The Philo Vance Megapack

by S. S. Van Dine

  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.”

  CHAPTER XII

  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 the 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.207 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 produce 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.”

  “My word!” Vance smiled. “The farther we go, the more remote infallibility becomes.”

  The doctor grinned broadly.

  “You know Goethe, yes? Eigentlich weiss man nur wenn man wenig weiss; mit dem Wissen wächst der Zweifel.”

  “That’s hardly helpful, though.” Vance sighed. “I want to know more, not less.”

  “Toxicology is not entirely a hopeless science,” the doctor answered good-naturedly. “If a poison is found in the organs of a dead person, and the pathology of the case corresponds accurately to the symptoms produced by that poison, one is justified in accepting as a fact that the person died of that particular poison.”

  Vance nodded.

  “Yes. I can see that. But, as I understand you, the absence of any determinable poison in the organs does not mean that death was not due to the actual administration of poison. Now, is it possible that poison could actually be in the organs analyzed and yet resist detection by the chemical analyst?”

  “Oh, yes. There are several toxic substances for which chemistry has not yet found the means of determination. Furthermore, you must not overlook the fact that there are poisons which, when they come in contact with certain chemicals in the human body, are converted into harmless substances which one would ordinarily expect to find in the body.”

  “Then it is possible to poison some one deliberately, without fear of leaving any trace of the method of murder?”

  Doctor Hildebrandt inclined his head slightly.

  “Yes, that is possible. If one could successfully introduce common sodium into the stomach—”

  “Yes, I know,” interrupted Vance. “But the perforation of the stomach walls by the combustion of sodium was not the sort of thing I had in mind. What I wanted to ask is this: are there actual poisonous substances which might produce death and yet leave no trace?”

  “Yes, there are such poisons,” Doctor Hildebrandt returned slowly, taking his pipe from his mouth again. “For instance, there are various vegetable poisons which neither produce a specific lesion nor are chemically identifiable. And certain organic poisons may be converted into constituents commonly present in the body. Moreover, certain volatile poisons can be entirely dissipated by the time the toxicologist get
s the organs for examination.208 I am not mentioning the mineral acids which might cause corrosion and be eliminated from the system before death sets in, as I understand this type of poison does not interest you.”

  “I was thinking particularly,” said Vance, “of some poison easily obtained, that could be given in a glass of water without its presence being detected by the victim.”

  Doctor Hildebrandt considered this for a moment. Then he shook his head gravely.

  “No-o. I’m afraid the drugs and chemicals I have in mind would not satisfy all the conditions you impose.”

  “Still, doctor,” Vance persisted, “is it not possible that a new poison may have been discovered recently which would meet my hypothetical requirements?”

  “Certainly, that is possible,” the doctor admitted. “New poisons are constantly being discovered.”

  Vance was silent for a while; then he asked:

  “Would a lethal dose of atropin or belladonna, in a glass of water, be easily detected by any one who drank the mixture?”

  “Oh, yes. There would be a distinctly bitter taste to the water.” The doctor turned his eyes lazily to Vance. “Have you reason to believe that the poison in the Llewellyn case was given in water?”

  Vance hesitated before answering.

  “We are still only speculating on that point. The fact is, two persons besides Mrs. Llewellyn were poisoned last night, but they recovered. And both of them had taken a glass of water shortly before collapsing. And the carafe at Mrs. Llewellyn’s bedside was empty when we arrived.”

  “I see,” the doctor mumbled, nodding slowly. “Well, perhaps after my chemical analysis of the other organs tomorrow, I can tell you more.”

  Vance rose.

  “I’m deeply grateful to you, doctor. There is nothing else I have in mind at the moment. The case just now seems pretty well obscured. By the by, when will your report be completed?”