Part 3

‘You say that as your butler called for help, a stranger, by the name of Dudley, was passing the house and rushed in?’

‘That’s right,’ Owings corroborated, as the two men sat in Fordney’s study. ‘It was rather late last Friday evening before I was ready to leave town for the week-end, and as Stuben, the butler, wasn’t feeling well, I told him to stay upstairs and that I would lock up when I left.

‘I had some diamonds in the safe, so he said he wouldn’t leave the house until I returned,’ continued Owings.

‘About eleven that night, he heard a humming noise and, having the diamonds in mind, ran downstairs to investigate. Finding the wall safe open and the jewels gone, he let out a scream for help.

‘Stuben has been with me for years, Professor, and I have implicit faith in him.’

‘Did Dudley see anyone leave?’ asked Fordney.

‘No; the robber or robbers must have left by the back door, as Dudley was right in front of the house when he heard Stuben’s call for help,’ replied Owings. ‘Both men say the room smelled of cigarette smoke, so the burglars must have just left.’

‘Was the back door unlocked?’ inquired the Professor.

‘No, it was closed. It has a device which locks it automatically from the outside when it’s pulled to.’

‘Well, you’d better swear out a warrant for your butler and Dudley,’ said Fordney. ‘I’m sure they know where your diamonds are. Long service, you know, isn’t necessarily a pledge of loyalty.’

Why did Fordney so advise Owings?

23 _Before the Coroner’s Inquest_

‘Let’s run over your testimony before the inquest opens,’ said Fordney.

‘All right,’ replied Curry.

‘About three-thirty on Thursday, I got into the boat in front of my cottage and rowed upstream. About fifty yards below the bridge, I looked up and saw Scott and Dawson going across it in opposite directions. As the two men passed, Scott reached out, grabbed Dawson, and hit him in the jaw. Then he pulled a gun, and, in the scuffle that followed, Scott fell off the bridge. He dropped into the water, but, as the current was strong, by the time I reached the spot, he had sunk. When I finally pulled him into the boat, he was dead.’

‘Was it a clear day?’ asked Fordney.

‘Well, it had been showering early in the afternoon, but the sun was shining then.’

‘Are you positive Scott got that bruise by hitting his head on the rocks when he fell? The prosecution, you know, is going to claim that Dawson hit him on the head with something, then deliberately pushed him off the bridge,’ commented Fordney.

‘I _know_ he got that bruise on the rocks,’ stated Curry emphatically.

‘All right,’ said the Professor, ‘but I don’t think the jury will believe you. Personally, I’m sure Dawson didn’t intentionally kill Scott, but we’ll have to have better proof than that if we hope to acquit him.

‘By the way,’ he continued, ‘be sure to state you knew of the grudge Scott bore Dawson.’

Why was the Professor doubtful the coroner’s jury would believe Curry’s testimony?

24 _The Fifth Avenue Hold-Up_

‘What’s the hurry?’ asked Professor Fordney, as Baldwin collided with him in the doorway of the office at the back of the exclusive Cross Jewelry Store.

‘I—I—was going to help search for the robbers,’ stammered Baldwin as he backed into the office.

‘Well, tell me what happened first,’ said Fordney, as Dr. Lyman, police surgeon, knelt beside Mr. Cross.

‘There’s the special safe for the emerald behind that miniature portrait. I was in here when Mr. Cross entered with two gentlemen,’ exclaimed Baldwin nervously.

‘He asked me to bring in a tray of diamonds. I set it on the table—both men pulled guns and as Cross protested, one of them knocked him unconscious with a blow on the head. The other forced me into that chair saying, “All right, buddy. We’ll wait on ourselves.” Then he put the diamonds in his pocket. I’m thankful I’m alive. I telephoned Headquarters, then rushed out into the store, but they had escaped,’ concluded Baldwin.

‘So they got away with the famous Cross emerald, eh?’

‘Yes. The safe door was slightly open. Mr. Cross tried to call my attention to it with a jerk of his thumb as the robber pocketed the diamonds. Otherwise they wouldn’t have discovered it.’

‘How is he, Doctor?’ asked Fordney.

‘He’ll never come to, I’m afraid. Those two blows on the head were a bit too much for him.’

‘Two blows!’ ejaculated Fordney. ‘Are you sure, Baldwin, you weren’t hurrying away with the emerald? I’m not!’

Why did Fordney think Baldwin had stolen the emerald?

25 _Behind Locked Doors_

At the Collingham home Professor Fordney found Clive Kingston, the Judge’s nephew, and Watkins, the butler, greatly excited. Forcing the library door, locked for three months, they saw the Judge seated in front of the fireplace opposite the door, apparently dead.

‘Wait!’ called Professor Fordney to Watkins, who had rushed into the room.

‘He’s all right,’ said Kingston, as he and Fordney halted over the threshold.

‘Perhaps, but I don’t want any clues obliterated. Come back carefully and get us a couple of small rugs, Watkins,’ commanded Fordney.

Walking only on the rugs placed over the thick, plain carpet, Fordney and Kingston reached the Judge’s side and found him dead—shot through the heart.

Kingston called the Professor’s attention to footprints in the carpet near the fireplace. As he fitted his shoe to an impression, he said, ‘These are mine, and those, of course, must be Watkins’s.’

‘Throw me your shoe,’ called Fordney to the butler, standing in the doorway. ‘Yes, these are yours all right, and I can see the third set was made by the Judge—notice the impression left by his peculiarly constructed right shoe.’

‘There’s the gun under the table,’ called the butler.

‘Pretty sharp eyes, Watkins,’ said the Professor, picking up and critically examining the gun. ‘No finger-prints, of course,’ he mused.

‘Look!’ exclaimed Kingston, ‘the glass in that picture is broken. Were two shots fired?’

‘Only one,’ said Fordney, as with great care he picked the Judge’s nose-glasses from his lap where they had fallen, unbroken. ‘I think I know now who murdered your uncle.’

Whom did Fordney suspect, and why?

26 _Lost at Sea_

‘Tell us exactly what happened,’ said Professor Fordney as he sat in his study with Mrs. Rollins.

‘It was a dark, moonless night.

‘At twelve o’clock, when we were about ten miles off Point Breeze, I retired to my cabin, leaving my husband on deck. We were alone on the boat.

‘In a few minutes, hearing loud shouts, I joined him again. We could hear a boat approaching, running without lights, as were we. My husband told me to return to the cabin, which I did.

‘Soon after doing so a bump, tramping feet, and loud swearing told me our visitors had come aboard. I went up and, just as I stepped on deck, a man put a gun against my ribs and told me to keep quiet. My husband was engaged in a terrific fight with two others.

‘They must have known he always carried that leather bag of loose diamonds because, when he dropped it in the fight, one of them picked it up from the deck.

‘They finally knocked him unconscious and took him to their boat after binding and gagging me. As you know, I was found drifting next morning by that fisherman.’

‘How was your husband dressed?’ inquired Fordney.

‘It was very hot—he had no shirt on, but wore dark trousers.’

‘Shoes or tennis slippers?’

‘Why—shoes, of course,’ replied Mrs. Rollins with noticeable hesitation.

‘Well,’ said Fordney tersely, ‘it’s amazing to me that you expect to collect insurance on your diamonds on such a flimsy yarn. You and your husband will be lucky if you aren’t prosecuted.’

Where did the elaborate story fall down?

27 _A Suave Gunman_

‘Can you describe this fellow?’ asked Professor Fordney of Henry Taylor, manager of the National Theater.

‘Yes. He was a tall, well-dressed, good-looking chap. Wore a panama hat, turned-down brim, blue coat, smart blue tie, natty white flannels with silver belt-buckle, black-and-white sport shoes, and had a general air of culture and refinement.’

‘Just what did he do?’

‘As I was counting the receipts, he came into the office, gun in hand, and commanded me to get up from the desk and move over by that table.

‘After putting the money in a brief-case he carried, he took out a cigarette and asked me to light it for him, still covering me, of course.

‘Then he gagged me and tied me to the chair, after which he opened the door, looked cautiously about, came back and, with a quiet “sorry” and a warning, turned and left. As he passed through the door, he unbuttoned his coat and slipped the revolver into his back pocket. The show was just letting out, so I suppose he mingled with the crowd and escaped,’ Taylor concluded.

‘Are you insured against this loss of eight thousand dollars?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Yes.’

‘Could you see the color of the bandit’s hair?’

‘It was blond.’

‘Anything unusual about him?’

‘No. Except that he was constantly clearing his throat in a peculiar manner,’ replied Taylor.

‘Left- or right-handed?’

‘Why—I’m not sure. Right-handed, though, I think.’

‘This has gone far enough, Taylor,’ said Fordney sharply. ‘The robbery was obviously framed by you.’

How did Fordney know Taylor had faked the hold-up?

28 _Accidental Death_

Returning to town late one night, Professor Fordney was driving along an unfrequented road when the sight of a motor-cycle policeman examining a car in a ditch caused him to stop and offer his services. Joining the policeman, he found that a man, obviously the driver, had been thrown through the windshield and was lying about six feet from the car.

His examination disclosed that the man had been terribly cut about the head. The jugular vein was completely severed. The bent steering-wheel, shattered glass, and the blood on the front seat and floor of the car were mute evidence of the tragedy.

Fordney also noted the speedometer had stopped at 62.

A search of the body revealed nothing unusual except that the man wore only one glove. The other could not be found. The Professor was pondering this when the policeman handed him his report of accidental death, saying, ‘Is that how you see it, sir?’

‘I think,’ replied Fordney slowly, ‘you’d better change that to murder. In the absence of any further evidence, it seems to be pretty clearly indicated.’

‘Murder!’ exclaimed the bewildered policeman. ‘I don’t understand how you make that out.’

After explaining his reason and with a final admonition to continue a careful search for the missing glove, the Professor returned to his car and drove down the wide, smooth highway toward home and a good night’s rest.

Fordney’s deduction was confirmed when the missing glove and the murderer were found.

How had he arrived at his startling conclusion?

29 _Easy Money_

‘Mr. Walker hurried into the kitchen,’ said the valet to Professor Fordney, ‘and told me he was called away unexpectedly and that I was to go to his library and take the money he had won last night to the bank.

‘I was busy,’ he continued, ‘but in about five minutes I went through the hall, and, thinking I heard a noise, I stopped and listened at the study door. There was someone moving about. The door was open. As I peered around it, I saw a masked man, gun in hand, hesitating near the fireplace.

‘Then he went over to the table in the center of the room, picked up the stacks of ten- and twenty-dollar bills, and left by the window. I called the police immediately and gave them a description.’

‘Exactly what time was that?’ asked Fordney.

‘Just about ten o’clock, sir.’

‘Had you been in the library before that, this morning?’

‘No, I hadn’t.’

‘Were you in your master’s room today?’

‘No. What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Nothing,’ murmured Fordney, ‘nothing at all! Does your master gamble often?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘How much did he win last night?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘Humph,’ said Fordney, as he pointed to a bill on the floor, ‘the thief dropped one.

‘I see your master has quite a library,’ he continued, glancing around the large, beautifully furnished room. ‘Do you read much, Wilkins?’

‘A bit, sir.’

‘Did you ever read, “Honesty is the best policy”?’

Why did the Professor think Wilkins had robbed his master?

30 _Robbery at High Noon_

‘I wonder who had the nerve to commit such a robbery at high noon,’ mused Professor Fordney as he examined the safe, seventeen minutes after it had been rifled. ‘Same old story: no finger-prints, no evidence.’

‘Found anything?’ asked Lawson nervously as he entered his drawing-room.

‘Not yet. Are you here alone, Lawson?’

‘No. John, my nephew, is staying with me. Everyone else is in town.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘Oh, he left about an hour ago.’

At 3.20 P.M. Fordney noticed Jones, the gardener, working at the edge of a flower-bed. He kept looking furtively at the house while he frantically covered over the hole he had dug. Finishing, he hurriedly walked toward the boat-landing.

Fordney, following, reached the dock just as John guided his motor-boat in.

‘Have a nice day?’ asked Fordney.

‘Yep. Had a grand run up the lakes.’

‘Where were you when your uncle’s safe was robbed?’

‘Boy, I was hauling in a big muskie! What a battle he gave me! See him in the end of the boat? Isn’t he a beauty?’

‘When did you return?’ demanded Fordney of the gardener.

‘I don’t know what time it was,’ he replied nervously, glancing at John.

‘You must have some idea.’

‘Well, it was about noon,’ he reluctantly answered.

‘By the way, John, do you know the combination of your uncle’s safe?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Is that old weasel accusing me?’

‘No, he isn’t. But I’ve got my suspicions!’

Whom did Fordney suspect and why?

31 _The Wrong Foot Forward_

‘The witness says,’ explained the interpreter, ‘that as the car came to a sudden stop the conductor ran to the front and yelled to the motorman, “You’ve done it again."’

The little foreigner on the witness stand looked bewildered and frightened.

‘He further says that there were two sailors on the car and that they jumped off and ran.’

‘Have they been located yet?’ inquired the Judge.

‘No, Your Honor; we’ve been unable to trace them, although the conductor gave a good description,’ replied counsel.

‘Proceed.’

The interpreter continued.

‘Paslovsky, the witness, declares he had a clear view of the plaintiff when he got off. He states that just as the plaintiff put his foot on the ground, with his back to the front of the car, it gave a sudden start and he was thrown to the road.’

‘Can’t the witness understand or speak enough English to tell the court about that?’ asked the Judge.

‘No, Your Honor; he’s been in this country only two weeks.’

‘How can he get about at that hour of night alone, then?’

‘Some friends put him on the car and telephoned the people with whom he lives to meet him at the end of the line,’ replied counsel for the plaintiff.

‘Continue.’

‘Paslovsky,’ declared the interpreter, ‘says he picked up this picture from the floor of the car—a snapshot of a sailor and a girl.’

‘Case dismissed,’ thundered the Judge, ‘and don’t ever bring another like that into this court.’

‘Why was His Honor justified in so abruptly dismissing the suit for damages?’

asked Professor Fordney of his class in criminology.

32 _Death Attends the Party_

‘He had a big party last night,’ said Graves, the valet.

‘Certainly looks like it,’ retorted Professor Fordney, as he surveyed the crazily balanced glasses, overflowing ash-trays, and liquor rings on the small, fragile antique table at which Carlton Dawes sat.

‘It was awful, sir. Just as I turned to say “good night” to him, he lifted his revolver, fired and toppled over.’

‘Funny,’ mused Fordney. ‘He had everything to live for.’

‘Everything but the thing he wanted,’ replied the valet. ‘Madeline, his former wife, was here last night. He is always despondent after seeing her.’

‘Well, Graves, pretty nice for you, eh? How much did he leave you?’

‘Ten thousand dollars, sir.’

Fordney leaned over to examine the wound in Dawes’s left temple. His head rested on the edge of the table, his right hand on his knee and his left hung lifelessly at his side.

‘Anything been touched since the tragedy?’

‘No, sir.’

Fordney picked up Dawes’s revolver where it had apparently fallen from his hand. After examining it and finding only the dead man’s finger-prints, he laid it on the table. As he did so, Madeline entered the room. She stopped, horrified.

‘What—what—has happened?’

‘Where did you come from?’ demanded Fordney.

‘I’ve been upstairs. I didn’t leave with the guests.’

‘Humph—you should have,’ as he shot her a quizzical look. ‘Your presence may prove embarrassing. Your ex-husband was murdered.’

Madeline slipped to the floor in a dead faint.

What convinced Fordney it was murder?

33 _No Way Out_

On a battered desk in the small, dark room lay a penciled note in handwriting resembling that of the dead man:

Dear John:

You know the trouble I’m in. There’s only one way out and I’m taking it. You’re my pal and will understand. Good luck.

(Signed) Paul

The only other furniture consisted of the chair in which Paul Morrow had been found with his throat cut, a bed, and a highly ornate and apparently brand-new waste-basket. It had been definitely established that the dead man had not left the room during the twenty-four hours before he was discovered.

Finishing his examination of the contents of the man’s pockets—two twenty-dollar bills, a cheap watch, and an expensive wallet in which there was a picture of a beautiful woman—Fordney turned his attention to the meager inventory of the room.

‘That’s all we can find,’ said Inspector Kelley, indicating a dictionary, scraps of a letter in a feminine handwriting found in the ornate waste-basket, a pen, some cheap stationery, a few clothes, pipe and tobacco, and a bloody, razor-sharp knife. ‘Certainly has all the appearances of suicide,’ he continued. ‘This door was locked and no one could have left by that window. What do you make of it, Fordney?’

The Professor didn’t reply at once. He picked up the photograph, studied it a moment, and then, with a slow, searching look around the small room, said:

‘Better try to piece those bits of letter together. This isn’t suicide; it’s murder.’

‘I believe you’re right,’ exclaimed Kelley, with dawning comprehension.

What brought Fordney to this conclusion?

34 _Midnight Murder_

‘Who are you, and what’s this all about?’ demanded Inspector Kelley, as he and Professor Fordney arrived at the apartment in answer to a call.

‘I’m Jack Day. I share this apartment with Al Quale. I returned from the theater, shortly after midnight, went into his room, and found him lying there on the bed. When I saw he was dead, I called Headquarters at once. God, this is terrible!’

‘Those your things on the bed?’ asked Kelley, indicating a blood-stained muffler, a hat, gloves, and cane.

‘Yes, I tossed them there before I rushed to the telephone. Got that blood on the muffler when I bent over him.’

‘What time did you leave here this evening?’

‘Shortly before seven,’ replied Day.

‘Can you prove you were at the theater all evening?’ demanded Kelley.

‘Why, yes, I went with a friend.’

‘He’s been dead about six hours, Inspector,’ said the police surgeon, finishing his examination at this point. ‘A deep knife wound, below the heart.’

As Fordney picked up an earring from the floor, Day exclaimed: ‘Why, that belongs to his fiancée.’

‘Well, there’ll be no wedding bells for him,’ remarked Kelley, with a start as he discovered that Day’s cane was a sword-stick with a long, thin, shining blade.

‘Any blood, Inspector?’ asked Fordney.

‘None. Clean as a whistle.’

‘Well, Day, looks mighty bad for you,’ stated the Professor. ‘I don’t know yet whether you killed him with that cane, or whether you killed him at all, but I do know you were here a few minutes after he was stabbed.’

How did the Professor know?

35 _Speakeasy Stick-Up_

‘I had counted the cash, and as I was working the combination to open the wall safe I heard this guy in back of me say, “Get ’em up, Bo. This is a stick-up.” I reached for the ceiling as he says, “Make a move and I’ll drill you!” He didn’t sound like he was foolin’, so I kept quiet.

‘Well, he comes over, gives me a prod with his gun, pockets the dough, and asks me where the best liquor is, saying he don’t want no bar whiskey either. I told him and he poured himself a drink.

‘Then he got real sociable-like, but wouldn’t let me take my hands down. He kept on talkin’ and makin’ wise-cracks, but finally got tired, I guess.

‘With a warnin’ that, if I moved before I could count twenty, my wife would be a widow, he beat it,’ concluded Sullivan.

‘How much did he take?’ inquired Professor Fordney, who had entered the speakeasy after hearing the bartender’s call for help.

‘About five hundred dollars,’ Sullivan replied. ‘We had a good day.’

‘Haven’t you a gun here?’

‘Sure, but I didn’t have a chance. I ain’t exactly no boy scout, but this mug was too big and tough-lookin’ for me to tackle.’

‘How did you get that cut on your hand?’ inquired the Professor. ‘And that bruise on your finger?’

‘Opening a case of lemons,’ answered Sullivan.

‘Well,’ said Fordney, ‘if your whiskey isn’t any better than your attempt at a fake hold-up, I’ll have ginger ale.’

You’re right. The bruise had nothing to do with it, but:

How did Fordney know the stick-up was a fake?

36 _Behind Time_

Professor Fordney, on his way to investigate a case of blackmail, was musing on the perversity of human nature when a jar threw him into the aisle as the train came to a sudden stop. Jumping off, he rushed ahead of the engine, where he found a small crowd gathered about the mutilated body of a man hit by the train. He was identified by a card in his pocket as John Nelson, an important figure in railroad labor circles.

‘How did it happen?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Well,’ replied Morton, the engineer, ‘I was running twelve minutes late when I hit him. There are several miles of straight-away along here and I was beating it along at sixty miles trying to make up time. Didn’t see him until we were about ten yards away, right on top of him. I jammed on the brakes, of course, but it was too late.’

‘Did you leave New York on time?’

‘Yes, sir. One-thirty exactly.’

‘Why were you running late?’

‘We were held in a block for about fifteen minutes outside of New Haven.’

‘What was your fireman doing when you hit this man?’

‘Stoking the boiler.’

‘You say it was just a few seconds after four-ten when you hit him?’ demanded the Professor.

‘That’s right,’ agreed Morton.

‘Did you know this man by any chance?’

‘Yes, slightly—he was an officer in my union,’ replied the engineer, with a worried look.

‘Well,’ said Fordney, ‘I don’t know your object in telling such a story, or how you hoped to get away with it—you won’t.’

What justified Fordney in recommending Morton’s arrest?

37 _A Broken Engagement_

‘Peculiar,’ murmured Fordney, as he examined the desk on which lay seven letters ready for mailing, three gray, one lavender, two pink, and one lemon-colored.

As he idly shaped the wax of the candle standing on the desk, he continued to ponder this unusual choice of color in stationery.

One of the letters was addressed to Dot Dalton, who had been murdered between eleven-forty and eleven-fifty. She was one of the guests at this house party in the Adirondacks.

All the letters were closed with black sealing wax stamped with the letter ‘F.’

At midnight, Fordney began his questioning.