The Dutch Shoe Mystery

Janney’s rejoinder was curt. “I prefer not to tell you!” Inspector Queen’s hand continued its journey, performed its function and returned. He sniffed and rose, stepping forward with a mild look of inquiry on his placid features.

But Ellery forestalled him. He said in even tones, “That is exactly what I wanted to know, Doctor... This chap Swanson must be very dear to you indeed to merit such heroic shielding. He is an old friend, of course?”

“Oh, no!” said Janney quickly.

“No?” Ellery’s eyebrows went up. “Scarcely consistent with your attitude, Dr. Janney...” He stepped up to the little surgeon, loomed over him. “Answer one question, Doctor, and you silence me forever...”

“I don’t see what you’re driving at,” muttered Janney, retreating a step.

“Nevertheless,” said Ellery softly, “answer... Why, if this man Swanson is not a particularly close friend, did you give him fifteen minutes of your precious time this morning, while your benefactress lay desperately ill, unconscious, awaiting the unique skill of your hand and knife?... And take all the time you want in answering.”

He turned on his heel even while Janney, a steadily growing light of rebellion in his eyes, said coldly, “I have nothing to say that can have any bearing on your investigation.”

Ellery sauntered to the chair his father had vacated, sat down and waved his hand, as if to say, “Your witness.”

The old man’s smile, if anything, grew gentler. He paced up and down before Janney, followed by the surgeon’s defiant little eyes.

“Needless to say, Dr. Janney,” began the Inspector politely, “we cannot accept your stand in this matter. You see that, of course...” It was a challenge. “Perhaps you’ll honor me by giving straight replies, without subterfuge.” Janney said nothing. “Very well, let me begin... What happened between you and Swanson in the fifteen minutes you were together in your office?”

“I’m really not being stubborn,” said Dr. Janney with a startling change of manner. He looked tired, sought the back of a chair for support “Swanson came to see me, as I told you, to borrow fifty dollars, which he needed urgently and could not get elsewhere at the moment. I refused at first. He began to explain the circumstances. They were such that common decency demanded I accede to his request. I gave him my check, we talked about his affairs, he left. That’s all.”

“A most reasonable statement, Doctor,” replied the Inspector gravely. “However, if this is all as innocent as you make it out to be, why won’t you give us the man’s name — his address? You must realize that we have certain routine inquiries to pursue, that your friend’s testimony is necessary to support your own. Give us the information we’re lacking, and there’s an end of it!”

Janney wagged his shaggy head heavily. “I’m sorry, Inspector... Perhaps I should explain that my friend is an unfortunate, a victim of circumstances — sensitive nature and excellent breeding. Any notoriety particularly at this time would be bad in its effect on him. And he simply couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder of Mrs. Doorn.” His voice rose slightly, became shrill. “By God, why do you insist?”

Ellery scrubbed his pince-nez glasses thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving the face of Dr. Janney.

“I suppose it’s useless for me to ask you to describe Swanson?” demanded the Inspector. The smile had left his face.

Janney clamped his lips together.

“Very well, then!” snapped the old man. “You realize that without Swanson’s testimony to bolster yours your position becomes downright dangerous, Dr. Janney?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“I shall give you exactly one more chance, Dr. Janney.” The Inspector’s voice was deadly now with cold rage; his lips trembled slightly. “Give me Swanson’s visiting card.”

There was a short stifling silence. “Eh?” growled Janney.

“The card, the card!” cried the Inspector impatiently — “the card with Swanson’s name on it, which the doorman handed you while you talked in the corridor with Dr. Minchen and Mr. Queen. Where is it?”

Janney raised haggard eyes to the old man. “I haven’t got it”

“Where is it!”

Janney remained still as the grave.

The Inspector whirled instantly to Velie, who stood aloof and glowering in the corner. “Search him!”

The surgeon gasped, retreated to the wall, glaring about him with a hunted, animal look. Ellery half-rose in his chair, but sank back as Velie crowded the little man to a corner and said, impersonally, “Will you hand it over or do I have to take it from you?”

“By God!” gasped Janney, livid with rage, “you touch me and — and I’ll...” His voice trailed off from sheer impotence.

Velie swept his huge arm about the fragile figure of the surgeon, gathered him in as easily as if Janney had been a child. Beyond one frantic shudder of his frame, the surgeon did not resist. The rage fled from his face, drained out of his eyes...

“Nothing.” Velie stepped back to his corner.