Detective Lieutenant Silas Berry of the New York Homicide Squad was
fine-tooth-combing Romany’s room for possible clues.
“Mr.—Inspector—Lieutenant Berry.” Julian was inclined to embarrassment.
“Can you spare me a few minutes? I want to talk.”
Berry laid his magnifying glass on the dresser.
“Nothing would please me more, boy,” he said cheerfully, folding his
arms and leaning against the bed post. “As you have undoubtedly
observed, we detectives just sit around waiting for someone to be kind
enough to confess and save our faces with a critical public. What’s on
your mind? I think it was you, Prentice,” he continued without
interruption, “who thought there were two shots fired at Whittaker this
morning. Not that he didn’t deserve a dozen to judge by the shambles
he’s made of the place by that betrayal of poor old Crawford. Are you
still of the same opinion about those shots in spite of Mr. Belknap’s
equal certainty to the contrary?”
Julian was filling his pipe with unsteady fingers in an effort to cover
his excitement and pleasure at Berry’s tone of easy, natural
camaraderie!
“Yes, Mr. Berry. I am. But I admit my willingness to be proved mistaken
by anyone but Mr. Belknap.”
“I’ve remarked that you and Mr. Belknap don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
Berry’s lips twitched in a half-smile. “Or is it that you’ve sighted
identically, to the point of interference—had _you_ hit on the Dorn
solution too? You don’t fancy such a formidable rival, is that it?”
“Perhaps. Yes, Dorn was my original suspicion, and begins to look like
my last. Do you really think he’s Mr. Belknap’s, though? Isn’t Mr.
Belknap afraid of the woman in the case?”
“You mean Miss Mdevani, I suppose. Hold on now, you shouldn’t be asking
_me_ questions, young man.” Berry caught himself up. “You’re here to
answer them. Don’t misunderstand me and think I’m taking you on as a
Watson.”
But severe as the tone was, a quick glance at Berry’s face revealed a
twinkle behind it, and Julian was thrilled down to his bootstraps at the
intimate badinage.
“I promise not to flatter myself too much, Mr. Berry,” Julian smiled
shyly. “Now about those shots, sir,—and then I have a clue or two I’ve
been hoarding just for you. I heard two shots, unless my hearing had
gone double. I _was_ tired, but I hadn’t been drinking. However, I’m
wrong by the facts; the Colt had been fired but once. So my testimony
doesn’t signify.”
“Amateur reasoning, Prentice. Try to figure out why after you go to bed
tonight—I hope you are _going_ to bed—and the effort will put you to
sleep better than sheep-counting. Or come and tell me if you _do_ find
the nigger in your wood pile. All right, give us your clues. I’m all
excited.”
Julian produced his slip of thin white paper with its cryptic message.
“You see Colonel Blake was tagged and numbered,” he said.
“I’m surprised you knew the code. Very keen of you. Where did you find
this?”
“On the stairs, after Mrs. Crawford screamed.”
“Is that the sum total of your knowledge of its antecedents, birthplace,
and purpose in life. Then we’re about as well off as we were a month
ago.”
Julian looked quenched.
“Can’t it be traced?” he murmured.
“What with—a stencil? Never mind. Don’t let it worry you. Oh, I’ll
_keep_ it,” he added, as Julian extended a hand. “Our friend Stebbins
will enjoy it. _If_ I show it to him. He hasn’t a flare for motives, but
he eats up clues. Have you others?”
“No, not exactly. But I thought I’d better mention that Miss Lacey just
remembered the name she was trying to recall. _You_ know, the name
mentioned by Romany. It’s Violet Mowbray. Does it mean a blessed thing
to you? It doesn’t to me.”
Berry’s eyes were intent on the pattern in the rug. Again Julian could
make nothing of his face. Then Berry clicked his tongue, with a sound
like a miniature gunshot, and for the startled Julian it registered the
click of an idea.
“Uhmmm?!” Berry prolonged the interrogatory exclamation with exaggerated
softness. “Very strange. In fact, _very_ strange. Thank you, Prentice.
You _are_ contributing your bit at last. It fits. It jolly well fits.
Which is what I’m looking for, you know—things to fit _my_ preconceived
idea. There are two ways of working this detective racket, son—theory
first and theory last. Mine’s first. I make my facts fit the crime.—
Hello, Belknap. Come in. Prentice and I are having a truth party. Or
rather he’s come across with a little truth after keeping it back all
afternoon. But I’m being lenient with him because he claims it’s all due
to my charms. He saved up just to give me a few pointers. Aren’t you
jealous?”
“Rraather.” Belknap always went his English ancestors one better in
accent whenever his dignity was endangered. “Shall I retire?”
“By no means. I’m sure even the untutored Prentice will agree that in
matters of codes and Violet Mowbrays three heads are better than two.
There’s no such thing as too many detectives, is there?”
“Violet Mowbray!” Belknap showed sudden and marked interest and for a
man who rarely showed any it _was_ remarkable. He closed the door. “What
about Violet Mowbray? I thought I had her under lock and key. Is she
abroad?”
“We don’t know. It was the name Miss Lacey couldn’t remember and has
remembered.”
“Let’s see. How was it Miss Video mentioned her. ‘Revelation for
revelation, with Violet Mowbray thrown in?’ Was that it? It might mean
anything. After all, Violet Mowbray did have a past. However, we’d
better look into it.”
“Yes, Miss Lacey wasn’t the only prowler last night.” Berry squinted at
Julian, who stood looking bewildered but pleased at the response to at
least one of his hopeful suggestions. “The remark may have meant more to
another than it did to her. And it can do no harm to look up Violet,
poor girl. One of your cruel cases, Belknap. Brilliantly executed, of
course, and justified in consequence I suppose, but sinfully cruel. I’m
surprised she’s living. Though this doesn’t prove she is.”
“It _was_ a sad affair. I regretted it myself. But Blake was a close
friend, and I saw my way to be able to clear his name. Shall I give the
prison a ring? One of us could see her tomorrow—or we could send a man
out.”
“Do. But cast your mind’s eye over this before you go.”
Belknap took the coded message, scarcely glancing at it.
“Oh yes. I wondered when I’d see this again. Where did you find it?”
“Prentice recovered it on the stairs.”
“I must have dropped it there. I really hadn’t wanted to enter it as
evidence unless it was necessary. Particularly since I am convinced it
has no bearing. I received it from Miss Mdevani. She was in a trap, as
you can see. She brought me this to show me in how desperate a trap. It
was to her advantage under the circumstances, to prevent murder here
last night. Though if it had been just between the two of them with the
world well lost I’m sure she would have blown Whittaker’s brains out and
considered he escaped lightly for his damned treachery. Mind, I’m
holding no brief for her character. This would rise up to deny me.” He
smiled ironically, lifting the paper at them. “She is no angel. But I
shall have to be shown about the present case. If you think, on this
account, I shall be less help than hindrance to you and Stebbins I shall
gladly withdraw, with no hard feeling, I promise you.”
“Not for a minute, old man. Don’t dream of deserting me and the ship. In
fact I wouldn’t, I _couldn’t_, get on without you. I’m not as
cold-blooded as you; and I don’t in the least relish being left alone by
night, in a fog, with the rats either dead or deserted. No, I guess I
could bear up as far as that’s concerned. But I _do_ look to you to
provide the missing link to what seems to me a pretty bad tangle. Which
reminds me I have an important question to put to you. Run along,
Prentice, will you, like a good fellow? The powers that be want to
confer.”
Julian, having just congratulated himself on the fact that they seemed
to have completely forgotten him, was sadly disappointed. He left them
with their heads together.