Chapter II: Part 2

‘Then he gagged me and tied me to the chair, after which he opened the door, looked cautiously about, came back and, with a quiet “sorry” and a warning, turned and left. As he passed through the door, he unbuttoned his coat and slipped the revolver into his back pocket. The show was just letting out, so I suppose he mingled with the crowd and escaped,’ Taylor concluded.

‘Are you insured against this loss of eight thousand dollars?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Yes.’

‘Could you see the color of the bandit’s hair?’

‘It was blond.’

‘Anything unusual about him?’

‘No. Except that he was constantly clearing his throat in a peculiar manner,’ replied Taylor.

‘Left- or right-handed?’

‘Why—I’m not sure. Right-handed, though, I think.’

‘This has gone far enough, Taylor,’ said Fordney sharply. ‘The robbery was obviously framed by you.’

How did Fordney know Taylor had faked the hold-up?

28
_Accidental Death_

Returning to town late one night, Professor Fordney was driving along an unfrequented road when the sight of a motor-cycle policeman examining a car in a ditch caused him to stop and offer his services. Joining the policeman, he found that a man, obviously the driver, had been thrown through the windshield and was lying about six feet from the car.

His examination disclosed that the man had been terribly cut about the head. The jugular vein was completely severed. The bent steering-wheel, shattered glass, and the blood on the front seat and floor of the car were mute evidence of the tragedy.

Fordney also noted the speedometer had stopped at 62.

A search of the body revealed nothing unusual except that the man wore only one glove. The other could not be found. The Professor was pondering this when the policeman handed him his report of accidental death, saying, ‘Is that how you see it, sir?’

‘I think,’ replied Fordney slowly, ‘you’d better change that to murder. In the absence of any further evidence, it seems to be pretty clearly indicated.’

‘Murder!’ exclaimed the bewildered policeman. ‘I don’t understand how you make that out.’

After explaining his reason and with a final admonition to continue a careful search for the missing glove, the Professor returned to his car and drove down the wide, smooth highway toward home and a good night’s rest.

Fordney’s deduction was confirmed when the missing glove and the murderer were found.

How had he arrived at his startling conclusion?

29
_Easy Money_

‘Mr. Walker hurried into the kitchen,’ said the valet to Professor Fordney, ‘and told me he was called away unexpectedly and that I was to go to his library and take the money he had won last night to the bank.

‘I was busy,’ he continued, ‘but in about five minutes I went through the hall, and, thinking I heard a noise, I stopped and listened at the study door. There was someone moving about. The door was open. As I peered around it, I saw a masked man, gun in hand, hesitating near the fireplace.

‘Then he went over to the table in the center of the room, picked up the stacks of ten- and twenty-dollar bills, and left by the window. I called the police immediately and gave them a description.’

‘Exactly what time was that?’ asked Fordney.

‘Just about ten o’clock, sir.’

‘Had you been in the library before that, this morning?’

‘No, I hadn’t.’

‘Were you in your master’s room today?’

‘No. What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Nothing,’ murmured Fordney, ‘nothing at all! Does your master gamble often?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘How much did he win last night?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘Humph,’ said Fordney, as he pointed to a bill on the floor, ‘the thief dropped one.

‘I see your master has quite a library,’ he continued, glancing around the large, beautifully furnished room. ‘Do you read much, Wilkins?’

‘A bit, sir.’

‘Did you ever read, “Honesty is the best policy”?’

Why did the Professor think Wilkins had robbed his master?

30
_Robbery at High Noon_

‘I wonder who had the nerve to commit such a robbery at high noon,’ mused Professor Fordney as he examined the safe, seventeen minutes after it had been rifled. ‘Same old story: no finger-prints, no evidence.’

‘Found anything?’ asked Lawson nervously as he entered his drawing-room.

‘Not yet. Are you here alone, Lawson?’

‘No. John, my nephew, is staying with me. Everyone else is in town.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘Oh, he left about an hour ago.’

At 3.20 P.M. Fordney noticed Jones, the gardener, working at the edge of a flower-bed. He kept looking furtively at the house while he frantically covered over the hole he had dug. Finishing, he hurriedly walked toward the boat-landing.

Fordney, following, reached the dock just as John guided his motor-boat in.

‘Have a nice day?’ asked Fordney.

‘Yep. Had a grand run up the lakes.’

‘Where were you when your uncle’s safe was robbed?’

‘Boy, I was hauling in a big muskie! What a battle he gave me! See him in the end of the boat? Isn’t he a beauty?’

‘When did you return?’ demanded Fordney of the gardener.

‘I don’t know what time it was,’ he replied nervously, glancing at John.

‘You must have some idea.’

‘Well, it was about noon,’ he reluctantly answered.

‘By the way, John, do you know the combination of your uncle’s safe?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Is that old weasel accusing me?’

‘No, he isn’t. But I’ve got my suspicions!’

Whom did Fordney suspect and why?

31
_The Wrong Foot Forward_

‘The witness says,’ explained the interpreter, ‘that as the car came to a sudden stop the conductor ran to the front and yelled to the motorman, “You’ve done it again."’

The little foreigner on the witness stand looked bewildered and frightened.

‘He further says that there were two sailors on the car and that they jumped off and ran.’

‘Have they been located yet?’ inquired the Judge.

‘No, Your Honor; we’ve been unable to trace them, although the conductor gave a good description,’ replied counsel.

‘Proceed.’

The interpreter continued.

‘Paslovsky, the witness, declares he had a clear view of the plaintiff when he got off. He states that just as the plaintiff put his foot on the ground, with his back to the front of the car, it gave a sudden start and he was thrown to the road.’

‘Can’t the witness understand or speak enough English to tell the court about that?’ asked the Judge.

‘No, Your Honor; he’s been in this country only two weeks.’

‘How can he get about at that hour of night alone, then?’

‘Some friends put him on the car and telephoned the people with whom he lives to meet him at the end of the line,’ replied counsel for the plaintiff.

‘Continue.’

‘Paslovsky,’ declared the interpreter, ‘says he picked up this picture from the floor of the car—a snapshot of a sailor and a girl.’

‘Case dismissed,’ thundered the Judge, ‘and don’t ever bring another like that into this court.’

‘Why was His Honor justified in so abruptly dismissing the suit for
damages?’

asked Professor Fordney of his class in criminology.

32
_Death Attends the Party_

‘He had a big party last night,’ said Graves, the valet.

‘Certainly looks like it,’ retorted Professor Fordney, as he surveyed the crazily balanced glasses, overflowing ash-trays, and liquor rings on the small, fragile antique table at which Carlton Dawes sat.

‘It was awful, sir. Just as I turned to say “good night” to him, he lifted his revolver, fired and toppled over.’

‘Funny,’ mused Fordney. ‘He had everything to live for.’

‘Everything but the thing he wanted,’ replied the valet. ‘Madeline, his former wife, was here last night. He is always despondent after seeing her.’

‘Well, Graves, pretty nice for you, eh? How much did he leave you?’

‘Ten thousand dollars, sir.’

Fordney leaned over to examine the wound in Dawes’s left temple. His head rested on the edge of the table, his right hand on his knee and his left hung lifelessly at his side.

‘Anything been touched since the tragedy?’

‘No, sir.’

Fordney picked up Dawes’s revolver where it had apparently fallen from his hand. After examining it and finding only the dead man’s finger-prints, he laid it on the table. As he did so, Madeline entered the room. She stopped, horrified.

‘What—what—has happened?’

‘Where did you come from?’ demanded Fordney.

‘I’ve been upstairs. I didn’t leave with the guests.’

‘Humph—you should have,’ as he shot her a quizzical look. ‘Your presence may prove embarrassing. Your ex-husband was murdered.’

Madeline slipped to the floor in a dead faint.

What convinced Fordney it was murder?

33
_No Way Out_

On a battered desk in the small, dark room lay a penciled note in handwriting resembling that of the dead man:

Dear John:

You know the trouble I’m in. There’s only one way out and I’m taking
it. You’re my pal and will understand. Good luck.

(Signed) Paul

The only other furniture consisted of the chair in which Paul Morrow had been found with his throat cut, a bed, and a highly ornate and apparently brand-new waste-basket. It had been definitely established that the dead man had not left the room during the twenty-four hours before he was discovered.

Finishing his examination of the contents of the man’s pockets—two twenty-dollar bills, a cheap watch, and an expensive wallet in which there was a picture of a beautiful woman—Fordney turned his attention to the meager inventory of the room.

‘That’s all we can find,’ said Inspector Kelley, indicating a dictionary, scraps of a letter in a feminine handwriting found in the ornate waste-basket, a pen, some cheap stationery, a few clothes, pipe and tobacco, and a bloody, razor-sharp knife. ‘Certainly has all the appearances of suicide,’ he continued. ‘This door was locked and no one could have left by that window. What do you make of it, Fordney?’

The Professor didn’t reply at once. He picked up the photograph, studied it a moment, and then, with a slow, searching look around the small room, said:

‘Better try to piece those bits of letter together. This isn’t suicide; it’s murder.’

‘I believe you’re right,’ exclaimed Kelley, with dawning comprehension.

What brought Fordney to this conclusion?

34
_Midnight Murder_

‘Who are you, and what’s this all about?’ demanded Inspector Kelley, as he and Professor Fordney arrived at the apartment in answer to a call.

‘I’m Jack Day. I share this apartment with Al Quale. I returned from the theater, shortly after midnight, went into his room, and found him lying there on the bed. When I saw he was dead, I called Headquarters at once. God, this is terrible!’

‘Those your things on the bed?’ asked Kelley, indicating a blood-stained muffler, a hat, gloves, and cane.

‘Yes, I tossed them there before I rushed to the telephone. Got that blood on the muffler when I bent over him.’

‘What time did you leave here this evening?’

‘Shortly before seven,’ replied Day.

‘Can you prove you were at the theater all evening?’ demanded Kelley.

‘Why, yes, I went with a friend.’

‘He’s been dead about six hours, Inspector,’ said the police surgeon, finishing his examination at this point. ‘A deep knife wound, below the heart.’

As Fordney picked up an earring from the floor, Day exclaimed: ‘Why, that belongs to his fiancée.’

‘Well, there’ll be no wedding bells for him,’ remarked Kelley, with a start as he discovered that Day’s cane was a sword-stick with a long, thin, shining blade.

‘Any blood, Inspector?’ asked Fordney.

‘None. Clean as a whistle.’

‘Well, Day, looks mighty bad for you,’ stated the Professor. ‘I don’t know yet whether you killed him with that cane, or whether you killed him at all, but I do know you were here a few minutes after he was stabbed.’

How did the Professor know?

35
_Speakeasy Stick-Up_

‘I had counted the cash, and as I was working the combination to open the wall safe I heard this guy in back of me say, “Get ’em up, Bo. This is a stick-up.” I reached for the ceiling as he says, “Make a move and I’ll drill you!” He didn’t sound like he was foolin’, so I kept quiet.

‘Well, he comes over, gives me a prod with his gun, pockets the dough, and asks me where the best liquor is, saying he don’t want no bar whiskey either. I told him and he poured himself a drink.

‘Then he got real sociable-like, but wouldn’t let me take my hands down. He kept on talkin’ and makin’ wise-cracks, but finally got tired, I guess.

‘With a warnin’ that, if I moved before I could count twenty, my wife would be a widow, he beat it,’ concluded Sullivan.

‘How much did he take?’ inquired Professor Fordney, who had entered the speakeasy after hearing the bartender’s call for help.

‘About five hundred dollars,’ Sullivan replied. ‘We had a good day.’

‘Haven’t you a gun here?’

‘Sure, but I didn’t have a chance. I ain’t exactly no boy scout, but this mug was too big and tough-lookin’ for me to tackle.’

‘How did you get that cut on your hand?’ inquired the Professor. ‘And that bruise on your finger?’

‘Opening a case of lemons,’ answered Sullivan.

‘Well,’ said Fordney, ‘if your whiskey isn’t any better than your attempt at a fake hold-up, I’ll have ginger ale.’

You’re right. The bruise had nothing to do with it, but:

How did Fordney know the stick-up was a fake?

36
_Behind Time_

Professor Fordney, on his way to investigate a case of blackmail, was musing on the perversity of human nature when a jar threw him into the aisle as the train came to a sudden stop. Jumping off, he rushed ahead of the engine, where he found a small crowd gathered about the mutilated body of a man hit by the train. He was identified by a card in his pocket as John Nelson, an important figure in railroad labor circles.

‘How did it happen?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Well,’ replied Morton, the engineer, ‘I was running twelve minutes late when I hit him. There are several miles of straight-away along here and I was beating it along at sixty miles trying to make up time. Didn’t see him until we were about ten yards away, right on top of him. I jammed on the brakes, of course, but it was too late.’

‘Did you leave New York on time?’

‘Yes, sir. One-thirty exactly.’

‘Why were you running late?’

‘We were held in a block for about fifteen minutes outside of New Haven.’

‘What was your fireman doing when you hit this man?’

‘Stoking the boiler.’

‘You say it was just a few seconds after four-ten when you hit him?’ demanded the Professor.

‘That’s right,’ agreed Morton.

‘Did you know this man by any chance?’

‘Yes, slightly—he was an officer in my union,’ replied the engineer, with a worried look.

‘Well,’ said Fordney, ‘I don’t know your object in telling such a story, or how you hoped to get away with it—you won’t.’

What justified Fordney in recommending Morton’s arrest?

37
_A Broken Engagement_

‘Peculiar,’ murmured Fordney, as he examined the desk on which lay seven letters ready for mailing, three gray, one lavender, two pink, and one lemon-colored.

As he idly shaped the wax of the candle standing on the desk, he continued to ponder this unusual choice of color in stationery.

One of the letters was addressed to Dot Dalton, who had been murdered between eleven-forty and eleven-fifty. She was one of the guests at this house party in the Adirondacks.

All the letters were closed with black sealing wax stamped with the letter ‘F.’

At midnight, Fordney began his questioning.

‘What time did you retire?’ he asked Molly Fleming, in whose bedroom he was seated.

‘About ten,’ she replied.

‘Was your door locked?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hear any disturbance?’

‘No; I was tired, fell asleep almost immediately, and didn’t awaken until you knocked on my door a few minutes ago and told me of the tragedy.’

‘Why did you write to Dot?’

‘I didn’t see her last night and knew she intended leaving early this morning. Jack Fahey broke our engagement yesterday and told me he was going to marry Dot. My letter was to tell her just how despicable I thought she was in luring him away from me. He didn’t love her. Of course, I’m sorry she’s dead, but a lot of wives will feel safer.’

‘Why the various colors of stationery?’ inquired the Professor.

‘Oh, I always write in a color that seems to reflect the personality of my correspondent.’

‘I see,’ said Fordney; ‘but unless you have a better alibi you’ll be held under serious suspicion.’

Why was the Professor practically certain Molly was involved in this
horrible murder?

38
_The Holden Road Murder_

‘What a night!’ sighed Professor Fordney as he hung up the telephone receiver. Half an hour later, still grumbling, he splashed his way through the mud and rain to the door of 27 Holden Road. Removing his rubbers in the spotless vestibule, he stepped into a large, well-furnished living-room running the entire width of the house. Introducing himself and explaining he would question everyone later, he asked to be left alone.

In the far corner of the room he found a man lying on the floor, his throat cut. As he bent over, his attention was attracted to a dime lying about five feet from the head of the dead man. He picked it up, regarded it curiously, and, with a thoughtful look, put it in his pocket.

The Professor began his questioning with the butler.

‘You found the dead man?’

‘Yes, sir, I was returning from posting a letter about thirty minutes ago and, just as I was coming up the path of the front door, I heard a scream, dashed in, and found Mr. White here gasping his last breath.’

‘Lose a dime?’ inquired Fordney mildly.

‘Why, I don’t think so, sir,’ replied the butler nervously.

‘I heard the scream from upstairs,’ volunteered Cannon, owner of the house, ‘and ran in here right behind Wilkins.’

‘Did either of you leave this room before I arrived?’

‘No,’ replied Cannon; ‘we stayed here until you came.’

‘Did you, Mr. Cannon, lose a dime? No? Well,’ remarked Fordney, ‘it looks like collusion to me and I can tell you Inspector Kelley won’t swallow this story.’

What was wrong with the story?

39
_Fishermen’s Luck_

‘Having these stones in my possession, Professor Fordney, isn’t proof that I had any part in the Morris robbery.’

‘I know all about your story, Holmes. Found the jewels yesterday at three o’clock in the lake, tied up in a chamois bag, didn’t you? But what were you doing out in an open boat in the cloudburst that lasted all yesterday afternoon?’

‘It was because of that cloudburst that I sallied forth,’ explained Holmes confidently. ‘Perfect fishing weather, so I jumped into my boat and went across the lake for some minnows. I had rowed back to within a few yards of shore when I just happened to notice the bag lying on the bottom of the lake, so I landed, tipped my boat over to keep the rain out, and waded in. Curious, you know. The water at that point was over my waist and cold, but when I opened the bag—my courage and curiosity were rewarded.’

‘On which side of the dock did you find it?’ asked Fordney.

Holmes pointed to a spot on the sandy bottom at the left.

‘Think I’ll talk with the minnow man,’ declared the Professor as he got into Holmes’s boat. He rowed furiously for about fifty yards, suddenly dropped the oars and, after glancing from the crystal-clear water to the bottom of the boat, emitted a victorious chuckle.

‘Stupid of me not to have thought of that before,’ he mused. ‘Wonder if Holmes is a better fisherman than he is a liar?’

Clever fellow, Holmes. Did his story fool you?

40
_The Unlucky Elephant_

‘Dead! Bullet-hole in right temple,’ said Sergeant Reynolds, as he knelt by a man lying face down, a revolver clutched in his right hand.

‘All right,’ replied Inspector Kelley. ‘Let’s have a look round. Dressed for the street, eh?’ While speaking, Kelley picked up from the floor several fragments of glass and a right-hand glove, turned inside-out.

‘Look at this glove, Reynolds. What do you make of it? And I wonder if that soiled handkerchief on the table belongs to him?’

‘Gee, Chief,’ said Reynolds, as he turned the body over and unbuttoned the topcoat, ‘this is young Holman, the millionaire.’

The body was immaculately clothed in the finest custom tailoring.

‘Broke his watch, too. Stopped at eight-ten,’ continued the Sergeant, as he removed the timepiece from the vest pocket. ‘Let’s see if those pieces you’ve got are part of the crystal. Yep! And look at this jade elephant at the end of the chain.

‘Bumped himself off, all right, Inspector, but I don’t get that glove business, or that dirty handkerchief either.’

‘We’d better look round and find that other glove,’ said Kelley.

A thorough search failed to disclose it, and while the Inspector was confident it was suicide, he decided to get Professor Fordney’s opinion, because of the prominence of young Holman.

After explaining the situation to the Professor over the telephone, he was puzzled at his reply:

‘I’ll be right around, Inspector. From what you’ve told me, it looks like murder.’

What justified the Professor’s belief that it was probably murder?

41
_The Professor Listens_

‘Why the rush to get back to New York?’ inquired Fordney, a few minutes after Delavin stepped from the plane. ‘Thought you intended spending the summer in Cuba.’

‘Well, if you must know, my bank failed, and I came back to straighten out my affairs.’

‘That’s too bad, Delavin. How did you hear about it?’

He handed Fordney a clipping from the _Jacksonville Herald_:

New York, July 5. (AP)—Foundation Bank & Trust Co., one of New York’s
oldest banking establishments, closed its doors today...

‘Sure you didn’t come back to help your pal Ryan?’ asked the Professor. ‘He’s been in jail for two days. Ever since the Fourth-of-July bombing. Had a letter on him signed by you asking him to get in touch with a C. J. Wallace.

‘We traced Wallace and discovered he is with an ammunition company. When the District Attorney heard you were on your way here, he asked me to meet you. He thinks you know something about the bombing.’

‘In jail, huh? I didn’t know there had been a bombing. Wallace is a cousin of mine.’

‘Where did you catch your plane?’

‘Why—er—Jacksonville, Florida. You see, I was staying at a rather remote place and no planes serve that part of Cuba. Really had no thought of leaving until I read of the bank failure.’

‘Well, you had better think of a more convincing alibi, before the District Attorney questions you.’

‘Oh, I suppose somebody wired him that “Spider” McCoy met the plane when we landed in Norfolk. He’s got nothing on me!’ exclaimed Delavin.

What do you think of Delavin’s actions? Suspicious? Why?

42
_Ten-Fifteen_

Professor Fordney glanced at his desk clock as he picked up the receiver—ten-fifteen.

‘Hello!’ came the agitated voice at the other end. ‘This is Waters. Could you come over right away? Something’s just happened that I’d like to discuss with you. I’d appreciate it.’

‘Well,’ returned the Professor, again glancing dubiously at the clock, ‘if it’s important, I’ll be round. Good-bye.’

Twenty minutes later, he was met at the door by Waters’s secretary who was almost incoherent in his excitement.

‘He’s dead, Professor. Dead—there in the library!’

Fordney hurried to the room and found Waters slumped over his desk with his throat cut.

‘Well, tell me what happened,’ he said to the secretary, as he noted the position of the body, the open window, and the cigar-ash on the rug about six feet from Waters’s chair.

‘I came in about an hour ago, Professor, and went right upstairs to do some work. Twenty-five minutes ago I came down and heard him talking to you as I passed the library on my way to the pantry for a sandwich. I was there about twenty minutes, I imagine, and, as I came back through the hall, I happened to look in here, and there he was. I can’t imagine who did it or how it happened,’ he concluded.

‘Have a cigar,’ offered Fordney.

‘Thanks, I will, Professor. It’ll kind of steady the nerves.’

‘And now,’ said Fordney, ‘suppose you tell me the real truth of this affair.’

Why did he doubt Waters?

43
_Rapid Transit_

‘I was beatin’ along the Boston Post Road, about fifty miles an hour, when I looks around and sees this bird standing on the tail-gate fumbling with the lock on the doors. I stopped as fast as I could, jumped out, and ran round to the back. This mug had hopped off with an armful of furs and climbed into a car that was following. His partner even took a shot at me,’ said Sullivan, whom Professor Fordney was questioning.

‘He must have been a very good judge. He took only the best you carried,’ commented Fordney.

‘Yeah. Guess he was. Fur-stealin’ is a big racket these days.’

‘Why didn’t you report it at the next town instead of waiting until you got back to the office?’

‘Well, I thought the boss wouldn’t want it to get out that the furs of his wealthy customers had been pinched. He’s awful particular about us usin’ our heads.’

‘Where was your helper?’

‘Just after I started out, he said he was feelin’ sick, so I told him to go on home.’

‘Fifty miles an hour is excessive speed for that truck, isn’t it?’ asked Fordney, examining the all-steel doors of the massive, dust-proof moving-van.

‘She’s big, but she’ll do even better than that!’

‘Always wear those gloves when you’re working?’

‘Always,’ laughed the driver. ‘Have to keep me hands dainty, you know.’

‘I thought so,’ retorted Fordney, continuing his close examination of the doors.

‘Come on, Sullivan, take me for a ride in that truck. I know you’re lying.’

How did the Professor know?

44
_The Professor is Disappointed_

‘What’ll I do, Professor,’ implored Vi Cargo, as Fordney examined the ground beneath her bedroom window.

Seven A.M. A fine time to start looking for a thief! Why couldn’t women be more careful of their jewelry!

‘I was restless all night,’ said Vi, as Fordney knelt beside a deep impression of a man’s right shoe.

‘By Jove, I thought we’d found one of your stones,’ he said, pointing to a leaf in the footprint. ‘Look at the sunlight glistening on those raindrops!’

‘It was the shower that awakened me around six,’ chattered Vi. ‘It only lasted about fifteen minutes. I dozed off again and awakened with a start just as a man jumped to the ground, from my bedroom window.’

‘Was that just before you came for me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are are you alone, Vi?’

‘Yes. The servants are in the country.’

‘Then why did you have all your jewels in the house?’

‘I had worn them to Mrs. De Forest’s party.’

‘Do you know anyone who smokes this brand?’ asked Fordney, picking up from the ground an unsmoked cigarette of English manufacture.

‘Yes. Mr. Nelson, who brought me home last night. However, I threw that one there.’

‘The thief chiseled open this window directly under your bedroom.’

‘I wondered how he got in! The doors were all locked.’

‘Come, my dear! Don’t you think you’ve treated the old Professor rather shabbily? You women! I know your jewels are heavily insured and I also know of your bridge debts. Who helped you fake this robbery? Nelson?’

Where is the clue?

45
_A Dramatic Triumph_

A clock softly chimed eight-forty-five as Professor Fordney and Halloway, dramatic critic of the _Times_, finished their after-dinner coffee. They strolled leisurely to the corner and reached the Belmont just in time for the curtain.

As the first act ended, Fordney remarked enthusiastically: ‘Halloway, it’s magnificent! Boswell is certainly our finest dramatic actor. How he held that audience, for forty-five minutes, from the moment the curtain arose! That’s genius!’

The final curtain found him even more enthusiastic in his praise of Boswell’s acting.

Learning next morning of the actor’s murder, he became personally interested.

Sibyl Mortimer had been questioned by the police and quickly dismissed. Her alibi appeared sound. She had an engagement with Boswell last evening, but said he telephoned her shortly after nine breaking it, so the police concerned themselves with his reason for doing so.

A taxi-driver, who drove Boswell and another man from the theater, dropped them at Fifth Avenue and Sixty-Fifth Street at midnight. His description of the man checked with that of Jenks, Boswell’s manager, who was missing. It was learned that his reason for breaking the engagement with Sibyl was to discuss a new contract with Jenks, about which there had been considerable disagreement.

A charred piece of the contract was found in the actor’s fireplace, in front of which he lay. Jenks’s cane and a vanity-case monogrammed ‘S. M.’ were also found in the room.

Acquainted with the facts by Sergeant Reynolds, Fordney replied,

‘I’m afraid you’ve overlooked a valuable clue.’

What was it?

46
_Murder at the Lake_

‘Here’s all we’ve been able to learn, Professor. I wish you’d see what you can make of it,’ said Sheriff Darrow.

‘Garden’s cottage fronts the lake at a point about halfway between the head and foot of its mile length.

‘A strong east wind off the lake that morning caused him and his two guests to abandon their proposed fishing trip. Garden remained behind while Rice and Johnson set off hiking in opposite directions.

‘Rice said that fifteen minutes later, as he was retrieving his hat which had blown into the lake, he heard a shot and hurried to the cottage. There he found Johnson with blood on his hands bending over Garden, who had been shot through the heart.

‘Johnson said he had gone only about two hundred yards when he heard the shot and rushed back. He claims he got the blood on his hands when ascertaining if Garden were alive. He also admits moving some furniture, although cautioned against it by Rice.

‘Fortunately for Rice, we found his hat still wet, but discovered he had changed his shirt before the arrival of the police. He had also gone through Garden’s desk, but said he removed nothing.

‘Both men entered through the back door, though the front entrance was more convenient.

‘We haven’t found a gun or any other weapon and we haven’t been able to establish a motive yet,’ concluded Darrow. ‘What do you make of it?’

‘It’s a bit muddled, Sheriff,’ replied Fordney, ‘but I would question ________ further.’

Of whom was he definitely suspicious—and why?

47
_The Professor Studies a Coat_

‘They covered us with a gun, and when the cashier tried to give an alarm, they shot him. Then they handcuffed me, grabbed five stacks of bills, and beat it.’

‘Calm yourself,’ ordered Fordney, ‘and tell me who “they” are.’

‘Two fellows who robbed the bank just now,’ explained the excited narrator, who had rushed into Fordney’s cottage at Lakeview. ‘I knew you were vacationing in the village, so, as soon as they escaped in their car, I ran over here.’

‘Didn’t you call a doctor for the cashier?’

‘Too late. He must have died instantly.’

‘How do you know the bandits escaped in a car?’

‘I saw them from the window.’

‘Were you and the cashier alone at the time of the shooting?’

‘Yes. I had just made a deposit. I guess they got my money, too.’

Fordney walked over and picked up the overcoat his visitor had removed upon entering the living-room.

‘You seem to have had a little accident. How did you get this?’ he asked, examining a long tear in the front of the coat.

‘Why—I guess I tore it on the door when I rushed out of the bank. I broke a button, too, you’ll notice.’

‘Let’s see your hat!’ demanded Fordney, eyeing his visitor sharply.

‘Why—where is it? I—must have left it in the bank!’

‘Well—let’s go. The police will be interested in your story—and bring that coat with you!’

Why did Fordney suspect this man of complicity in the hold-up?

48
_Too Late_

‘Perhaps you’d better tell me exactly what happened,’ said Professor Fordney kindly to the agitated man.

‘Well,’ continued Palmer, ‘Frank has been despondent and talked of suicide for some time. I thought exercise and the open air would do him good, so I suggested a vacation at my place in the country.

‘We’d been there three days, and he seemed in much better spirits. Then, Thursday morning, after we’d been fishing an hour or so, he said he thought he’d try another stream about a mile away. I was having good luck, so I told him to go ahead and I’d meet him at the cabin later.

‘About eleven o’clock, when I’d caught my limit, I started back. As I neared the cabin, I seemed to have a premonition of trouble, and ran the last few yards. When I opened the door, God! I’ll never forget it! I’d got there not more than five minutes behind him, and yet there he lay—dead! That hideous look on his face! It haunts me! Why couldn’t I have been just a few minutes earlier?

‘A whiskey bottle on the table and the glass which smelled of cyanide told me the story. He’d done it, after all! I’ll never forgive myself,’ Palmer concluded with a sob.

‘Had you any visitors while at camp?’ asked Fordney.

‘No, we hadn’t seen anyone for two days.’

‘Did your friend smoke?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Was the door open or closed when you arrived?’

‘Why, closed.’

‘And the windows?’

‘Closed, too, Professor.’

‘If you’re innocent, Palmer, why are you lying?’ demanded Fordney.

What was the lie?

49
_Sergeant Reynolds’s Theory_

‘Inspector Kelley picks out such nice messy jobs for me.’

Professor Fordney smiled as Reynolds made a wry face.

‘We found him lying against a boulder about ten feet from the bottom of a fifty-foot embankment of solid rock. While there were no traces of the path of his fall, the concrete road directly above him was stained with blood. I don’t know why people insist on walking along the highway.

‘That’s such a bad curve right there. I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out who struck him. And then, it’s possible for someone to have hit him without knowing it. And I believe the car that did stopped and the driver seeing how badly he was hurt, in fear, drove on.’

‘What makes you think that, Reynolds?’

‘There are tracks of a car skidding along the shoulder of the road, and footprints in the blood where the fellow dropped on the pavement. I suppose the poor old man regained consciousness, staggered to his feet, and rolled down the embankment. That finished him. Ugh—it was a messy affair!’

‘Who is he?’

‘We’re not sure. The only identification was a small scrap of paper in his pocket with the name Tabor. By a queer coincidence there was a large T deeply cut in the blood-stained boulder which stopped his fall.’

‘No doubt, Sergeant, the murderers intended you should take exactly the inference you have, but don’t you see t____ w__ n_ b____ b______ t__ r___ a__ t__ b______?’

What did the Professor tell Reynolds?

50
_Daylight Robbery_

‘I went to the office Thursday to do some work,’ Shaeffer related.

‘About noon, I happened to look out the window and notice a black sedan draw up and two tough-looking fellows get out. They looked suspicious to me, and, as I wasn’t armed, I hastily banged the safe door closed and ran into the washroom—not a bit too soon either. In just a few seconds they came in, one carrying a sawed-off shotgun. I could see them plainly.

‘They looked around for a moment and one said, “If anybody comes in here before we’re through, give it to him.”

‘He then went over to the safe and, after working on it for about five minutes, had it open and took the money. They certainly had a lot of nerve. Even stopped to count it! Then they leisurely strolled out the door. I called Headquarters immediately.’

‘How much did they get?’ questioned Inspector Kelley.

‘Over fifteen thousand. We hadn’t banked the money from the day before because Thursday was a holiday.’

‘Get the number of the car?’

‘No. When it drove up to the office, I didn’t see a license plate on the front, and I couldn’t see the back. When I finished telephoning for the police, it had gone.’

‘Was there anyone at the office besides you?’

‘I was alone. A man telephoned an hour before, however, and asked if we were open. I told him no, but I’d be there until about two-thirty. He hung up without answering.’

‘Well, fellows,’ asked Professor Fordney, of the members of his class in
criminology, to whom he was telling the story, ‘why did Inspector
Kelley immediately arrest Shaeffer?’

51
_A Simple Solution_

The sun streamed cheerfully through the window, bringing into lively play the soft tones of the luxurious furnishings, as the two house guests, Professor Fordney and Inspector Kelley, entered the oil magnate’s bedroom.

‘Nothing in here to get excited about,’ said Kelley.

Fordney, opening the window and seeing Smith lying on the ground three stories below it, cried, ‘Run downstairs, Inspector. Quick! There he is!’

Kelley nodded, and was on his way. As he hurried out the door, he came face to face with the butler. Fordney eyed the servant suspiciously as he entered.

‘When did you see Mr. Smith last?’ he asked.

‘About an hour ago. He had a telephone call which seemed to excite him and he came right up here to his room.’

‘Who brought this up?’ Fordney asked, fingering an unopened letter with an illegible postmark.

‘He brought it up himself, sir, saying he was not to be disturbed.’

‘Anyone been here since?’

Kelley’s noisy entrance interrupted the butler’s ‘No, sir.’

‘Smith broke his neck. I found this on him,’ he remarked, handing the Professor a note.

Ill health and financial trouble have made life a burden. I’m leaving
my bedroom for the last time. A three-story drop and my misery will be
over.

Smith

‘His suicide will be a blow to the oil industry,’ Kelley mused, as Fordney sat down at the desk and began to write with Smith’s fountain pen.

‘His _death_ will be, Inspector,’ said Fordney. ‘Better get the servants together. This is murder—not suicide!’

What reason did Fordney have for making such a statement?

52
_Who?_

‘I was trying to stop the flow with this, Professor,’ said Weeds, the butler, indicating a blood-covered towel he had just removed from the bed, ‘when Jones struck at me and I dropped it.’

‘And I’m sorry I missed!’ angrily exclaimed Jones, the colored chauffeur.

‘Never mind that,’ said Inspector Kelley.

‘Did you find her, Weeds?’ asked Professor Fordney.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘She’s a good-looking mulatto,’ remarked Kelley, looking at the maid lying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her right hand outstretched, the wrist deeply cut, rested in a pool of blood on the polished floor. ‘Must have slipped off the bed.’

‘I don’t think so. The spread hasn’t a wrinkle in it,’ said Fordney, noting the immaculate coverlet of pink lace, the edge caught under the girl’s body.

‘She was almost gone when I found her,’ offered Weeds, ‘and she died before I could get a doctor.’

‘Is this yours, Jones?’ inquired Fordney, picking up a sharp knife hidden by the girl’s dress.

‘Yes. She wanted it to cut the stems of the flowers I had brought up.’

‘I didn’t see that knife when I tried to help her,’ said Weeds.

‘Course you didn’t! You put it there!’ shouted Jones angrily.

‘How do you know? You weren’t here. And what’s more, I heard you threaten her last night. You don’t see any flowers here, do you, Inspector?’ quietly asked Weeds.

‘You’re right,’ said Kelley. After whispering to Fordney, he continued, ‘Come on, _you’re_ under arrest. And _you_, we’ll question you later!’

Whom did Kelley arrest—and why?

53
_Murder in the Swamp_

‘We’d better walk along the edge,’ said Professor Fordney, as they started down the only path leading through the swamp.

‘I never thought of that. I was on the porch when Barton left,’ said Bob, as he trudged along. ‘Ten minutes later, I heard a shot. I ran down the path and found him about five hundred yards from the house, bleeding terribly from a wound in the head. I dashed back for the first-aid kit and bandaged him as best I could. He died shortly afterwards. Then I returned and telephoned you.’

Reaching the body of Barton, he explained, ‘I turned him over so that I could dress his head.’

‘He must have been shot from over there, because those three sets of footprints are yours and the other one Barton’s,’ said Fordney, after a careful examination. ‘Let’s look in that underbrush.’

Walking into it a few yards, he said, ‘Here’s where the murderer stood, all right. See those powder-marks on the leaves?’

While removing the branch, Fordney cut his finger.

‘Better sterilize that, Professor.’

Back at the cottage, as he was about to pick up a mercurochrome bottle from the kit Bob had used, he observed a spot of blood on the label. Walking over to the basin, he saw Bob in the mirror above it, furtively slip a pair of scissors into the kit.

Turning slowly around, he said, ‘I’ll have to hold you on suspicion of murder.’

Why?

54
_Death by Drowning_

‘We were just getting into our boat,’ said the elder Carroll brother, ‘when we happened to notice Ridge out there in the middle of the river, opposite Wolf’s old abandoned dock, acting very queerly. He jumped up and down in the boat, and then, all of a sudden, grabbed an oar, threw it up in the air, and jumped in.

‘We rowed to the spot, and I dived after him while my brother secured his boat. The current’s fast there, but I’m a strong swimmer. I swam around while my brother rowed about, but we could find no trace of him,’ he concluded.

‘We found the oar all right, in the weeds at Wolf’s dock,’ interjected Riley, of the River Patrol.

‘How wide is the river at that point?’ asked Professor Fordney.

‘About half a mile,’ said Carroll.

‘Pretty lonely, too, isn’t it?’

‘It is that,’ replied Riley.

‘The coroner’s report says Ridge had received a blow of some kind on the chin. Know anything about it, Carroll?’ inquired Fordney.

‘No, I don’t. Might have hit a rock or the side of the boat when he went over.’

‘Were you up or down river, from Ridge?’

‘Up river, about three hundred yards, on the west side.’

‘Did you and your brother have on bathing-suits at the time?’

‘I did, but my brother didn’t.’

‘Are there any blood-stains in Ridge’s boat, Riley?’

‘Well, there are stains all right, and they look like blood to me.’

‘I’m not surprised. Hold them both.’

Why was the Professor suspicious of the Carroll brothers?

55
_Tragedy at the Convention_

The Convention was in an uproar! The Drys were making a determined stand and showing some unexpected last-minute strength.

The Wets were shouting, clamoring, and stamping. The Chairman was vainly trying to restore order amid a scene of wild confusion.

As the excitement reached its pitch, Hurlenson, a powerful leader of the Wets, told a companion seated next to him that he felt a heart attack coming on and was going back to the hotel.

An hour later, the Convention was stunned to learn he had committed suicide in his room.

Professor Fordney, a guest at the Convention, went immediately to the hotel.

In Hurlenson’s room he found the police, the doctor, and Pollert, an influential delegate, who had discovered him.

‘The last time I saw Hurlenson was at the party last night, and he seemed in excellent spirits,’ said Pollert. ‘I arose late this morning—my room’s down at the other end of the corridor—and I was just leaving for the Convention hall when I heard a shot. I dashed directly here, but it was too late. He must have died immediately.’

‘He did,’ said the doctor. ‘He apparently stood in front of the mirror, took aim, and blew out his brains. There are powder-burns all around the wound.’

Learning that none of the maids or any of the other guests were on the floor at the time, Fordney advised the police to hold Pollert on suspicion of murder.

Why?

56
_A Murderer’s Mistake_

‘Look, Professor! That’s how the murderer got in, all right,’ said Tracy.

As Fordney walked over to the ladder standing two feet from the back of the house, he knelt down and carefully studied the heavy footprints around it.

‘Whose room is that?’ he inquired, pointing to a second-story window against which the top of the thirty-foot ladder rested.

‘That’s Uncle’s study,’ replied Tracy.

Going into the house, Fordney first questioned Withers, who had discovered the body of Lane, Tracy’s uncle.

‘I was reading in my room,’ he said. ‘About two o’clock I heard a noise, so I armed myself and crept out into the hall. Then I heard it again, apparently in the study, so I stole down the corridor, opened the door, and rushed in. I turned on the lights, ran over to the open window, looked out, and saw a man scurry down the ladder, jump off, and run. I fired twice, but evidently missed him,’ he concluded.

‘Were you home all evening, Mr. Tracy?’

‘No. I had just put up the car when I heard the shots and saw a figure dash around the house.’

‘I’ll take a look at your car later, Tracy.

‘Withers, show me exactly how you found Lane before you lifted him to the divan.’

As Withers righted an overturned chair, fitted its legs carefully to four impressions in the rug at the right of a smoking-stand, sat down, and slumped over to the left, Fordney said, ‘That’s enough. Which one of you killed him?’

Why did Fordney make this startling accusation?

57
_Babe Comes Through_

‘Strike two!’ shouted Umpire Starlen.

‘Kill the Umpire! You big bum! Thief!’

Professor Fordney turned in his place directly behind the plate to look at the excited man in the next box, waving an empty pop-bottle. He smiled. Couldn’t blame a chap for getting excited. Starlen did seem to be calling them wrong today. That last one _was_ wide!

What a ball game! Six to three in favor of Philadelphia, last half of the ninth, three on, two out, and three and two on the mighty Babe. The crowd was on its feet, yelling and stamping.

The excited pitcher delivered the next throw quickly. Just as Babe connected with it for a home run a bottle hurtled through the air with terrific force and caught Starlen on the back of the head. He went down like a shot.

Pandemonium broke loose. Women screamed, and a panic was threatened.

‘That’s him! That’s him!’ shouted several people, as a policeman ran down the ramp and grabbed the man who had attracted Fordney’s attention.

‘Tryin’ to get away, are you?’ bellowed the cop.

‘I didn’t do it! Let go of me!’ he cried, as the officer dragged him to the office.

Fordney followed. ‘May I ask a few questions?’ he inquired.

‘Let’s see your score card, young man. H’m, why didn’t you record that last hit? Everything else is here.’

‘Why, I was running at the time. I had an engagement.’

‘I see,’ said Fordney. ‘Officer, you have the wrong man. He didn’t do it.’

How did Fordney know?

58
_A Soldier of Fortune_

‘You’ll find Walter Briggs interesting, Fordney. He’s been all over the world,’ said Attorney Hamilton over the telephone. ‘He’s turned up after two years, claiming his uncle’s fortune. Better dine with us tonight.’

‘Thanks, I’ll be glad to. See you at eight.’

As the three men sat around the dinner-table, Fordney remarked: ‘You’re a fortunate chap, Briggs. What have you been doing in the thirty-two years you have been away from America?’

‘Well, lots of things. Mr. Hamilton, no doubt, told you I went to the Congo with Father when I was three. When he died, I attended school in England. Then I traveled for a while; did a bit of tiger-shooting in Africa, killed elephants in India, and became an ivory-trader, roaming over the Orient four or five years. I finally drifted into Russia, where I was a technical advisor to the Soviet.’

‘What a jolly life you’ve had, Briggs!’

‘Not altogether, Professor. I was in Manchuria, where life was anything but jolly. And then, being in sympathy with the Chinese, I took an active part in the Sino-Japanese War. It was in China I learned of my uncle’s death, so I came to New York immediately.’

‘Are you remaining here?’ asked Hamilton.

‘No. Me for Paris as soon as things are settled.’

After a pleasant evening, the three men parted. Reaching home, Fordney hesitated about telephoning Hamilton. After all, it _was_ his duty to advise him to check Briggs’s story carefully before turning over the inheritance. As for him, he was frankly skeptical!

Are you? Why?

59
_Number Twenty-Six_

‘You fellows _must_ remember that more often than otherwise the little, seemingly inconsequential trifles, placed together, lead to the solution of crime. Never take anything for granted; examine thoroughly what appear to be the most unimportant details. You didn’t do so well with your last lesson,’ said Professor Fordney, addressing his class. ‘Now try your wits at this one.

‘“I know it sounds fishy, Inspector,”’ continued he, reading from a paper, ‘“but I was walkin’ along Sixteenth Street mindin’ my business. When I gets in front of number 26 I hears a dame scream ‘Help! Murder!’ so I dashed up the steps to the house, pushed open the door, and rushed in. As I was halfway through the hall, a big guy steps out of a room and says, ‘Ah, there, Mr. Farrell, just in time!’ I asks him what’s goin’ on, and just then three coppers came in and takes me, this guy, and a woman, in. Neither one of them would talk to me on the way, so I don’t know what it’s all about.”

‘“I’m going around myself,” replied the Inspector. “I’ll talk with you when I get back.”

‘As Kelley turned the knob at number 26, the door was violently pushed open in his face.

‘“Sorry,” said Detective Bradford. “Just going back to Headquarters. Found plenty of dope all right. Here’s something you’ll be interested in,” showing Kelley a man’s hat initialed “D.F.” “There are three packets of cocaine under the sweatband.”

‘This story, of course, is fictitious,’ said Fordney, putting down the paper, ‘but it illustrates my point. There’s just one, small, unimportant detail that’s wrong. To repeat, you _must learn_ to detect inconsistencies quickly, however insignificant. Quickly, now!’

Do _you_ get it?

In the next few anecdotes you will see the Professor at work and at play, on cases both serious and amusing, involving pure deduction.

As in the preceding cases, however, every fact, with the clue necessary to the solution, is given. There is only one right and logical answer to each—to be deduced from the evidence presented.

Time yourself; see how long it takes _you_ to deduce the answer. And then, after you have solved or missed them, try them on your friends. They make a fascinating game—and there are lots of people who don’t play bridge.

60
_The Pullman Car Murder_

‘Tell your story to Professor Fordney,’ said the superintendent, introducing the conductor.

‘Well,’ said Jackson, ‘last night just after we left Albany, lower eight let out a terrifying shriek. I was standing at one end of the car, the maid, porter, and brakeman at the other end. We met at the berth as Briggs was gasping his last from a knife wound in the heart. I immediately had both doors of the car guarded as well as the doors to the washrooms. Every berth was occupied, and by this time the passengers were milling around in the aisle.

‘I began to look for the missing knife with which Briggs had been killed. Every passenger, even the maid, brakeman, and porter, every inch of the car and all baggage, were searched, but still we failed to find it.

‘The window-sills were covered with freshly fallen snow and an examination proved that none of them had been opened. No one had left the car and no one had entered either washroom. I knew the knife must be in the car—but where?

‘Washington, our old Negro porter, really discovered the murderer’s identity by “scrutinizin’ ’em all.”

‘I know your reputation, Professor, so you will probably have little difficulty in determining how Washington located the assassin, but I’ll bet you can’t tell me where I found the knife.’

Jackson’s face fell as Fordney quickly replied, ‘As there was only one possible place it could have been, you found it....’

How long did it take _you_ to discover the knife?

61
_Forgery_