Philo Vance 12 Novels Complete Bundle

by S. S. Van Dine

  "But I see the Sergeant's point," Markham put in. "We don't know that the opium can was in Salveter's room."

  "Oh, don't we, now?" Vance turned toward the hall. "Hani!"

  The Egyptian opened the sliding door.

  "I say;"--Vance looked straight into the man's eyes--"I'm dashed admirin' of your deceptive attitude, but we could bear some facts for a change.--Where did you find the opium tin?"

  "Effendi, there is no longer any need for dissimulation. You are a man of profound wisdom, and I trust you. The tin was hidden in Mr. Salveter's room."

  "Thanks awfully." Vance was almost brusque. "And now return to the hall."

  Hani went out and softly closed the door.

  "And by not going down to breakfast yesterday morning," Vance continued, "Bliss knew that his wife and Salveter would be in the breakfast-room alone, and that Salveter might easily have put the opium in the coffee. . . ."

  "But," asked Markham, "if you knew Bliss put the opium in his own coffee, why all the interest in the samovar?"

  "I had to be sure who it was Bliss's plot was aimed at. He was trying to make it appear that he was the victim of the plot; and since his object was to involve some one else, I knew the real victim would have had to have access to the coffee yesterday morning."

  Heath nodded ponderously.

  "That's easy enough. The old boy was pretending some one had fed him knock-out drops, but if the bird he was aiming at couldn't have fed him the drops, his plot would have gone blooey. . . . But look here, Mr. Vance;"--he suddenly remembered something--"what was the idea of the doc's trying to escape?"

  "It was a perfectly logical result of what had gone before," Vance explained. "After we had refused to arrest him, he began to worry. Y' see, he yearned to be arrested; and we disappointed him frightfully. Sittin' in his room, he got to planning. How could he make us re-order his arrest and thus give him the chance to point out all the evidences of Salveter's heinous plot against him? He decided to attempt an escape. That gesture, he figured, would surely revive suspicion against him. So he simply went out, drew his money openly from the bank, taxied to the Grand Central Station, asked loudly about trains to Montreal, and then stood conspicuously by the gate waiting for the train. . . . He knew that Guilfoyle was following him; for, had he really intended making his escape, you may rest assured Guilfoyle would never have traced him. You, Sergeant, accepted Bliss's action at its face value; and I was afraid that his silly disappearance would produce the very result he intended--namely, his re-arrest. That was why I argued against it so passionately."

  Vance leaned back but did not relax. There was a rigid alertness in his attitude.

  "And because you did not manacle him, Sergeant," he continued, "he was forced to take a further step. He had to build up a case against Salveter. So he staged the drama with the dagger. He deliberately sent Salveter to the study to get a memorandum-book in the desk--where the dagger was kept. . . ."

  "And the sheath!" exclaimed Markham.

  "Oh, quite. That was the real clew against Salveter. Having put the sheath in Salveter's room, Bliss suggested to us that we might find the would-be assassin by locating the sheath. I knew where it was the moment he so helpfully mentioned it; so I gave Hani a chance to lie about it. . . ."

  "You mean Hani didn't find the sheath in the hall?"

  "Of course not."

  Vance again called Hani from the hall.

  "Where did you find the sheath of the royal dagger?" he asked.

  Hani answered without a moment's hestitation.

  "In Mr. Salveter's room, effendi--as you well know."

  Vance nodded.

  "And by the by, Hani, has any one approached this door to-night?"

  "No, effendi. The doctor is still in his study."

  Vance dismissed him with a gesture, and went on:

  "Y' see, Markham, Bliss put the sheath in Salveter's room, and then threw the dagger into the headboard of his bed. He phoned me and, when we arrived, told an elaborate but plausible tale of having been assaulted by an inconnu."

  "He was a damn good actor," Heath commented.

  "Yes--in the main. But there was one psychological point he overlooked. If he had actually been the victim of a murderous attack he would not have gone down-stairs alone in the dark to phone me. He would have first roused the house."*

  * It will be recalled in the Greene murder case the murderer, pretending to be frightened at the sinister danger lurking in the dim corridors of the old Greene mansion, made a similar error in psychological judgment by descending to the pantry in the middle of the night for no other reason than to gratify a mild appetite for food.

  "That's reasonable." Markham had become impatient. "But you said something about the picture not being complete--"

  "The letter!" Vance sat up and threw away his cigarette. "That was the missing factor. I couldn't understand why the forged hieroglyphic letter didn't show up last night,--it was the perfect opportunity. But it was nowhere in evidence; and that's what troubled me. . . . However, when I found Scarlett working in the museum, I understood. The doctor, I'm convinced, intended to plant the forged letter--which he had placed temporarily in the desk-table drawer--in Meryt-Amen's room or some place where we'd find it. But when he looked into the museum through the study door he saw Scarlett at work at the desk-table. So he let the letter go, reserving it for future use--in case we didn't arrest Salveter after the dagger episode. And when I deliberately avoided the clews he had prepared against Salveter, I knew the letter would appear very soon. I was afraid Scarlett might in some way block Bliss's scheme, so I warned him to keep away from the house. I don't know what more I could have done."

  "Nor I." Markham's tone was consoling. "Scarlett should have followed your advice."

  "But he didn't." Vance sighed regretfully.

  "You think, then, that Scarlett suspected the truth?"

  "Undoubtedly. And he suspected it early in the game. But he wasn't sure enough to speak out. He was afraid he might be doing the doctor an injustice; and, being an English gentleman, he kept silent. My belief is, he got to worrying about the situation and finally went to Bliss--"

  "But something must have convinced him."

  "The dagger, Markham. Bliss made a grave error in that regard. Scarlett and Bliss were the only two persons who knew about that smuggled weapon. And when I showed it to Scarlett and informed him it had been used in an attempt on Bliss's life, he knew pretty conclusively that Bliss had concocted the whole tale."

  "And he came here to-night to confront Bliss. . . ."

  "Exactly. He realized that Bliss was trying to involve Salveter; and he wanted to let Bliss know that his monstrous scheme was seen through. He came here to protect an innocent man--despite the fact that Salveter was his rival, as it were, for the affections of Meryt-Amen. That would be like Scarlett. . . ." Vance looked sad. "When I sent Salveter to Boston I believed I had eliminated every possibility of danger. But Scarlett felt he had to take matters in his own hands. His action was fine, but ill-advised. The whole trouble was, it gave Bliss the opportunity he'd been waiting for. When he couldn't get the forged letter from the museum last night, and when we declined his invitation to find the sheath in Salveter's room, it was necessary for him to play his ace--the forged letter."

  "Yes, yes. I see that. But just where did Scarlett fit?"

  "When Scarlett came here to-night Bliss no doubt listened to his accusation diplomatically, and then on some pretext or other got him into the museum. When Scarlett was off guard Bliss struck him on the head--probably with one of those maces in the end cabinet--and put him in the sarcophagus. It was a simple matter for him to get the jack from his car, which he keeps parked in the street outside,--you recall that he offered to drive Salveter to the station. . . ."

  "But the letter?"

  "Can't you see how everything fitted? The attack on Scarlett took place between eight and eight-thirty. Salveter was probably up-stairs bidding adieu to Mrs. Bliss. At any rat
e, he was in the house, and therefore could have been Scarlett's murderer. In order to make it appear that Salveter was actually the murderer of Scarlett Bliss crumpled up the forged telltale letter and stuck in it Scarlett's pocket. He wanted to make it appear that Scarlett had come to the house to-night to confront Salveter, had mentioned the letter he'd found in the desk-table drawer, and had been killed by Salveter."

  "But why wouldn't Salveter have taken the letter?"

  "The assumption would have been that Salveter didn't know that Scarlett had the letter in his pocket."

  "What I want to know," put in Heath, "is how Bliss found out about Salveter's original letter."

  "That point is easily explained, Sergeant." Vance drew out his cigarette-case. "Salveter undoubtedly returned to the museum yesterday morning, as he told us, and was working on his letter when Kyle entered. He then put the letter in the table-drawer, and went to the Metropolitan Museum on his errand. Bliss, who was probably watching him through a crack in the study door, saw him put the paper away, and later took it out to see what it was. Being an indiscreet letter to Meryt-Amen, it gave Bliss an idea. He took it to his study and rewrote it, making it directly incriminating; and then tore up the original. When I learned that the letter had disappeared I was worried, for I suspected that Bliss had taken it. And when I saw it had been destroyed and thrown away, I was convinced we would find another letter. But since I had the original, I believed that the forged letter would, when it appeared, give us evidence against Bliss."

  "So that's why you were so interested in those three words?"

  "Yes, Sergeant. I hardly thought Bliss would use tem and was and ankh in rewriting the letter, for he couldn't have known that Salveter had told us about the letter and specifically mentioned these three words. And not one of the three words was in the forgery."

  "But a handwriting expert--"

  "Oh, I say, Sergeant! Don't be so naïf. A handwriting expert is a romantic scientist even when the writing is English script and familiar to him. And all his rules are based on chirographic idiosyncrasies. No art expert can tell with surety who drew a picture--and Egyptian writing is mostly pictures. Forged Michelangelo drawings, for instance, are being sold by clever dealers constantly. The only approach in such matters is an aesthetic one--and there is no aesthetics in Egyptian hieroglyphs."

  Heath made a wry face.

  "Well, if the forged letter couldn't be admitted as evidence, what was the doctor's idea?"

  "Don't you see, Sergeant, that even if the letter couldn't be absolutely identified with Salveter, it would have made every one believe that Salveter was guilty and had escaped a conviction on a legal technicality. Certainly Meryt-Amen would have believed that Salveter wrote the letter; and that was what Bliss wanted."

  Vance turned to Markham.

  "It's a legal point which really doesn't matter. Salveter might not have been convicted; but Bliss's plot would none the less have succeeded. With Kyle dead, Bliss would have had access to one-half of Kyle's fortune--in his wife's name, to be sure--and Meryt-Amen would have repudiated Salveter. Thus Bliss would have won every trick. And even legally Salveter might have been convicted had it not been for Hani's removal of two direct clews from Salveter's room--the opium can and the sheath. Furthermore, there was the letter in Scarlett's pocket."

  "But, Vance, how would the letter have been found?" Markham asked. "If you had not suspected the plot and looked for Scarlett's body, it might have remained in the sarcophagus almost indefinitely."

  "No." Vance shook his head. "Scarlett was to have remained in the sarcophagus only for a couple of days. When it was discovered to-morrow that he was missing Bliss would probably have found the body for us, along with the letter."

  He looked questioningly at Markham.

  "How are we going to connect Bliss with the crime, since Salveter was in the house at the time of the attack?"

  "If Scarlett should get well--"

  "If! . . . Just so. But suppose he shouldn't--and the chances are against him. Then what? Scarlett at most could only testify that Bliss had made an abortive and unsuccessful attack on him. True, you might convict him for felonious assault, but it would leave Kyle's murder still unsolved. And if Bliss said that Scarlett attacked him and that he struck Scarlett in self-defense, you'd have a difficult time convicting him even for assault."

  Markham rose and walked up and down the room. Then Heath asked a question.

  "How does this Ali Baba fit into the picture, Mr. Vance?"

  "Hani knew from the first what had happened; and he was shrewd enough to see the plot that Bliss had built up about Salveter. He loved Salveter and Meryt-Amen, and he wanted them to be happy. What could he do except lend his every energy to protecting them? And he has certainly done this, Sergeant. Egyptians are not like Occidentals. It was against his nature to come out frankly and tell us what he suspected. Hani played a clever game--the only game he could have played. He never believed in the vengeance of Sakhmet. He used his superstitious logomachy to cover up the truth. He fought with words for Salveter's safety."

  Markham halted in front of Vance.

  "The thing is incredible! I have never known a murderer like Bliss."

  "Oh, don't give him too much credit." Vance lighted the cigarette he had been holding for the past five minutes. "He frightfully overdid the clews: he made them too glaring. Therein lay his weakness."

  "Still," said Markham, "if you hadn't come into the case I'd have brought a murder charge against him."

  "And you would have played into his hands. Because I didn't want you to, I appeared to argue against his guilt."

  "A palimpsest!" Markham commented after a pause.

  Vance took a deep draw on his cigarette.

  "Exactly. Palimpsestos--'again rub smooth.' First came the true story of the crime, carefully indicated. Then it was erased, and the story of the murder, with Salveter as the villain, was written over it. This too, was erased, and the original story--in grotesque outline and filled with inconsistencies and loopholes--was again written. We were supposed to read the third version, become sceptical about it, and find the evidences of Salveter's guilt between the lines. My task was to push through to the first and original version--the twice written-over truth."

  "And you did it, Mr. Vance!" Heath had risen and gone toward the door. "The doc is in the study, Chief. I'll take him to Headquarters myself."

  22

  THE JUDGMENT OF ANÛBIS

  (Saturday, July 14, 11 P.M.)

  "I say, Sergeant! Don't be rash." Despite the drawling quality of Vance's tone Heath halted abruptly. "If I were you I'd take a bit of legal advice from Mr. Markham before arresting the doctor."

  "Legal advice be damned!"

  "Oh, quite. In principle I agree with you. But there's no need to be temerarious about these little matters. Caution is always good."

  Markham, who was standing beside Vance, lifted his head.

  "Sit down, Sergeant," he ordered. "We can't arrest a man on theory." He walked to the fireplace and back. "This thing has to be thought out. There's no evidence against Bliss. We couldn't hold him an hour if a clever lawyer got busy on the case."

  "And Bliss knows it," said Vance.

  "But he killed Kyle!" Heath expostulated.

  "Granted." Markham sat down beside the table and rested his chin in his hands. "But I've nothing tangible to present to a grand jury. And, as Mr. Vance says, even if Scarlett should recover I'd have only an assault charge against Bliss."

  "What wallops me, sir," moaned Heath, "is how a guy can commit murder almost before our very eyes, and get away with it. It ain't reasonable."

  "Ah, but there's little that's reasonable in this fantastic and ironical world, Sergeant," remarked Vance.

  "Well, anyhow," returned Heath, "I'd arrest that bird in a minute and take my chances at making the charge stick."

  "I feel the same way," Markham said. "But no matter how convinced we are of the truth, we must be able to produce conclusive
evidence. And this fiend has covered all the evidence so cleverly that any jury in the country would acquit him, even if we could hold him for trial--which is highly dubious."

  Vance sighed and looked up.

  "The law!" He spoke with unusual fervor. "And the rooms in which this law is put on public exhibition are called courts of justice. Justice!--oh, my precious aunt! Summum jus, summa injuria. How can there be justice, or even intelligence, in echolalia? . . . Here we three are--a District Attorney; a Sergeant of the Homicide Bureau; and a lover of Brahms' B-flat piano concerto--with a known murderer within fifty feet of us; and we're helpless! Why? Because this elaborate invention of imbeciles, called the law, has failed to provide for the extermination of a dangerous and despicable criminal, who not only murdered his benefactor in cold blood, but attempted to kill another decent man, and then endeavored to saddle an innocent third man with both crimes so that he could continue digging up ancient and venerated corpses! . . . No wonder Hani detests him. At heart Bliss is a ghoul; and Hani is an honorable and intelligent man."

  "I admit the law is imperfect," Markham interrupted tartly. "But your dissertation is hardly helpful. We're confronted with a terrible problem, and a way must be found to handle it."

  Vance still stood before the table, his eyes fixed on the door.

  "But your law will never solve it," he said. "You can't convict Bliss; you don't even dare arrest him. He could make you the laughing-stock of the country if you tried it. And furthermore, he'd become a sort of persecuted hero who had been hounded by an incompetent and befuddled police, who had unjustly pounced on him in a moment of groggy desperation in order to save their more or less classic features."

  Vance took a deep draw on his cigarette.

  "Markham old dear, I'm inclined to think the gods of ancient Egypt were more intelligent than Solon, Justinian, and all the other law-givers combined. Hani was spoofing about the vengeance of Sakhmet; but, after all, that solar-disked lady would be just as effective as your silly statutes. Mythological ideas are largely nonsense; but are they more nonsensical than the absurdities of present-day law? . . ."