“What about the hallboy’s original story?” asked Markham.
“That’s the best part of it. Leacock had the boy fixed. Gave him money to swear he hadn’t left the house that night. What do you think of that, Mr. Markham? Pretty crude—huh?… The kid loosened up when I told him I was thinking of sending him up the river for doing the job himself.” Heath laughed unpleasantly. “And he won’t spill anything to Leacock, either.”
Markham nodded his head slowly.
“What you tell me, Sergeant, bears out certain conclusions I arrived at when I talked to Captain Leacock this morning. Ben put a man on him when he left here, and I’m to get a report tonight. Tomorrow may see this thing through. I’ll get in touch with you in the morning, and if anything’s to be done, you understand, you’ll have the handling of it.”
When Heath had left us, Markham folded his hands behind his head and leaned back contentedly.
“I think I’ve got the answer,” he said. “The girl dined with Benson and returned to his house afterward. The captain, suspecting the fact, went out, found her there, and shot Benson. That would account not only for her gloves and handbag but for the hour it took her to go from the Marseilles to her home. It would also account for her attitude here Saturday and for the captain’s lying about the gun.… There. I believe, I have my case. The smashing of the captain’s alibi about clinches it.”
“Oh, quite,” said Vance airily. “‘Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.’”
Markham regarded him a moment. “Have you entirely forsworn human reason as a means of reaching a decision? Here we have an admitted threat, a motive, the time, the place, the opportunity, the conduct, and the criminal agent.”
“Those words sound strangely familiar,” Vance smiled. “Didn’t most of ’em fit the young lady also?… And you really haven’t got the criminal agent, y’ know. But it’s no doubt floating about the city somewhere. A mere detail, however.”
“I may not have it in my hand,” Markham countered. “But with a good man on watch every minute, Leacock won’t find much opportunity of disposing of the weapon.”
Vance shrugged indifferently.
“In any event, go easy,” he admonished. “My humble opinion is that you’ve merely unearthed a conspiracy.”
“Conspiracy?… Good Lord! What kind?”
“A conspiracy of circumst’nces, don’t y’ know.”
“I’m glad, at any rate, it hasn’t to do with international politics,” returned Markham good-naturedly.
He glanced at the clock. “You won’t mind if I get to work? I’ve a dozen things to attend to and a couple of committees to see.… Why don’t you go across the hall and have a talk with Ben Hanlon and then come back at twelve thirty? We’ll have lunch together at the Bankers’ Club. Ben’s our greatest expert on foreign extradition and has spent most of his life chasing about the world after fugitives from justice. He’ll spin you some good yarns.”
“How perfectly fascinatin’!” exclaimed Vance, with a yawn. But instead of taking the suggestion, he walked to the window and lit a cigarette. He stood for a while puffing at it, rolling it between his fingers, and inspecting it critically.
“Y’know, Markham,” he observed, “everything’s going to pot these days. It’s this silly democracy. Even the nobility is degen’rating. These Régie cigarettes, now; they’ve fallen off frightfully. There was a time when no self-respecting potentate would have smoked such inferior tobacco.”
Markham smiled. “What’s the favor you want to ask?”
“Favor? What has that to do with the decay of Europe’s aristocracy?”
“I’ve noticed that whenever you want to ask a favor which you consider questionable etiquette, you begin with a denunciation of royalty.”
“Observin’ fella,” commented Vance dryly. Then he, too, smiled. “Do you mind if I invite Colonel Ostrander along to lunch?”
Markham gave him a sharp look. “Bigsby Ostrander, you mean?… Is he the mysterious colonel you’ve been asking people about for the past two days?”
“That’s the lad. Pompous ass and that sort of thing. Might prove a bit edifyin’, though. He’s the papa of Benson’s crowd, so to speak; knows all parties. Regular old scandalmonger.”
“Have him along, by all means,” agreed Markham. Then he picked up the telephone. “Now I’m going to tell Ben you’re coming over for an hour or so.”
1 As a matter of fact, the same watercolors that Vance obtained for $250 and $300 were bringing three times as much four years later.
2 I am thinking particularly of Bronzino’s portraits of Pietro de’ Medici and Cosimo de’ Medici, in the National Gallery, and of Vasari’s medallion portrait of Lorenzo de’ Medici in the Vecchio Palazzo, Florence.
3 Once when Vance was suffering from sinusitis, he had an X-ray photograph of his head made; and the accompanying chart described him as a “marked dolichocephalic” and a “disharmonious Nordic.” It also contained the following data:—cephalic index 75; nose, leptorhine, with an index of 48; facial angle, 85º; vertical index, 72; upper facial index, 54; interpupilary width, 67; chin, masognathous, with an index of 103; sella turcica, abnormally large.
4 “Culture,” Vance said to me shortly after I had met him, “is polyglot; and the knowledge of many tongues is essential to an understanding of the world’s intellectual and aesthetic achievements. Especially are the Greek and Latin classics vitiated by translation.” I quote the remark here because his omnivorous reading in languages other than English, coupled with his amazingly retentive memory, had a tendency to affect his own speech. And while it may appear to some that his speech was at times pedantic, I have tried, throughout these chronicles to quote him literally, in the hope of presenting a portrait of the man as he was.
5 The book was O. Henry’s Strictly Business, and the place at which it was being held open was, curiously enough, the story entitled “A Municipal Report.”
6 Inspector Moran (as I learned later) had once been the president of a large upstate bank that had failed during the panic of 1907, and during the Gaynor Administration had been seriously considered for the post of Police Commissioner.
7 Vance’s eyes were slightly bifocal. His right eye was 1.2 astigmatic, whereas his left eye was practically normal.
8 Even the famous Elwell case, which came several years later and bore certain points of similarity to the Benson case, created no greater sensation, despite the fact that Elwell was more widely known than Benson, and the persons involved were more prominent socially. Indeed, the Benson case was referred to several times in descriptions of the Elwell case; and one anti-administration paper regretted editorially that John F.-X. Markham was no longer district attorney of New York.
9 Vance, who had lived many years in England, frequently said “ain’t”—a contraction which is regarded there more leniently than in this country. He also pronounced ate as if it were spelled et; and I can not remember his ever