Kelley’s noisy entrance interrupted the butler’s ‘No, sir.’
‘Smith broke his neck. I found this on him,’ he remarked, handing the Professor a note.
Ill health and financial trouble have made life a burden. I’m leaving my bedroom for the last time. A three-story drop and my misery will be over.
Smith
‘His suicide will be a blow to the oil industry,’ Kelley mused, as Fordney sat down at the desk and began to write with Smith’s fountain pen.
‘His _death_ will be, Inspector,’ said Fordney. ‘Better get the servants together. This is murder—not suicide!’
What reason did Fordney have for making such a statement?
52 _Who?_
‘I was trying to stop the flow with this, Professor,’ said Weeds, the butler, indicating a blood-covered towel he had just removed from the bed, ‘when Jones struck at me and I dropped it.’
‘And I’m sorry I missed!’ angrily exclaimed Jones, the colored chauffeur.
‘Never mind that,’ said Inspector Kelley.
‘Did you find her, Weeds?’ asked Professor Fordney.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘She’s a good-looking mulatto,’ remarked Kelley, looking at the maid lying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her right hand outstretched, the wrist deeply cut, rested in a pool of blood on the polished floor. ‘Must have slipped off the bed.’
‘I don’t think so. The spread hasn’t a wrinkle in it,’ said Fordney, noting the immaculate coverlet of pink lace, the edge caught under the girl’s body.
‘She was almost gone when I found her,’ offered Weeds, ‘and she died before I could get a doctor.’
‘Is this yours, Jones?’ inquired Fordney, picking up a sharp knife hidden by the girl’s dress.
‘Yes. She wanted it to cut the stems of the flowers I had brought up.’
‘I didn’t see that knife when I tried to help her,’ said Weeds.
‘Course you didn’t! You put it there!’ shouted Jones angrily.
‘How do you know? You weren’t here. And what’s more, I heard you threaten her last night. You don’t see any flowers here, do you, Inspector?’ quietly asked Weeds.
‘You’re right,’ said Kelley. After whispering to Fordney, he continued, ‘Come on, _you’re_ under arrest. And _you_, we’ll question you later!’
Whom did Kelley arrest—and why?
53 _Murder in the Swamp_
‘We’d better walk along the edge,’ said Professor Fordney, as they started down the only path leading through the swamp.
‘I never thought of that. I was on the porch when Barton left,’ said Bob, as he trudged along. ‘Ten minutes later, I heard a shot. I ran down the path and found him about five hundred yards from the house, bleeding terribly from a wound in the head. I dashed back for the first-aid kit and bandaged him as best I could. He died shortly afterwards. Then I returned and telephoned you.’
Reaching the body of Barton, he explained, ‘I turned him over so that I could dress his head.’
‘He must have been shot from over there, because those three sets of footprints are yours and the other one Barton’s,’ said Fordney, after a careful examination. ‘Let’s look in that underbrush.’
Walking into it a few yards, he said, ‘Here’s where the murderer stood, all right. See those powder-marks on the leaves?’
While removing the branch, Fordney cut his finger.
‘Better sterilize that, Professor.’
Back at the cottage, as he was about to pick up a mercurochrome bottle from the kit Bob had used, he observed a spot of blood on the label. Walking over to the basin, he saw Bob in the mirror above it, furtively slip a pair of scissors into the kit.
Turning slowly around, he said, ‘I’ll have to hold you on suspicion of murder.’
Why?
54 _Death by Drowning_
‘We were just getting into our boat,’ said the elder Carroll brother, ‘when we happened to notice Ridge out there in the middle of the river, opposite Wolf’s old abandoned dock, acting very queerly. He jumped up and down in the boat, and then, all of a sudden, grabbed an oar, threw it up in the air, and jumped in.
‘We rowed to the spot, and I dived after him while my brother secured his boat. The current’s fast there, but I’m a strong swimmer. I swam around while my brother rowed about, but we could find no trace of him,’ he concluded.
‘We found the oar all right, in the weeds at Wolf’s dock,’ interjected Riley, of the River Patrol.
‘How wide is the river at that point?’ asked Professor Fordney.
‘About half a mile,’ said Carroll.
‘Pretty lonely, too, isn’t it?’
‘It is that,’ replied Riley.
‘The coroner’s report says Ridge had received a blow of some kind on the chin. Know anything about it, Carroll?’ inquired Fordney.
‘No, I don’t. Might have hit a rock or the side of the boat when he went over.’
‘Were you up or down river, from Ridge?’
‘Up river, about three hundred yards, on the west side.’
‘Did you and your brother have on bathing-suits at the time?’
‘I did, but my brother didn’t.’
‘Are there any blood-stains in Ridge’s boat, Riley?’
‘Well, there are stains all right, and they look like blood to me.’
‘I’m not surprised. Hold them both.’
Why was the Professor suspicious of the Carroll brothers?
55 _Tragedy at the Convention_
The Convention was in an uproar! The Drys were making a determined stand and showing some unexpected last-minute strength.
The Wets were shouting, clamoring, and stamping. The Chairman was vainly trying to restore order amid a scene of wild confusion.
As the excitement reached its pitch, Hurlenson, a powerful leader of the Wets, told a companion seated next to him that he felt a heart attack coming on and was going back to the hotel.
An hour later, the Convention was stunned to learn he had committed suicide in his room.
Professor Fordney, a guest at the Convention, went immediately to the hotel.
In Hurlenson’s room he found the police, the doctor, and Pollert, an influential delegate, who had discovered him.
‘The last time I saw Hurlenson was at the party last night, and he seemed in excellent spirits,’ said Pollert. ‘I arose late this morning—my room’s down at the other end of the corridor—and I was just leaving for the Convention hall when I heard a shot. I dashed directly here, but it was too late. He must have died immediately.’
‘He did,’ said the doctor. ‘He apparently stood in front of the mirror, took aim, and blew out his brains. There are powder-burns all around the wound.’
Learning that none of the maids or any of the other guests were on the floor at the time, Fordney advised the police to hold Pollert on suspicion of murder.
Why?
56 _A Murderer’s Mistake_
‘Look, Professor! That’s how the murderer got in, all right,’ said Tracy.
As Fordney walked over to the ladder standing two feet from the back of the house, he knelt down and carefully studied the heavy footprints around it.
‘Whose room is that?’ he inquired, pointing to a second-story window against which the top of the thirty-foot ladder rested.
‘That’s Uncle’s study,’ replied Tracy.
Going into the house, Fordney first questioned Withers, who had discovered the body of Lane, Tracy’s uncle.
‘I was reading in my room,’ he said. ‘About two o’clock I heard a noise, so I armed myself and crept out into the hall. Then I heard it again, apparently in the study, so I stole down the corridor, opened the door, and rushed in. I turned on the lights, ran over to the open window, looked out, and saw a man scurry down the ladder, jump off, and run. I fired twice, but evidently missed him,’ he concluded.
‘Were you home all evening, Mr. Tracy?’
‘No. I had just put up the car when I heard the shots and saw a figure dash around the house.’
‘I’ll take a look at your car later, Tracy.
‘Withers, show me exactly how you found Lane before you lifted him to the divan.’
As Withers righted an overturned chair, fitted its legs carefully to four impressions in the rug at the right of a smoking-stand, sat down, and slumped over to the left, Fordney said, ‘That’s enough. Which one of you killed him?’
Why did Fordney make this startling accusation?
57 _Babe Comes Through_
‘Strike two!’ shouted Umpire Starlen.
‘Kill the Umpire! You big bum! Thief!’
Professor Fordney turned in his place directly behind the plate to look at the excited man in the next box, waving an empty pop-bottle. He smiled. Couldn’t blame a chap for getting excited. Starlen did seem to be calling them wrong today. That last one _was_ wide!
What a ball game! Six to three in favor of Philadelphia, last half of the ninth, three on, two out, and three and two on the mighty Babe. The crowd was on its feet, yelling and stamping.
The excited pitcher delivered the next throw quickly. Just as Babe connected with it for a home run a bottle hurtled through the air with terrific force and caught Starlen on the back of the head. He went down like a shot.