asked Jessup about his feelings for Odell; and Jessup turned red and got nervous.”
“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Vance. “Am I to be made responsible for any part of this priceless lunacy? . . . True, I pried into the chap’s emotions toward the lady; but that was before anything had come to light. I was bein’ careful—tryin’ to test each possibility as it arose.”
“Well, that was a lucky question of yours, just the same.” Heath turned back to Markham. “As I see it: Jessup was stuck on Odell, and she told him to trot along and sell his papers. He got all worked up over it, sitting there night after night, seeing these other guys calling on her. Then Skeel comes along, and, recognizing him, suggests burglarizing Odell’s apartment. Skeel can’t do the job without help, for he has to pass the phone operator coming and going; and as he’s been there before, he’d be recognized. Jessup sees a chance of getting even with Odell and putting the blame on some one else; so the two of ’em cook up the job for Monday night. When Odell goes out Jessup unlocks the side door, and the Dude lets himself into the apartment with his own key. Then Odell and Spotswoode arrive unexpectedly. Skeel hides in the closet, and after Spotswoode has gone, he accidentally makes a noise, and Odell screams. He steps out, and when she sees who he is, she tells Spotswoode it’s a mistake. Jessup now knows Skeel has been discovered, and decides to make use of the fact. Soon after Spotswoode has gone, he enters the apartment with a pass-key. Skeel, thinking it’s somebody else, hides again in the closet; and then Jessup grabs the girl and strangles her, intending to let Skeel get the credit for it. But Skeel comes out of hiding and they talk it over. Finally they come to an agreement, and proceed with their original plan to loot the place. Jessup tries to open the jewel-case with the poker, and Skeel finishes the job with his chisel. They then go out. Skeel leaves by the side door, and Jessup rebolts it. The next day Skeel hands the swag to Jessup to keep till things blow over; and Jessup gets scared and throws it away. Then they have a row. Skeel decides to tell everything, so he can get out from under; and Jessup, suspecting he’s going to do it, goes round to his house Saturday night and strangles him like he did Odell.”
Heath made a gesture of finality and sank back in his chair.
“Clever—deuced clever,” murmured Vance. “Sergeant, I apologize for my little outburst a moment ago. Your logic is irreproachable. You’ve reconstructed the crime beautifully. You’ve solved the case. . . . It’s wonderful—simply wonderful. But it’s wrong.”
“It’s right enough to send Mr. Jessup to the chair.”
“That’s the terrible thing about logic,” said Vance. “It so often leads one irresistibly to a false conclusion.”
He stood up and walked across the room and back, his hands in his coat-pockets. When he came abreast of Heath he halted.
“I say, Sergeant; if somebody else could have unlocked that side door, and then rebolted it again after the crime, you’d be willing to admit that it would weaken your case against Jessup—eh, what?”
Heath was in a generous mood.
“Sure. Show me some one else who coulda done that, and I’ll admit that maybe I’m wrong.”
“Skeel could have done it, Sergeant. And he did do it—without any one knowing it.”
“Skeel!—This ain’t the age of miracles, Mr. Vance.”
Vance swung about and faced Markham.
“Listen! I’m telling you Jessup’s innocent.” He spoke with a fervor that amazed me. “And I’m going to prove it to you—some way. My theory is pretty complete; it’s deficient only in one or two small points; and, I’ll confess, I haven’t yet been able to put a name to the culprit. But it’s the right theory, Markham, and it’s diametrically opposed to the Sergeant’s. Therefore, you’ve got to give me an opportunity to demonstrate it before you proceed against Jessup. Now, I can’t demonstrate it here; so you and Heath must come with me to the Odell house. It won’t take over an hour. But if it took a week, you’d have to come just the same.”
He stepped nearer to the desk.
“I know that it was Skeel, and not Jessup, who unbolted that door before the crime, and rebolted it afterward.”
Markham was impressed.
“You know this—you know it for a fact?”
“Yes! And I know how he did it!”
CHAPTER XXV
VANCE DEMONSTRATES
(Monday, September 17; 11.30 a. m.)
Half an hour later we entered the little apartment-house in 71st Street. Despite the plausibility of Heath’s case against Jessup, Markham was not entirely satisfied with the arrest; and Vance’s attitude had sown further seeds of doubt in his mind. The strongest point against Jessup was that relating to the bolting and unbolting of the side door; and when Vance had asserted that he was able to demonstrate how Skeel could have manipulated his own entrance and exit, Markham, though only partly convinced, had agreed to accompany him. Heath, too, was interested, and, though supercilious, had expressed a willingness to go along.
Spively, scintillant in his chocolate-colored suit, was at the switchboard, and stared at us apprehensively. But when Vance suggested pleasantly that he take a ten-minute walk round the block, he appeared greatly relieved, and lost no time in complying.
The officer on guard outside of the Odell apartment came forward and saluted.
“How goes it?” asked Heath. “Any visitors?”
“Only one—a toff who said he’d known the Canary and wanted to see the apartment. I told him to get an order from you or the District Attorney.”
“That was correct, officer,” said Markham; then, turning to Vance: “Probably Spotswoode—poor devil.”
“Quite,” murmured Vance. “So persistent! Rosemary and all that. . . . Touchin’.”
Heath told the officer to go for a half-hour’s stroll; and we were left alone.
“And now, Sergeant,” said Vance cheerfully, “I’m sure you know how to operate a switchboard. Be so kind as to act as Spively’s understudy for a few minutes—there’s a good fellow. . . . But, first, please bolt the side door—and be sure that you bolt it securely, just as it was on the fatal night.”
Heath grinned good-naturedly.
“Sure thing.” He put his forefinger to his lips mysteriously, and, crouching, tiptoed down the hall like a burlesque detective in a farce. After a few moments he came tiptoeing back to the switchboard, his finger still on his lips. Then, glancing surreptitiously about him with globular eyes, he put his mouth to Vance’s ear.
“His-s-s-t!” he whispered. “The door’s bolted. G-r-r-r. . . .” He sat down at the switchboard. “When does the curtain go up, Mr. Vance?”
“It’s up, Sergeant.” Vance fell in with Heath’s jocular mood. “Behold! The hour is half past nine on Monday night. You are Spively—not nearly so elegant; and you forgot the moustache—but still Spively. And I am the bedizened Skeel. For the sake of realism, please try to imagine me in chamois gloves and a pleated silk shirt. Mr. Markham and Mr. Van Dine here represent ‘the many-headed monster of the pit.'—And, by the bye, Sergeant, let me have the key to the Odell apartment: Skeel had one, don’t y’ know.”
Heath produced the key and handed it over, still grinning.
“A word of stage-direction,” Vance continued. “When I have departed by the front door, you are to wait exactly three minutes, and then knock at the late Canary’s apartment.”
He sauntered to the front door and, turning, walked back toward the switchboard. Markham and I stood