Chapter VI

Professor Brierly nodded with satisfaction when he looked up at the rear facade of Miller's Folly. Near the edge of the roof, was a chimney. A plumb line dropped from the center of the chimney would drop about three feet to the right of the only window in the blank, forbidding wall.

"I see," commented the old man, "a chimney. I did not know." He turned to Brasher. "You offered to help, young man; here is your chance. At the rear of the chimney, near its base, particularly the two rear angles, you will find fresh marks. The chimney is probably scuffed as though a rope had been drawn tightly about it and pulled back and forth. You will find the edges of the roof, coincident with the sides of the chimney, also scuffed as though a rope had been pulled across the edge with quite a weight at its end. You--"

Brasher did not hear the end. He was racing around the side of the building. In a short time they saw his figure on the edge of the roof clinging to the chimney. Then he crawled to the edge and leaning far forward, he gazed intently at something that the men below could not see.

Brasher looked down and nodded his head so violently that he nearly threw himself from the roof. He came racing around the side of the house in a short time.

"You're right, Professor; it's just like you said. I begin to see--"

Professor Brierly was pointing at a spot on the wall about three feet from the ground. There was a scar in the cement joining the stones. The scar was a small hole about large enough to hold a man's small finger. The scar ran obliquely from above, downward and inward.

Professor Brierly was saying:

"There are a number of these scars running up in a staggered arrangement, one above the other, about a foot apart, literally. I saw some of these scars from the window above and one especially deep one. It is fairly obvious--"

"I get you, Professor, I get you. You think--"

Professor Brierly shook his head.

"I shall tell you definitely what I think when I have made the tests with the revolver. Can we get shells like these at Hinkle's? I shall need some more."

Professor Brierly chose to keep his own counsel on the way to Lentone and thence to their camp on the lake. Arrived there, he did not waste much time. Taking a number of sheets of paper, he shot at them from varying distances with the revolver found in Miller's room. Beginning by holding the muzzle an inch from the cards, he gradually increased the distance inch by inch until he was shooting from a distance of twelve inches. Then he shot from a distance of fifteen, twenty, twenty-five and thirty inches.

He now turned to the men who had been watching him.

"I can now say definitely that Mr. Miller was shot with the muzzle somewhere between twelve and fifteen inches from his temple. I still do not understand why the killer approached so close without--"

"Morris Miller was almost stone deaf," interrupted Brasher.

"Ah, that accounts for it; that clears up something that puzzled me."

"Since you three have conspired to make me take an interest in crime," his glance swept Jimmy, Matthews, and McCall, "I have gone rather exhaustively into matters that hitherto only interested me casually. I spent two months in the Scientific Crime Detection Laboratory of Northwestern University. Among the subjects I took up were powder marks.

"It was obvious to me at the first glance at the wound that it was not self-inflicted. I felt reasonably certain that the weapon was held a greater distance from the head than it would be held if the victim contemplated suicide. That is why I suggested the possibility that he had held the weapon and it had gone off by accident. That seemed a remote possibility, but still a possibility.

"Powder marks tell quite an interesting story to the student. Black powder will not leave the same marks at the same distance, either in kind or degree, as will smokeless powder. The same kind of powder fired from a weapon with a short barrel will leave burns that differ radically from those fired from a long barrel. The amount of powder also will make a difference.

"Black powder is merely a physical mixture of three ingredients. The charcoal which goes into its composition is not burned at the time of firing and remains unchanged. Each little unburned charcoal grain becomes a secondary projectile, which leaves its mark not only on the surface that received the bullet if it is close enough, but also makes little pits on the base of the bullet.

"Smokeless or semi-smokeless powder is a chemical compound in which the ingredients are radically changed in form. At the time of firing, smokeless powder is practically all burned and only gases are left, leaving neither soot nor pits on, the base of the bullet. Smokeless powders will also leave burns on the surface at which the bullet is fired, but neither as black, nor deep, nor as numerous as those left by black powder.

"Thus you see, given the same ammunition, the same weapon, it can be ascertained by tests, with a fair degree of accuracy, at what distance a shot was fired. The zone of black around the wound itself, the size of powder marks, the thinness with which they are scattered, all tell their story."

"Is this true, Professor, at distances beyond which there are powder marks?" asked Jimmy.

"Yes, it is, but not within inches, of course, nor within a few feet, perhaps. But even at those distances it can often be approximated.

"Given the hypothesis that Miller was murdered, the rest was easy. If you will go back there, Brasher, and dig your nail into the putty holding the window nearest to the bolt, you will find it soft; the other putty is hard. There are five rows of panes. The one I refer to is in the middle row at the extreme left. The killer had the forethought to use putty that was of about the same color as old putty. But I saw on the sill some minute grains of glass glinting in the light.

"Mrs. Horsnall, without knowing why I asked the question assured me that there had been no repairs, such as replacing panes of glass. When I leaned out of the window, I saw the scars in the cement. Perfectly obvious. An active man, a strong man, probably a left-handed man, threw a string with a stone at the end over Miller's Folly. With this string he drew over the building a stronger twine. Finally he drew over the top of the building a strong rope, like a wash line, or something stronger. He then drew both ends of the rope around, forming a loop, about the chimney.

"Using the chimney as his anchor, with his rope looped around it, it was fairly easy for an active man. He used the kind of spurs that electric workers use to climb up wooden poles. Those spurs left the scars I pointed out. He had a hand hold, of course, on the two ends of the rope hanging from the chimney about two feet from the window.

"The rest was rather difficult. When he reached the height of the window, the nearest pane, fortunately for him, the one near the bolt was two feet from his perch, at his left. That is why I suggest that he may be a left-handed man. He cut out the pane, opened the window, went in, killed Miller and then spent some time hiding his traces. Among these was replacing a pane of glass and using putty colored like old putty.

"A very, very dangerous murderer and a very clever one, but hardly a subtle one."

He turned to Brasher. "Now, young man, the rest ought to be simple police work. Find a man in possession of twine and rope, on which you will find adhering bits of brick, cement and paint, from Miller's roof. Find him in possession of a pair of spurs, on which you may find adhering bits of cement and you have your murderer."

As Brasher, thanking him effusively, was about to go. Professor Brierly detained him.

"Just a moment. I want to send a telegram to New York. Leave this at the telegraph office for me, please."

He turned to his companions as Brasher departed; he smiled whimsically:

"Since you insist on plunging me into these things, I might as well be prepared. I wired for several things that we may need before this is over."

McCall was knitting his brow. He had followed with glowing admiration the exposition of the old savant.

"Professor," he asked, "you say the murderer is a clever one, but hardly a subtle one. Why do you say that?"

Professor Brierly dropped wearily into a deep chair on the porch. He shuffled the sheets of paper each with its bullet hole surrounded by powder marks.

"A man who kills another, usually uses the tools he knows best; frequently he uses the tools of his trade. That is easiest; following the lines of least resistance. Or, if killing becomes his profession, he adopts and adapts certain tools for his purpose, with which he becomes familiar.

"Just see how this murder was accomplished. A professional need not be ashamed of the way the pane of glass was inserted, the use of the rope, the climbing irons, or the spurs. The man who did this has used all these materials and tools before.

"Even in this country, where we are far behind certain European countries in such matters, it should be a simple matter for the police to pick up the killer. They can go through their records for the men who are accustomed to rob houses this way. They may find half a dozen in their files. They will pick up all of them who are not in prison and pin this murder on the guilty person. The others will have adequate alibis.

"It must be obvious to you, of course, that though Miller's safe was rifled, robbery was not the real motive for the entrance; it was murder. It must also be obvious that no eighty-two-year-old man could have done this. If an eighty-two-year-old man engineered it, he hired some one. The man he hired, as I am showing you, left a broad trail. Find him and you will find the man behind him."

He rose. "I am rather tired. I am not as young as I was. I'd better take a rest."

"An eighty-two-year-old man? Are you suggesting, Professor--" began McCall.

"I? I am suggesting nothing. It was you, Mr. McCall, who made the ugly suggestion, remember.

"There is the mysterious number '14,' who, if he exists, is assuredly not less than eighty-two years old. Then, there is a several million dollar fund of which you told me. It was you, Mr. McCall, who made the ugly suggestion that such a sum was a tremendous temptation, both for men who have always been comparatively poor and for men who have had much and now have nothing.

"I am merely giving you the results of my conclusions from facts as I found them.

"Incidentally, this murderer, the man who killed Miller, is not very original. I remember a case in Germany in which a robber entered a house using just that means, a rope, a chimney and climbing irons. Yes, yes. It has all been done before. I did not need all the clues I found on the window and outside the house. The powder marks were enough. The killer was too hasty or too careless or too ignorant. He might not have known that there is an enormous difference between powder marks inflicted when the muzzle is two inches away and those inflicted when the muzzle of the weapon is twelve inches away. The powder marks alone, without any other factors, that slight difference of a few inches, might make the difference between life and death for the murderer."

"And the two other men, Professor?" asked Jimmy.

"Of the two other men," snapped Professor Brierly, impatiently, "I know no more than you, and little is known about their deaths right now."

"But don't you think," continued the persistent reporter.

"You don't mean, don't I think, Mr. Hale," jeered Professor Brierly. "You mean don't I guess. No, I never guess. I leave that for highly imaginative newspaper men, or," he waved his hand sarcastically at his grinning assistant, "to John, there. Bring me some facts and I shall try to give you an opinion, an opinion that I may base on those facts, but, what do you know of the other men?" he challenged sharply.

"Well, there's not much question about one of them, the one who was drowned at Bradley Beach. That seems like an honest drowning. But August Schurman, from our information, apparently hanged himself in his study in one of those old houses on the lower west side."

There was no sign of weariness now on the part of the old scientist. He was fully aroused. His deeply sunken eyes were glowing. Jimmy had used an old formula that he always found efficacious.

"Oh, yes?" Professor Brierly was leaning forward. "Not much question about Wrigley, the man who was found in the water at Bradley Beach, is there? All we know about him is that he was found dead in the water. Do you know that he was drowned? Of course you don't.

"And Schurman, the man who was reported to have committed suicide by hanging. All you know about that is that he was found hanging in his study, dead. Do you know that he died by hanging? Do you know that he was not dead before he was hung? If that is the case, then obviously, he could not have hung himself. Perfectly astonishing to me, Mr. Hale, that a man who has followed your profession as long as you have should be so gullible. For that matter, do you know those men are dead?"

After firing this sarcastic shaft, he shook his head, saying: "As I said, Mr. Hale, I am tired and I need some rest. And nothing makes me more tired than idle, futile speculation. The principal difference between a scientist and a newspaper man, Mr. Hale, is that one knows--the other--guesses."

* * * * *

The last rays of the sun were flaming in the sky across the lake when Professor Brierly suddenly said to Matthews: "John, take me down to the Higginbotham camp. The Judge tinkers with physics and mechanics, he offered me the use of his equipment. It may be a good thing for all of us to take our minds from this terrible affair. Too much brooding will certainly not help."

Matthews looked at him suspiciously. Without comment, he made ready to go.

Justice Higginbotham received the two men graciously. He took them at once to his work shop.

"I'm just an amateur, Professor. But it is a good thing for an old man to have a hobby, a very perplexing hobby. Modern science makes so many strides every year, every day, that it is practically impossible for an amateur to keep apace." He preceded them to a spacious shed in the rear of the house. It was carefully and immaculately arranged, each article in its place and most of them carefully labeled.

Professor Brierly's eyes gleamed with interest as his eyes fell on a series of tubes, some of which resembled radio tubes in their sockets.

"Ah," he murmured. "Photo-electric tubes. It should be fairly easy for you to keep apace with that for the reason that this particular branch of science is still in its infancy and we are all groping in the dark. No matter how little you know about the matter, Judge, you cannot know a great deal less than any of us."

"That's your modesty, Professor. I had just been installing some of the simpler devices when," his fine features clouded, "this deplorable, this terrible affair interrupted me." There was silence for a moment. With a visible effort of the will, he continued:

"I am so glad you and Mr. Matthews are here. I am rather vague about it. While I enjoy finding things out for myself, this has been rather difficult. I am not certain I understand the photo-cell's sensitiveness to color. You see, I was trying--"

"Why, that is comparatively simple, Judge. I see you have everything needed right here."

"Yes, I got it all from a catalogue. But now that I have it, what am I going to do with it?"

Professor Brierly stepped forward. He and Matthews worked quickly, deftly, the old scientist uttering a word of explanation now and then. The venerable jurist watched their deft handling of intricate mechanism with keen interest and obvious enjoyment.

After half an hour that seemed to Justice Higginbotham only a few minutes, so keen had been his absorption in the task, Professor Brierly and Matthews stepped back. Professor Brierly had three cards colored red, green and blue in his hand. He pointed to three indicators that he had connected to wires running from a tube.

"You see, Judge, the three indicators are marked respectively with the colors of these cards. As I pass these cards in front of the tube, the corresponding indicator will record its passage. Watch!"

He passed the cards in front of the tube slowly, first in one order then another. He changed their order; he increased their speed. The result was the same. The respective indicators each time, rapidly or slowly recorded the passage of the corresponding color correctly.

Justice Higginbotham beamed with admiration.

"I told you you were modest, Professor. It would have taken me weeks or months to do that. I've been working on rather an ambitious project with these tubes, you may laugh when I tell you; I was well on the way with it when," once more his features clouded, "this hellish thing interrupted me."

Professor Brierly, glad to take the other's mind from the dreadful tragedy stalking him and his companions, asked:

"What is the ambitious program you had mapped out that you believe will make me laugh?"

"It is true, is it not, Professor, that the impulse transmitted by a photo electric cell can be translated into incalculable energy; can be made to do things that normally require a great deal of power?"

"You have about stated the case, Judge. We know very little about it yet, about its possibilities, but they seem endless and practically indefinite.

"The impulse generated can be made to pick up a thread, or pull a trigger, operate a trip hammer, blow up a mine or move a battleship or an ocean liner, given a strong enough lever. And that means simply a proper transformation of power or energy.

"The theory is comparatively simple. Wherever or whenever a beam of light can be received, interrupted, modified, amplified, or controlled in any way, a light-sensitive cell can be employed to generate the impulse, which, properly applied, can do almost anything.

"Does that seem too involved?" asked Professor Brierly.

"No, I think not. It was acting on that theory that I experimented with--well, come along and I will show you."

He led the way outside, where he pointed to the overhanging rock.

"Professor, as that rock is situated now, what would happen if it came down? You see how delicately it seems to be balanced."

"If it came down," stated Professor Brierly, "it would crush your main building to match-wood."

"Yes, I guess it would. Well, here is what I planned. I erected a lever behind it operated by a trigger-like arrangement. I installed a photo-electric cell with wires running to the trigger. I was going to shore up this side of the decline running from the rock, so that when the trigger released it, it would be deflected and roll into the lake.

"But at that point, this deplorable affair with our group happened. All I needed to do was to shore up this side of it. I was going to make quite an occasion of it. I planned to invite a number of friends and show them that with a simple beam of light I could move that gigantic rock."

"Hmm," commented Professor Brierly. "In view of the fact that you have not yet made provision to deflect the rock it seems rather dangerous to leave things in this state. If the rock came down it would hit the roof of the porch and kill whoever happened to be there. You say you have installed the photo-electric cell? What is to prevent--".

"Oh, I have guarded against that, Professor. I placed the tube up there," he pointed to what looked like a bird's nest near one of the gables. You see, as that is situated, no light can ever get at it; the foliage of that tree keeps the sun away and its always rather dark there. In addition, there is that little shutter that I placed in front of it.

"I also disconnected the wires leading from the tube to the trigger." He beamed with the pride of the child, or the amateur, who has done something clever. "What do you think of it, Professor?"

"You managed very well, indeed. With this knowledge, I should feel rather uncomfortable sitting on the porch if I did not know you had taken all the precautions you mentioned. Playing with this hobby must give you considerable satisfaction, Judge."

"Yes, I get a great deal of joy out of it. But come, I am being selfish keeping you away from my other guests. They--"

He did not finish the sentence. He was once more reminded of the terrible pall of threatening gloom hanging over him and his comrades. The men sat in the large living-room chatting for a while. But it was forced. None of them could pretend that he was completely at ease.