"Mr. Woods was here last night?" I asked, abruptly.
"Yas, suh."
"What time did he come in?"
"Ah cain't raghtly say, Mist' Thompsin, but he had dinnah out heah
'bout seben-thuty," he answered.
"Did he leave the club after that?"
"Not 'til de telephone call come whut says Mist' Feldahson ben killt.
Den he lef wif Mist' Brown an' Mist' Paisley."
"You're sure he was here all that time?" I asked.
"No, sah, I ain't suah, but Ah seen him ev'y now an' den thu de
ev'nin'."
"Was he here at quarter past eight?" I questioned.
"He was heah at twenty-fahv minutes past eight, Ah knows, cause Ah done
brought him a drink."
"You're sure of that?"
"Yas, suh! Positive!" the negro answered. "'Cause Ah looked at de
clock raght den an' der."
As near as I could figure, the accident had happened about eight-ten or
eight-fifteen and the bridge was six miles away from the club. Woods
couldn't have been at the bridge at the time of the tragedy and got
back to the club by eighty twenty-five. Still, he might have had an
accomplice.
"Thank you, Jackson," I said, giving him the money. "Just forget that
I asked you any questions!"
The darky chuckled. "Ah done fohgot 'em befoh you evah asted 'em, suh.
Thank you, suh!"
As I passed into the big, central living-room, Paisley came in.
"What was this I saw in _The Sun_?" he asked.
"The sort of rot that nasty sheet always prints," I said.
"Nothing to it of course. I thought not. You don't feel like golfing?"
I shook my head. "Not to-day, old chap. By the way, were you with
Frank Woods when the news of Jim's death reached the club?"
"Yes--why?" he asked.
"You won't think it too strange if I ask you how he appeared to take
it?" I said, trying to make my remark seem as casual as possible.
Seeing the puzzled expression on his face, I added: "I know it is a
peculiar thing to ask, but please don't think any more about it than
you can help, and just answer."
"Why--" Paisley began, a little flustered, "why he took it just the way
the rest of us took it, I suppose. I don't remember exactly."
"Did he seem surprised?" I questioned.
"Of course," Paisley answered,
"He didn't seem relieved?"
"Say, what the devil are you driving at, Thompson?" Paisley burst out.
I saw I could get nothing from him so I left him looking after me with
a perplexed and somewhat indignant gaze. As a detective it seemed I
might make a good plumber. I knew very well he would not repeat my
questions, but it would be just like good old Paisley to worry himself
to death trying to solve them.
I drove back to the bridge, determined to find the revolver, if
possible, and then hunt up Inspector Robinson to learn what he had to
report. Apparently, my suspicions of Frank Woods were groundless. He
had had dinner at the club and then waited around for Jim to keep his
appointment. He had been seen by Jackson at eight twenty-five; Jackson
was positive of that fact. Ten or fifteen minutes at the most in which
to go six miles to the bridge and back to the club, put up his car and
ask Jackson for a drink. The thing couldn't be done. He had heard of
Jim's death with surprise and had heard of Helen's injury with the
greatest horror. There seemed to be no doubt of one thing: no matter
how much he wished for Jim's death, no matter how much he benefited by
the murder, Frank Woods, himself, didn't do the killing.
An automobile was standing at the bridge when I got there and I cursed
the whim that had sent me to the club on a false scent and kept me from
having an uninterrupted search for the weapon. When I saw, however,
that the driver of the automobile was Inspector Robinson, I was greatly
relieved, for this would not only give me a chance to learn what he had
discovered concerning the men in the black limousine, but would not
interfere with the search for Jim's gun. Robinson had his coat off and
his sleeves rolled up and was fishing around the edge of the little
creek with his hands. So engrossed was he in his task that I was
almost upon him before he looked up.
"Good afternoon, Inspector," I addressed him. "What are you doing,
digging for gold or making mud pies?"
"I'm gettin' bait to catch a sucker," he snarled. "You must have
thought you had one this morning."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"All that bunk you handed me about Schreiber and the men in the black
limousine. That was a fine stall you pulled. I might have known you
was tryin' to cover up somebody's tracks."
He dried his hands on a rather flamboyant, yellow handkerchief.
"I haven't the least idea what you are talking about," I replied coldly.
"Oh, you haven't, haven't you?" the little man burst out malignantly.
"You're innocent, you are! Too damned innocent! I suppose you didn't
know that your brother-in-law was shot in the back of the head and that
your sister was the only one that was with him when it was done. I
suppose that's news--eh?"
My heart stood still as I heard his words. So he was after the proof
that Helen did it. He had read the insinuations in _The Sun_ and had
abandoned his work against Schreiber and Zalnitch for the fresher trail.
"I found out this morning that my brother-in-law was shot, but that
only makes the case look the blacker for those who openly threatened
his life."
"Among whom was your beautiful sister," the detective retorted acidly.
"How do you know that?" I demanded.
"From her maid and all the rest of the servants in the house. I found
that out when I went up to take another squint at the automobile. You
thought you were pretty smart sendin' me on a wild-goose chase after a
couple of cracked Socialists, when all the time you knew it was your
own sister done the thing. Tried to keep me off the track by slippin'
me a little dough. Well, it didn't work, see? There's your dough
back." He threw a crumpled wad of bills on the ground at my feet. "No
one saw you give it to me, but I ain't takin' any chances, you may have
marked those bills. From now on I work alone without any theories from
you."
"Look here, Inspector!" I demanded, "I was in earnest when I told you I
wanted you to find out all you could about the men in the black
limousine. I'm sure they had something to do with Mr. Felderson's
death. I didn't try to bribe you, nor throw you off the right track.
Even though my sister did have a little unpleasantness with her
husband, it was no serious difference."