‘Dead! Bullet-hole in right temple,’ said Sergeant Reynolds, as he knelt by a man lying face down, a revolver clutched in his right hand.
‘All right,’ replied Inspector Kelley. ‘Let’s have a look round. Dressed for the street, eh?’ While speaking, Kelley picked up from the floor several fragments of glass and a right-hand glove, turned inside-out.
‘Look at this glove, Reynolds. What do you make of it? And I wonder if that soiled handkerchief on the table belongs to him?’
‘Gee, Chief,’ said Reynolds, as he turned the body over and unbuttoned the topcoat, ‘this is young Holman, the millionaire.’
The body was immaculately clothed in the finest custom tailoring.
‘Broke his watch, too. Stopped at eight-ten,’ continued the Sergeant, as he removed the timepiece from the vest pocket. ‘Let’s see if those pieces you’ve got are part of the crystal. Yep! And look at this jade elephant at the end of the chain.
‘Bumped himself off, all right, Inspector, but I don’t get that glove business, or that dirty handkerchief either.’
‘We’d better look round and find that other glove,’ said Kelley.
A thorough search failed to disclose it, and while the Inspector was confident it was suicide, he decided to get Professor Fordney’s opinion, because of the prominence of young Holman.
After explaining the situation to the Professor over the telephone, he was puzzled at his reply:
‘I’ll be right around, Inspector. From what you’ve told me, it looks like murder.’
What justified the Professor’s belief that it was probably murder?
41 _The Professor Listens_
‘Why the rush to get back to New York?’ inquired Fordney, a few minutes after Delavin stepped from the plane. ‘Thought you intended spending the summer in Cuba.’
‘Well, if you must know, my bank failed, and I came back to straighten out my affairs.’
‘That’s too bad, Delavin. How did you hear about it?’
He handed Fordney a clipping from the _Jacksonville Herald_:
New York, July 5. (AP)—Foundation Bank & Trust Co., one of New York’s oldest banking establishments, closed its doors today...
‘Sure you didn’t come back to help your pal Ryan?’ asked the Professor. ‘He’s been in jail for two days. Ever since the Fourth-of-July bombing. Had a letter on him signed by you asking him to get in touch with a C. J. Wallace.
‘We traced Wallace and discovered he is with an ammunition company. When the District Attorney heard you were on your way here, he asked me to meet you. He thinks you know something about the bombing.’
‘In jail, huh? I didn’t know there had been a bombing. Wallace is a cousin of mine.’
‘Where did you catch your plane?’
‘Why—er—Jacksonville, Florida. You see, I was staying at a rather remote place and no planes serve that part of Cuba. Really had no thought of leaving until I read of the bank failure.’
‘Well, you had better think of a more convincing alibi, before the District Attorney questions you.’
‘Oh, I suppose somebody wired him that “Spider” McCoy met the plane when we landed in Norfolk. He’s got nothing on me!’ exclaimed Delavin.
What do you think of Delavin’s actions? Suspicious? Why?
42 _Ten-Fifteen_
Professor Fordney glanced at his desk clock as he picked up the receiver—ten-fifteen.
‘Hello!’ came the agitated voice at the other end. ‘This is Waters. Could you come over right away? Something’s just happened that I’d like to discuss with you. I’d appreciate it.’
‘Well,’ returned the Professor, again glancing dubiously at the clock, ‘if it’s important, I’ll be round. Good-bye.’
Twenty minutes later, he was met at the door by Waters’s secretary who was almost incoherent in his excitement.
‘He’s dead, Professor. Dead—there in the library!’
Fordney hurried to the room and found Waters slumped over his desk with his throat cut.
‘Well, tell me what happened,’ he said to the secretary, as he noted the position of the body, the open window, and the cigar-ash on the rug about six feet from Waters’s chair.
‘I came in about an hour ago, Professor, and went right upstairs to do some work. Twenty-five minutes ago I came down and heard him talking to you as I passed the library on my way to the pantry for a sandwich. I was there about twenty minutes, I imagine, and, as I came back through the hall, I happened to look in here, and there he was. I can’t imagine who did it or how it happened,’ he concluded.
‘Have a cigar,’ offered Fordney.
‘Thanks, I will, Professor. It’ll kind of steady the nerves.’
‘And now,’ said Fordney, ‘suppose you tell me the real truth of this affair.’
Why did he doubt Waters?
43 _Rapid Transit_
‘I was beatin’ along the Boston Post Road, about fifty miles an hour, when I looks around and sees this bird standing on the tail-gate fumbling with the lock on the doors. I stopped as fast as I could, jumped out, and ran round to the back. This mug had hopped off with an armful of furs and climbed into a car that was following. His partner even took a shot at me,’ said Sullivan, whom Professor Fordney was questioning.
‘He must have been a very good judge. He took only the best you carried,’ commented Fordney.
‘Yeah. Guess he was. Fur-stealin’ is a big racket these days.’
‘Why didn’t you report it at the next town instead of waiting until you got back to the office?’
‘Well, I thought the boss wouldn’t want it to get out that the furs of his wealthy customers had been pinched. He’s awful particular about us usin’ our heads.’
‘Where was your helper?’
‘Just after I started out, he said he was feelin’ sick, so I told him to go on home.’
‘Fifty miles an hour is excessive speed for that truck, isn’t it?’ asked Fordney, examining the all-steel doors of the massive, dust-proof moving-van.
‘She’s big, but she’ll do even better than that!’
‘Always wear those gloves when you’re working?’
‘Always,’ laughed the driver. ‘Have to keep me hands dainty, you know.’
‘I thought so,’ retorted Fordney, continuing his close examination of the doors.
‘Come on, Sullivan, take me for a ride in that truck. I know you’re lying.’
How did the Professor know?
44 _The Professor is Disappointed_
‘What’ll I do, Professor,’ implored Vi Cargo, as Fordney examined the ground beneath her bedroom window.
Seven A.M. A fine time to start looking for a thief! Why couldn’t women be more careful of their jewelry!
‘I was restless all night,’ said Vi, as Fordney knelt beside a deep impression of a man’s right shoe.
‘By Jove, I thought we’d found one of your stones,’ he said, pointing to a leaf in the footprint. ‘Look at the sunlight glistening on those raindrops!’
‘It was the shower that awakened me around six,’ chattered Vi. ‘It only lasted about fifteen minutes. I dozed off again and awakened with a start just as a man jumped to the ground, from my bedroom window.’
‘Was that just before you came for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are are you alone, Vi?’
‘Yes. The servants are in the country.’
‘Then why did you have all your jewels in the house?’
‘I had worn them to Mrs. De Forest’s party.’
‘Do you know anyone who smokes this brand?’ asked Fordney, picking up from the ground an unsmoked cigarette of English manufacture.
‘Yes. Mr. Nelson, who brought me home last night. However, I threw that one there.’
‘The thief chiseled open this window directly under your bedroom.’
‘I wondered how he got in! The doors were all locked.’
‘Come, my dear! Don’t you think you’ve treated the old Professor rather shabbily? You women! I know your jewels are heavily insured and I also know of your bridge debts. Who helped you fake this robbery? Nelson?’
Where is the clue?
45 _A Dramatic Triumph_
A clock softly chimed eight-forty-five as Professor Fordney and Halloway, dramatic critic of the _Times_, finished their after-dinner coffee. They strolled leisurely to the corner and reached the Belmont just in time for the curtain.
As the first act ended, Fordney remarked enthusiastically: ‘Halloway, it’s magnificent! Boswell is certainly our finest dramatic actor. How he held that audience, for forty-five minutes, from the moment the curtain arose! That’s genius!’
The final curtain found him even more enthusiastic in his praise of Boswell’s acting.
Learning next morning of the actor’s murder, he became personally interested.
Sibyl Mortimer had been questioned by the police and quickly dismissed. Her alibi appeared sound. She had an engagement with Boswell last evening, but said he telephoned her shortly after nine breaking it, so the police concerned themselves with his reason for doing so.
A taxi-driver, who drove Boswell and another man from the theater, dropped them at Fifth Avenue and Sixty-Fifth Street at midnight. His description of the man checked with that of Jenks, Boswell’s manager, who was missing. It was learned that his reason for breaking the engagement with Sibyl was to discuss a new contract with Jenks, about which there had been considerable disagreement.