Philo Vance Omnibus Vol 2

by S. S. Van Dine

  "Well, well," murmured Vance. "Always on the lookout. Cravin' a lucrative opening, so to speak. Yes. That always goes with the gambling instinct."

  "Kinkaid realizes," supplemented Bloodgood, "that his present set-up can't last indefinitely. A gambling casino, at best, is only a temporary source of income."

  "Quite. Our hyper-moral civilization. Sad. . . . But let's dismiss Kinkaid for the moment. . . . Tell us what you know of the youthful Doctor Kane. He was at the Llewellyns' for dinner last night, y' know, and Miss Llewellyn called him when Lynn's wife was stricken."

  Bloodgood's face clouded.

  "I've seen very little of the man," he replied stiffly; "and then only at the Llewellyns'. I believe he is interested in Miss Llewellyn. Comes of good family and all that. He's always been pleasant enough; has a congenial personality, but strikes me as something of a weakling. I'll say this, too, about him, since you've asked me: he has impressed me as being somewhat shifty at times, as if he were adding up numbers before answering a straight question or voicing an opinion."

  "The arrière-pensée at work," suggested Vance.

  Bloodgood nodded.

  "Yes. Rather effeminate in his mental processes. Maybe, however, it's only his snobbery and his constant endeavor to please—the ingratiating manner that young doctors cultivate."

  "What sort of chap was Lynn Llewellyn when you knew him at college?"

  "He was all right. Pretty regular, but inclined to be wild. He wasn't much of a student—barely got by. He was too devoted to his good times, and lacked any serious goal. But I've never held that against him: it wasn't altogether his fault. His mother has always coddled him. She'd forgive anything he did and then turn round and make it possible for him to do it again. But she had the good sense to keep her hands on the purse strings. That's why the fellow gambles—he admits it frankly."

  "He has an idea," put in Vance in a casual matter-of-fact tone, "that his mother may have been responsible for the poisonings last night."

  "Good Heavens! Really?" Bloodgood seemed inordinately astonished. He sat pondering for several moments. Then he said: "I can understand his attitude in a way, though. He himself used to refer to her as 'the noblest Roman dowager of them all.' And he wasn't far wrong. She was always the man of the family. She'd brook no interference with her plans from anybody."

  "You're thinkin' of Agrippina?" asked Vance.

  "Something like that." Bloodgood lapsed into silence again.

  Vance got up, walked to the end of the room and back, and then stopped before Bloodgood.

  "Mr. Bloodgood," he said, his eyes fixed lazily on the other, "three people were poisoned last night. One of them is dead; the two others have recovered. No poison was found in Mrs. Lynn Llewellyn's stomach. Two of the victims—Llewellyn and his sister—collapsed after taking a glass of water. And the water carafe at the dead woman's bedside was empty when we arrived—"

  "Good God!" The exclamation was little more than a whisper, but it had the penetrating quality of utter horror. Bloodgood struggled to his feet. His face had suddenly gone pale, and his sunken eyes shone like two polished metal disks. His cigarette fell from his lips but he paid no attention to it. "What are you trying to tell me? All three were poisoned by water—"

  "Why should that astound you so—even if it were true?" Vance asked in a steady, almost indifferent, voice, his calm searching gaze still on the man. "In fact, I was about to ask you, after having given you the details of last night's occurrences, whether you could suggest any explanation."

  "No—no. None whatever." There was an unnatural timbre in Bloodgood's tone, and he was breathing as if with effort. "I—I was upset by the recurrence of the water, since I was the one who ordered it for Llewellyn."

  Vance smiled coldly and took a step toward the man.

  "That won't do, Mr. Bloodgood." There was a steely quality in his attitude and manner. "You'll have to find a better excuse for your emotional upheaval."

  "But how can I, man, when it doesn't exist?" protested Bloodgood, fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette.

  Vance went on relentlessly: "Item one: you were at the Llewellyn dinner last night, and had access to all the carafes in the house. Item two: the only carafe that we know positively wasn't poisoned, is Miss Llewellyn's. Item three: you have proposed marriage to Miss Llewellyn. Item four: you are a chemist. . . . And now consider these four items in the light of the fact that it was also you who ordered plain water for Llewellyn at the Casino. Have you anything to say?"

  Bloodgood had drawn himself together while Vance spoke. He swallowed several times and moistened his lips with his tongue. His arms hung straight at his sides, and he gave the impression that every muscle in his body had gone taut. He lifted his head and looked squarely at Vance.

  "I understand the situation perfectly," he said in a hollow, even voice. "Despite the fact that no poison has actually been put in evidence, I appear to have manœuvred the events of last night. I have no explanation to make. Nor have I anything further to say. You may take whatever action you choose. The table is wide open." He smiled inscrutably. "Faites votre jeu, monsieur."

  Vance studied the man without change of expression.

  "I think I'll hold my chips for the next turn of the wheel, Mr. Bloodgood," he said. "The play isn't over, don't y' know. And I've a new system in mind." He nodded in formal dismissal and turned away. "You're free to visit Miss Llewellyn."

  "I hope to God your new system is better than most," the man mumbled, and took his departure without another word.

  Vance resumed his seat and, taking out another Régie, smoked a while in troubled meditation.

  "Deuced queer, that chap," he ruminated. "He told me something highly important, but—dash it all!—I don't know what it is. He was quite rational and honest until I mentioned water. The idea of poison didn't upset him, but the idea of water did. A sort of psychic hydrophobia. Very puzzlin', Markham. . . . There's something in his mind—something vital to our understanding of this case. But there's no way to get him to talk. I know the type. He actually invited arrest rather than answer my queries. . . . Fear—that's what it was. He knew he was cornered, but he was also aware that we didn't know why he was cornered. A shrewd gambler. A rapid mental calculator and a percentage player."

  Vance wagged his head dolefully.

  "Not a consolin' thought. We're dealin' with subtleties, Markham; and we're blindfolded. Gropin' at nebulæ. But he told us something! And we'll have to find out what it is. It's the key. Let us hope. Onward and upward, old dear. Spes fovet, et fore cras semper ait melius."

  12. VANCE TAKES A JOURNEY

  (Sunday, October 16; 1:30 p.m.)

  Vance rose rather deliberately and walked to the desk.

  "Markham," he said, with unwonted seriousness, "there's only one way of attacking this problem. We must keep our eyes fixed on the known physical facts of the case and ignore everything that may tend to divert us. That's why I'm going to ask you now to put me in touch immediately with your official toxicologist."

  Markham looked up with a frown.

  "You mean today?"

  "Yes." Vance spoke emphatically. "This afternoon, if possible."

  "But it's Sunday, Vance," Markham demurred. "It may be impossible. . . . However, I'll see what can be done."

  He rang for Swacker.

  "See if you can locate Doctor Adolph Hildebrandt," he instructed the secretary when he appeared. "He has left the laboratory by this time. Try telephoning to his home."

  Swacker went out.

  "Hildebrandt's a good man," Markham told Vance. "One of the best in the country. He's the plodding German type, cautious and pontifical and highly academic. But he always seems to lumber through. Without him we'd never have got a conviction in the Waite and Sanford cases. . . . He may be at home now, and he may not. If this wasn't Sunday. . . . However—"

  At this moment a buzzer rang and Markham answered the telephone on his desk. After a brief conversation he replaced th
e receiver.

  "You're in luck, Vance. Hildebrandt's at home—he lives in West 84th Street—and he'll be in all afternoon. You heard what I told him: that we'll be around later."

  "That may help," Vance murmured. "Or it may prove just a false scent. But there's no other starting point. . . . My word! I wish I knew what was on Bloodgood's mind. The case, alas! resolves itself into a guessing contest." He sighed and took a deep puff on his cigarette. "In the meantime, let's lift up our hearts. I know where the green-turtle soup and the Harvey's Shooting Sherry are excellent and where an omelette aux rognons is assembled with love and finesse. Allons-y, mon vieux. . . ."

  We got into his car and he took us to a little French restaurant in West 72nd Street, near Riverside Drive.[11] After our frappéed crème de menthe we proceeded uptown to Doctor Hildebrandt's.

  The doctor was a rotund man, completely bald, with a moon-shaped face, protruding ears and pale blue eyes at once somnolent and keen. He was attired in a shabby smoking-jacket, baggy trousers and a pair of flapping felt bedroom slippers. His soft shirt was open at the throat, and his heavy woolen socks, of the most fantastically colored design, lay in thick folds about his ankles. He was smoking an enormous wooden-stemmed meerschaum pipe which curved downward over his chest fully eighteen inches.

  He answered our ring himself, and ushered us into a narrow, stuffy living-room crowded with eighteenth-century rococo furniture. Despite his gruff, somewhat aloof manner, he was pleasant and gracious, and he acknowledged Markham's presentation of Vance and me with grave courtesy.

  Vance immediately broached the subject he had come to discuss.

  "We are here, doctor," he said, "to ask you a few questions regarding poisons and their actions. We are confronted with a serious and apparently obscure problem in connection with the death of a Mrs. Llewellyn last night. . . ."

  "Ah, yes." Doctor Hildebrandt took the pipe slowly from his mouth. "Doremus called me this morning and I was present at the autopsy. I made an analysis of the stomach for one of the belladonna group. But I didn't find anything. I'm making a complete chemical analysis of the other organs tomorrow."

  "What we're particularly interested in," Vance went on, "is whether a poison could have been the cause of death and yet not be evident in an analysis; and also how the poison, in such a case, might have been administered."

  Doctor Hildebrandt nodded ponderously.

  "I may be able to help you. And, on the other hand, I may not. Toxicology is an elaborate and difficult science. There are still many phases of it that we know nothing about."

  He returned the pipe to his mouth and puffed heavily on it for several moments, as if arranging his thoughts. Then he spoke in a didactic, classroom manner.

  "You understand, of course, that poison, in the biological sense, does not exist in the body if the substance is entirely insoluble; for, in such a case, it resists absorption into the blood stream. The corollary is that the more soluble a substance the more readily it will be absorbed into the blood stream and so act upon the body."

  "What of the dilution of a poison in water, doctor?" asked Vance.

  "Water not only hastens the absorption of a poison, but generally augments its activity. However, in the case of a corrosive, water naturally reduces the toxic effect. But, on the other hand, the condition of the stomach must be taken into consideration in the case of all poisons taken by mouth. If there is food in the stomach at the time of ingestion, the absorption of the poison is delayed; but if there is no food in the stomach, absorption, as well as the action of the poison, takes place more quickly."

  "In the Llewellyn case the stomach should have been relatively empty," Vance put in.

  "It was. And we can assume that if a poison was absorbed through the stomach, there was a fairly prompt action."

  "We believe we know the approximate time at which the poison was taken," said Vance, "but we are interested in having the time scientifically established."

  Again Doctor Hildebrandt nodded.

  "Yes, the time is most helpful in all cases where criminality is suspected. But the determination of the point is not easy, for, in such cases, we have no actual evidence as to how, or under what conditions, the poison was taken. The time of administration depends entirely on the type of poison taken and on the symptoms observed. Nearly all the common poisons act quickly, although I can recall several physiological exceptions in which the action of the poison was delayed for hours after ingestion. But, generally speaking, the symptoms of poisons taken by mouth appear within an hour. In most cases, if the stomach is empty, the symptoms appear within ten or fifteen minutes after the administration. This is particularly true in the case of belladonna, or atropin, poisoning."

  "What," asked Vance, "of a poison that is taken orally and whose presence is nevertheless not found in the stomach later?"

  Doctor Hildebrandt cleared his throat judicially.

  "Such a condition might be encountered with any number of poisons taken by mouth. It would simply mean that the system had absorbed all of the poison taken into the stomach. But there would, of course, be deposits of the poison in the blood and the tissues. Unfortunately, in too many cases of criminal poisoning, only the stomach is given to the toxicologist for chemical examination. Findings from the stomach alone are inconclusive, for, as I say, the rapid absorption of the poison may have left no traces of it in that organ. Naturally, the toxicologist who is given only the stomach for examination may assume that whatever poison he finds there is what might be called a surplus of the poison which has actually been ingested and absorbed by the system. But this is certainly not direct proof. That is why the other organs of any person suspected of having died by poisoning should be chemically analyzed—the liver, the kidneys, the intestines, perhaps even the brain and spinal cord. When poison is taken into the system orally it is first absorbed through the stomach. Then it is circulated in the blood. And finally it is deposited in the tissues of the liver, kidneys and other organs. You understand, of course, that poisons may be introduced into the body in other ways than by mouth; and in such cases there would naturally be no traces of the poison in the stomach."

  "Ah!" Vance leaned forward. "That is one of the things we wish to know. In view of the fact that Mrs. Llewellyn died within a very short time after taking the poison, and there were no traces of it found in her stomach, I wish to ask you by what means, other than by ingestion, this poison—presumably belladonna—might have been administered."

  Doctor Hildebrandt looked off into space thoughtfully.

  "It could have been administered parenterally—that is, by hypodermic direct into the blood stream. Or it might have been absorbed through the mucous membranes of the nose or through the conjunctivæ. In either case there would, of course, be no traces found in the stomach."

  Vance smoked for a moment meditatively. Finally he put another question.

  "Is there no case in which poison may have been taken orally and produced death, and yet left no traces in any organ of the body?"

  The doctor brought his eyes back and let them rest on Vance.

  "There are poisons which, when absorbed by the body, have no chemical action on the blood; and there are others that are not turned into insoluble compounds when they come in contact with the tissues. Such poisons are quickly eliminated from the system. If a victim of poisoning lives a sufficiently long time after taking such a poison, all traces of the lethal drug may entirely disappear from the body. But there is no indication that such was the case with the Llewellyn woman. With her the violent symptoms of poisoning appeared shortly after induction; and, as I understand, there were no processes of elimination."

  "But," pursued Vance, "even in cases where no poison is found in any organ, would there not be organic changes in the body which would indicate the nature of the poison taken?"

  "In certain cases, yes." Doctor Hildebrandt's gaze again drifted into space. "Such indications, however, are very unreliable. You see, various types of diseases can produ
ce effects on the organs similar to those produced by certain poisons. If, however, the lesions discovered are identical with those produced by a poison which the person is supposed to have received, then one may assume that the lesions are the result of the poison. On the other hand, certain cases have come under my own observation where it was definitely known that a specific poison was taken, and yet the organs did not show any of the lesions which one would ordinarily have expected to find. In the famous Heidelmeyer case, for instance, it was known that death was caused by arsenic; yet neither the stomach nor the intestines were irritated, and the mucous membrane was even paler than it would have been normally."

  Vance smiled despondently and shook his head.

  "Toxicology, I see, is not a science which one might call even remotely mathematical. Still, there must be some way of reaching a definite conclusion from a given set of conditions. For instance, even though no traces of poison were found in the system, is it not possible to determine, by a person's symptoms and post-mortem appearances, what poison was taken?"

  "That," returned Doctor Hildebrandt, "is as much a medical problem as a toxicological one. However, I will say this: the symptoms of many diseases closely simulate the symptoms of certain types of poisoning. For example, the symptoms of gastro-enteritis, cholera morbus, ulceration of the duodenum, uremia and acute acidosis, are fairly well duplicated by the symptoms of poisoning by arsenic, aconite, antimony, digitalis, iodin, mercury, and the various corrosive acids and alkalies. The convulsions accompanying tetanus, epilepsy, puerperal eclampsia and meningitis, are also caused by camphor, cyanides and strychnin. Dilated pupils, which are present in diseases that produce optic atrophy or a weakness of the oculomotor nerve, also follow poisoning by the belladonna group, cocain, and gelsenium; whereas contraction of the pupil, such as is common in tabes, for instance, is likewise caused by opium, morphin and heroin. Opium, paraldehyde, carbon dioxide, hyoscin and the barbitals produce coma; but so do cerebral hemorrhage, epilepsy and brain injuries. The delirium we find in cases of organic brain diseases and nephritis may often be duplicated by the administration of atropin, cocain, Canabis indica, or hasheesh, and various other poisons. Nitrobenzene, anilin and opium and its derivatives, produce cyanosis; yet so do diseases of the cardiac and respiratory system. Paralysis follows the taking of cyanides and carbon monoxide, but it is also produced by brain tumor and apoplexy. Then there's the question of respiration. Opium gives a slow respiration, but so do uremia and brain hemorrhage. And the belladonna group of poisons produce rapid respiration, such as is normally found in hysteria and lesions of the medulla oblongata."