Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 44, No. 5, September 28, 1929
- Автор: Dunn J. Allan, Flynn T. T.
- Год: 1929
- Язык: английский
- Год: Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 44, No. 5, September 28, 1929». Краткое содержание книги:
“Talking of observation, Edwards,” he began. “It amazes me that you and Mallon did not see how that trick was worked. I did not expect Mr. Ellis to observe it, because that isn’t his profession. But you two!” Trent shook his head.
“What are you giving us?” Mallon growled.
“Elementary instruction,” Trent retorted. “You will note when you go out there that a piece of piano wire is thrust through the lead flooring and attached to a nail in the inside of the hollow pedestal. The other end of the wire is attached to the north side of the pillar’s interior by a nail. The shred of cloth I spoke of was caught by that same nail. All that is needed to conceal the exit is for this very strong wire to be pulled. The pedestal itself is hinged to the roof so that it cannot get out of place.”
Feverishly the two officials examined it. What Trent had said was true. It was plain to Edwards that the work of affixing hinges was new. The man who had probably killed Addison was, in all likelihood, the man who had run the wire through the lead. Careful preparation had been made. There had been leisure and opportunity to work here. And it could hardly have been done except at night, when the marauder would be undisturbed. Edwards knew very well that this would be unlikely during the time that the private detectives were in charge. By this strange route the assailant had come during the Hubbard incumbency. How long had this plot been maturing?
It was stupid to show enmity to Anthony Trent. Edwards had been foolish to allow his professional pride to spur him to rivalry, in the first place. McWalsh had been right. Perhaps it was not too late to make amends. More than ever Inspector Edwards needed his aid now.
“A fine bit of work, Mr. Trent,” he said, “and I guess Mallon and I know when we are licked. You are absolutely right, but how in the world could anybody climb up? I’m a proof how easy it is to go down, but how could any one climb up? No space for a ladder there.”
“Perhaps some one on the top lowered a rope,” Trent suggested.
“He’d have to be there first, and how could he make it? I understood you to say this bird climbed up and fixed things.” Edwards had noted in his descent that there were no projecting pieces of wood for a man’s foot to use in the ascent. He had been stopped in his fall by nothing.
“That was merely a suggestion,” Trent explained. “If you say it’s impossible, why then we’ll eliminate it; my address, if you want me, is the Mill House, Elm Falls.” He nodded. “Good hunting.”
“A good riddance,” Mallon growled. He was amazed to see the sudden look of anger on his chief’s face.
“Damn him,” said Edwards. “He knows, but he won’t say.”
“Knows what?” Mallon asked with tremendous interest.
“How that bird climbed up,” Edwards answered. He was examining the orifice carefully.
In the hall where Trent was talking things over with Roger, Cynthia said: “For a moment I really thought you did know how one could climb up the pillar. Edwards looked so disappointed.”
Trent smiled. “Cynthia, keep my secret. I do know and I’ve climbed up it myself. No, I will not tell you yet. My present aim is to pass the time of day with Mr. Jessup. Please persuade Nurse Gregory to let me see him.”
A few minutes later he was talking to the old man he had so successfully impersonated. Mr. Jessup was delighted at an excuse to talk, and his nurse was pleased at the opportunity to take a little air. She promised to be back in half an hour. Trent allowed Mr. Jessup to rid himself of all his ingenious theories. Then he asked casually: “But you liked Marcus North, didn’t you?”
“We weren’t talking about Marcus,” the old man said. “Or were we?” His memory was not what it had been, he knew, and it was quite likely that he had made some mention of Marcus North. “Yes, I liked him. That type appealed to me. What a life he led John Addison, from all I hear, when they were kids in this house. Brought up together, you know. What a contrast! There was John, who wouldn’t tell a lie, and Marcus, who wouldn’t tell the truth. It wasn’t that I liked him for that though. There was something about him that just got me. I knew he was no damned good just as well as I knew John was too damned good. I told my niece.” The old man broke off. “There was a girl for you! She’s one of a thousand.”
“Loves?” Trent asked.
“You must have met her,” the uncle returned, not at all offended. “A marvel. She was taken by John’s good looks. He was as handsome as Marcus in his way. Evelyn used to say he was an unawakened Antinous. She soon grew tired of him.”
Mr. Jessup tried to get back to his favorite topic, the identity of the man who had successfully impersonated him, but he found himself led again to the subject of Marcus North.
“He was bad all through,” Jessup conceded, “and when he murdered that valet of his the family thought it about time to call a halt. Their influence kept most of the evidence out of the papers. There was a National Convention meeting at the same time, and that helped. I’ve always thought that the beating John gave him affected his brain. That was certainly some beating. I never saw Evelyn so interested in anything. She wouldn’t let me stop it. Not that I wanted to, but I could have made a stab at it.
“John got back all he had suffered from his cousin’s bullying when he was smaller, but to do John justice it wasn’t that. He was crazy over Edith and he fought for her. Never think John couldn’t fight. He’d have been heavyweight champion if he had put his mind to it. In the beginning I’d have bet all I had on Marcus, but not after the first minute. I remember saying to him: ‘You’ve killed him.’ John looked at Marcus on the ground and said, ‘I hope I have.’ ”
“How long after the divorce did he kill his valet?”
“Two years, I imagine.” Mr. Jessup went back to the trial at which he was a witness. “His family certainly put one over on Marcus. There was no ‘temporary maniacal insanity’ alibis then. Just plain paranoia was good enough to get him sent to Deerfarm. His money was administered by his people and the idea was that in a few years, when the public had forgotten, he was to be let out. That’s where they put it over on him. They kept him there. They were afraid of him, and they didn’t want the North name disgraced again. They were wise at that. I’m told that when Marcus found out he was in for life he actually went mad.”
“You think he was sane when he killed the man?”
“Who is sane?” old Jessup retorted. “They say I’m not, and you don’t look normal to me. You have strange eyes, Mr. Trent. I believe the only sane man I ever knew was John Addison. Maybe that’s why I didn’t like him.”
“Not many parents,” Trent said, dismissing this suspicion of his mental health, “would be content to let their son remain in a psychopathic institution when he might have been removed.”
“Marcus was an orphan. That’s why he was brought up here with John. His uncle and aunt benefited materially by administering the estate. They hadn’t much and their nephew had. They came in for a lot of criticism.”
“When did he die?” Trent asked.
“Before I came here to live, and I’ve been here almost five years.”
“Was it in the papers?”
“Very likely, but I didn’t see it. Edith told me, and I never saw a woman change for the better as she did when she knew. She was in deadly fear he’d get out and kill John. John knew it too. He told his wife that the time he spent in the trenches was the only time for years that he felt he could relax. Relax in the trenches! I guess that was the truth. John will not tell a lie.”
“Would he for his wife?”
“He might, but not for any one else. John was one of those men who were made for fidelity to one woman, and my niece wasn’t the woman. So you know Evelyn. How is she getting along with Sid Colton?”