
night?"
Again I noted a yellow tinge creep over the man's
features, and his body stiffened perceptibly. But
when he spoke it was with his habitual suavity.
"I considered that my note to you covered that
question satisfactorily. What did I omit?"
“What was the name of the patient on whom you
were calling that night?”
"Mrs. Anna Breedon. She is the widow of the late
Amos H. Breedon of the Breedon National Bank of
Long Branch."
"And you were with her, I believe you stated,
from eleven until one?"
"That is correct."
“And was Mrs. Breedon the only witness to your
presence at the sanitarium between those hours?"
“I am afraid that is so. You see, after ten o'clock
at night I never ring the bell. I let myself in with
my own key."
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
205
"And I suppose that I may be permitted to ques-
tion Mrs. Breedon ?"
Doctor Lindquist was profoundly regretful.
"Mrs. Breedon is a very ill woman. She suffered a
tremendous shock at the time of her husband's death
last summer, and has been practically in a semicon-
scious condition ever since. There are times when I
even fear for her reason. The slightest disturbance
or excitement might produce very serious results."
He took a newspaper cutting from a gold-edged
letter-case and handed it to Markham.
"You will observe that this obituary notice men-
tions her prostration and confinement in a private
sanitarium. I have been her physician for years."
Markham, after glancing at the cutting, handed
it back. There was a short silence broken by a ques-
tion from Vance.
"By the bye, doctor, what is the name of the night
nurse at your sanitarium?"
Doctor Lindquist looked up quickly.
"My night nurse? Why-what has she to do with
it? She was very busy Monday night. I can't un-
derstand. . . . Well, if you want her name I have
no objection. It's Finckle-Miss Amelia Finckle.”
Vance wrote down the name and, rising, carried
the slip of paper to Heath.
"Sergeant, bring Miss Finckle here to-morrow
morning at eleven," he said, with a slight lowering
of one eyelid.
"I sure will, sir. Good idea." His manner boded
no good for Miss Finckle.
A cloud of apprehension spread over Doctor Lind-
quist's face.
206
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Forgive me if I say that I am insensible to the
sanity of your cavalier methods." His tone betrayed
only contempt. "May I hope that for the present
your inquisition is ended?”
"I think that will be all, doctor," returned Mark-
ham politely. "May I have a taxicab called for
you?"
But my
"Your consideration overwhelms me.
car is below." And Doctor Lindquist haughtily
withdrew.
Markham immediately summoned Swacker and
sent him for Tracy. The detective came at once,
polishing his pince-nez and bowing affably. One
would have taken him for an actor rather than a
detective, but his ability in matters requiring deli-
cate handling was a byword in the department.
"I want you to fetch Mr. Louis Mannix again,”
Markham told him. "Bring him here at once; I'm
waiting to see him.'
Tracy bowed genially and, adjusting his glasses,
departed on his errand.
"And now," said Markham, fixing Vance with a
reproachful look, "I want to know what your idea
was in putting Lindquist on his guard about the
night nurse. Your brain isn't at par this afternoon.
Do you think I didn't have the nurse in mind? And
now you've warned him. He'll have until eleven to-
morrow morning to coach her in her answers. Really,
Vance, I can't conceive of anything better calculated
to defeat us in our attempt to substantiate the man's
alibi."
"I did put a little fright into him, didn't I?"
Vance grinned complacently. "Whenever your an-
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
207
tagonist begins talking exaggeratedly about the
insanity of your notions, he's already deuced hot
under the collar. But, Markham old thing, don't
burst into tears over my mental shortcomings. If
you and I both thought of the nurse, don't you
suppose the wily doctor also thought of her? If this
Miss Finckle were the type that could be suborned,
he would have enlisted her perjurious services two
days ago, and she would have been mentioned,
along with the comatose Mrs. Breedon, as a witness
to his presence at the sanitarium Monday night. The
fact that he avoided all reference to the nurse shows
that she's not to be wheedled into swearing falsely.
No, Markham. I deliberately put him on his
guard. Now he'll have to do something before we
question Miss Finckle. And I'm vain enough to think
I know what it'll be."
"Let me get this right," put in Heath. "Am I,
or am I not, to round up the Finckle woman to-
morrow morning?"
"There'll be no need," said Vance. "We are
doomed, I fear, not to gaze upon this Florence
Nightingale. A meeting between us is about the last
thing the doctor would desire.”
"That may be true," admitted Markham. “But
don't forget that he may have been up to something
Monday night wholly unconnected with the murder,
that he simply doesn't want known."
"Quite quite. And yet, nearly every one who
knew the Canary seems to have selected Monday
night for the indulgence of sub-rosa peccadilloes. It's
a bit thick, what? Skeel tries to make us believe he
was immersed in Khun Khan. Cleaver was-if you
208
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
take his word for it-touring the countryside in
Jersey's lake district. Lindquist wants us to picture
him as comforting the afflicted. And Mannix, I
happen to know, has gone to some trouble to build up
an alibi in case we get nosey. All of 'em, in fact, were
doing something they don't want us to know about.
Now, what was it? And why did they, of one accord,
select the night of the murder for mysterious affairs
which they don't dare mention, even to clear them-
selves of suspicion? Was there an invasion of efreets
in the city that night? Was there a curse on the
world, driving men to dark bawdy deeds? Was
there Black Magic abroad? I think not."
"I'm laying my money on Skeel," declared Heath
stubbornly. “I know a professional job when I see
it. And you can't get away from those finger-prints
and the Professor's report on the chisel."
Markham was sorely perplexed. His belief in
Skeel's guilt had, I knew, been undermined in some
measure by Vance's theory that the crime was the
carefully premeditated act of a shrewd and educated
man. But now he seemed to swing irresolutely back
to Heath's point of view.
"I'll admit," he said, "that Lindquist and Cleaver
and Mannix don't inspire one with a belief in their
innocence. But since they're all tarred with the
same stick, the force of suspicion against them is
somewhat dispersed. After all, Skeel is the only
logical aspirant for the rôle of strangler. He's the
only one with a visible motive; and he's the only one
against whom there's any evidence."
Vance sighed wearily.
"Yes, yes. Finger-prints-chisel marks. You're
THE DOCTOR EXPLAINS
209
such a trustin' soul, Markham. Skeel's finger-prints
are found in the apartment; therefore, Skeel strangled
the lady. So beastly simple. Why bother further?
A chose jugée an adjudicated case. Send Skeel to
the chair, and that's that!... It's effective, y'
know, but is it art?"
"In your critical enthusiasm you understate our
case against Skeel," Markham reminded him testily.
"Oh, I'll grant that your case against him is
ingenious. It's so deuced ingenious I just haven't
the heart to reject it. But most popular truth is
mere ingenuity-that's why it's so wrong-headed.
Your theory would appeal strongly to the popular
mind. And yet, y' know, Markham, it isn't true.”
The practical Heath was unmoved. He sat stol-
idly, scowling at the table. I doubt if he had even
heard the exchange of opinions between Markham
and Vance.
"You know, Mr. Markham," he said, like one
unconsciously voicing an obscure line of thought,
"if we could show how Skeel got in and out of Odell's
apartment we'd have a better case against him. I
can't figure it out-it's got me stopped. So, I've
been thinking we oughta get an architect to go over
those rooms. The house is an old-timer God knows
when it was originally built-and there may be some
way of getting into it that we haven't discovered
yet."
"Pon my soul!" Vance stared at him in satirical
wonderment. "You're becoming downright roman-
tic! Secret passageways-hidden doors-stairways
between the walls. So that's it, is it? Oh, my word!
. . . Sergeant, beware of the cinema. It has ruined
210
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
many a good man. Try grand opera for a while-
it's more borin' but less corruptin'."
"That's all right, Mr. Vance." Apparently Heath
himself did not relish the architectural idea partic-
ularly. "But as long as we don't know how Skeel
got in, it's just as well to make sure of a few ways
he didn't get in."
"I agree with you, Sergeant," said Markham.
"I'll get an architect on the job at once." He rang
for Swacker, and gave the necessary instructions.
Vance extended his legs and yawned.
"All we need now is a Favorite of the Harem, a
few blackamoors with palm-leaf fans, and some
pizzicato music."
"You will joke, Mr. Vance." Heath lit a fresh
cigar. “But even if the architect don't find anything
wrong with the apartment, Skeel's liable to give his
hand away 'most any time."
"I'm pinnin' my childish faith on Mannix," said
Vance. "I don't know why I should; but he's not
a nice man, and he's suppressing something.-Mark-
ham, don't you dare let him go until he tells you
where he was Monday night. And don't forget to
hint mysteriously about the fur model."
CHAPTER XX
A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
(Friday, September 14; 3.30 p. m.)
In less than half an hour Mannix arrived. Heath
relinquished his seat to the newcomer, and moved
to a large chair beneath the windows. Vance had
taken a place at the small table on Markham's right
where he was able to face Mannix obliquely.
It was patent that Mannix did not relish the idea
of another interview. His little eyes shifted quickly
about the office, lingered suspiciously for a moment
on Heath, and at last came to rest on the District
Attorney. He was more vigilant even than during
his first visit; and his greeting to Markham, while
fulsome, had in it a note of trepidation. Nor was
Markham's air calculated to put him at ease. It
was an ominous, indomitable Public Prosecutor who
motioned him to be seated. Mannix laid his hat and
cane on the table, and sat down on the edge of his
chair, his back as perpendicular as a flag-pole.
"I'm not at all satisfied with what you told me
Wednesday, Mr. Mannix," Markham began, "and
I trust you won't necessitate me to take drastic
steps to find out what you know about Miss Odell's
death."
"What I know!" Mannix forced a smile intended
to be disarming. "Mr. Markham-Mr. Markham!"
211
212
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
He seemed oilier than usual as he spread his hands in
hopeless appeal. "If I knew anything, believe me,
I would tell you-positively I would tell you."
"I'm delighted to hear it. Your willingness makes
my task easier. First, then, please tell me where you
were at midnight Monday."
Mannix's eyes slowly contracted until they looked
like two tiny shining disks, but otherwise the man
did not move. After what seemed an interminable
pause, he spoke.
"I should tell you where I was Monday? Why
should I have to do that? . . . Maybe I'm sus-
pected of the murder-yes?"
"You're not suspected now. But your apparent
unwillingness to answer my question is certainly
suspicious. Why don't you care to have me know
where you were?"
"I got no reason to keep it from you, y' under-
stand." Mannix shrugged. "I got nothing to be
ashamed of-absolutely! . . . I had a lot of ac-
counts to go over at the office-winter-season stocks.
I was down at the office until ten o'clock-maybe
later. Then at half past ten—”
"That'll do!" Vance's voice cut in tartly. "No
need to drag any one else into this thing."
He spoke with a curious significance of emphasis,
and Mannix studied him craftily, trying to read what
knowledge, if any, lay behind his words. But he re-
ceived no enlightenment from Vance's features.
The warning, however, had been enough to halt him.
"You don't want to know where I was at half past
ten ?"
"Not particularly," said Vance. "We want to
A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
213
know where you were at midnight. And it won't be
necess'ry to mention any one who saw you at that
time. When you tell us the truth, we'll know it."
He himself had assumed the air of wisdom and mys-
tery that he had deputed to Markham earlier in the
afternoon. Without breaking faith with Alys La
Fosse, he had sowed the seeds of doubt in Mannix's
mind.
Before the man could frame an answer, Vance
stood up and leaned impressively over the District
Attorney's desk.
"You know a Miss Frisbee. Lives in 71st Street;
accurately speaking—at number 184; to be more
exact-in the house where Miss Odell lived; to put
it precisely-in Apartment Number 2. Miss Frisbee
was a former model of yours. Sociable girl: still
charitable to the advances of her erstwhile employer
-meanin' yourself.-When did you see her last,
Mr. Mannix? . . . Take your time about answer-
ing. You may want to think it over."
Mannix took his time. It was a full minute before
he spoke, and then it was to put another question.
"Haven't I got a right to call on a lady-haven't
I?"
66
Certainly. Therefore, why should a question
about so obviously correct and irreproachable an
episode make you uneasy?"
"Me uneasy?" Mannix, with considerable ef-
fort, produced a grin. "I'm just wondering what
you got in your mind, asking me about my private
affairs."
"I'll tell you. Miss Odell was murdered at about
midnight Monday. No one came or went through
214
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
the front door of the house, and the side door was
locked. The only way any one could have entered
her apartment was by way of Apartment 2; and no-
body who knew Miss Odell ever visited Apartment 2
except yourself."
At these words Mannix leaned over the table,
grasping the edge of it with both hands for support.
His eyes were wide and his sensual lips hung open.
But it was not fear that one read in his attitude; it
was sheer amazement. He sat for a moment staring
at Vance, stunned and incredulous.
"That's what you think, is it? No one could've got
in or out except by Apartment 2, because the side
door was locked?" He gave a short vicious laugh.
"If that side door didn't happen to be locked Mon-
day night, where'd I stand then-huh? Where'd I
stand?”
"I rather think you'd stand with us with the
District Attorney." Vance was watching him like a
cat.
"Sure I would!" spat Mannix. "And let me tell
you something, my friend: that's just where I stand
-absolutely!" He swung heavily about and faced
Markham. "I'm a good fellow, y' understand, but
I've kept my mouth shut long enough. That
side door wasn't locked Monday night. And I know
who sneaked out of it at five minutes to twelve !"
•
"Ça marche!" murmured Vance, reseating him-
self and calmly lighting a cigarette.
Markham was too astonished to speak at once; and
Heath sat stock-still, his cigar half-way to his mouth.
At length Markham leaned back and folded his
arms.
A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
215
"I think you'd better tell us the whole story, Mr.
Mannix." His voice held a quality which made the
request an imperative.
Mannix, too, settled back in his chair.
“Oh, I'm going to tell it-believe me, I'm going
to tell it. You had the right idea. I spent the eve-
ning with Miss Frisbee. No harm in that, though."
“What time did you go there?"
"After office hours-half past five, quarter to six.
Came up in the subway, got off at 72d, and walked
over.'
99
"And you entered the house through the front
door?"
"No. I walked down the alleyway and went in the
side door—like I generally do. It's nobody's business
who I call on, and what the telephone operator in the
front hall don't know don't hurt him."
"That's all right so far," observed Heath. "The
janitor didn't bolt the side door until after six."
“And did you stay the entire evening, Mr. Man-
nix?" asked Markham.
"Sure-till just before midnight. Miss Frisbee
cooked the dinner, and I'd brought along a bottle of
wine. Social little party-just the two of us. And I
didn't go outside the apartment, understand, until
five minutes to twelve. You can get the lady down
here and ask her. I'll call her up now and tell her to
explain the exact situation about Monday night. I'm
not asking you to take my word for it-positively
not."
Markham made a gesture dismissing the sugges-
tion.
"What took place at five minutes to twelve?”
216
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Mannix hesitated, as if loath to come to the point.
"I'm a good fellow, y' understand. And a friend's
a friend. But I ask you-is that any reason why I
should get in wrong for something I didn't have ab-
solutely nothing to do with?”
He waited for an answer, but receiving none, con-
tinued.
"Sure, I'm right.-Anyway, here's what hap-
pened. As I said, I was calling on the lady. But I
had another date for later that night; so a few min-
utes before midnight I said good-bye and started to
go. Just as I opened the door I saw some one sneak-
ing away from the Canary's apartment down the lit-
tle back hall to the side door. There was a light in
the hall, and the door of Apartment 2 faces that side
door. I saw the fellow as plain as I see you-posi-
tively as plain."
66
"Who was it?"
"Well, if you got to know, it was Pop Cleaver."
Markham's head jerked slightly.
"What did you do then?”
"Nothing, Mr. Markham-nothing at all. I didn't
think much about it, y' understand. I knew Pop
was chasing after the Canary, and I just supposed
he'd been calling on her. But I didn't want Pop to
see me-none of his business where I spend my time.
So I waited quietly till he went out-
"By the side door?"
99
"Sure. Then I went out the same way. I was
going to leave by the front door, because I knew the
side door was always locked at night. But when I
saw Pop go out that way, I said to myself I'd do the
same. No sense giving your business away to a tele-
A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
217
phone operator if you haven't got to-no sense at all.
So I went out the same way I came in. Picked up a
taxi on Broadway, and went”
"That's enough!" Again Vance's command cut
him short.
"Oh, all right—all right." Mannix seemed con-
tent to end his statement at this point. "Only, y'
understand, I don't want you to think-
"We don't."
99
Markham was puzzled at these interruptions, but
made no comment.
"When you read of Miss Odell's death," he said,
"why didn't you come to the police with this highly
important information?"
"I should get mixed up in it!" exclaimed Mannix
in surprise. "I got enough trouble without looking
for it-plenty."
66
'An exigent course," commented Markham with
open disgust. "But you nevertheless suggested to
me, after you knew of the murder, that Cleaver was
being blackmailed by Miss Odell."
"Sure I did. Don't that go to show I wanted to
do the right thing by you-giving you a valuable
tip?"
"Did you see any one else that night in the halls
or alleyway?"
"Nobody—absolutely nobody."
"Did you hear any one in the Odell apartment-
any one speaking or moving about, perhaps?"
“Didn't hear a thing." Mannix shook his head
emphatically.
66
'And you're certain of the time you saw Cleaver
go out-five minutes to twelve?"
218
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Positively. I looked at my watch, and I said to
the lady: 'I'm leaving the same day I came; it won't
be to-morrow for five minutes yet."
Markham went over his story point by point, at-
tempting by various means to make him admit more
than he had already told. But Mannix neither added
to his statement nor modified it in any detail; and
after half an hour's cross-examination he was per-
mitted to go.
"We've found one missing piece of the puzzle, at
any rate," commented Vance. "I don't see now just
how it fits into the complete pattern, but it's helpful
and suggestive. And, I say, how beautifully my in-
tuition about Mannix was verified, don't y' know!"
"Yes, of course your precious intuition." Mark-
ham looked at him sceptically. "Why did you shut
him up twice when he was trying to tell me some-
thing?"
“O, tu ne sauras jamais," recited Vance. “I simply
can't tell you, old dear. Awfully sorry, and all that.
99
His manner was whimsical, but Markham knew
that at such times Vance was at heart most serious,
and he did not press the question. I could not help
wondering if Miss La Fosse realized just how secure
she had been in putting her faith in Vance's integrity.
Heath had been considerably shaken by Mannix's
story.
"I don't savvy that side door being unlocked," he
complained. "How the hell did it get bolted again
on the inside after Mannix went out? And who un-
bolted it after six o'clock?"
"In God's good time, my Sergeant, all things will
be revealed," said Vance.
A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
219
"Maybe and maybe not. But if we do find out,
you can take it from me that the answer'll be Skeel.
He's the bird we gotta get the goods on. Cleaver is
no expert jimmy artist; and neither is Mannix.”
"Just the same, there was a very capable techni-
cian on hand that night, and it wasn't your friend
the Dude-though he was probably the Donatello
who sculptured open the jewel-case.
"A pair of 'em, was there? That's your theory, is
it, Mr. Vance? You said that once before; and I'm
not saying you're wrong. But if we can hang any
part of it on Skeel, we'll make him come across as to
who his pal was.'
""
"It wasn't a pal, Sergeant. It was more likely a
stranger.'
""
Markham sat glowering into space.
99
"I don't at all like the Cleaver end of this affair,
he said. "There's been something damned wrong
about him ever since Monday."
"And I say," put in Vance, "doesn't the gentle-
man's false alibi take on a certain shady significance
now, what? You apprehend, I trust, why I restrained
you from questioning him about it at the club yester-
day. I rather fancied that if you could get Mannix
to pour out his heart to you, you'd be in a stronger
position to draw a few admissions from Cleaver. And
behold! Again the triumph of intuition! With what
you now know about him, you can chivvy him most
unconscionably-eh, what?"
"And that's precisely what I'm going to do."
Markham rang for Swacker. "Get hold of Charles
Cleaver," he ordered irritably. "Phone him at the
Stuyvesant Club and also his home-he lives round
220
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
the corner from the club in West 27th Street. And
tell him I want him to be here in half an hour, or I'll
send a couple of detectives to bring him in handcuffs."
For five minutes Markham stood before the win-
dow, smoking agitatedly, while Vance, with a smile
of amusement, busied himself with The Wall Street
Journal. Heath got himself a drink of water, and
took a turn up and down the room. Presently Swack-
er re-entered.
"Sorry, Chief, but there's nothing doing. Clea-
ver's gone into the country somewhere. Won't be
back till late to-night."
"Hell! .
All right-that'll do." Markham
turned to Heath. "You have Cleaver rounded up
to-night, Sergeant, and bring him in here to-morrow
morning at nine."
"He'll be here, sir!" Heath paused in his pacing
and faced Markham. "I've been thinking, sir; and
there's one thing that keeps coming up in my mind,
so to speak. You remember that black document-
box that was setting on the living-room table? It
was empty; and what a woman generally keeps in
that kind of a box is letters and things like that.
Well, now, here's what's been bothering me: that
box wasn't jimmied open-it was unlocked with a
key. And, anyway, a professional crook don't take
letters and documents. You see what I mean,
sir ?"
66
Sergeant of mine!" exclaimed Vance. "I abase
myself before you! I sit at your feet! . . . The
document-box-the tidily opened, empty document-
box! Of course! Skeel didn't open it-never in this
world! That was the other chap's handiwork.”
A MIDNIGHT WITNESS
221
"What was in your mind about that box, Ser-
geant?" asked Markham.
“Just this, sir. As Mr. Vance has insisted right
along, there mighta been some one besides Skeel in
that apartment during the night. And you told me
that Cleaver admitted to you he'd paid Odell a lot
of money last June to get back his letters. But sup-
pose he never paid that money; suppose he went
there Monday night and took those letters. Wouldn't
he have told you just the story he did about buying
'em back? Maybe that's how Mannix happened to
see him there."
"That's not unreasonable," Markham acknowl-
edged. "But where does it lead us?"
"Well, sir, if Cleaver did take 'em Monday night,
he mighta held on to 'em. And if any of those let-
ters were dated later than last June, when he says
he bought 'em back, then we'd have the goods on
him."
"Well ?"
"As I say, sir, I've been thinking. Now,
Cleaver is outa town to-day; and if we could get
hold of those letters. .
""
"It might prove helpful, of course," said Mark-
ham coolly, looking the Sergeant straight in the eye.
"But such a thing is quite out of the question."
"Still and all," mumbled Heath, "Cleaver's been
pulling a lot of raw stuff on you, sir."
CHAPTER XXI
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
(Saturday, September 15; 9 a. m.)
The next morning Markham and Vance and I
breakfasted together at the Prince George, and ar-
rived at the District Attorney's office a few minutes
past nine. Heath, with Cleaver in tow, was waiting
in the reception-room.
To judge by Cleaver's manner as he entered, the
Sergeant had been none too considerate of him. He
strode belligerently to the District Attorney's desk
and fixed a cold, resentful eye on Markham.
"Am I, by any chance, under arrest?" he de-
manded softly, but it was the rasping, suppressed
softness of wrathful indignation.
"Not yet," said Markham curtly. "But if you
were, you'd have only yourself to blame.-Sit down."
Cleaver hesitated, and took the nearest chair.
"Why was I routed out of bed at seven-thirty by
this detective of yours"-he jerked his thumb toward
Heath-"and threatened with patrol-wagons and
warrants because I objected to such high-handed
and illegal methods?'
"You were merely threatened with legal procedure
if you refused to accept my invitation voluntarily.
This is my short day at the office; and there was some
explaining I wanted from you without delay."
222
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
223
"I'm damned if I'll explain anything to you un-
der these conditions!" For all his nerveless poise,
Cleaver was finding it difficult to control himself.
"I'm no pickpocket that you can drag in here when
it suits your convenience and put through a third
degree.'
"That's eminently satisfactory to me." Markham
spoke ominously. "But since you refuse to do your
explaining as a free citizen, I have no other course
than to alter your present status." He turned to
Heath. "Sergeant, go across the hall and have Ben
swear out a warrant for Charles Cleaver. Then lock
this gentleman up."
Cleaver gave a start, and caught his breath sibi-
lantly.
"On what charge?" he demanded.
"The murder of Margaret Odell."
The man sprang to his feet. The color had gone
from his face, and the muscles of his jowls worked
spasmodically.
"Wait! You're giving me a raw deal. And you'll
lose out, too. You couldn't make that charge stick
in a thousand years."
"Maybe not. But if you don't want to talk here,
I'll make you talk in court."
"I'll talk here." Cleaver sat down again. “What
do you want to know?"
Markham took out a cigar and lit it with de-
liberation.
"First: why did you tell me you were in Boon-
ton Monday night?"
Cleaver apparently had expected the question.
"When I read of the Canary's death I wanted an
224
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
alibi; and my brother had just given me the summons
he'd been handed in Boonton. It was a ready-made
alibi right in my hand. So I used it."
"Why did you need an alibi?”
"I didn't need it; but I thought it might save me
trouble. People knew I'd been running round with
the Odell girl; and some of them knew she'd been
blackmailing me I'd told 'em, like a damn fool. I
told Mannix, for instance. We'd both been stung."
"Is that your only reason for concocting this
alibi?" Markham was watching him sharply.
"Wasn't it reason enough? Blackmail would have
constituted a motive, wouldn't it?”
"It takes more than a motive to arouse unpleasant
suspicion."
99
"Maybe so. Only I didn't want to be drawn into
it. You can't blame me for trying to keep clear of
it."
Markham leaned over with a threatening smile.
"The fact that Miss Odell had blackmailed you
wasn't your only reason for lying about the sum-
mons. It wasn't even your main reason.'
99
Cleaver's eyes narrowed, but otherwise he was like
a graven image.
"You evidently know more about it than I do."
He managed to make his words sound casual.
"Not more, Mr. Cleaver," Markham corrected
him, "but nearly as much.-Where were you between
eleven o'clock and midnight Monday?"
"Perhaps that's one of the things you know."
"You're right.-You were in Miss Odell's apart-
ment."
Cleaver sneered, but he did not succeed in dis-
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
225
guising the shock that Markham's accusation caused
him.
"If that's what you think, then it happens you
don't know, after all. I haven't put foot in her
apartment for two weeks."
"I have the testimony of reliable witnesses to the
contrary.
"Witnesses!" The word seemed to force itself
from Cleaver's compressed lips.
Markham nodded. "You were seen coming out of
Miss Odell's apartment and leaving the house by the
side door at five minutes to twelve on Monday
night."
Cleaver's jaw sagged slightly, and his labored
breathing was quite audible.
"And between half past eleven and twelve o'clock,"
pursued Markham's relentless voice, "Miss Odell was
strangled and robbed.—What do you say to that?”
For a long time there was tense silence. Then
Cleaver spoke.
"I've got to think this thing out."
Markham waited patiently. After several min-
utes Cleaver drew himself together and squared his
shoulders.
"I'm going to tell you what I did that night, and
you can take it or leave it." Again he was the cold,
self-contained gambler. "I don't care how many wit-
nesses you've got; it's the only story you'll ever get
out of me. I should have told you in the first place,
but I didn't see any sense of stepping into hot water
if I wasn't pushed in. You might have believed me
last Tuesday, but now you've got something in your
head, and you want to make an arrest to shut up the
newspapers-
""
226
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
"Tell your story," ordered Markham. "If it's
straight, you needn't worry about the newspapers."
Cleaver knew in his heart that this was true. No
one-not even his bitterest political enemies-had
ever accused Markham of buying kudos with any act
of injustice, however small.
99
"There's not much to tell, as a matter of fact,'
the man began. "I went to Miss Odell's house a
little before midnight, but I didn't enter her apart-
ment; I didn't even ring her bell."
"Is that your customary way of paying visits?"
"Sounds fishy, doesn't it? But it's the truth,
nevertheless. I intended to see her-that is, I wanted
to-but when I reached her door, something made
me change my mind-
""
"Just a moment.-How did you enter the house?"
"By the side door-the one off the alleyway. I
always used it when it was open. Miss Odell re-
quested me to, so that the telephone operator
wouldn't see me coming in so often."
"And the door was unlocked at that time Monday
night?"
"How else could I have got in by it? A key
wouldn't have done me any good, even if I'd had
one, for the door locks by a bolt on the inside. I'll
say this, though: that's the first time I ever remember
finding the door unlocked at night.'
"All right. You went in the side entrance. Then
what?"
"I walked down the rear hall and listened at the
door of Miss Odell's apartment for a minute. I
thought there might be some one else with her, and
I didn't want to ring unless she was alone. . . .”
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
227
"Pardon my interrupting, Mr. Cleaver," inter-
posed Vance. "But what made you think some one
else was there?”
The man hesitated.
"Was it," prompted Vance, "because you had
telephoned to Miss Odell a little while before, and
had been answered by a man's voice?"
Cleaver nodded slowly. "I can't see any particular
point in denying it. . . . Yes, that's the reason."
"What did this man say to you?"
"Damn little. He said 'Hello,' and when I asked
to speak to Miss Odell, he informed me she wasn't in,
and hung up.'
""
Vance addressed himself to Markham.
“That, I think, explains Jessup's report of the
brief phone call to the Odell apartment at twenty
minutes to twelve."
"Probably." Markham spoke without interest.
He was intent on Cleaver's account of what happened
later, and he took up the interrogation at the point
where Vance had interrupted.
"You say you listened at the apartment door.
What caused you to refrain from ringing?"
"I heard a man's voice inside."
Markham straightened up.
"A man's voice? You're sure?"
"That's what I said." Cleaver was matter of fact
about it. "A man's voice. Otherwise I'd have rung
the bell."
"Could you identify the voice?"
"Hardly. It was very indistinct; and it sounded
a little hoarse. It wasn't any one's voice I was fa-
miliar with; but I'd be inclined to say it was the
same one that answered me over the phone.'
""
228
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"Could you make out anything that was said?"
Cleaver frowned and looked past Markham
through the open window.
"I know what the words sounded like," he said
slowly. "I didn't think anything of them at the time.
But after reading the papers the next day, those
words came back to me
99
"What were the words?" Markham cut in im-
patiently.
"Well, as near as I could make out, they were: 'Oh,
my God! Oh, my God!'-repeated two or three
times."
This statement seemed to bring a sense of horror
into the dreary old office a horror all the more
potent because of the casual, phlegmatic way in
which Cleaver repeated that cry of anguish. After
a brief pause Markham asked:
"When you heard this man's voice, what did you
do?"
"I walked softly back down the rear hall and went
out again through the side door. Then I went home."
A short silence ensued. Cleaver's testimony had
been in the nature of a surprise; but it fitted per-
fectly with Mannix's statement.
Presently Vance lifted himself out of the depths of
his chair.
"I say, Mr. Cleaver, what were you doing between
twenty minutes to twelve-when you phoned Miss
Odell and five minutes to twelve-when you
entered the side door of her apartment-house?"
"I was riding up-town in the Subway from 23d
Street," came the answer after a short pause.
"Strange very strange." Vance inspected the
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
229
tip of his cigarette. "Then you couldn't possibly
have phoned to any one during that fifteen minutes—
eh, what?"
I suddenly remembered Alys La Fosse's statement
that Cleaver had telephoned to her on Monday night
at ten minutes to twelve. Vance, by his question,
had, without revealing his own knowledge, created
a state of uncertainty in the other's mind. Afraid to
commit himself too emphatically, Cleaver resorted to
an evasion.
"It's possible, is it not, that I could have phoned
some one after leaving the Subway at 72d Street
and before I walked the block to Miss Odell's
house?"
"Oh, quite," murmured Vance. "Still, looking at
it mathematically, if you phoned Miss Odell at
twenty minutes to twelve, and then entered the Sub-
way, rode to 72d Street, walked a block to 71st, went
into the building, listened at her door, and departed
at five minutes to twelve-making the total time
consumed only fifteen minutes-you'd scarcely have
sufficient leeway to stop en route and phone to any
one. However, I sha'n't press the point. But I'd
really like to know what you did between eleven
o'clock and twenty minutes to twelve, when you
phoned to Miss Odell."
Cleaver studied Vance intently for a moment.
"To tell you the truth, I was upset that night. I
knew Miss Odell was out with another man-she'd
broken an appointment with me and I walked the
streets for an hour or more, fuming and fretting.”
"Walked the streets?" Vance frowned.
"That's what I said." Cleaver spoke with animus.
230
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Then, turning, he gave Markham a long calculating
look. "You remember I once suggested to you that
you might learn something from a Doctor Lindquist.
Did you ever get after him?"
Before Markham could answer, Vance broke in.
"Ah! That's it!-Doctor Lindquist! Well, well-
of course! . . . So, Mr. Cleaver, you were walking
the streets? The streets, mind you! Precisely!-You
state the fact, and I echo the word 'streets.' And
you-apparently out of a clear sky-ask about
Doctor Lindquist. Why Doctor Lindquist? No one
has mentioned him. But that word 'streets'—that's
the connection. The streets and Doctor Lindquist
are one-same as Paris and springtime are one. Neat,
very neat.
And now I've got another piece to
the puzzle."
· ·
99
Markham and Heath looked at him as if he had
suddenly gone mad. He calmly selected a Régie from
his case and proceeded to light it. Then he smiled
beguilingly at Cleaver.
"The time has come, my dear sir, for you to tell us
when and where you met Doctor Lindquist while
roaming the streets Monday night. If you don't, 'pon
my word, I'll come pretty close to doing it for you.
99
A full minute passed before Cleaver spoke; and
during that time his cold staring eyes never moved
from the District Attorney's face.
"I've already told most of the story; so here's the
rest." He gave a soft mirthless laugh. "I went to
Miss Odell's house a little before half past eleven-
thought she might be home by that time. There I
ran into Doctor Lindquist standing in the entrance
to the alleyway. He spoke to me, and told me some
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
231
one was with Miss Odell in her apartment. Then I
walked round the corner to the Ansonia Hotel.
After ten minutes or so I telephoned Miss Odell, and,
as I said, a man answered. I waited another ten
minutes and phoned a friend of Miss Odell's, hoping
to arrange a party; but failing, I walked back to the
house. The doctor had disappeared, and I went
down the alleyway and in the side door. After
listening a minute, as I told you, and hearing a man's
voice, I came away and went home. . . . That's
everything."
At that moment Swacker came in and whispered
something to Heath. The Sergeant rose with alacrity
and followed the secretary out of the room. Almost
at once he returned, bearing a bulging Manila folder.
Handing it to Markham, he said something in a low
voice inaudible to the rest of us. Markham appeared
both astonished and displeased. Waving the Ser-
geant back to his seat, he turned to Cleaver.
"I'll have to ask you to wait in the reception-room
for a few minutes. Another urgent matter has just
arisen."
Cleaver went out without a word, and Markham
opened the folder.
"I don't like this sort of thing, Sergeant. I told
you so yesterday when you suggested it."
"I understand, sir." Heath, I felt, was not as
contrite as his tone indicated. "But if those letters
and things are all right, and Cleaver hasn't been
lying to us about 'em, I'll have my man put 'em
back so's no one'll ever know they were taken. And
if they do make Cleaver out a liar, then we've got a
good excuse for grabbing 'em."
232
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Markham did not argue the point. With a gesture
of distaste he began running through the letters,
looking particularly at the dates. Two photographs
he put back after a cursory glance; and one piece of
paper, which appeared to contain a pen-and-ink
sketch of some kind, he tore up with disgust and
threw into the waste-basket. Three letters, I noticed,
he placed to one side. After five minutes' inspection
of the others, he returned them to the folder. Then
he nodded to Heath.
"Bring Cleaver back." He rose and, turning,
gazed out of the window.
As soon as Cleaver was again seated before the
desk Markham said, without looking round:
"You told me it was last June that you bought
your letters back from Miss Odell. Do you recall the
date?"
"Not exactly," said Cleaver easily. "It was early
in the month, though-during the first week, I
think."
Markham now spun about and pointed to the
three letters he had segregated.
"How, then, do you happen to have in your pos-
session compromising letters which you wrote to
Miss Odell from the Adirondacks late in July?”
Cleaver's self-control was perfect. After a mo-
ment's stoical silence, he merely said in a mild, quiet
voice:
"You of course came by those letters legally."
Markham was stung, but he was also exasperated
by the other's persistent deceptions.
"I regret to confess," he said, "that they were
taken from your apartment-though, I assure you,
A CONTRADICTION IN DATES
233
it was against my instructions. But since they have
come unexpectedly into my possession, the wisest
thing you can do is to explain them. There was an
empty document-box in Miss Odell's apartment the
morning her body was found, and, from all appear-
ances, it had been opened Monday night."
"I see." Cleaver laughed harshly. "Very well.
The fact is though I frankly don't expect you to
believe me I didn't pay my blackmail to Miss
Odell until the middle of August, about three weeks
ago. That's when all my letters were returned. I
told you it was June in order to set back the date as
far as possible. The older the affair was, I figured,
the less likelihood there'd be of your suspecting
me.
99
Markham stood fingering the letters undecidedly.
It was Vance who put an end to his irresolution.
"I rather think, don't y' know," he said, “that
you'd be safe in accepting Mr. Cleaver's explanation
and returning his billets-doux."
Markham, after a momentary hesitation, picked
up the Manila folder and, replacing the three letters,
handed it to Cleaver.
"I wish you to understand that I did not sanction
the appropriating of this correspondence. You'd
better take it home and destroy it.-I won't detain
you any longer now. But please arrange to remain
where I can reach you if necessary."
99
"I'm not going to run away," said Cleaver; and
Heath directed him to the elevator.
CHAPTER XXII
A TELEPHONE CALL
(Saturday, September 15; 10 a. m.)
Heath returned to the office, shaking his head
hopelessly.
"There musta been a regular wake at Odell's
Monday night."
"Quite," agreed Vance. "A midnight conclave
of the lady's admirers. Mannix was there, unques-
tionably; and he saw Cleaver; and Cleaver saw Lind-
quist; and Lindquist saw Spotswoode-
"Humph! But nobody saw Skeel."
99
"The trouble is," said Markham, "we don't know
how much of Cleaver's story is true.-And, by the
way, Vance, do you believe he really bought his
letters back in August ?"
"If only we knew! Dashed confusin', ain't it?"
"Anyway," argued Heath, "Cleaver's statement
about phoning Odell at twenty minutes to twelve,
and a man answering, is verified by Jessup's testi-
mony. And I guess Cleaver saw Lindquist all right
that night, for it was him who first tipped us off
about the doc. He took a chance doing it, because
the doc was liable to tell us he saw Cleaver."
"But if Cleaver had an allurin' alibi," said Vance,
"he could simply have said the doctor was lying.
However, whether you accept Cleaver's absorbin'
234
A TELEPHONE CALL
235
legend or not, you can take my word for it there was
a visitor, other than Skeel, in the Odell apartment
that night."
"That's all right, too," conceded Heath reluc-
tantly. "But, even so, this other fellow is only valu-
able to us as a possible source of evidence against
Skeel."
"That may be true, Sergeant." Markham frowned
perplexedly. "Only, I'd like to know how that side
door was unbolted and then rebolted on the inside.
We know now that it was open around midnight,
and that Mannix and Cleaver both used it."
"You worry so over trifles," said Vance negli-
gently. "The door problem will solve itself once we
discover who was keeping company with Skeel in the
Canary's gilded cage.'
""
"I should say it boils down to Mannix, Cleaver,
and Lindquist. They were the only three at all likely
to be present; and if we accept Cleaver's story in its
essentials, each of them had an opportunity of getting
into the apartment between half past eleven and
midnight."
"True. But you have only Cleaver's word that
Lindquist was in the neighborhood. And that evi-
dence, uncorroborated, can't be accepted as the lily-
white truth."
Heath stirred suddenly and looked at the clock.
"Say, what about that nurse you wanted at
eleven o'clock?”
"I've been worrying horribly about her for an
hour." Vance appeared actually troubled. "Really,
y' know, I haven't the slightest desire to meet the
lady. I'm hoping for a revelation, don't y' know.
236
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Let's wait for the doctor until half past ten, Ser-
geant."
He had scarcely finished speaking when Swacker
informed Markham that Doctor Lindquist had ar-
rived on a mission of great urgency. It was an amus-
ing situation. Markham laughed outright, while
Heath stared at Vance with uncomprehending as-
tonishment.
"It's not necromancy, Sergeant," smiled Vance.
"The doctor realized yesterday that we were about
to catch him in a falsehood; so he decided to forestall
us by explaining personally. Simple, what?"
"Sure." Heath's look of wonderment disappeared.
As Doctor Lindquist entered the room I noted that
his habitual urbanity had deserted him. His air was
at once apologetic and apprehensive. That he was
laboring under some great strain was evident.
"I've come, sir," he announced, taking the chair
Markham indicated, "to tell you the truth about
Monday night."
"The truth is always welcome, doctor," said
Markham encouragingly.
Doctor Lindquist bowed agreement.
"I deeply regret that I did not follow that course
at our first interview. But at that time I had not
weighed the matter sufficiently; and, having once
committed myself to a false statement, I felt I had
no option but to abide by it. However, after more
mature consideration, I have come to the conclusion
that frankness is the wiser course.-The fact is, sir,
I was not with Mrs. Breedon Monday night be-
tween the hours I mentioned. I remained at home
until about half past ten. Then I went to Miss
A TELEPHONE CALL
237
Odell's house, arriving a little before eleven. I stood
outside in the street until half past eleven; then I
returned home."
"Such a bare statement needs considerable amplifi-
cation."
"I realize it, sir; and I am prepared to amplify it."
Doctor Lindquist hesitated, and a strained look came
into his white face. His hands were tightly clinched.
"I had learned that Miss Odell was going to dinner
and the theatre with a man named Spotswoode; and
the thought of it began to prey on my mind. It was
Spotswoode to whom I owed the alienation of Miss
Odell's affections; and it was his interference that had
driven me to my threat against the young woman.
As I sat at home that night, letting my mind dwell
morbidly on the situation, I was seized by the im-
pulse to carry out that threat. Why not, I asked
myself, end the intolerable situation at once? And
why not include Spotswoode in the débâcle? . .
As he talked he became more and more agitated.
The nerves about his eyes had begun to twitch, and
his shoulders jerked like those of a man attempting
vainly to control a chill.
"Remember, sir, I was suffering agonies, and my
hatred of Spotswoode seemed to cloud my reason.
Scarcely realizing what I was doing, and yet operat-
ing under an irresistible determination, I put my
automatic in my pocket and hurried out of the
house. I thought Miss Odell and Spotswoode would
be returning from the theatre soon, and I intended to
force my way into the apartment and perform the
act I had planned. From across the street I
saw them enter the house-it was about eleven then
238
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
—but, when I came face to face with the actuality, I
hesitated. I delayed my revenge; I-I played with
the idea, getting a kind of insane satisfaction out of
it-knowing they were now at my mercy. . . ."
His hands were shaking as with a coarse tremor;
and the twitching about his eyes had increased.
"For half an hour I waited, gloating. Then, as I
was about to go in and have it over with, a man
named Cleaver came along and saw me. He stopped
and spoke. I thought he might be going to call on
Miss Odell, so I told him she already had a visitor.
He then went on toward Broadway, and while I
was waiting for him to turn the corner, Spotswoode
came out of the house and jumped into a taxicab
that had just driven up. . . . My plan had been
thwarted—I had waited too long. Suddenly I seemed
to awake as from some terrible nightmare. I was
almost in a state of collapse, but I managed to get
home.... That's what happened-so help me God!"
He sank back weakly in his chair. The suppressed
nervous excitement that had fired him while he spoke
had died out, and he appeared listless and indifferent.
He sat several minutes breathing stertorously, and
twice he passed his hand vaguely across his forehead.
He was in no condition to be questioned, and finally
Markham sent for Tracy and gave orders that he was
to be taken to his home.
"Temporary exhaustion from hysteria," com-
mented Vance indifferently. "All these paranoia
lads are hyperneurasthenic. He'll be in a psycho-
pathic ward in another year."
"That's as may be, Mr. Vance," said Heath, with
an impatience that repudiated all enthusiasm for the
A TELEPHONE CALL
239
subject of abnormal psychology. "What interests
me just now is the way all these fellows' stories
hang together.
99
"Yes," nodded Markham. "There is undeniably
a groundwork of truth in their statements."
"But please observe," Vance pointed out, "that
their stories do not eliminate any one of them as a
possible culprit. Their tales, as you say, synchronize
perfectly; and yet, despite all that neat co-ordination,
any one of the three could have got into the Odell
apartment that night. For instance: Mannix could
have entered from Apartment 2 before Cleaver came
along and listened; and he could have seen Cleaver
going away when he himself was leaving the Odell
apartment.-Cleaver could have spoken to the doc-
tor at half past eleven, walked to the Ansonia, re-
turned a little before twelve, gone into the lady's
apartment, and come out just as Mannix opened
Miss Frisbee's door.-Again, the excitable doctor
may have gone in after Spotswoode came out at
half past eleven, stayed twenty minutes or so, and
departed before Cleaver returned from the Ansonia.
99
No; the fact that their stories dovetail doesn't
in the least tend to exculpate any one of them.'
"And," supplemented Markham, "that cry of "Oh,
my God!' might have been made by either Mannix
or Lindquist provided Cleaver really heard it.”
"He heard it unquestionably," said Vance.
"Some one in the apartment was invoking the
Deity around midnight. Cleaver hasn't sufficient
sense of the dramatic to fabricate such a thrillin'
bonne-bouche."
""
"But if Cleaver actually heard that voice," pro-
240
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
tested Markham, "then he is automatically elimi-
nated as a suspect."
"Not at all, old dear. He may have heard it after
he had come out of the apartment, and realized then,
for the first time, that some one had been hidden in
the place during his visit."
"Your man in the clothes-closet, I presume you
mean.
99
of course.
"Yes
You know, Markham, it
might have been the horrified Skeel, emerging from
his hiding-place upon a scene of tragic wreckage, who
let out that evangelical invocation."
"Except," commented Markham, with sarcasm,
"Skeel doesn't impress me as particularly religious."
"Oh, that?" Vance shrugged. "A point in sub-
stantiation. Irreligious persons call on God much
more than Christians. The only true and consistent
theologians, don't y' know, are the atheists.”
Heath, who had been sitting in gloomy meditation,
took his cigar from his mouth and heaved a heavy
sigh.
"Yes," he rumbled, "I'm willing to admit some-
body besides Skeel got into Odell's apartment, and
that the Dude hid in the clothes-closet. But, if that's
so, then this other fellow didn't see Skeel; and it's
not going to do us a whole lot of good even if we
identify him."
"Don't fret on that point, Sergeant," Vance
counselled him cheerfully. "When you've identified
this other mysterious visitor you'll be positively
amazed how black care will desert you. You'll rubri-
cate the hour you find him. You'll leap gladsomely
in the air. You'll sing a roundelay."
1
A TELEPHONE CALL
241
"The hell I will!" said Heath.
Swacker came in with a typewritten memorandum,
and put it on the District Attorney's desk.
"The architect just phoned in this report."
Markham glanced it over: it was very brief.
"No help here," he said. "Walls solid. No waste
space. No hidden entrances."
"Too bad, Sergeant," sighed Vance. "You'll
have to drop the cinema idea.
Sad."
Heath grunted and looked disconsolate.
·
"Even without no other way of getting in or
out except that side door," he said to Markham,
"couldn't we get an indictment against Skeel, now
that we know the door was unlocked Monday
night?"
"We might, Sergeant. But our chief snag would
be to show how it was originally unlocked and then
rebolted after Skeel left. And Abe Rubin would con-
centrate on that point.-No, we'd better wait a while
and see what develops."
Something "developed" at once. Swacker entered
and informed the Sergeant that Snitkin wanted to see
him immediately.
Snitkin came in, visibly agitated, accompanied
by a wizened, shabbily dressed little man of about
sixty, who appeared awed and terrified. In the de-
tective's hand was a small parcel wrapped in news-
paper, which he laid on the District Attorney's desk
with an air of triumph.
"The Canary's jewellery," he announced. "I've
checked it up from the list the maid gave me, and it's
all there."
Heath sprang forward, but Markham was already
242
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
untying the package with nervous fingers. When the
paper had been opened, there lay before us a small
heap of dazzling trinkets—several rings of exquisite
workmanship, three magnificent bracelets, a sparkling
sunburst, and a delicately wrought lorgnette. The
stones were all large and of unconventional cut.
Markham looked up from them inquisitively, and
Snitkin, not waiting for the inevitable question, ex-
plained.
"This man Potts found 'em. He's a street-cleaner,
and he says they were in one of the D. S. C. cans at
23d Street near the Flatiron Building. He found 'em
yesterday afternoon, so he says, and took 'em home.
Then he got scared and brought 'em to Police Head-
quarters this morning."
Mr. Potts, the "white-wing," was trembling visibly.
"Thass right, sir-thass right," he assured Mark-
ham, with frightened eagerness. "I allus look into
any bundles I find. I didn't mean no harm takin' 'em
home, sir. I wasn't gonna keep 'em. I laid awake
worryin' all night, an' this mornin', as soon as I got a
chance, I took 'em to the p'lice." He shook so vio-
lently I was afraid he was going to break down com-
pletely.
"That's all right, Potts," Markham told him in a
kindly voice. Then to Snitkin: "Let the man go-
only get his full name and address."
Vance had been studying the newspaper in which
the jewels had been wrapped.
"I say, my man," he asked, "is this the original
paper you found them in ?"
"Yes, sir-the same. I ain't touched nothin'."
"Right-o."
A TELEPHONE CALL
243
Mr. Potts, greatly relieved, shambled out, followed
by Snitkin.
"The Flatiron Building is directly across Madison
Square from the Stuyvesant Club," observed Mark-
ham, frowning.
"So it is." Vance then pointed to the left-hand
margin of the newspaper that held the jewels. "And
you'll notice that this Herald of yesterday has three
punctures evidently made by the pins of a wooden
holder such as is generally used in a club's reading-
room.
99
"You got a good eye, Mr. Vance," nodded Heath,
inspecting the newspaper.
"I'll see about this." Markham viciously pressed
a button. "They keep their papers on file for a week
at the Stuyvesant Club."
When Swacker appeared, he asked that the club's
steward be got immediately on the telephone. After
a short delay, the connection was made. At the end
of five minutes' conversation Markham hung up the
receiver and gave Heath a baffled look.
"The club takes two Heralds. Both of yester-
day's copies are there, on the rack."
"Didn't Cleaver once tell us he read nothing but
The Herald-that and some racing-sheet at night?"
Vance put the question offhandedly.
"I believe he did." Markham considered the
suggestion. "Still, both the club Heralds are ac-
counted for." He turned to Heath. "When you
were checking up on Mannix, did you find out what
clubs he belonged to?"
"Sure." The Sergeant took out his note-book and
riffled the pages for a minute or two. "He's a member
of the Furriers' and the Cosmopolis."
244
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Markham pushed the telephone toward him.
"See what you can find out.”
Heath was fifteen minutes at the task.
"A blank," he announced finally. "The Furriers'
don't use holders, and the Cosmopolis don't keep
any back numbers."
"What about Mr. Skeel's clubs, Sergeant?" asked
Vance, smiling.
"Oh, I know the finding of that jewellery gums up
my theory about Skeel," said Heath, with surly ill
nature. "But what's the good of rubbing it in? Still,
if you think I'm going to give that bird a clean bill
of health just because the Odell swag was found in a
trash-can, you're mighty mistaken. Don't forget
we're watching the Dude pretty close. He may have
got leery, and tipped off some pal he'd cached the
jewels with."
"I rather fancy the experienced Skeel would have
turned his booty over to a professional receiver. But
even had he passed it on to a friend, would this friend
have been likely to throw it away because Skeel was
worried?"
"Maybe not. But there's some explanation for
those jewels being found, and when we get hold of it,
it won't eliminate Skeel."
"No; the explanation won't eliminate Skeel," said
Vance; "but-my word!-how it'll change his locus
standi"
Heath contemplated him with shrewdly appraising
eyes. Something in Vance's tone had apparently
piqued his curiosity and set him to wondering.
Vance had too often been right in his diagnoses of
persons and things for the Sergeant to ignore his
opinions wholly.
A TELEPHONE CALL
245
But before he could answer, Swacker stepped
alertly into the room,
his eyes animated.
"Tony Skeel's on the wire, Chief, and wants to
speak to you."
Markham, despite his habitual reserve, gave a
start.
"Here, Sergeant," he said quickly. "Take that
extension phone on the table and listen in." He
nodded curtly to Swacker, who disappeared to make
the connection. Then he took up the receiver of his
own telephone and spoke to Skeel.
For a minute or so he listened. Then, after a brief
argument, he concurred with some suggestion that
had evidently been made; and the conversation
ended.
"Skeel craves an audience, I gather," said Vance.
"I've rather been expecting it, y' know."
99
"Yes. He's coming here to-morrow at ten.'
"And he hinted that he knew who slew the Ca-
nary-eh, what?”
"That's just what he did say. He promised to tell
me the whole story to-morrow morning.'
99
"He's the lad that's in a position to do it," mur-
mured Vance.
"But, Mr. Markham," said Heath, who still sat
with his hand on the telephone, gazing at the instru-
ment with dazed incredulity, "I don't see why you
don't have him brought here to-day."
"As you heard, Sergeant, Skeel insisted on to-
morrow, and threatened to say nothing if I forced
the issue. It's just as well not to antagonize him.
We might spoil a good chance of getting some light
on this case if I ordered him brought here and used
246
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
pressure. And to-morrow suits me. It'll be quiet
around here then. Moreover, your man's watching
Skeel, and he won't get away.
"I guess you're right, sir. The Dude's touchy, and
he can give a swell imitation of an oyster when he
feels like it." The Sergeant spoke with feeling.
"I'll have Swacker here to-morrow to take down
his statement," Markham went on; "and you'd
better put one of your men on the elevator,-the
regular operator is off Sundays. Also, plant a man
in the hall outside, and put another one in Swacker's
office."
Vance stretched himself luxuriously and rose.
"Most considerate of the gentleman to call up at
this time, don't y' know. I had a longing to see the
Monets at Durand-Ruel's this afternoon, and I was
afraid I wasn't going to be able to drag myself away
from this fascinatin' case. Now that the apocalypse
has been definitely scheduled for to-morrow, I'll in-
dulge my taste for Impressionism. . . . À demain,
Markham. By-bye, Sergeant."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE TEN O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT
(Sunday, September 16; 10 a. m.)
A fine drizzle was falling the next morning when
we rose; and a chill-the first forerunner of winter-
was in the air. We had breakfast in the library at
half past eight, and at nine o'clock Vance's car-
which had been ordered the night before called for
us. We rode down Fifth Avenue, now almost de-
serted in its thick blanket of yellow fog, and called
for Markham at his apartment in West 12th Street.
He was waiting for us in front of the house, and
stepped quickly into the car with scarcely a word of
greeting. From his anxious, preoccupied look I knew
that he was depending a good deal on what Skeel had
to tell him.
We had turned into West Broadway beneath the
Elevated tracks before any of us spoke. Then Mark-
ham voiced a doubt which was plainly an articula-
tion of his troubled ruminations.
"I'm wondering if, after all, this fellow Skeel can
have any important information to give us. His
phone call was very strange. Yet he spoke confi-
dently enough regarding his knowledge. No dra-
matics, no request for immunity-just a plain, as-
sured statement that he knew who murdered the
Odell girl, and had decided to come clean."
"It's certain he himself didn't strangle the lady,"
!
247
248
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
pronounced Vance. "My theory, as you know, is
that he was hiding in the clothes-press when the
shady business was being enacted; and all along I've
clung lovingly to the idea that he was au secret to the
entire proceedings. The keyhole of that closet door
is on a direct line with the end of the davenport where
the lady was strangled; and if a rival was operating
at the time of his concealment, it's not unreasonable
to assume that he peered forth-eh, what? I ques-
tioned him on this point, you remember; and he
didn't like it a bit."
"But, in that case
99
...
"Oh, I know. There are all kinds of erudite ob-
jections to my wild dream.-Why didn't he give the
alarm? Why didn't he tell us about it before? Why
this? and why that? I make no claim to
omniscience, y' know; I don't even pretend to have a
logical explanation for the various traits d'union of my
vagary. My theory is only sketched in, as it were.
But I'm convinced, nevertheless, that the modish
Tony knows who killed his bona roba and looted her
apartment."
"But of the three persons who possibly could have
got into the Odell apartment that night—namely,
Mannix, Cleaver, and Lindquist-Skeel evidently
knows only one-Mannix."
"Yes-to be sure. And Mannix, it would seem, is
the only one of the trio who knows Skeel. . . . An
interestin' point.'
Heath met us at the Franklin Street entrance to
the Criminal Courts Building. He, too, was anxious
and subdued, and he shook hands with us in a de-
tached manner devoid of his usual heartiness.
THE TEN O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT
249
"I've got Snitkin running the elevator," he said,
after the briefest of salutations. "Burke's in the hall
up-stairs, and Emery is with him, waiting to be let
into Swacker's office."
We entered the deserted and almost silent building
and rode up to the fourth floor. Markham unlocked
his office door and we passed in.
"Guilfoyle, the man who's tailing Skeel," Heath
explained, when we were seated, "is to report by
phone to the Homicide Bureau as soon as the Dude
leaves his rooms."
99
It was now twenty minutes to ten. Five minutes
later Swacker arrived. Taking his stenographic note-
book, he stationed himself just inside of the swinging
door of Markham's private sanctum, where he could
hear all that was said without being seen. Markham
lit a cigar, and Heath followed suit. Vance was al-
ready smoking placidly. He was the calmest person
in the room, and lay back languorously in one of the
great leather chairs as though immune to all cares
and vicissitudes. But I could tell by the over-deliber-
ate way he flicked his ashes into the receiver that he,
too, was uneasy.
Five or six minutes passed in complete silence.
Then the Sergeant gave a grunt of annoyance.
"No, sir," he said, as if completing some unspoken
thought, "I can't get a slant on this business. The
finding of that jewellery, now, all nicely wrapped up
and then the Dude offering to squeal.
There's no sense to it."
·
"It's tryin', I know, Sergeant; but it's not alto-
gether senseless." Vance was gazing lazily at the
ceiling. "The chap who confiscated those baubles
250
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
didn't have any use for them. He didn't want them,
in fact-they worried him abominably.'
99
The point was too complex for Heath. The pre-
vious day's developments had shaken the foundation
of all his arguments; and he lapsed again into brood-
ing silence.
At ten o'clock he rose impatiently and, going to
the hall door, looked out. Returning, he compared
his watch with the office clock and began pacing
restlessly. Markham was attempting to sort some
papers on his desk, but presently he pushed them
aside with an impatient gesture.
"He ought to be coming along now," he remarked,
with an effort at cheerfulness.
"He'll come," growled Heath, "or he'll get a free
ride." And he continued his pacing.
A few minutes later he turned abruptly and went
out into the hall. We could hear him calling to Snit-
kin down the elevator shaft, but when he came back
into the office his expression told us that as yet there
was no news of Skeel.
"I'll call up the Bureau," he decided, "and see
what Guilfoyle had to report. At least we'll know
then when the Dude left his house."
But when the Sergeant had been connected with
Police Headquarters he was informed that Guilfoyle
had as yet made no report.
"That's damn funny," he commented, hanging up
the receiver.
It was now twenty minutes past ten. Markham
was growing restive. The tenacity with which the
Canary murder case had resisted all his efforts toward
a solution had filled him with discouragement; and
THE TEN O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT
251
he had hoped, almost desperately, that this morning's
interview with Skeel would clear up the mystery, or
at least supply him with information on which defi-
nite action could be taken. Now, with Skeel late for
this all-important appointment, the strain was be-
coming tense.
He pushed back his chair nervously and, going to
the window, gazed out into the dark haze of fine rain.
When he returned to his desk his face was set.
"I'll give our friend until half past ten," he said
grimly. "If he isn't here then, Sergeant, you'd better
call up the local station-house and have them send a
patrol-wagon for him."
There was another few minutes of silence. Vance
lolled in his chair with half-closed eyes, but I noticed
that, though he still held his cigarette, he was not
smoking. His forehead was puckered by a frown, and
he was very quiet. I knew that some unusual problem
was occupying him. His lethargy had in it a quality
of intentness and concentration.
As I watched him he suddenly sat up straight, his
eyes open and alert. He tossed his dead cigarette
into the receiver with a jerky movement that attested
to some inner excitation.
"Oh, my word!" he exclaimed. "It really can't
be, y' know! And yet"-his face darkened—“and
yet, by Jove, that's it!... What an ass I've been-
what an unutterable ass! ... Oh!"
He sprang to his feet; then stood looking down at
the floor like a man dazed, afraid of his own thoughts.
"Markham, I don't like it—I don't like it at all.”
He spoke almost as if he were frightened. “I tell
you, there's something terrible going on-something
!
1
t
Y
t
252
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
uncanny. The thought of it makes my flesh creep.
I must be getting old and sentimental," he
added, with an effort at lightness; but the look in his
eyes belied his tone. "Why didn't I see this thing
yesterday? . . . But I let it go on. . .
99
We were all staring at him in amazement. I had
never seen him affected in this way before, and the
fact that he was habitually so cynical and aloof, so
adamant to emotion and impervious to outside in-
fluences, gave his words and actions an impelling
and impressive quality.
After a moment he shook himself slightly, as if to
throw off the pall of horror that had descended upon
him, and, stepping to Markham's desk, he leaned
over, resting on both hands.
"Don't you see?" he asked. "Skeel's not coming.
No use to wait-no use of our having come here in
the first place. We have to go to him. He's waiting
for us.
Come! Get your hat."
·
Markham had risen, and Vance took him firmly by
the arm.
"You needn't argue," he persisted. "You'll have
to go to him sooner or later. You might as well go
now, don't y' know.-My word! What a situation!"
He had led Markham, astonished and but mildly
protesting, into the middle of the room, and he now
beckoned to Heath with his free hand.
"You, too, Sergeant. Sorry you had all this
trouble. My fault. I should have foreseen this thing.
A devilish shame; but my mind was on Monets all
yesterday afternoon. . . . You know where Skeel
lives?"
Heath nodded mechanically. He had fallen under
THE TEN O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT
253
the spell of Vance's strange and dynamic impor-
tunities.
"Then don't wait.-And, Sergeant! You'd better
bring Burke or Snitkin along. They won't be needed
here nobody'll be needed here any more to-day."
Heath looked inquiringly to Markham for counsel;
his bewilderment had thrown him into a state of
mute indecision. Markham nodded his approval of
Vance's suggestions, and, without a word, slipped
into his raincoat. A few minutes later the four of us,
accompanied by Snitkin, had entered Vance's car
and were lurching up-town. Swacker had been sent
home; the office had been locked up; and Burke and
Emery had departed for the Homicide Bureau to
await further instructions.
Skeel lived in 35th Street, near the East River, in
a dingy, but once pretentious, house which formerly
had been the residence of some old family of the
better class. It now had an air of dilapidation and
decay; there was rubbish in the areaway; and a large
sign announcing rooms for rent was posted in one of
the ground-floor windows.
As we drew up before it Heath sprang to the street
and looked sharply about him. Presently he espied
an unkempt man slouching in the doorway of a
grocery-store diagonally opposite, and beckoned to
him. The man shambled over furtively.
“It's all right, Guilfoyle," the Sergeant told him.
"We're paying the Dude a social visit.-What's the
trouble? Why didn't you report?"
Guilfoyle looked surprised.
"I was told to phone in when he left the house,
sir. But he ain't left yet. Mallory tailed him home
254
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
last night round ten o'clock, and I relieved Mallory
at nine this morning. The Dude's still inside."
"Of course he's still inside, Sergeant," said Vance,
a bit impatiently.
"Where's his room situated, Guilfoyle?" asked
Heath.
"Second floor, at the back."
"Right. We're going in.-Stand by.”
"Look out for him," admonished Guilfoyle.
"He's got a gat."
Heath took the lead up the worn steps which led
from the pavement to the little vestibule. Without
ringing, he roughly grasped the door-knob and
shook it. The door was unlocked, and we stepped
into the stuffy lower hallway.
A bedraggled woman of about forty, in a dis-
reputable dressing-gown, and with hair hanging in
strings over her shoulders, emerged suddenly from a
rear door and came toward us unsteadily, her bleary
eyes focused on us with menacing resentment.
"Say!" she burst out, in a rasping voice. "What
do youse mean by bustin' in like this on a respectable
lady?" And she launched forth upon a stream of
profane epithets.
Heath, who was nearest her, placed his large hand
over her face, and gave her a gentle but firm shove
backward.
"You keep outa this, Cleopatra!" he advised her,
and began to ascend the stairs.
The second-floor hallway was dimly lighted by a
small flickering gas-jet, and at the rear we could dis-
tinguish the outlines of a single door set in the middle
of the wall.
THE TEN O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT
255
"That'll be Mr. Skeel's abode," observed Heath.
He walked up to it and, dropping one hand in his
right coat-pocket, turned the knob. But the door
was locked. He then knocked violently upon it, and
placing his ear to the jamb, listened. Snitkin stood
directly behind him, his hand also in his pocket. The
rest of us remained a little in the rear.
Heath had knocked a second time when Vance's
voice spoke up from the semidarkness.
"I say, Sergeant, you're wasting time with all
that formality."
"I guess you're right," came the answer after a
moment of what seemed unbearable silence.
Heath bent down and looked at the lock. Then
he took some instrument from his pocket and inserted
it into the keyhole.
""
"You're right,” he repeated. "The key's gone.'
He stepped back and, balancing on his toes like a
sprinter, sent his shoulders crashing against the panel
directly over the knob. But the lock held.
"Come on, Snitkin," he ordered.
The two detectives hurled themselves against the
door. At the third onslaught there was a splintering
of wood and a tearing of the lock's bolt through the
moulding. The door swung drunkenly inward.
The room was in almost complete darkness. We
all hesitated on the threshold, while Snitkin crossed
warily to one of the windows and sent the shade
clattering up. The yellow-gray light filtered in, and
the objects of the room at once took definable form.
A large, old-fashioned bed projected from the wall
on the right.
"Look!" cried Snitkin, pointing; and something
in his voice sent a shiver over me.
256
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
We pressed forward. On the foot of the bed, at
the side toward the door, sprawled the crumpled
body of Skeel. Like the Canary, he had been stran-
gled. His head hung back over the foot-board, his
face a hideous distortion. His arms were outstretched
and one leg trailed over the edge of the mattress,
resting on the floor.
"Thuggee," murmured Vance. "Lindquist men-
tioned it.-Curious!"
Heath stood staring fixedly at the body, his shoul-
ders hunched. His normal ruddiness of complexion
was gone, and he seemed like a man hypnotized.
"Mother o' God!" he breathed, awe-stricken.
And, with an involuntary motion, he crossed himself.
Markham was shaken also. He set his jaw rigidly.
"You're right, Vance." His voice was strained
and unnatural. "Something sinister and terrible has
been going on here. . . There's a fiend loose in
this town-a werewolf."
"I wouldn't say that, old man." Vance regarded
the murdered Skeel critically. "No, I wouldn't say
that. Not a werewolf. Just a desperate human be-
ing. A man of extremes, perhaps—but quite rational,
and logical-oh, how deuced logical!"
CHAPTER XXIV
AN ARREST
(Sunday, p. m., Monday, a. m.; September 16–17)
The investigation into Skeel's death was pushed
with great vigor by the authorities. Doctor Dore-
mus, the Medical Examiner, arrived promptly and
declared that the crime had taken place between ten
o'clock and midnight. Immediately Vance insisted
that all the men who were known to have been in-
timately acquainted with the Odell girl-Mannix,
Lindquist, Cleaver, and Spotswoode-be interviewed
at once and made to explain where they were during
these two hours. Markham agreed without hesita-
tion, and gave the order to Heath, who at once put
four of his men on the task.
Mallory, the detective who had shadowed Skeel
the previous night, was questioned regarding possi-
ble visitors; but inasmuch as the house where Skeel
lived accommodated over twenty roomers, who were
constantly coming and going at all hours, no informa-
tion could be gained through that channel. All that
Mallory could say definitely was that Skeel had re-
turned home at about ten o'clock, and had not come
out again. The landlady, sobered and subdued by
the tragedy, repudiated all knowledge of the affair.
She explained that she had been "ill" in her room
from dinner-time until we had disturbed her recu-
peration the next morning. The front door, it seemed,
257
258
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
was never locked, since her tenants objected to such
an unnecessary inconvenience. The tenants them-
selves were questioned, but without result: they were
not of a class likely to give information to the police,
even had they possessed any.
The finger-print experts made a careful examina-
tion of the room, but failed to find any marks except
Skeel's own. A thorough search through the mur-
dered man's effects occupied several hours; but
nothing was discovered that gave any hint of the
murderer's identity. A .38 Colt automatic, fully
loaded, was found under one of the pillows on the
bed; and eleven hundred dollars, in bills of large de-
nomination, was taken from a hollow brass curtain-
rod. Also, under a loose board in the hall, the miss-
ing steel chisel, with the fissure in the blade, was
found. But these items were of no value in solving
the mystery of Skeel's death; and at four o'clock in
the afternoon the room was closed with an emer-
gency padlock and put under guard.
Markham and Vance and I had remained several
hours after our discovery of the body. Markham had
taken immediate charge of the case, and had con-
ducted the interrogation of the tenants. Vance had
watched the routine activities of the police with un-
wonted intentness, and had even taken part in the
search. He had seemed particularly interested in
Skeel's evening clothes, and had examined them gar-
ment by garment. Heath had looked at him from
time to time, but there had been neither contempt
nor amusement in the Sergeant's glances.
At half past two Markham departed, after in-
forming Heath that he would be at the Stuyvesant
AN ARREST
259
Club during the remainder of the day; and Vance and
I went with him. We had a belated luncheon in the
empty grill.
"This Skeel episode rather knocks the foundation
from under everything,” Markham said dispiritedly,
as our coffee was served.
"Oh, no-not that," Vance answered. "Rather,
let us say that it has added a new column to the edi-
fice of my giddy theory."
"Your theory-yes. It's about all that's left to go
on." Markham sighed. "It has certainly received
substantiation this morning. . . . Remarkable how
you called the turn when Skeel failed to show up."
Again Vance contradicted him.
"You overestimate my little flutter in forensics,
Markham dear. You see, I assumed that the lady's
strangler knew of Skeel's offer to you. That offer
was probably a threat of some kind on Skeel's part;
otherwise he wouldn't have set the appointment a day
ahead. He no doubt hoped the victim of his threat
would become amenable in the meantime. And that
money hidden in the curtain-rod leads me to think
he was blackmailing the Canary's murderer, and had
been refused a further donation just before he phoned
you yesterday. That would account, too, for his
having kept his guilty knowledge to himself all this
time."
99
"You may
be right. But now we're worse off than
ever, for we haven't even Skeel to guide us.
"At least we've forced our elusive culprit to com-
mit a second crime to cover up his first, don't y'
know. And when we have learned what the Canary's
various amorists were doing last night between ten
260
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
and twelve, we may have something suggestive on
which to work.-By the bye, when may we expect
this thrillin' information ?"
"It depends upon what luck Heath's men have.
To-night some time, if everything goes well.”
It was, in fact, about half past eight when Heath
telephoned the reports. But here again Markham
seemed to have drawn a blank. A less satisfactory
account could scarcely be imagined. Doctor Lind-
quist had suffered a "nervous stroke" the preceding
afternoon, and had been taken to the Episcopal Hos-
pital. He was still there under the care of two emi-
nent physicians whose word it was impossible to
doubt; and it would be a week at least before he
would be able to resume his work. This report was
the only definite one of the four, and it completely
exonerated the doctor from any participation in the
previous night's crime.
By a curious coincidence neither Mannix, nor
Cleaver, nor Spotswoode could furnish a satisfactory
alibi. All three of them, according to their state-
ments, had remained at home the night before. The
weather had been inclement; and though Mannix
and Spotswoode admitted to having been out earlier
in the evening, they stated that they had returned
home before ten o'clock. Mannix lived in an apart-
ment-hotel, and, as it was Saturday night, the lobby
was crowded, so that no one would have been likely
to see him come in. Cleaver lived in a small private
apartment-house without a door-man or hallboys to
observe his movements. Spotswoode was staying at
the Stuyvesant Club, and since his rooms were on
the third floor, he rarely used the elevator. More-
AN ARREST
261
over, there had been a political reception and dance
at the club the previous night, and he might have
walked in and out at random a dozen times without
being noticed.
"Not what you'd call illuminatin'," said Vance,
when Markham had given him this information.
“It eliminates Lindquist, at any rate."
"Quite. And, automatically, it eliminates him as
an object of suspicion in the Canary's death also; for
these two crimes are part of a whole-integers of the
same problem. They complement each other. The
latter was conceived in relation to the first—was, in
fact, a logical outgrowth of it."
Markham nodded.
"That's reasonable enough. Anyway, I've passed
the combative stage. I think I'll drift for a while on
the stream of your theory and see what happens."
"What irks me is the disquietin' feeling that posi-
tively nothing will happen unless we force the issue.
The lad who manoeuvred those two obits had real
bean in him.”
As he spoke Spotswoode entered the room and
looked about as if searching for some one. Catching
sight of Markham, he came briskly forward, with a
look of inquisitive perplexity.
"Forgive me for intruding, sir," he apologized,
nodding pleasantly to Vance and me, "but a police
officer was here this afternoon inquiring as to my
whereabouts last night. It struck me as strange,
but I thought little of it until I happened to see the
name of Tony Skeel in the headlines of a 'special'
to-night and read he had been strangled. I remem-
ber you asked me regarding such a man in connec-
262
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
tion with Miss Odell, and I wondered if, by any
chance, there could be any connection between the
two murders, and if I was, after all, to be drawn
into the affair."
"No, I think not," said Markham. "There
seemed a possibility that the two crimes were re-
lated; and, as a matter of routine, the police ques-
tioned all the close friends of Miss Odell in the hope
of turning up something suggestive. You may dis-
miss the matter from your mind. I trust," he added,
"the officer was not unpleasantly importunate."
"Not at all." Spotswoode's look of anxiety dis-
appeared. "He was extremely courteous but a bit
mysterious.-Who was this man Skeel?"
"A half-world character and ex-burglar. He had
some hold on Miss Odell, and, I believe, extorted
money from her.”
A cloud of angry disgust passed over Spotswoode's
face.
"A creature like that deserves the fate that over-
took him."
We chatted on various matters until ten o'clock,
when Vance rose and gave Markham a reproachful
look.
"I'm going to try to recover some lost sleep. I'm
temperamentally unfitted for a policeman's life."
Despite this complaint, however, nine o'clock the
next morning found him at the District Attorney's
office. He had brought several newspapers with him,
and was reading, with much amusement, the first
complete accounts of Skeel's murder. Monday was
generally a busy day for Markham, and he had ar-
rived at the office before half past eight in an effort
AN ARREST
263
to clean up some pressing routine matters before
proceeding with his investigation of the Odell case.
Heath, I knew, was to come for a conference at ten
o'clock. In the meantime there was nothing for
Vance to do but read the newspapers; and I occu-
pied myself in like manner.
Punctually at ten Heath arrived, and from his
manner it was plain that something had happened
to cheer him immeasurably. He was almost jaunty,
and his formal, self-satisfied salutation to Vance was
like that of a conqueror to a vanquished adversary.
He shook hands with Markham with more than his
customary punctility.
"Our troubles are over, sir," he said, and paused
to light his cigar. "I've arrested Jessup.
""
It was Vance who broke the dramatic silence fol-
lowing this astounding announcement.
"In the name of Heaven-what for?"
Heath turned deliberately, in no wise abashed by
the other's tone.
"For the murder of Margaret Odell and Tony
Skeel."
"Oh, my aunt! Oh, my precious aunt!" Vance
sat up and stared at him in amazement. "Sweet
angels of heaven, come down and solace me!"
Heath's complacency was unshaken.
"You won't need no angels, or aunts either, when
you hear what I've found out about this fellow.
I've got him tied up in a sack, ready to hand to the
jury.
وو
The first wave of Markham's astonishment had
subsided.
"Let's have the story, Sergeant."
264
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Heath settled himself in a chair. He took a few
moments to arrange his thoughts.
"It's like this, sir. Yesterday afternoon I got to
thinking. Here was Skeel murdered, same like
Odell, after he'd promised to squeal; and it certainly
looked as though the same guy had strangled both
of 'em. Therefore, I concluded that there musta
been two guys in the apartment Monday night—the
Dude and the murderer-just like Mr. Vance has
been saying all along. Then I figured that they
knew each other pretty well, because not only did
the other fellow know where the Dude lived, but
he musta been wise to the fact that the Dude was
going to squeal yesterday. It looked to me, sir, like
they had pulled the Odell job together-which is
why the Dude didn't squeal in the first place. But
after the other fellow lost his nerve and threw the
jewellery away, Skeel thought he'd play safe by
turning state's evidence, so he phoned you.'
The Sergeant smoked a moment.
99
"I never put much stock in Mannix and Cleaver
and the doc. They weren't the kind to do a job like
that, and they certainly weren't the kind that would
be mixed up with a jailbird like Skeel. So I stood
all three of 'em to one side, and began looking round
for a bad egg-somebody who'd have been likely to
be Skeel's accomplice. But first I tried to figure out
what you might call the physical obstacles in the
case-that is, the snags we were up against in our
reconstruction of the crime."
Again he paused.
"Now, the thing that's been bothering us most
is that side door. How did it get unbolted after six
AN ARREST
265
o'clock? And who bolted it again after the crime?
Skeel musta come in by it before eleven, because he
was in the apartment when Spotswoode and Odell
returned from the theatre; and he probably went out
by it after Cleaver had come to the apartment at
about midnight. But that wasn't explaining how it
got bolted again on the inside. Well, sir, I studied
over this for a long time yesterday, and then I went
up to the house and took another look at the door.
Young Spively was running the switchboard, and I
asked him where Jessup was, for I wanted to ask
him some questions. And Spively told me he'd quit
his job the day before-Saturday afternoon!"
Heath waited to let this fact sink in.
"I was on my way down-town before the idea came
to me. Then it hit me sudden-like; and the whole
case broke wide open.—Mr. Markham, nobody but
Jessup coulda opened that side door and locked it
again-nobody. Figure it out for yourself, sir
though I guess you've pretty well done it already.
Skeel couldn't've done it. And there wasn't nobody
else to do it."
Markham had become interested, and leaned for-
ward.
"After this idea had hit me," Heath continued, "I
decided to take a chance; so I got outa the Subway
at the Penn Station, and phoned Spively for Jessup's
address. Then I got my first good news: Jessup lived
on Second Avenue, right around the corner from
Skeel! I picked up a coupla men from the local sta-
tion, and went to his house. We found him packing
up his things, getting ready to go to Detroit. We
locked him up, and I took his finger-prints and sent
266
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
'em to Dubois. I thought I might get a line on him
that way, because crooks don't generally begin with a
job as big as the Canary prowl."
Heath permitted himself a grin of satisfaction.
"Well, sir, Dubois nailed him up! His name ain't
Jessup at all. The William part is all right, but his
real moniker is Benton. He was convicted of assault
and battery in Oakland in 1909, and served a year in
San Quentin when Skeel was a prisoner there. He
was also grabbed as a lookout in a bank robbery in
Brooklyn in 1914, but didn't come to trial-that's
how we happen to have his finger-prints at Head-
quarters. When we put him on the grill last night,
he said he changed his name after the Brooklyn
racket, and enlisted in the army. That's all we could
get outa him; but we didn't need any more.-Now,
here are the facts: Jessup has served time for assault
and battery. He was mixed up in a bank robbery.
Skeel was a fellow prisoner of his. He's got no alibi
for Saturday night when Skeel was killed, and he
lives round the corner. He quit his job suddenly
Saturday afternoon. He's husky and strong and
could easily have done the business. He was planning
his getaway when we nabbed him. And he's the
only person who could've unbolted and rebolted that
side door Monday night. . . . Is that a case, or ain't
it, Mr. Markham ?"
Markham sat several minutes in thought.
"That's easy.
"It's a good case as far as it goes," he said slowly.
"But what was his motive in strangling the girl?"
Mr. Vance here suggested it the
first day. You remember he asked Jessup about his
feelings for Odell; and Jessup turned red and got
nervous."
AN ARREST
267
"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Vance. "Am I to be made
responsible for any part of this priceless lunacy? .
True, I pried into the chap's emotions toward the
lady; but that was before anything had come to
light. I was bein' careful-tryin' to test each possi-
bility as it arose."
"Well, that was a lucky question of yours, just
the same." Heath turned back to Markham. "As
I see it: Jessup was stuck on Odell, and she told him
to trot along and sell his papers. He got all worked
up over it, sitting there night after night, seeing these
other guys calling on her. Then Skeel comes along,
and, recognizing him, suggests burglarizing Odell's
apartment. Skeel can't do the job without help, for
he has to pass the phone operator coming and going;
and as he's been there before, he'd be recognized.
Jessup sees a chance of getting even with Odell and
putting the blame on some one else; so the two of 'em
cook up the job for Monday night. When Odell goes
out Jessup unlocks the side door, and the Dude lets
himself into the apartment with his own key. Then
Odell and Spotswoode arrive unexpectedly. Skeel
hides in the closet, and after Spotswoode has gone,
he accidentally makes a noise, and Odell screams.
He steps out, and when she sees who he is, she tells
Spotswoode it's a mistake. Jessup now knows Skeel
has been discovered, and decides to make use of the
fact. Soon after Spotswoode has gone, he enters the
apartment with a pass-key. Skeel, thinking it's
somebody else, hides again in the closet; and then
Jessup grabs the girl and strangles her, intending to
let Skeel get the credit for it. But Skeel comes out of
hiding and they talk it over. Finally they come to
268
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
an agreement, and proceed with their original plan
to loot the place. Jessup tries to open the jewel-case
with the poker, and Skeel finishes the job with his
chisel. They then go out. Skeel leaves by the side
door, and Jessup rebolts it. The next day Skeel
hands the swag to Jessup to keep till things blow
over; and Jessup gets scared and throws it away.
Then they have a row. Skeel decides to tell every-
thing, so he can get cut from under; and Jessup,
suspecting he's going to do it, goes round to his house
Saturday night and strangles him like he did Odell."
Heath made a gesture of finality and sank back in
his chair.
"Clever deuced clever," murmured Vance. "Ser-
geant, I apologize for my little outburst a moment
ago. Your logic is irreproachable. You've recon-
structed the crime beautifully. You've solved the
case. . . . It's wonderful-simply wonderful. But
it's wrong.
99
"It's right enough to send Mr. Jessup to the chair."
"That's the terrible thing about logic," said
Vance. "It so often leads one irresistibly to a false
conclusion."
He stood up and walked across the room and back,
his hands in his coat-pockets. When he came abreast
of Heath he halted.
"I say, Sergeant; if somebody else could have
unlocked that side door, and then rebolted it again
after the crime, you'd be willing to admit that it
would weaken your case against Jessup eh, what?”
Heath was in a generous mood.
"Sure. Show me some one else who coulda done
that, and I'll admit that maybe I'm wrong."
AN ARREST
269
"Skeel could have done it, Sergeant. And he did
do it without any one knowing it."
"Skeel! This ain't the age of miracles, Mr.
Vance."
Vance swung about and faced Markham.
"Listen! I'm telling you Jessup's innocent." He
spoke with a fervor that amazed me. "And I'm
going to prove it to you-some way. My theory is
pretty complete; it's deficient only in one or two
small points; and, I'll confess, I haven't yet been able
to put a name to the culprit. But it's the right
theory, Markham, and it's diametrically opposed to
the Sergeant's. Therefore, you've got to give me
an opportunity to demonstrate it before you proceed
against Jessup. Now, I can't demonstrate it here;
so you and Heath must come with me to the Odell
house. It won't take over an hour. But if it took a
week, you'd have to come just the same."
He stepped nearer to the desk.
"I know that it was Skeel, and not Jessup, who
unbolted that door before the crime, and rebolted it
afterward."
Markham was impressed.
"You know this-you know it for a fact?"
"Yes! And I know how he did it!"
CHAPTER XXV
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
(Monday, September 17; 11.30 a. m.)
Half an hour later we entered the little apartment-
house in 71st Street. Despite the plausibility of
Heath's case against Jessup, Markham was not
entirely satisfied with the arrest; and Vance's atti-
tude had sown further seeds of doubt in his mind.
The strongest point against Jessup was that relating
to the bolting and unbolting of the side door; and
when Vance had asserted that he was able to demon-
strate how Skeel could have manipulated his own
entrance and exit, Markham, though only partly con-
vinced, had agreed to accompany him. Heath, too,
was interested, and, though supercilious, had ex-
pressed a willingness to go along.
Spively, scintillant in his chocolate-colored suit,
was at the switchboard, and stared at us apprehen-
sively. But when Vance suggested pleasantly that
he take a ten-minute walk round the block, he ap-
peared greatly relieved, and lost no time in comply-
ing.
The officer on guard outside of the Odell apart-
ment came forward and saluted.
"How goes it?" asked Heath. "Any visitors?"
"Only one-a toff who said he'd known the Canary
and wanted to see the apartment. I told him to get
an order from you or the District Attorney."
270
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
271
"That was correct, officer," said Markham; then,
turning to Vance: "Probably Spotswoode poor
devil."
"Quite," murmured Vance.
Rosemary and all that.
•
•
·
"So persistent!
Touchin'."
Heath told the officer to go for a half-hour's stroll;
and we were left alone.
"And now, Sergeant," said Vance
" said Vance cheerfully,
"I'm sure you know how to operate a switchboard.
Be so kind as to act as Spively's understudy for a
few minutes-there's a good fellow. . . . But, first,
please bolt the side door-and be sure that you bolt
it securely, just as it was on the fatal night."
Heath grinned good-naturedly.
"Sure thing." He put his forefinger to his lips
mysteriously, and, crouching, tiptoed down the hall
like a burlesque detective in a farce. After a few
moments he came tiptoeing back to the switchboard,
his finger still on his lips. Then, glancing surrepti-
tiously about him with globular eyes, he put his
mouth to Vance's ear.
"His-s-s-t!" he whispered. "The door's bolted.
G-r-r-r...."
He sat down at the switchboard.
"When does the curtain go up, Mr. Vance?"
"It's up, Sergeant." Vance fell in with Heath's
jocular mood. "Behold! The hour is half past nine
on Monday night. You are Spively-not nearly so
elegant; and you forgot the moustache-but still
Spively. And I am the bedizened Skeel. For the
sake of realism, please try to imagine me in chamois
gloves and a pleated silk shirt. Mr. Markham and
Mr. Van Dine here represent 'the many-headed
monster of the pit.'-And, by the bye, Sergeant, let
272
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
me have the key to the Odell apartment: Skeel had
one, don't y' know."
Heath produced the key and handed it over, still
grinning.
"A word of stage-direction," Vance continued.
"When I have departed by the front door, you are
to wait exactly three minutes, and then knock at
the late Canary's apartment.
He sauntered to the front door and, turning,
walked back toward the switchboard. Markham
and I stood behind Heath in the little alcove, facing
the front of the building.
"Enter Mr. Skeel!" announced Vance. "Remem-
ber, it's half past nine." Then, as he came abreast
of the switchboard: "Dash it all! You forgot your
lines, Sergeant. You should have told me that Miss
Odell was out. But it doesn't matter... Mr.
Skeel continues to the lady's door . . . thus.'
·
He walked past us, and we heard him ring the
apartment bell. After a brief pause, he knocked on
the door. Then he came back down the hall.
"I guess you were right," he said, quoting the
words of Skeel as reported by Spively; and went on
to the front door. Stepping out into the street, he
turned toward Broadway.
For exactly three minutes we waited. None of
us spoke. Heath had become serious, and his ac-
celerated puffing on his cigar bore evidence of his
state of expectancy. Markham was frowning stoi-
cally. At the end of the three minutes Heath rose
and hurried up the hall, with Markham and me at
his heels. In answer to his knock, the apartment
door was opened from the inside. Vance was stand-
ing in the little foyer.
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
273
"The end of the first act," he greeted us airily.
"Thus did Mr. Skeel enter the lady's boudoir Mon-
day night after the side door had been bolted, with-
out the operator's seeing him."
Heath narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Then
he suddenly swung round and looked down the rear
passageway to the oak door at the end. The handle
of the bolt was in a vertical position, showing that
the catch had been turned and that the door was
unbolted. Heath regarded it for several moments;
then he turned his eyes toward the switchboard.
Presently he let out a gleeful whoop.
"Very good, Mr. Vance-very good!" he pro-
claimed, nodding his head knowingly. "That was
easy, though. And it don't take psychology to ex-
plain it. After you rang the apartment bell, you
ran down this rear hallway and unbolted the door.
Then you ran back and knocked. After that you
went out the front entrance, turned toward Broad-
way, swung round across the street, came in the
alley, walked in the side door, and quietly let your-
self into the apartment behind our backs."
"Simple, wasn't it?" agreed Vance.
"Sure." The Sergeant was almost contemptuous.
"But that don't get you nowhere. Anybody coulda
figured it out if that had been the only problem con-
nected with Monday night's operations. But it's
the rebolting of that side door, after Skeel had gone,
that's been occupying my mind. Skeel might've-
might've, mind you-got in the way you did. But
he couldn't have got out that way, because the door
was bolted the next morning. And if there was some
one here to bolt the door after him, then that same
274
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
person could've unbolted the door for him earlier,
without his doing the ten-foot dash down the rear
hall to unbolt the door himself at half past nine.
So I don't see that your interesting little drama
helps Jessup out any."
99
“Oh, but the drama isn't over," Vance replied.
“The curtain is about to go up on the next act.”
Heath lifted his eyes sharply.
"Yeah?" His tone was one of almost jeering in-
credulity, but his expression was searching and
dubious. "And you're going to show us how Skeel
got out and bolted the door on the inside without
Jessup's help?"
"That is precisely what I intend to do, my Ser-
geant."
Heath opened his mouth to speak, but thought
better of it. Instead, he merely shrugged his shoul-
ders and gave Markham a sly look.
"Let us repair to the public atrium," proceeded
Vance; and he led us into the little reception-room
diagonally opposite to the switchboard. This room,
as I have explained, was just beyond the staircase,
and along its rear wall ran the little passageway to
the side door. (A glance at the accompanying dia-
gram will clarify the arrangement.)
Vance shepherded us ceremoniously to chairs,
and cocked his eye at the Sergeant.
"You will be so good as to rest here until you
hear me knock at the side door. Then come and
open it for me." He went toward the archway.
"Once more I personate the departed Mr. Skeel;
so picture me again en grande tenue sartorially
radiant. . . . The curtain ascends."
DOOR TO
ODELL APARTMENT
DOOR TO
COURT
PASSAGEWAY
COURT
SWITCHBOARDJ
MAIN HALLWAY
OPERATORS CHAIR
WEST SEVENTY-FIRST STREET
RECEPTION
ROOM
ALLEYWAY TO STREET
276
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
He bowed and, stepping from the reception-room
into the main hall, disappeared round the corner
into the rear passageway.
Heath shifted his position restlessly and gave
Markham a questioning, troubled look.
"Will he pull it off, sir, do you think?" All jocu-
larity had gone out of his tone.
“I can't see how." Markham was scowling. “If
he does, though, it will knock the chief underpin-
ning from your theory of Jessup's guilt."
"I'm not worrying," declared Heath. "Mr.
Vance knows a lot; he's got ideas. But how in
hell-?"
He was interrupted by a loud knocking on the
side door. The three of us sprang up simultaneously
and hurried round the corner of the main hall. The
rear passageway was empty. There was no door or
aperture of any kind on either side of it. It con-
sisted of two blank walls; and at the end, occupying
almost its entire width, was the oak door which led
to the court. Vance could have disappeared only
through that oak door. And the thing we all noticed
at once for our eyes had immediately sought it—
was the horizontal position of the bolt-handle. This
meant that the door was bolted.
Heath was not merely astonished-he was dumb-
founded. Markham had halted abruptly, and stood
staring down the empty passageway as if he saw a
ghost. After a momentary hesitation Heath walked
rapidly to the door. But he did not open it at once.
He went down on his knees before the lock and scru-
tinized the bolt carefully. Then he took out his
pocket-knife and inserted the blade into the crack
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
277
between the door and the casing. The point halted
against the inner moulding, and the edge of the
blade scraped upon the circular bolt. There was no
question that the heavy oak casings and mouldings
of the door were solid and well fitted, and that the
bolt had been securely thrown from the inside.
Heath, however, was still suspicious, and, grasping
the door-knob, he tugged at it violently. But the
door held firmly. At length he threw the bolt-handle
to a vertical position and opened the door. Vance
was standing in the court, placidly smoking and in-
specting the brickwork of the alley wall.
"I say, Markham," he remarked, "here's a curi-
ous thing. This wall, d' ye know, must be very old.
It wasn't built in these latter days of breathless effi-
ciency. The beauty-loving mason who erected it
laid the bricks in Flemish bond instead of the Run-
ning or Stretcher-bond of our own restless age.
And up there a bit"-he pointed toward the rear
yard-"is a Rowlock and Checkerboard pattern.
Very neat and very pretty-more pleasing even than
the popular English Cross bond. And the mortar
joints are all V-tooled. . . . Fancy!"
Markham was fuming.
"Damn it, Vance! I'm not building brick walls.
What I want to know is how you got out here and
left the door bolted on the inside."
"Oh, that!" Vance crushed out his cigarette and
re-entered the building. "I merely made use of a
bit of clever criminal mechanism. It's very simple,
like all truly effective appliances-oh, simple beyond
words. I blush at its simplicity.
Observe!"
He took from his pocket a tiny pair of tweezers
278
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
to the end of which was tied a piece of purple twine
about four feet long. Placing the tweezers over the
vertical bolt-handle, he turned them at a very slight
angle to the left and then ran the twine under the
door so that about a foot of it projected over the
sill. Stepping into the court, he closed the door.
The tweezers still held the bolt-handle as in a vise,
and the string extended straight to the floor and
disappeared under the door into the court. The
three of us stood watching the bolt with fascinated
attention. Slowly the string became taut, as Vance
gently pulled upon the loose end outside, and then
the downward tug began slowly but surely to turn
the bolt-handle. When the bolt had been thrown
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
279
and the handle was in a horizontal position, there
came a slight jerk on the string. The tweezers were
disengaged from the bolt-handle, and fell noiselessly
to the carpeted floor. Then as the string was pulled
from without, the tweezers disappeared under the
crack between the bottom of the door and the sill.
"Childish, what?" commented Vance, when Heath
had let him in. "Silly, too, isn't it? And yet, Ser-
geant dear, that's how the deceased Tony left these
premises last Monday night. . . . But let's go into
the lady's apartment, and I'll tell you a story. I
see that Mr. Spively has returned from his prome-
nade; so he can resume his telephonic duties and
leave us free for a causerie.”
"When did you think up that hocus-pocus with
the tweezers and string?" demanded Markham irri-
tably, when we were seated in the Odell living-room.
"I didn't think it up at all, don't y' know,"
Vance told him carelessly, selecting a cigarette with
annoying deliberation. "It was Mr. Skeel's idea.
Ingenious lad-eh, what?”
"Come, come!" Markham's equanimity was at
last shaken. "How can you possibly know that
Skeel used this means of locking himself out?"
"I found the little apparatus in his evening clothes
yesterday morning.'
"What!” cried Heath belligerently. "You took
that outa Skeel's room yesterday during the search,
without saying anything about it?"
"Oh, only after your ferrets had passed it by. In
fact, I didn't even look at the gentleman's clothes
until your experienced searchers had inspected them
and relocked the wardrobe door. Y' see, Sergeant,
280
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
this little thingumbob was stuffed away in one of
the pockets of Skeel's dress waistcoat, under the
silver cigarette-case. I'll admit I went over his eve-
ning suit rather lovin'ly. He wore it, y' know, on
the night the lady departed this life, and I hoped to
find some slight indication of his collaboration in
the event. When I found this little eyebrow-plucker,
I hadn't the slightest inkling of its significance. And
the purple twine attached to it bothered me fright-
fully, don't y' know. I could see that Mr. Skeel
didn't pluck his eyebrows; and even if he had been
addicted to the practice, why the twine? The
tweezers are a delicate little gold affair-just what
the ravishin' Margaret might have used; and last
Tuesday morning I noticed a small lacquer tray con-
taining similar toilet accessories on her dressing-
table near the jewel-case. But that wasn't all.”
He pointed to the little vellum waste-basket beside
the escritoire, in which lay a large crumpled mass of
heavy paper.
"I also noticed that piece of discarded wrapping-
paper stamped with the name of a well-known Fifth
Avenue novelty shop; and this morning, on my way
down-town, I dropped in at the shop and learned
that they make a practice of tying up their bundles
with purple twine. Therefore, I concluded that
Skeel had taken the tweezers and the twine from
this apartment during his visit here that eventful
night. .. Now, the question was: Why should he
have spent his time tying strings to eyebrow-pluck-
ers? I confess, with maidenly modesty, that I
couldn't find an answer. But this morning when you
told of arresting Jessup, and emphasized the rebolt-
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
281
ing of the side door after Skeel's departure, the fog
lifted, the sun shone, the birds began to sing. I be-
came suddenly mediumistic: I had a psychic seizure.
The whole modus operandi came to me as they say
—in a flash. . . . I told you, Markham old thing,
it would take spiritualism to solve this case."
CHAPTER XXVI
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
(Monday, September 17; noon)
When Vance finished speaking, there was several
minutes' silence. Markham sat deep in his chair
glaring into space. Heath, however, was watching
Vance with a kind of grudging admiration. The
corner-stone in the foundation of his case against
Jessup had been knocked out, and the structure he
had built was tottering precariously. Markham
realized this, and the fact played havoc with his
hopes.
"I wish your inspirations were more helpful," he
grumbled, turning his gaze upon Vance. "This latest
revelation of yours puts us back almost to where we
started from.
99
"Oh, don't be pessimistic. Let us face the future
with a bright eye. . . . Want to hear my theory?
-it's fairly bulging with possibilities." He arranged
himself comfortably in his chair. "Skeel needed
money-no doubt his silk shirts were running low-
and after his unsuccessful attempt to extort it from
the-lady a week before her demise, he came here last
Monday night. He had learned she would be out, and
he intended to wait for her; for she had probably re-
fused to receive him in the custom'ry social way.
He knew the side door was bolted at night, and, as he
282
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
283
didn't want to be seen entering the apartment, he
devised the little scheme of unbolting the door for
himself under cover of a futile call at half past nine.
The unbolting accomplished, he returned via the
alleyway, and let himself into the apartment at some
time before eleven. When the lady returned with an
escort, he quickly hid in the clothes-closet, and re-
mained there until the escort had departed. Then
he came forth, and the lady, startled by his sudden
appearance, screamed. But, on recognizing him, she
told Spotswoode, who was now hammering at the
door, that it was all a mistake. So Spotswoode ran
along and played poker. A financial discussion be-
tween Skeel and the lady-probably a highly acri-
monious tiff ensued. In the midst of it the tele-
phone rang, and Skeel snatched off the receiver and
said the Canary was out. The tiff was resumed;
but presently another suitor appeared on the scene.
Whether he rang the bell or let himself in with a
key I can't say-probably the latter, for the phone
operator was unaware of his visit. Skeel hid himself
a second time in the closet, and luckily took the pre-
caution of locking himself in. Also, he quite naturally
put his eye to the keyhole to see who the second in-
truder was."
Vance pointed to the closet door.
"The keyhole, you will observe, is on a line with
the davenport; and as Skeel peered out into the room
he saw a sight that froze his blood. The new arrival
-in the midst, perhaps, of some endearing sentence
-seized the lady by the throat and proceeded to
throttle her. . . Imagine Skeel's emotions, my
dear Markham. There he was, crouching in a dark
284
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
closet, and a few feet from him stood a murderer in
the act of strangling a lady! Pauvre Antoine! I
don't wonder he was petrified and speechless. He
saw what he imagined to be maniacal fury in the
strangler's eyes; and the strangler must have been
a fairly powerful creature, whereas Skeel was slender
and almost undersized.
No, merci. Skeel
wasn't having any. He lay doggo. And I can't
say that I blame the beggar, what?”
He made a gesture of interrogation.
"What did the strangler do next? Well, well;
we'll probably never know, now that Skeel, the hor-
rified witness, has gone to his Maker. But I rather
imagine he got out that black document-box, opened
it with a key he had taken from the lady's hand-bag,
and extracted a goodly number of incriminating
documents. Then, I fancy, the fireworks began.
The gentleman proceeded to wreck the apartment in
order to give the effect of a professional burglary.
He tore the lace on the lady's gown and severed
the shoulder-strap; snatched her orchid corsage and
threw it in her lap; stripped off her rings and brace-
lets; and tore the pendant from its chain. After that
he upset the lamp, rifled the escritoire, ransacked the
Boule cabinet, broke the mirror, overturned the
chairs, tore the draperies. . And all the time
Skeel kept his eye glued to the keyhole with fasci-
nated horror, afraid to move, terrified lest he be dis-
covered and sent to join his erstwhile inamorata,
for by now he was no doubt thoroughly convinced
that the man outside was a raving lunatic.-I can't
say that I envy Skeel his predicament: it was tick-
lish, y' know. Rather!-And the devastation went
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
285
on. He could hear it even when the operations had
passed from out his radius of vision. And he himself
was caught like a rat in a trap, with no means of es-
cape. A harrowin' situation-my word!"
Vance smoked a moment, and then shifted his
position slightly.
"Y' know, Markham, I imagine that the worst
moment in the whole of Skeel's checkered career
came when that mysterious wrecker tried to open
the closet door behind which he was crouching.
Fancy! There he was cornered, and not two inches
from him stood, apparently, a homicidal maniac
trying to get to him, rattling that thin barricade of
white pine....
.. Can you picture the blighter's re-
lief when the murderer finally released the knob and
turned away? It's a wonder he didn't collapse from
the reaction. But he didn't. He listened and watched
in a sort of hypnotic panic, until he heard the invader
leave the apartment. Then, weak-kneed and in a
cold sweat, he came forth and surveyed the battle-
field."
Vance glanced about him.
"Not a pretty sight-eh, what? And there on the
davenport reclined the lady's strangled body. That
corpse was Skeel's dominant horror. He staggered
to the table to look at it, and steadied himself with
his right hand-that's how you got your finger-
prints, Sergeant. Then the realization of his own
position suddenly smote him. Here he was alone
with a murdered person. He was known to have
been intimate with the lady; and he was a burglar
with a record. Who would believe that he was inno-
cent? And though he had probably recognized the
286
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
man who had negotiated the business, he was in no
position to tell his story. Everything was against
him-his sneaking in, his presence in the house at
half past nine, his relations with the girl, his pro-
fession, his reputation. He hadn't a chance in the
world. . . . I say, Markham, would you have cred-
ited his tale?"
"Never mind that," retorted Markham. "Go on
with your theory." He and Heath had been listening
with rapt interest.
"My theory from this point on," resumed Vance,
"is what you might term self-developing. It pro-
ceeds on its own inertia, so to speak.—Skeel was con-
fronted by the urgent problem of getting away and
covering up his tracks. His mind in this emergency
became keen and highly active: his life was forfeit
if he didn't succeed. He began to think furiously.
He could have left by the side door at once without
being seen; but then, the door would have been found
unbolted. And this fact, taken in connection with
his earlier visit that night, would have suggested his
manner of unbolting the door. . . . No, that method
of escape wouldn't do decidedly it wouldn't do.
He knew he was likely, in any event, to be suspected
of the murder, in view of his shady association with
the lady and his general character. Motive, place,
opportunity, time, means, conduct, and his own rec-
ord-all were against him. Either he must cover up
his tracks, don't y' know, or else his career as a
Lothario was at an end. A sweet dilemma! He
realized, of course, that if he could get out and leave
that side door bolted on the inside, he'd be com-
paratively safe. No one could then explain how he
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
287
had come in or gone out. It would establish his only
possible alibi-a negative one, to be sure; but, with
a good lawyer, he could probably make it hold.
Doubtless he searched for other means of escape, but
found himself confronted with obstacles on every
hand. The side door was his only hope. How could
it be worked?"
Vance rose and yawned.
"That's my caressin' theory. Skeel was caught
in a trap, and with his shrewd, tricky brain he figured
his way out. He may have roamed up and down
these two rooms for hours before he hit on his plan;
and it's not unlikely that he appealed to the Deity
with an occasional 'Oh, my God!' As for his using
the tweezers, I'm inclined to think the mechanism of
the idea came to him almost immediately.-Y' know,
Sergeant, this locking of a door on the inside is an
old trick. There are any number of recorded cases of
it in the criminal literature of Europe. Indeed, in
Professor Hans Gross's handbook of criminology
there's a whole chapter on the devices used by bur-
glars for illegal entries and exits.* But all such de-
vices have had to do with the locking-not the bolt-
ing-of doors. The principle, of course, is the same,
but the technic is different. To lock a door on the
inside, a needle, or strong slender pin, is inserted
through the bow of the key, and pulled downward
with a string. But on the side door of this house
there is no lock and key; nor is there a bow in the
bolt-handle. Now, the resourceful Skeel, while pac-
ing nervously about, looking for something that
* The treatise referred to by Vance was Handbuch für Untersuchungs-
ichter als System der Kriminalistik.
288
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
might offer a suggestion, probably espied the tweezers
on the lady's dressing-table-no lady nowadays is
without these little eyebrow-pluckers, don't y' know
-and immediately his problem was solved. It re-
mained only to test the device. Before departing,
however, he chiselled open the jewel-case which the
other chap had merely dinted, and found the soli-
taire diamond ring that he later attempted to pawn.
Then he erased, as he thought, all his finger-prints,
forgetting to wipe off the inside door-knob of the
closet, and overlooking the hand-mark on the table.
After that, he let himself out quietly, and rebolted
the side door the same as I did, stuffing the tweezers
in his waistcoat pocket and forgetting them."
Heath nodded his head oracularly.
66
"A crook, no matter how clever he is, always over-
looks something.'
99
"Why single out crooks for your criticism, Ser-
geant?" asked Vance lazily. "Do you know of any-
body in this imperfect world who doesn't always
overlook something?" He gave Heath a benignant
smile. "Even the police, don't y' know, overlooked
the tweezers."
Heath grunted. His cigar had gone out, and he
relighted it slowly and thoroughly.
"What do you think, Mr. Markham?”
"The situation doesn't become much clearer," was
Markham's gloomy comment.
"My theory isn't exactly a blindin' illumination,"
said Vance. "Yet I wouldn't say that it left things
in pristine darkness. There are certain inferences
to be drawn from my vagaries. To wit: Skeel either
knew or recognized the murderer; and once he had
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
289
made good his escape from the apartment and had re-
gained a modicum of self-confidence, he undoubtedly
blackmailed his homicidal confrère. His death was
merely another manifestation of our inconnu's bent
for ridding himself of persons who annoyed him.
Furthermore, my theory accounts for the chiselled
jewel-case, the finger-prints, the unmolested closet,
the finding of the gems in the refuse-tin-the person
who took them really didn't want them, y' know—
and Skeel's silence. It also explains the unbolting
and bolting of the side door."
"Yes," sighed Markham. "It seems to clarify
everything but the one all-important point-the
identity of the murderer."
"Exactly," said Vance. "Let's go to lunch."
Heath, morose and confused, departed for Police
Headquarters; and Markham, Vance, and I rode to
Delmonico's, where we chose the main dining-room
in preference to the grill.
"The case now would seem to centre in Cleaver and
Mannix," said Markham, when we had finished our
luncheon. "If your theory that the same man killed
both Skeel and the Canary is correct, then Lindquist
is out of it, for he certainly was in the Episcopal
Hospital Saturday night."
"Quite," agreed Vance. "The doctor is unques-
tionably eliminated. . . . Yes; Cleaver and Mannix
-they're the allurin' twins. Don't see any way to go
beyond them." He frowned and sipped his coffee.
“My original quartet is dwindling, and I don't like it.
It narrows the thing down too much-there's no
scope for the mind, as it were, in only two choices.
What if we should succeed in eliminating Cleaver
290
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
and Mannix? Where would we be eh, what?
Nowhere simply nowhere. And yet, one of the
quartet is guilty; let's cling to that consolin' fact.
It can't be Spotswoode and it can't be Lindquist.
Cleaver and Mannix remain: two from four leaves
two. Simple arithmetic, what? The only trouble is,
this case isn't simple. Lord, no!-I say, how would
the equation work out if we used algebra, or spherical
trigonometry, or differential calculus? Let's cast it in
the fourth dimension—or the fifth, or the sixth. . . .
He held his temples in both hands. "Oh, promise,
Markham-promise me that you'll hire a kind, gentle
keeper for me.'
99
99
"I know how you feel. I've been in the same
mental state for a week."
"It's the quartet idea that's driving me mad,"
moaned Vance. "It wrings me to have my tetrad
lopped off in such brutal fashion. I'd set my young
trustin' heart on that quartet, and now it's only a
pair. My sense of order and proportion has been out-
raged. . . . I want my quartet."
"I'm afraid you'll have to be satisfied with two of
them," Markham returned wearily. "One of them
can't qualify, and one is in bed. You might send some
flowers to the hospital, if it would cheer you any."
"One is in bed-one is in bed," repeated Vance.
"Well, well-to be sure! And one from four leaves
three. More arithmetic. Three! ... On the other
hand, there is no such thing as a straight line. All
lines are curved; they transcribe circles in space.
They look straight, but they're not. Appearances,
y' know-so deceptive! . . . Let's enter the silence,
and substitute mentation for sight."
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
291
He gazed up out of the great windows into Fifth
Avenue. For several moments he sat smoking
thoughtfully. When he spoke again, it was in an
even, deliberate voice.
"Markham, would it be difficult for you to invite
Mannix and Cleaver and Spotswoode to spend an
evening-this evening, let us say-in your apart-
ment?"
Markham set down his cup with a clatter, and re-
garded Vance narrowly.
"What new harlequinade is this?"
"Fie on you! Answer my question.'
99
"Well-of course I might arrange it," replied
Markham hesitantly. "They're all more or less under
my jurisdiction at present.'
""
"So that such an invitation would be rather in
line with the situation-eh, what? And they
wouldn't be likely to refuse you, old dear-would
they ?"
"No; I hardly think so.
·
99
"And if, when they had assembled in your
quarters, you should propose a few hands of poker,
they'd probably accept, without thinking the sug-
gestion strange?"
"Probably," said Markham, nonplussed at
Vance's amazing request. "Cleaver and Spotswoode
both play, I know; and Mannix doubtless knows the
game. But why poker? Are you serious, or has your
threatened dementia already overtaken you?"
"Oh, I'm deuced serious." Vance's tone left no
doubt as to the fact. "The game of poker, d' ye see,
is the crux of the matter. I knew Cleaver was an old
hand at the game; and Spotswoode, of course, played
292
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
і
with Judge Redfern last Monday night. So that gave
me a basis for my plan. Mannix, we'll assume, also
plays."
He leaned forward, speaking earnestly.
"Nine-tenths of poker, Markham, is psychology;
and if one understands the game, one can learn more
of a man's inner nature at a poker table in an hour
than during a year's casual association with him.
You rallied me once when I said I could lead you to
the perpetrator of any crime by examining the factors
of the crime itself. But naturally I must know the
man to whom I am to lead you; otherwise I cannot
relate the psychological indications of the crime to
the culprit's nature. In the present case, I know the
kind of man who committed the crime; but I am
not sufficiently acquainted with the suspects to point
out the guilty one. However, after our game of
poker, I hope to be able to tell you who planned and
carried out the Canary's murder.” *
Markham gazed at him in blank astonishment.
He knew that Vance played poker with amazing
skill, and that he possessed an uncanny knowledge of
the psychological elements involved in the game; but
* Recently I ran across an article by Doctor George A. Dorsey, pro-
fessor of anthropology at the University of Chicago, and author of "Why
We Behave Like Human Beings," which bore intimate testimony to the
scientific accuracy of Vance's theory. In it Doctor Dorsey said: "Poker
is a cross-section of life. The way a man behaves in a poker game is the
way he behaves in life. . . . His success or failure lies in the way his
physical organism responds to the stimuli supplied by the game.
I have studied humanity all my life from the anthropologic and psy-
chological view-point. And I have yet to find a better laboratory ex-
ercise than to observe the manners of men as they see my raise and
come back at me. . . The psychologist's verbalized, visceral, and
manual behaviors are functioning at their highest in a poker game.
I can truthfully say that I learned about men from poker."
...
...
RECONSTRUCTING THE CRIME
293
he was unprepared for the latter's statement that he
might be able to solve the Odell murder by means of
it. Yet Vance had spoken with such undoubted
earnestness that Markham was impressed. I knew
what was passing in his mind almost as well as if he
had voiced his thoughts. He was recalling the way
in which Vance had, in a former murder case, put his
finger unerringly on the guilty man by a similar
process of psychological deduction. And he was also
telling himself that, however incomprehensible and
seemingly extravagant Vance's requests were, there
was always a fundamentally sound reason behind
them.
"Damn it!" he muttered at last. "The whole
scheme seems idiotic. . . . And yet, if you really
want a game of poker with these men, I've no special
objection. It'll get you nowhere I'll tell you that
beforehand. It's stark nonsense to suppose that you
can find the guilty man by such fantastic means."
"Ah, well," sighed Vance, "a little futile recrea-
tion will do us no harm."
"But why do you include Spotswoode ?"
"Really, y'know, I haven't the slightest notion
-except, of course, that he's one of my quartet.
And we'll need an extra hand."
"Well, don't tell me afterwards that I'm to lock
him up for murder. I'd have to draw the line.
Strange as it may seem to your layman's mind, I
wouldn't care to prosecute a man, knowing that it
was physically impossible for him to have com-
mitted the crime."
"As to that," drawled Vance, "the only obstacles
that stand in the way of physical impossibilities are
294
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
material facts. And material facts are notoriously
deceivin'. Really, y' know, you lawyers would do
better if you ignored them entirely.'
Markham did not deign to answer such heresy,
but the look he gave Vance was most expressive.
CHAPTER XXVII
A GAME OF POKER
(Monday, September 17; 9 p. m.)
Vance and I went home after lunch, and at about
four o'clock Markham telephoned to say that he
had made the necessary arrangements for the eve-
ning with Spotswoode, Mannix, and Cleaver. Im-
mediately following this confirmation Vance left the
house, and did not return until nearly eight o'clock.
Though I was filled with curiosity at so unusual a
proceeding, he refused to enlighten me. But when,
at a quarter to nine, we went down-stairs to the
waiting car, there was a man I did not know in the
tonneau; and I at once connected him with Vance's
mysterious absence.
"I've asked Mr. Allen to join us to-night," Vance
vouchsafed, when he had introduced us. "You don't
play poker, and we really need another hand to
make the game interestin', y' know. Mr. Allen, by
the bye, is an old antagonist of mine."
The fact that Vance would, apparently without
permission, bring an uninvited guest to Markham's
apartment amazed me but little more than the ap-
pearance of the man himself. He was rather short,
with sharp, shrewd features; and what I saw of his
hair beneath his jauntily tipped hat was black and
sleek, like the painted hair on Japanese dolls. I
noted, too, that his evening tie was enlivened by a
295
296
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
design of tiny white forget-me-nots, and that his
shirt-front was adorned with diamond studs.
The contrast between him and the immaculately
stylish and meticulously correct Vance was aggres-
sively evident. I wondered what could be the rela-
tionship between them. Obviously it was neither
social nor intellectual.
Cleaver and Mannix were already on hand when
we were ushered into Markham's drawing-room,
and a few minutes later Spotswoode arrived. The
amenities of introduction over, we were soon seated
comfortably about the open log fire, smoking, and
sipping very excellent Scotch high-balls. Markham
had, of course, accepted the unexpected Mr. Allen
cordially, but his occasional glances in the latter's
direction told me he was having some difficulty in
reconciling the man's appearance with Vance's spon-
sorship.
A tense atmosphere lay beneath the spurious and
affected affability of the little gathering. Indeed,
the situation was scarcely conducive to spontaneity.
Here were three men each of whom was known to
the others to have been interested in the same
woman; and the reason for their having been brought
together was the fact that this woman had been
murdered. Markham, however, handled the situa-
tion with such tact that he largely succeeded in giv-
ing each one the feeling of being a disinterested spec-
tator summoned to discuss an abstract problem.
He explained at the outset that the "conference"
had been actuated by his failure to find any ap-
proach to the problem of the murder. He hoped,
he said, by a purely informal discussion, divested
A GAME OF POKER
297
of all officialism and coercion, to turn up some sug-
gestion that might lead to a fruitful line of inquiry.
His manner was one of friendly appeal, and when
he finished speaking the general tension had been
noticeably relaxed.
During the discussion that followed I was inter-
ested in the various attitudes of the men concerned.
Cleaver spoke bitterly of his part in the affair, and
was more self-condemnatory than suggestive. Man-
nix was voluble and pretentiously candid, but be-
neath his comments ran a strain of apologetic wari-
ness. Spotswoode, unlike Mannix, seemed loath to
discuss the matter, and maintained a consistently
reticent attitude. He responded politely to Mark-
ham's questions, but he did not succeed entirely in
hiding his resentment at thus being dragged into a
general discussion. Vance had little to say, limiting
himself to occasional remarks directed always to
Markham. Allen did not once speak, but sat con-
templating the others with a sort of canny amuse-
ment.
The entire conversation struck me as utterly fu-
tile. Had Markham really hoped to garner infor-
mation from it, he would have been woefully dis-
appointed. I realized, though, that he was merely
endeavoring to justify himself for having taken so
unusual a step, and to pave the way for the game
of poker which Vance had requested. When the
time came to broach the subject, however, there
was no difficulty about it.
It was exactly eleven o'clock when he made the
suggestion. His tone was gracious and unassum-
ing; but by couching his invitation in terms of a
298
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
personal request, he practically precluded declina-
tion. But his verbal strategy, I felt, was unneces-
sary. Both Cleaver and Spotswoode seemed genu-
inely to welcome the opportunity of dropping a
distasteful discussion in favor of playing cards; and
Vance and Allen, of course, concurred instantly.
Mannix alone declined. He explained that he knew
the game only slightly, and disliked it; though he
expressed an enthusiastic desire to watch the others.
Vance urged him to reconsider, but without success;
and Markham finally ordered his man to arrange
the table for five.
I noticed that Vance waited until Allen had taken
his place, and then dropped into the chair at his
right. Cleaver took the seat at Allen's left. Spots-
woode sat at Vance's right; and then came Mark-
ham. Mannix drew up his chair midway behind
Markham and Cleaver. Thus:
ALLEN
CLEAVER
MANNIX
D
-OF
VANCE
SPOTSWOODE
MARKHAM
Cleaver first named a rather moderate limit, but
Spotswoode at once suggested much larger stakes.
A GAME OF POKER
299
Then Vance went still higher, and as both Mark-
ham and Allen signified their agreement, his figure
was accepted. The prices placed on the chips some-
what took my breath away, and even Mannix whis-
tled softly.
That all five men at the table were excellent players
became obvious before the game had progressed ten
minutes. For the first time that night Vance's friend
Allen seemed to have found his milieu and to be
wholly at ease.
Allen won the first two hands, and Vance the
third and fourth. Spotswoode then had a short run
of good luck, and a little later Markham took a large
jack-pot which put him slightly in the lead. Cleaver
was the only loser thus far; but in another half-hour
he had succeeded in recovering a large portion of
his losses. After that Vance forged steadily ahead,
only to relinquish his winning streak to Allen. Then
for a while the fortunes of the game were rather
evenly distributed. But later on both Cleaver and
Spotswoode began to lose heavily. By half past
twelve a grim atmosphere had settled over the party;
for so high were the stakes, and so rapidly did the
betting pyramid, that even for men of means-such
as all these players undoubtedly were the amounts
which continually changed hands represented very
considerable items.
Just before one o'clock, when the fever of the
game had reached a high point, I saw Vance glance
quickly at Allen and pass his handkerchief across
his forehead. To a stranger the gesture would have
appeared perfectly natural; but, so familiar was I
with Vance's mannerisms, I immediately recognized
300
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
its artificiality. And simultaneously I noticed that
it was Allen who was shuffling the cards preparatory
to dealing. Some smoke from his cigar evidently
went into his eye at this moment, for he blinked,
and one of the cards fell to the floor. Quickly re-
trieving it, he reshuffled the deck and placed it be-
fore Vance to cut.
The hand was a jack-pot, and there was a small
fortune in chips already on the table. Cleaver,
Markham, and Spotswoode passed. The decision
thus reached Vance, and he opened for an unusually
large amount. Allen at once laid down his hand, but
Cleaver stayed. Then Markham and Spotswoode
both dropped out, leaving the entire play between
Vance and Cleaver. Cleaver drew one card, and
Vance, who had opened, drew two. Vance made a
nominal wager, and Cleaver raised it substantially.
Vance in turn raised Cleaver, but only for a small
amount; and Cleaver again raised Vance-this time
for an even larger sum than before. Vance hesitated,
and called him. Cleaver exposed his hand trium-
phantly.
"Straight flush-jack high," he announced. "Can
you beat that?”
"Not on a two-card draw," said Vance ruefully.
He put his cards down to show his openers. He had
four kings.
About half an hour later Vance again took out
his handkerchief and passed it across his forehead.
As before, I noted that it was Allen's deal, and also
that the hand was a jack-pot which had been twice
sweetened. Allen paused to take a drink of his high-
ball and to light his cigar. Then, after Vance had
cut the cards, he dealt them.
A GAME OF POKER
301
Cleaver, Markham, and Spotswoode passed, and
again Vance opened, for the full amount of the pot.
No one stayed except Spotswoode; and this time it
was a struggle solely between him and Vance.
Spotswoode asked for one card; and Vance stood
pat. Then there followed a moment of almost breath-
less silence. The atmosphere seemed to me to be
electrically charged, and I think the others sensed
it too, for they were watching the play with a curi-
ously strained intentness. Vance and Spotswoode,
however, appeared frozen in attitudes of superlative
calm. I watched them closely, but neither revealed
the slightest indication of any emotion.
It was Vance's first bet. Without speaking he
moved a stack of yellow chips to the centre of the
table-it was by far the largest wager that had been
made during the game. But immediately Spotswoode
measured another stack alongside of it. Then he
coolly and deftly counted the remainder of his chips,
and pushed them all forward with the palm of his
hand, saying quietly:
"The limit.'
Vance shrugged almost imperceptibly.
"The pot, sir, is yours." He smiled pleasantly at
Spotswoode, and put down his hand face up, to
establish his openers. He had held four aces!
"Gad! That's poker!" exclaimed Allen, chuckling.
"Poker?" echoed Markham. "To lay down four
aces with all that money at stake?"
Cleaver also grunted his astonishment, and Man-
nix pursed his lips disgustedly.
"I don't mean any offense, y' understand, Mr.
Vance," he said. "But looking at that play from a
802
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
strictly business standpoint, I'd say you quit too
soon.
99
Spotswoode glanced up.
"You gentlemen wrong Mr. Vance," he said. "He
played his hand perfectly. His withdrawal, even
with four aces, was scientifically correct.'
""
"Sure it was," agreed Allen. "Oh, boy! What a
battle that was!"
Spotswoode nodded and, turning to Vance, said:
"Since the exact situation is never likely to occur
again, the least I can do, by way of showing my
appreciation of your remarkable perception, is to
gratify your curiosity.-I held nothing."
Spotswoode put down his hand and extended his
fingers gracefully toward the upturned cards. There
were revealed a five, six, seven, and eight of clubs,
and a knave of hearts.
"I can't say that I follow your reasoning, Mr.
Spotswoode," Markham confessed. "Mr. Vance had
you beaten-and he quit."
"Consider the situation," Spotswoode replied, in
a suave, even voice. "I most certainly would have
opened so rich a pot, had I been able to, after Mr.
Cleaver and you had passed. But since I neverthe-
less stayed after Mr. Vance had opened for so large
an amount, it goes without saying that I must have
had either a four-straight, a four-flush, or a four-
straight-flush. I believe I may state without im-
modesty that I am too good a player to have stayed
otherwise..
"And I assure you, Markham," interrupted
Vance, "that Mr. Spotswoode is too good a player
to have stayed unless he had actually had a four-
A GAME OF POKER
303
straight-flush. That is the only hand he would have
been justified in backing at the betting odds of two
to one. You see, I had opened for the amount in
the pot, and Mr. Spotswoode had to put up half the
amount of the money on the table in order to stay
-
-making it a two-to-one bet.-Now, these odds are
not high, and any non-opening hand smaller than a
four-straight-flush would not have warranted the
risk. As it was, he had, with a one-card draw, two
chances in forty-seven of making a straight-flush,
nine chances in forty-seven of making a flush, and
eight chances in forty-seven of making a straight; so
that he had nineteen chances in forty-seven—or more
than one chance in three-of strengthening his hand
into either a straight-flush, a flush, or a straight."
"Exactly," assented Spotswoode. "However, after
I had drawn my one card, the only possible question
in Mr. Vance's mind was whether or not I had made
my straight-flush. If I had not made it-or had
merely drawn a straight or a flush-Mr. Vance fig-
ured, and figured rightly, that I would not have seen
his large bet and also have raised it the limit. To
have done so, in those circumstances, would have
been irrational poker. Not one player in a thou-
sand would have taken such a risk on a mere bluff.
Therefore, had Mr. Vance not laid down his four
aces when I raised him, he would have been fool-
hardy in the extreme. It turned out, of course, that
I was actually bluffing; but that does not alter the
fact that the correct and logical thing was for Mr.
Vance to quit."
"Quite true," Vance agreed. "As Mr. Spotswoode
says, not one player in a thousand would have
304
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
wagered the limit without having filled his straight-
flush, knowing I had a pat hand. Indeed, one might
almost say that Mr. Spotswoode, by doing so, has
added another decimal point to the psychological
subtleties of the game; for, as you see, he analyzed
my reasoning, and carried his own reasoning a step
further."
Spotswoode acknowledged the compliment with
a slight bow; and Cleaver reached for the cards and
began to shuffle them. But the tension had been
broken, and the game was not resumed.
Something, however, seemed to have gone wrong
with Vance. For a long while he sat frowning at his
cigarette and sipping his high-ball in troubled ab-
straction. At last he rose and walked to the mantel,
where he stood studying a Cézanne water-color he
had given Markham years before. His action was a
typical indication of his inner puzzlement.
Presently, when there came a lull in the conver-
sation, he turned sharply and looked at Mannix.
"I say, Mr. Mannix"-he spoke with only casual
curiosity-"how does it happen you've never ac-
quired a taste for poker? All good business men are
gamblers at heart."
"Sure they are," Mannix replied, with pensive
deliberation. "But poker, now, isn't my idea of
gambling-positively not. It's got too much science.
And it ain't quick enough for me it hasn't got the
kick in it, if you know what I mean. Roulette's my
speed. When I was in Monte Carlo last summer I
dropped more money in ten minutes than you gen-
tlemen lost here this whole evening. But I got ac-
tion for my money."
99
A GAME OF POKER
305
"I take it, then, you don't care for cards at all.”
"Not to play games with." Mannix had become
expansive. "I don't mind betting money on the
draw of a card, for instance. But no two out of
three, y' understand. I want my pleasures to come
rapid." And he snapped his thick fingers several
times in quick succession to demonstrate the rapid-
ity with which he desired to have his pleasures come.
Vance sauntered to the table and carelessly picked
up a deck of cards.
"What do you say to cutting once for a thou-
sand dollars?"
Mannix rose instantly.
"You're on!"
Vance handed the cards over, and Mannix shuffled
them. Then he put them down and cut. He turned
up a ten. Vance cut, and showed a king.
"A thousand I owe you," said Mannix, with no
more concern than if it had been ten cents.
Vance waited without speaking, and Mannix eyed
him craftily.
"I'll cut with you again—two thousand this time.
Yes?"
Vance raised his eyebrows. "Double? . . . By
all means." He shuffled the cards, and cut a seven.
Mannix's hand swooped down and turned a five.
"Well, that's three thousand I owe you," he said.
His little eyes had now narrowed into slits, and he
held his cigar clamped tightly between his teeth.
"Like to double it again-eh, what?" Vance
asked. "Four thousand this time?"
Markham looked at Vance in amazement, and over
Allen's face there came an expression of almost
306
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
ludicrous consternation. Every one present, I be-
lieve, was astonished at the offer, for obviously Vance
knew that he was giving Mannix tremendous odds
by permitting successive doubling. In the end he was
sure to lose. I believe Markham would have pro-
tested if at that moment Mannix had not snatched
the cards from the table and begun to shuffle them.
"Four thousand it is!" he announced, putting
down the deck and cutting. He turned up the queen
of diamonds. "You can't beat that lady-positively
not!" He was suddenly jovial.
"I fancy you're right," murmured Vance; and he
cut a trey.
"Want some more?" asked Mannix, with good-
natured aggressiveness.
"That's enough." Vance seemed bored. "Far
too excitin'. I haven't your rugged constitution,
don't y' know."
He went to the desk and made out a check to
Mannix for a thousand dollars. Then he turned to
Markham and held out his hand.
"Had a jolly evening and all that sort of thing. . . .
And, don't forget: we lunch together to-morrow.
One o'clock at the club, what?"
Markham hesitated. "If nothing interferes."
"But really, y' know, it mustn't," insisted Vance.
"You've no idea how eager you are to see me."
He was unusually silent and thoughtful during the
ride home. Not one explanatory word could I get
out of him. But when he bade me good night he said:
"There's a vital part of the puzzle still missing,
and until it's found none of it has any meaning."
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE GUILTY MAN
(Tuesday, September 18; 1 p. m.)
Vance slept late the following morning, and spent
the hour or so before lunch checking a catalogue of
ceramics which were to be auctioned next day at the
Anderson Galleries. At one o'clock we entered the
Stuyvesant Club and joined Markham in the grill.
"The lunch is on you, old thing," said Vance.
"But I'll make it easy. All I want is a rasher of
English bacon, a cup of coffee, and a croissant.”
Markham gave him a mocking smile.
"I don't wonder you're economizing after your
bad luck of last night."
Vance's eyebrows went up.
"I rather fancied my luck was most extr'ordin'ry."
"You held four of a kind twice, and lost both
hands."
"But, y' see," blandly confessed Vance, “I hap-
pened to know both times exactly what cards my
opponents held."
Markham stared at him in amazement.
"Quite so," Vance assured him. "I had arranged
before the game, d' ye see, to have those particular
hands dealt." He smiled benignly. "I can't tell you,
old chap, how I admire your delicacy in not referring
to my rather unique guest, Mr. Allen, whom I had
307
308
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
the bad taste to introduce so unceremoniously into
your party. I owe you an explanation and an
apology. Mr. Allen is not what one would call a
charming companion. He is deficient in the patrician
elegancies, and his display of jewellery was a bit
vulgar-though I infinitely preferred his diamond
studs to his piebald tie. But Mr. Allen has his points
-decidedly he has his points. He ranks with Andy
Blakely, Canfield, and Honest John Kelly as an in-
door soldier of fortune. In fact, our Mr. Allen is
none other than Doc Wiley Allen, of fragrant
memory."
99
"Doc Allen! Not the notorious old crook who ran
the Eldorado Club?”
"The same. And, incidentally, one of the cleverest
card manipulators in a once lucrative but shady
profession.
"
"You mean this fellow Allen stacked the cards last
night?" Markham was indignant.
"Only for the two hands you mentioned. Allen,
if you happen to remember, was the dealer both
times. I, who purposely sat on his right, was careful
to cut the cards in accordance with his instructions.
And you really must admit that no stricture can
possibly attach to my deception, inasmuch as the
only beneficiaries of Allen's manipulations were
Cleaver and Spotswoode. Although Allen did deal
me four of a kind on each occasion, I lost heavily
both times.'
99
Markham regarded Vance for a moment in puzzled
silence, and then laughed good-naturedly.
"You appear to have been in a philanthropic mood
last night. You practically gave Mannix a thousand
THE GUILTY MAN
309
dollars by permitting him to double the stakes on
each draw. A rather quixotic procedure, I should
say."
"It all depends on one's point of view, don't y'
know. Despite my financial losses-which, by the
bye, I have every intention of charging up to your
office budget-the game was most successful.
•
Y' see, I attained the main object of my evening's
entertainment."
"Oh, I remember!" said Markham vaguely, as if
the matter, being of slight importance, had for the
moment eluded his memory. "I believe you were
going to ascertain who murdered the Odell girl."
66
'Amazin' memory! . . . Yes, I let fall the hint
that I might be able to clarify the situation to-day.”
"And whom am I to arrest?"
Vance took a drink of coffee and slowly lit a
cigarette.
"I'm quite convinced, y' know, that you won't be-
lieve me," he returned, in an even, matter-of-fact
voice. "But it was Spotswoode who killed the girl."
"You don't tell me!" Markham spoke with un-
disguised irony. "So it was Spotswoode! My dear
Vance, you positively bowl me over. I would tele-
phone Heath at once to polish up his handcuffs, but,
unfortunately, miracles—such as strangling persons
from across town-are not recognized possibilities in
this day and age. . . . Do let me order you another
croissant."
Vance extended his hands in a theatrical gesture
of exasperated despair.
"For an educated, civilized man, Markham, there's
something downright primitive about the way you
310
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
cling to optical illusions. I say, y' know, you're
exactly like an infant who really believes that the
magician generates a rabbit in a silk hat, simply be-
cause he sees it done."
"Now you're becoming insulting."
"Rather!" Vance pleasantly agreed. "But some-
thing drastic must be done to disentangle you from
the Lorelei of legal facts. You're so deficient in
imagination, old thing."
"I take it that you would have me close my eyes
and picture Spotswoode sitting up-stairs here in the
Stuyvesant Club and extending his arms to 71st
Street. But I simply couldn't do it. I'm a common-
place chap. Such a vision would strike me as ludi-
crous; it would smack of a hasheesh dream. . . .
You yourself don't use Cannabis indica, do you?"
"Put that way, the idea does sound a bit super-
natural. And yet: Certum est quia impossibile est. I
rather like that maxim, don't y' know; for, in the
present case, the impossible is true. Oh, Spots-
woode's guilty-no doubt about it. And I'm going
to cling tenaciously to that apparent hallucination.
Moreover, I'm going to try to lure you into its toils;
for your own--as we absurdly say-good name is at
stake. As it happens, Markham, you are at this
moment shielding the real murderer from publicity."
Vance had spoken with the easy assurance that
precludes argument; and from the altered expression
on Markham's face I could see he was moved.
"Tell me," he said, "how you arrived at your fan-
tastic belief in Spotswoode's guilt."
Vance crushed out his cigarette and folded his
arms on the table.
THE GUILTY MAN
311
"We begin with my quartet of possibilities-
Mannix, Cleaver, Lindquist, and Spotswoode. Real-
izing, as I did, that the crime was carefully planned
with the sole object of murder, I knew that only some
one hopelessly ensnared in the lady's net could have
done it. And no suitor outside of my quartet could
have been thus enmeshed, or we would have learned
of him. Therefore, one of the four was guilty. Now,
Lindquist was eliminated when we found out that
he was bedridden in a hospital at the time of Skeel's
murder; for obviously the same person committed
both crimes-
""
"But," interrupted Markham, "Spotswoode had
an equally good alibi for the night of the Canary's
murder. Why eliminate one and not the other?"
"Sorry, but I can't
can't agree with you. Being pros-
trated at a known place surrounded by incorruptible
and disinterested witnesses, both preceding and dur-
ing an event, is one thing; but being actually on
the ground, as Spotswoode was that fatal evening,
within a few minutes of the time the lady was mur-
dered, and then being alone in a taxicab for fifteen
minutes or so following the event-that is another
thing. No one, as far as we know, actually saw the
lady alive after Spotswoode took his departure.”
"But the proof of her having been alive and
spoken to him is incontestable."
"Granted. I admit that a dead woman doesn't
scream and call for help, and then converse with her
murderer.'
99
"I see.' Markham spoke with sarcasm. "You
think it was Skeel, disguising his voice.”
"Lord no! What a priceless notion! Skeel didn't
312
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
want any one to know he was there. Why should he
have staged such a masterpiece of idiocy? That
certainly isn't the explanation. When we find the
answer it will be reasonable and simple."
"But
"That's encouraging," smiled Markham.
proceed with your reasons for Spotswoode's guilt."
"Three of my quartet, then, were potential mur-
derers," Vance resumed. "Accordingly, I requested
an evening of social relaxation, that I might put them
under the psychological microscope, as it were. Al-
though Spotswoode's ancestry was wholly consistent
with his having been the guilty one, nevertheless I
confess I thought that Cleaver or Mannix had com-
mitted the crime; for, by their own statements,
either of them could have done it without contra-
dicting any of the known circumstances of the situa-
tion. Therefore, when Mannix declined your invita-
tion to play poker last night, I put Cleaver to the
first test. I wig-wagged to Mr. Allen, and he straight-
way proceeded to perform his first feat of prestidigi-
tation."
Vance paused and looked up.
"You perhaps recall the circumstances? It was
a jack-pot. Allen dealt Cleaver a four-straight-flush
and gave me three kings. The other hands were so
poor that every one else was compelled to drop out.
I opened; and Cleaver stayed. On the draw, Allen
gave me another king, and gave Cleaver the card he
needed to complete his straight-flush. Twice I bet a
small amount, and each time Cleaver raised me.
Finally I called him, and, of course, he won. He
couldn't help but win, d' ye see. He was betting on
a sure-thing. Since I opened the pot and drew two
THE GUILTY MAN
313
cards, the highest hand I could possibly have held
would have been four of a kind. Cleaver knew this,
and having a straight-flush, he also knew, before he
raised my bet, that he had me beaten. At once I
realized that he was not the man I was after."
"By what reasoning?"
"A poker-player, Markham, who would bet on a
sure-thing is one who lacks the egotistical self-con-
fidence of the highly subtle and supremely capable
gambler. He is not a man who will take hazardous
chances and tremendous risks, for he possesses, to
some degree, what the psychoanalysts call an in-
feriority complex, and instinctively he grasps at
every possible opportunity of protecting and better-
ing himself. In short, he is not the ultimate, unadul-
terated gambler. And the man who killed the Odell
girl was a supreme gambler who would stake every-
thing on a single turn of the wheel, for, in killing her,
that is exactly what he did. And only a gambler
whose paramount self-confidence would make him
scorn, through sheer egotism, to bet on a sure-thing,
could have committed such a crime.-Therefore,
Cleaver was eliminated as a suspect."
Markham was now listening intently.
"The test to which I put Spotswoode a little
later," Vance went on, "had originally been in-
tended for Mannix, but he was out of the game.
That didn't matter, however, for, had I been able
to eliminate both Cleaver and Spotswoode, then
Mannix would undoubtedly have been the guilty
man. Of course I would have planned something
else to substantiate the fact; but, as it was, that
wasn't necess'ry. . . . The test I applied to Spots-
314
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
woode was pretty well explained by the gentleman
himself. As he said, not one player in a thousand
would have wagered the limit against a pat hand,
when he himself held nothing. It was tremendous
-superb! It was probably the most remarkable
bluff ever made in a game of poker. I couldn't help
admiring him when he calmly shoved forward all
his chips, knowing, as I did, that he held nothing.
He staked everything, d' ye see, wholly on his con-
viction that he could follow my reasoning step by
step and, in the last analysis, outwit me. It took
courage and daring to do that. And it also took a
degree of self-confidence which would never have
permitted him to bet on a sure-thing. The psy-
chological principles involved in that hand were
identical with those of the Odell crime. I threat-
ened Spotswoode with a powerful hand—a pat hand
-just as the girl, no doubt, threatened him; and
instead of compromising instead of calling me or
laying down-he outreached me; he resorted to one
supreme coup, though it meant risking everything.
My word, Markham! Can't you see how the
man's character, as revealed in that amazing ges-
ture, dovetails with the psychology of the crime?”
Markham was silent for a while; he appeared to
be pondering the matter.
"But you yourself, Vance, were not satisfied at
the time," he submitted at length. "In fact, you
looked doubtful and worried."
"True, old dear. I was no end worried. The psy-
chological proof of Spotswoode's guilt came so dashed
unexpectedly-I wasn't looking for it, don't y'
know. After eliminating Cleaver I had a parti pris,
THE GUILTY MAN
315
so to speak, in regard to Mannix; for all the ma-
terial evidence in favor of Spotswoode's innocence
-that is, the seeming physical impossibility of his
having strangled the lady-had, I admit, impressed
me. I'm not perfect, don't y' know. Being unfortu-
nately human, I'm still susceptible to the malicious
animal magnetism about facts and appearances,
which you lawyer chaps are continuously exuding
over the earth like some vast asphyxiating effluvium.
And even when I found that Spotswoode's psycho-
logical nature fitted perfectly with all the factors of
the crime, I still harbored a doubt in regard to Man-
nix. It was barely possible that he would have
played the hand just as Spotswoode played it. That
is why, after the game was over, I tackled him on
the subject of gambling. I wanted to check his psy-
chological reactions."
"Still, he staked everything on one turn of the
wheel, as you put it."
"Ah! But not in the same sense that Spotswoode
did. Mannix is a cautious and timid gambler as
compared with Spotswoode. To begin with, he had
an equal chance and an even bet, whereas Spots-
woode had no chance at all-his hand was worth-
less. And yet Spotswoode wagered the limit on a
pure bit of mental calculation. That was gambling
in the higher ether. On the other hand, Mannix
was merely tossing a coin, with an even chance of
winning. Furthermore, no calculation of any kind
entered into it; there was no planning, no figuring,
no daring. And, as I have told you from the start,
the Odell murder was premeditated and carefully
worked out with shrewd calculation and supreme
316
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
daring. . . . And what true gambler would ask an
adversary to double a bet on the second flip of the
coin, and then accept an offer to redouble on the
third flip? I purposely tested Mannix in that way,
so as to preclude any possibility of error. Thus I
not only eliminated him—I expunged him, eradi-
cated him, wiped him out utterly. It cost me a
thousand dollars, but it purged my mind of any
lingering doubt. I then knew, despite all the con-
tr'ry material indications, that Spotswoode had
done away with the lady."
"You make your case theoretically plausible.
But, practically, I'm afraid I can't accept it."
Markham was more impressed, I felt, than he cared
to admit. "Damn it, man!" he exploded after a
moment. "Your conclusion demolishes all the estab-
lished landmarks of rationality and sane credibility.
-Just consider the facts." He had now reached the
argumentative stage of his doubt. "You say Spots-
woode is guilty. Yet we know, on irrefutable evi-
dence, that five minutes after he came out of the
apartment the girl screamed and called for help.
He was standing by the switchboard, and, accom-
panied by Jessup, he went to the door and carried on
a brief conversation with her. She was certainly
alive then. Then he went out the front door, entered
a taxicab, and drove away. Fifteen minutes later
he was joined by Judge Redfern as he alighted from
the taxicab in front of the club here nearly forty
blocks away from the apartment-house! It would
have been impossible for him to have made the trip
in less time; and, moreover, we have the chauffeur's
record. Spotswoode simply did not have either the
THE GUILTY MAN
317
opportunity or the time to commit the murder be-
tween half past eleven and ten minutes of twelve
when Judge Redfern met him. And, remember, he
played poker in the club here until three in the morn-
ing-hours after the murder took place."
Markham shook his head with emphasis.
"Vance, there's no human way to get round those
facts. They're firmly established; and they preclude
Spotswoode's guilt as effectively and finally as though
he had been at the North Pole that night.'
Vance was unmoved.
99
“I admit everything you say," he rejoined. "But
as I have stated before, when material facts and
psychological facts conflict, the material facts are
wrong. In this case, they may not actually be wrong,
but they're deceptive.'
"Very well, magnus Apollo!" The situation was
too much for Markham's exacerbated nerves. "Show
me how Spotswoode could have strangled the girl
and ransacked the apartment, and I'll order Heath
to arrest him."
"Pon my word, I can't do it," expostulated
Vance. "Omniscience was denied me. But-deuce
take it! I think I've done rather well in pointing
out the culprit. I never agreed to expound his tech-
nic, don't y' know."
"So! Your vaunted penetration amounts only
to that, does it? Well, well! Here and now I be-
come a professor of the higher mental sciences, and
I pronounce solemnly that Doctor Crippen murdered
the Odell girl. To be sure, Crippen's dead; but that
fact doesn't interfere with my newly adopted psycho-
logical means of deduction. Crippen's nature, you
318
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
see, fits perfectly with all the esoteric and recondite
indications of the crime. To-morrow I'll apply for
an order of exhumation."
Vance looked at him with waggish reproachfulness,
and sighed.
"Recognition of my transcendent genius, I see, is
destined to be posthumous. Omnia post obitum fingit
majora vetustas. In the meantime I bear the taunts
and jeers of the multitude with a stout heart. My
head is bloody, but unbowed."
He looked at his watch, and then seemed to become
absorbed with some line of thought.
"Markham," he said, after several minutes, "I've
a concert at three o'clock, but there's an hour to
spare. I want to take another look at that apartment
and its various approaches. Spotswoode's trick-and
I'm convinced it was nothing more than a trick-
was enacted there; and if we are ever to find the
explanation, we shall have to look for it on the
scene.
99
I had got the impression that Markham, despite
his emphatic denial of the possibility of Spotswoode's
guilt, was not entirely unconvinced. Therefore, I
was not surprised when, with only a half-hearted
protest, he assented to Vance's proposal to revisit
the Odell apartment.
CHAPTER XXIX
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE"
(Tuesday, September 16; 2 p. m.)
Less than half an hour later we again entered the
main hall of the little apartment building in 71st
Street. Spively, as usual, was on duty at the switch-
board. Just inside the public reception-room the
officer on guard reclined in an easy chair, a cigar in
his mouth. On seeing the District Attorney, he rose
with forced alacrity.
"When you going to open things up, Mr. Mark-
ham?" he asked. "This rest-cure is ruinin' my
health."
"Very soon, I hope, officer," Markham told him.
"Any more visitors?"
"Nobody, sir." The man stifled a yawn.
"Let's have your key to the apartment.-Have
you been inside?"
"No, sir. Orders were to stay out here."
We passed into the dead girl's living-room. The
shades were still up, and the sunlight of midday was
pouring in. Nothing apparently had been touched:
not even the overturned chairs had been righted.
Markham went to the window and stood, his hands
behind him, surveying the scene despondently. He
was laboring under a growing uncertainty, and he
watched Vance with a cynical amusement which was
far from spontaneous.
319
320
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Vance, after lighting a cigarette, proceeded to in-
spect the two rooms, letting his eyes rest searchingly
on the various disordered objects. Presently he went
into the bathroom and remained several minutes.
When he came out he carried a towel with several
dark smudges on it.
"This is what Skeel used to erase his finger-prints,"
he said, tossing the towel on the bed.
"Marvellous!" Markham rallied him. "That, of
course, convicts Spotswoode."
"Tut, tut! But it helps substantiate my theory
of the crime." He walked to the dressing-table and
sniffed at a tiny silver atomizer. "The lady used
Coty's Chypre," he murmured. "Why will they all
do it?"
"And just what does that help substantiate?"
“Markham dear, I'm absorbing atmosphere. I'm
attuning my soul to the apartment's vibrations. Do
let me attune in peace. I may have a visitation at
any moment-a revelation from Sinai, as it were."
He continued his round of investigation, and at
last passed out into the main hall, where he stood,
one foot holding open the door, looking about him
with curious intentness. When he returned to the
living-room, he sat down on the edge of the rosewood
table, and surrendered himself to gloomy contempla-
tion. After several minutes he gave Markham a sar-
donic grin.
"I say! This is a problem. Dash it all, it's un-
canny!"
"I had an idea," scoffed Markham, "that sooner
or later you'd revise your deductions in regard to
Spotswoode."
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE”
321
Vance stared idly at the ceiling.
"You're devilish stubborn, don't y' know. Here
I am trying to extricate you from a deuced unpleas-
ant predicament, and all you do is to indulge in
caustic observations calculated to damp my youth-
ful ardor."
Markham left the window and seated himself on
the arm of the davenport facing Vance. His eyes
held a worried look.
"Vance, don't get me wrong. Spotswoode means
nothing in my life. If he did this thing, I'd like to
know it. Unless this case is cleared up, I'm in for an
ungodly walloping by the newspapers. It's not to
my interests to discourage any possibility of a solu-
tion. But your conclusion about Spotswoode is im-
possible. There are too many contradictory facts."
"That's just it, don't y' know. The contradict'ry
indications are far too perfect. They fit together too
beautifully; they're almost as fine as the forms in a
Michelangelo statue. They're too carefully co-or-
dinated, d' ye see, to have been merely a haphazard
concatenation of circumstances. They signify con-
scious design."
Markham rose and, slowly returning to the win-
dow, stood looking out into the little rear yard.
"If I could grant your premise that Spotswoode
killed the girl," he said, "I could follow your syllo-
gism. But I can't very well convict a man on the
grounds that his defense is too perfect.'
99
"What we need, Markham, is inspiration. The
mere contortions of the sibyl are not enough."
Vance took a turn up and down the room. "What
really infuriates me is that I've been outwitted.
322
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
And by a manufacturer of automobile access'ries!
It's most humiliatin'.'
He sat down at the piano and played the opening
bars of Brahms's Capriccio No. 1.
66
"Needs tuning," he muttered; and, sauntering to
the Boule cabinet, he ran his finger over the mar-
quetry. "Pretty and all that," he said, "but a bit
fussy. Good example, though. The deceased's aunt
from Seattle should get a very fair price for it." He
regarded a pendent girandole at the side of the cabi-
net. “Rather nice, that, if the original candles hadn't
been supplanted with modern frosted bulbs." He
paused before the little china clock on the mantel.
'Gingerbread. I'm sure it kept atrocious time."
Passing on to the escritoire, he examined it critically.
"Imitation French Renaissance. But rather dainty,
what?" Then his eye fell on the waste-paper bas-
ket, and he picked it up. "Silly idea," he com-
mented, "—making a basket out of vellum. The ar-
tistic triumph of some lady interior decorator, I'll
wager. Enough vellum here to bind a set of Epicte-
tus. But why ruin the effect with hand-painted gar-
lands? The æsthetic instinct has not as yet invaded
these fair States-decidedly not."
Setting the basket down, he studied it meditatively
for a moment. Then he leaned over and took from it
the piece of crumpled wrapping-paper to which he
had referred the previous day.
"This doubtless contained the lady's last purchase
on earth," he mused. "Very touchin'. Are you senti-
mental about such trifles, Markham? Anyway, the
purple string round it was a godsend to Skeel.
What knickknack, do you suppose, paved the way
for the frantic Tony's escape?"
·
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE"
323
He opened the paper, revealing a broken piece of
corrugated cardboard and a large square dark-
brown envelope.
"Ah, to be sure! Phonograph records." He
glanced about the apartment. "But, I say, where did
the lady keep the bally machine?"
"You'll find it in the foyer," said Markham
wearily, without turning. He knew that Vance's
chatter was only the outward manifestation of seri-
ous and perplexed thinking; and he was waiting
with what patience he could muster.
Vance sauntered idly through the glass doors into
the little reception-hall, and stood gazing abstract-
edly at a console phonograph of Chinese Chippendale
design which stood against the wall at one end. The
squat cabinet was partly covered with a prayer-rug,
and upon it sat a polished bronze flower-bowl.
"At any rate, it doesn't look phonographic," he
remarked. "But why the prayer-rug?" He exam-
ined it casually. "Anatolian-probably called a
Cæsarian for sale purposes. Not very valuable—
too much on the Oushak type. Wonder what
the lady's taste in music was. Victor Herbert, doubt-
less." He turned back the rug and lifted the lid of
the cabinet. There was a record already on the
machine, and he leaned over and looked at it.
"My word! The Andante from Beethoven's
C-Minor Symphony!" he exclaimed cheerfully.
"You know the movement, of course, Markham.
The most perfect Andante ever written." He wound
up the machine. "I think a little good music might
clear the atmosphere and volatilize our perturbation,
what?"
324
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Markham paid no attention to his banter; he was
still gazing dejectedly out of the window.
Vance started the motor, and placing the needle on
the record, returned to the living-room. He stood
staring at the davenport, concentrating on the prob-
lem in hand. I sat in the wicker chair by the door
waiting for the music. The situation was getting on
my nerves, and I began to feel fidgety. A minute or
two passed, but the only sound which came from the
phonograph was a faint scratching. Vance looked
up with mild curiosity, and walked back to the
machine. Inspecting it cursorily, he once more set
it in operation. But though he waited several min-
utes, no music came forth.
"I say! That's deuced queer, y' know," he
grumbled, as he changed the needle and rewound
the motor.
Markham had now left the window, and stood
watching him with good-natured tolerance. The
turn-table of the phonograph was spinning, and the
needle was tracing its concentric revolutions; but
still the instrument refused to play. Vance, with
both hands on the cabinet, was leaning forward, his
eyes fixed on the silently revolving record with an
expression of amused bewilderment.
"The sound-box is probably broken," he said.
Silly machines, anyway."
"The difficulty, I imagine," Markham chided
him, "lies in your patrician ignorance of so vulgar
and democratic a mechanism.-Permit me to assist
you."
He moved to Vance's side, and I stood looking
curiously over his shoulder. Everything appeared to
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE”
325
be in order, and the needle had now almost reached
the end of the record. But only a faint scratching
was audible.
Markham stretched forth his hand to lift the
sound-box. But his movement was never completed.
At that moment the little apartment was filled
with several terrifying treble screams, followed by
two shrill calls for help. A cold chill swept my body,
and there was a tingling at the roots of my hair.
After a short silence, during which the three of us
remained speechless, the same feminine voice said in
a loud, distinct tone: “No; nothing is the matter. I'm
sorry. Everything is all right.
Please go
home, and don't worry."
·
•
""
•
•
The needle had come to the end of the record.
There was a slight click, and the automatic device
shut off the motor. The almost terrifying silence that
followed was broken by a sardonic chuckle from
Vance.
"Well, old dear," he remarked languidly, as he
strolled back into the living-room, "so much for
your irrefutable facts!"
There came a loud knocking on the door, and the
officer on duty outside looked in with a startled face.
"It's all right,” Markham informed him in a
husky voice. "I'll call you when I want you."
Vance lay down on the davenport and took out
another cigarette. Having lighted it, he stretched
his arms far over his head and extended his legs, like
a man in whom a powerful physical tension had
suddenly relaxed.
"Pon my soul, Markham, we've all been babes in
the woods," he drawled. "An incontrovertible alibi-
326
THE "CANARY” MURDER CASE
my word! If the law supposes that, as Mr. Bumble
said, the law is a ass, a idiot.—Oh, Sammy, Sammy,
vy worn't there a alleybi! . . Markham, I blush
to admit it, but it's you and I who've been the unut-
terable asses."
Markham had been standing by the instrument
like a man dazed, his eyes riveted hypnotically on
the telltale record. Slowly he came into the room and
threw himself wearily into a chair.
“Those precious facts of yours!" continued Vance.
"Stripped of their carefully disguised appearance,
what are they?-Spotswoode prepared a phonograph
record—a simple enough task. Every one makes 'em
nowadays-
99
"Yes. He told me he had a workshop at his home
on Long Island where he tinkered a bit."
"He really didn't need it, y' know. But it facili-
tated things, no doubt. The voice on the record is
merely his own in falsetto-better for the purpose
than a woman's, for it's stronger and more penetrat-
ing. As for the label, he simply soaked it off of an
ordin'ry record, and pasted it on his own. He
brought the lady several new records that night, and
concealed this one among them. After the theatre he
enacted his gruesome little drama and then carefully
set the stage so that the police would think it was a
typical burglar's performance. When this had been
done, he placed the record on the machine, set it
going, and calmly walked out. He had placed the
prayer-rug and bronze bowl on the cabinet of the
machine to give the impression that the phonograph
was rarely used. And the precaution worked, for no
one thought of looking into it. Why should they?
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE”
327
Then he asked Jessup to call a taxicab-every-
thing quite natural, y' see. While he was waiting
for the car the needle reached the recorded screams.
They were heard plainly: it was night, and the
sounds carried distinctly. Moreover, being filtered
through a wooden door, their phonographic timbre
was well disguised. And, if you'll note, the enclosed
horn is directed toward the door, not three feet
away."
"But the synchronization of his questions and
the answers on the record.
·
?"
"The simplest part of it. You remember Jessup
told us that Spotswoode was standing with one arm
on the switchboard when the screams were heard.
He merely had his eye on his wrist-watch. The mo-
ment he heard the cry, he calculated the intermis-
sion on the record, and put his question to the
imagin'ry lady at just the right moment to receive
the record's response. It was all carefully figured out
beforehand; he no doubt rehearsed it in his laboratʼry.
It was deuced simple, and practically proof against
failure. The record is a large one-twelve-inch
diameter, I should say-and it requires about five
minutes for the needle to traverse it. By putting
the screams at the end, he allowed himself ample time
to get out and order a taxicab. When the car at last
came, he rode direct to the Stuyvesant Club, where
he met Judge Redfern and played poker till three. If
he hadn't met the Judge, rest assured he would have
impressed his presence on some one else so as to
have established an alibi."
Markham shook his head gravely.
"Good God! No wonder he importuned me on
328
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
every possible occasion to let him visit this apart-
ment again. Such a damning piece of evidence as
that record must have kept him awake at night."
"Still, I rather fancy that if I hadn't discovered it,
he would have succeeded in getting possession of it
as soon as your sergent-de-ville was removed. It was
annoyin' to be unexpectedly barred from the apart-
ment, but I doubt if it worried him much. He would
have been on hand when the Canary's aunt took pos-
session, and the retrieving of the record would have
been comparatively easy. Of course the record con-
stituted a hazard, but Spotswoode isn't the type
who'd shy at a low bunker of that kind. No; the
thing was planned scientifically enough. He was
defeated by sheer accident."
"And Skeel?"
"He was another unfortunate circumstance. He
was hiding in the closet there when Spotswoode and
the lady came in at eleven. It was Spotswoode whom
he saw strangle his erstwhile amoureuse and rifle the
apartment. Then, when Spotswoode went out, he
came forth from hiding. He was probably looking
down at the girl when the phonograph emitted its
blood-chilling wails. . . . My word! Fancy being
in a cold funk, gazing at a murdered woman, and
then hearing piercing screams behind you! It was a
bit too much even for the hardened Tony. I don't
wonder he forgot all caution and put his hand on the
table to steady himself. . . .
.. And then came Spots-
woode's voice through the door, and the record's
answer. This must have puzzled Skeel. I imagine
he thought for a moment he'd lost his reason. But
pretty soon the significance of it dawned on him;
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE”
329
and I can see him grinning to himself. Obviously
he knew who the murderer was-it would not have
been in keeping with his character had he failed to
learn the identities of the Canary's admirers. And
now there had fallen into his lap, like manna from
heaven, the most perfect opportunity for blackmail
that any such charmin' young gentleman could de-
sire. He doubtless indulged himself with roseate
visions of a life of opulence and ease at Spotswoode's
expense. When Cleaver phoned a few minutes later,
he merely said the lady was out, and then set to
work planning his own departure."
"But I don't see why he didn't take the record
with him."
"And remove from the scene of the crime the one
piece of unanswerable evidence? . . . Bad strategy,
Markham. If he himself had produced the record
later, Spotswoode would simply have denied all
knowledge of it, and accused the blackmailer of a
plot. Oh, no; Skeel's only course was to leave it, and
apply for an enormous settlement from Spotswoode
at once. And I imagine that's what he did. Spots-
woode no doubt gave him something on account and
promised him the rest anon, hoping in the meantime
to retrieve the record. When he failed to pay, Skeel
phoned you and threatened to tell everything, think-
ing to spur Spotswoode to action. Well, he
spurred him-but not to the action desired. Spots-
woode probably met him by appointment last Satur-
day night, ostensibly to hand over the money, but,
instead, throttled the chap. Quite in keeping with
his nature, don't y' know. . . . Stout fella, Spots-
woode."
·
330
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
"The whole thing . . . it's amazing."
"I shouldn't say that, now. Spotswoode had an
unpleasant task to perform, and he set about it in a
cool, logical, forthright, businesslike manner. He
had decided that his little Canary must die for his
peace of mind: she'd probably made herself most
annoyin'. So he arranged the date-like any judge
passing sentence on a prisoner at the bar and
then proceeded to fabricate an alibi. Being some-
thing of a mechanic, he arranged a mechanical alibi.
The device he chose was simple and obvious enough
-no tortuosities or complications. And it would
have succeeded but for what the insurance companies
piously call an act of God. No one can foresee acci-
dents, Markham: they wouldn't be accidental if one
could. But Spotswoode certainly took every pre-
caution that was humanly possible. It never occurred
to him that you would thwart his every effort to re-
turn here and confiscate the record; and he couldn't
anticipate my taste in music, nor know that I would
seek solace in the tonal art. Furthermore, when one
calls on a lady, one doesn't expect that another suitor
is going to hide himself in the clothes-press. It isn't
done, don't y' know. . . . All in all, the poor
johnny was beaten by a run of abominable luck."
"You overlook the fiendishness of the crime,"
Markham reproached him tartly.
"Don't be so confoundedly moral, old thing.
Every one's a murderer at heart. The person who
has never felt a passionate hankering to kill some one
is without emotions. And do you think it's ethics
or theology that stays the average person from homi-
cide? Dear no! It's lack of courage the fear of
BEETHOVEN'S "ANDANTE"
331
being found out, or haunted, or cursed with remorse.
Observe with what delight the people en masse-to
wit, the state-put men to death, and then gloat over
it in the newspapers. Nations declare war against
one another on the slightest provocation, so they
can, with immunity, vent their lust for slaughter.
Spotswoode, I'd say, is merely a rational animal with
the courage of his convictions."
"Society unfortunately isn't ready for your nihil-
istic philosophy just yet," said Markham. "And
during the intervening transition human life must be
protected."
He rose resolutely, and going to the telephone,
called up Heath.
"Sergeant," he ordered, "get a John-Doe warrant
and meet me immediately at the Stuyvesant Club.
Bring a man with you-there's an arrest to be made."
"At last the law has evidence after its own heart,"
chirped Vance, as he lazily donned his top-coat and
picked up his hat and stick. "What a grotesque
affair your legal procedure is, Markham! Scientific
knowledge the facts of psychology-mean nothing
to you learned Solons. But a phonograph record-
ah! There, now, is something convincing, irrefraga-
ble, final, what?"
On our way out Markham beckoned to the officer
on guard.
"Under no conditions," he said, "is any one to
enter this apartment until I return-not even with a
signed permit."
When we had entered the taxicab, he directed the
chauffeur to the club.
"So the newspapers want action, do they? Well,
332
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
·
You've helped me out
99
they're going to get it.
of a nasty hole, old man.'
As he spoke, his eyes turned to Vance. And that
look conveyed a profounder gratitude than any
words could have expressed.
CHAPTER XXX
THE END
(Tuesday, September 18; 3.30 p. m.)
It was exactly half past three when we entered
the rotunda of the Stuyvesant Club. Markham at
once sent for the manager, and held a few words of
private conversation with him. The manager then
hastened away, and was gone about five minutes.
"Mr. Spotswoode is in his rooms," he informed
Markham, on returning. "I sent the electrician up
to test the light bulbs. He reports that the gentleman
is alone, writing at his desk."
"And the room number?"
"Three forty-one." The manager appeared per-
turbed. "There won't be any fuss, will there, Mr.
Markham?"
"I don't look for any." Markham's tone was
chilly. "However, the present matter is considerably
more important than your club.”
"What an exaggerated point of view!" sighed
Vance when the manager had left us. "The arrest
of Spotswoode, I'd say, was the acme of futility. The
man isn't a criminal, don't y' know; he has nothing
in common with Lombroso's Uomo Delinquente. He's
what one might term a philosophic behaviorist.'
""
Markham grunted but did not answer. He began
pacing up and down agitatedly, keeping his eyes ex-
333
334
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
pectantly on the main entrance. Vance sought a
comfortable chair, and settled himself in it with
placid unconcern.
Ten minutes later Heath and Snitkin arrived.
Markham at once led them into an alcove and briefly
explained his reason for summoning them.
"Spotswoode's up-stairs now," he said. "I want
the arrest made as quietly as possible."
"Spotswoode!" Heath repeated the name in as-
tonishment. "I don't see
99
"You don't have to see yet," Markham cut in
sharply. "I'm taking all responsibility for the arrest.
And you're getting the credit-if you want it. That
suit you?"
Heath shrugged his shoulders.
"It's all right with me... anything you say,
sir." He shook his head uncomprehendingly. "But
what about Jessup?"
"We'll keep him locked up. Material witness."
We ascended in the elevator and emerged at the
third floor. Spotswoode's rooms were at the end of
the hall, facing the Square. Markham, his face set
grimly, led the way.
In answer to his knock Spotswoode opened the
door and, greeting us pleasantly, stepped aside for us
to enter.
"Any news yet?" he asked, moving a chair for-
ward.
At this moment he got a clear view of Markham's
face in the light, and at once he sensed the minatory
nature of our visit. Though his expression did not
alter, I saw his body suddenly go taut. His cold, inde-
cipherable eyes moved slowly from Markham's face
THE END
335
to Heath and Snitkin. Then his gaze fell on Vance
and me, who were standing a little behind the others,
and he nodded stiffly.
No one spoke; yet I felt that an entire tragedy was
somehow being enacted, and that each actor heard
and understood every word.
Markham remained standing, as if reluctant to
proceed. Of all the duties of his office, I knew that
the arrest of malefactors was the most distasteful
to him. He was a worldly man, with the worldly
man's tolerance for the misfortunes of evil. Heath
and Snitkin had stepped forward and now waited
with passive alertness for the District Attorney's
order to serve the warrant.
Spotswoode's eyes were again on Markham.
"What can I do for you, sir?" His voice was calm
and without the faintest quaver.
"You can accompany these officers, Mr. Spots-
woode," Markham told him quietly, with a slight
inclination of his head toward the two imperturbable
figures at his side. "I arrest you for the murder of
Margaret Odell."
"Ah!" Spotswoode's eyebrows lifted mildly.
"Then you have discovered something?"
"The Beethoven Andante."
Not a muscle of Spotswoode's face moved; but
after a short pause he made a barely perceptible
gesture of resignation.
"I can't say that it was wholly unexpected," he
said evenly, with the tragic suggestion of a smile;
"especially as you thwarted every effort of mine to
secure the record. But then . . . the fortunes of
the game are always uncertain." His smile faded,
336
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
and his manner became grave. "You have acted
generously toward me, Mr. Markham, in shielding
me from the canaille; and because I appreciate that
courtesy I should like you to know that the game I
played was one in which I had no alternative."
"Your motive, however powerful," said Mark-
ham, "cannot extenuate your crime.'
"Do you think I seek extenuation?" Spotswoode
dismissed the imputation with a contemptuous ges-
ture. “I'm not a schoolboy. I calculated the conse-
quences of my course of action, and after weighing
the various factors involved, decided to risk it. It
was a gamble, to be sure; but it's not my habit to
complain about the misfortunes of a deliberately
planned risk. Furthermore, the choice was practi-
cally forced upon me. Had I not gambled in this
instance, I stood to lose heavily nevertheless."
His face grew bitter.
"This woman, Mr. Markham, had demanded the
impossible of me. Not content with bleeding me
financially, she demanded legal protection, position,
social prestige-such things as only my name could
give her. She informed me I must divorce my wife
and marry her. I wonder if you apprehend the
enormity of that demand?... You see, Mr. Mark-
ham, I love my wife, and I have children whom I
love. I will not insult your intelligence by explaining
how, despite my conduct, such a thing is entirely
possible. . . And yet, this woman commanded me
to wreck my life and crush utterly those I held dear,
solely to gratify her petty, ridiculous ambition!
When I refused, she threatened to expose our rela-
tions to my wife, to send her copies of the letters I
•
THE END
337
had written, to sue me publicly-in fine, to create
such a scandal that, in any event, my life would be
ruined, my family disgraced, my home destroyed."
He paused and drew a deep inspiration.
99
"I have never been partial to half-way measures,'
he continued impassively. "I have no talent for
compromise. Perhaps I am a victim of my heritage.
But my instinct is to play out a hand to the last
chip-to force whatever danger threatens. And for
just five minutes, a week ago, I understood how the
fanatics of old could, with a calm mind and a sense of
righteousness, torture their enemies who threatened
them with spiritual destruction. . . . I chose the
only course which might save those I love from dis-
grace and suffering. It meant taking a desperate
risk. But the blood within me was such that I did
not hesitate, and I was fired by the agony of a tre-
mendous hate. I staked my life against a living
death, on the remote chance of attaining peace. And
I lost."
Again he smiled faintly.
· •
"Yes-the fortunes of the game. But don't
think for a minute that I am complaining or seeking
sympathy. I have lied to others perhaps, but not to
myself. I detest a whiner-a self-excuser. I want
you to understand that.”
He reached to the table at his side and took up
a small limp-leather volume.
"Only last night I was reading Wilde's 'De
Profundis.' Had I been gifted with words, I might
have made a similar confession. Let me show you
what I mean so that, at least, you won't attribute
to me the final infamy of cravenness."
338
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
He opened the book, and began reading in a voice
whose very fervor held us all silent:
"I brought about my own downfall. No one,
be he high or low, need be ruined by any other hand
than his own. Readily as I confess this, there are
many who will, at this time at least, receive the con-
fession sceptically. And although I thus mercilessly
accuse myself, bear in mind that I do so without
offering any excuse. Terrible as is the punishment
inflicted upon me by the world, more terrible is the
ruin I have brought upon myself. . . . In the dawn
of manhood I recognized my position. ... I en-
joyed an honored name, an eminent social position.
• •
·
Then came the turning-point. I had become
tired of dwelling on the heights—and descended by
my own will into the depths.
I satisfied my
desires wherever it suited me, and passed on. I
forgot that every act, even the most insignificant
act, of daily life, in some degree, makes or unmakes
the character; and every occurrence which transpires
in the seclusion of the chamber will some day be pro-
claimed from the housetops. I lost control of myself.
I was no longer at the helm, and knew it not. I had
become a slave to pleasure. One thing only is
left to me complete humility.'
He tossed the book aside.
• ·
999
"You understand now, Mr. Markham?”
Markham did not speak for several moments.
"Do you care to tell me about Skeel?" he at
length asked.
"That swine!" Spotswoode sneered his disgust.
"I could murder such creatures every day and regard
myself as a benefactor of society. . . . Yes, I
THE END
339
...
strangled him, and I would have done it before, only
the opportunity did not offer. . . It was Skeel
who was hiding in the closet when I returned to the
apartment after the theatre, and he must have seen
me kill the woman. Had I known he was behind
that locked closet door, I would have broken it down
and wiped him out then. But how was I to know? It
seemed natural that the closet might have been kept
locked-I didn't give it a second thought. . . . And
the next night he telephoned me to the club here. He
had first called my home on Long Island, and learned
that I was staying here. I had never seen him before
-didn't know of his existence. But, it seems, he had
equipped himself with a knowledge of my identity—
probably some of the money I gave to the woman
went to him. What a muck-heap I had fallen into!
When he phoned, he mentioned the phono-
graph, and I knew he had found out something. I
met him in the Waldorf lobby, and he told me the
truth: there was no doubting his word. When he
saw I was convinced, he demanded so enormous a
sum that I was staggered."
Spotswoode lit a cigarette with steady fingers.
"Mr. Markham, I am no longer a rich man. The
truth is, I am on the verge of bankruptcy. The busi-
ness my father left me has been in a receiver's hands
for nearly a year. The Long Island estate on which
I live belongs to my wife. Few people know these
things, but unfortunately they are true. It would
have been utterly impossible for me to raise the
amount Skeel demanded, even had I been inclined
to play the coward. I did, however, give him a small
sum to keep him quiet for a few days, promising him
Help
340
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
all he asked as soon as I could convert some of my
holdings. I hoped in the interim to get possession of
the record and thus spike his guns. But in that I
failed; and so, when he threatened to tell you every-
thing, I agreed to bring the money to his home late
last Saturday night. I kept the appointment, with
the full intention of killing him. I was careful about
entering, but he had helped me by explaining when
and how I could get in without being seen. Once
there, I wasted no time. The first moment he was
off his guard I seized him—and gloried in the act.
Then, locking the door and taking the key, I walked
out of the house quite openly, and returned here to
the club. That's all, I think."
Vance was watching him musingly.
"So when you raised my bet last night," he said,
"the amount represented a highly important item
in your exchequer."
Spotswoode smiled faintly.
"It represented practically every cent I had in the
world."
"Astonishin'!...
And would you mind if I
asked you why you selected the label of Beethoven's
Andante for your record?"
"Another miscalculation," the man said wearily.
"It occurred to me that if any one should, by any
chance, open the phonograph before I could return
and destroy the record, he wouldn't be as likely to
want to hear the classics as he would a more popular
selection."
"And one who detests popular music had to find
it! I fear, Mr. Spotswoode, that an unkind fate sat
in at your game."
THE END
341
"Yes. . . . If I were religiously inclined, I might
talk poppycock about retribution and divine punish-
ment.
"I'd like to ask you about the jewellery," said
Markham. "It's not sportsmanlike to do it, and I
wouldn't suggest it, except that you've already con-
fessed voluntarily to the main points at issue.'
د,
"I shall take no offense at any question you desire
to ask, sir," Spotswoode answered. "After I had
recovered my letters from the document-box, I
turned the rooms upside down to give the impression
of a burglary-being careful to use gloves, of course.
And I took the woman's jewellery for the same reason.
Parenthetically, I had paid for most of it. I offered
it as a sop to Skeel, but he was afraid to accept it;
and finally I decided to rid myself of it. I wrapped it
in one of the club newspapers and threw it in a waste-
bin near the Flatiron Building."
"You wrapped it in the morning Herald," put in
Heath. "Did you know that Pop Cleaver reads
nothing but the Herald?"
66
'Sergeant!" Vance's voice was a cutting repri-
mand. "Certainly Mr. Spotswoode was not aware
of that fact-else he would not have selected the
Herald."
Spotswoode smiled at Heath with pitying con-
tempt. Then, with an appreciative glance at Vance,
he turned back to Markham.
"An hour or so after I had disposed of the jewels
I was assailed by the fear that the package might be
found and the paper traced. So I bought another
Herald and put it on the rack." He paused. “Is
that all?"
342
THE "CANARY" MURDER CASE
Markham nodded.
"Thank you—that's all; except that I must now
ask you to go with these officers."
"In that case," said Spotswoode quietly, "there's
a small favor I have to ask of you, Mr. Markham.
Now that the blow has fallen, I wish to write a cer-
tain note-to my wife. But I want to be alone when
I write it. Surely you understand that desire. It
will take but a few moments. Your men may stand
at the door-I can't very well escape.
victor can afford to be generous to that extent."
Before Markham had time to reply, Vance stepped
forward and touched his arm.
•
The
"I trust," he interposed, "that you won't deem
it necess❜ry to refuse Mr. Spotswoode's request."
Markham looked at him hesitantly.
"I guess you've pretty well earned the right to
dictate, Vance," he acquiesced.
Then he ordered Heath and Snitkin to wait outside
in the hall, and he and Vance and I went into the ad-
joining room. Markham stood, as if on guard, near
the door; but Vance, with an ironical smile, sauntered
to the window and gazed out into Madison Square.
"My word, Markham!" he declared. "There's
something rather colossal about that chap. Y'know,
one can't help admiring him. He's so eminently sane
and logical."
Markham made no response. The drone of the
city's mid-afternoon noises, muffled by the closed
windows, seemed to intensify the ominous silence of
the little bedchamber where we waited.
Then came a sharp report from the other room.
Markham flung open the door. Heath and Snitkin
THE END
343
were already rushing toward Spotswoode's prostrate
body, and were bending over it when Markham
entered. Immediately he wheeled about and glared
at Vance, who now appeared in the doorway.
"He's shot himself!"
"Fancy that," said Vance.
"You-you knew he was going to do that?"
Markham spluttered.
"It was rather obvious, don't y' know."
Markham's eyes flashed angrily.
"And you deliberately interceded for him-to
give him the opportunity?"
"Tut, tut, my dear fellow!" Vance reproached
him. "Pray don't give way to conventional moral
indignation. However unethical-theoretically-it
may be to take another's life, a man's own life is cer-
tainly his to do with as he chooses. Suicide is his
inalienable right. And under the paternal tyranny of
our modern democracy, I'm rather inclined to think
it's about the only right he has left, what?”
He glanced at his watch and frowned.
"D' ye know, I've missed my concert, bothering
with your beastly affairs," he complained amiably,
giving Markham an engaging smile; "and now you're
actually scolding me. 'Pon my word, old fellow,
you're deuced ungrateful!"
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