‘You may as well own up, Inspector, that you are postponing your threatened arrest because you have not sufficient evidence to justify such a proceeding.’ Stone said this lightly, but he saw from Manton’s face that it was true.
And then Alli, speaking with dignity and a certain independence, said, ‘I am in no way involved in either of these tragedies, Inspector, and you know better than I do the penalties of a false arrest. Yet I have no objection to your surveillance, if you will leave me free to attend to one highly important matter. And that is, the recovery of a very valuable book, which is missing and which you doubtless know all about from Mr Sewell. The abductors, that is what they call themselves, have directed me to take certain steps toward getting the book back if I choose to do so.’
‘You have had a communication from the thief who took that book? Why have I not been informed of it?’
‘There really hasn’t been time to tell you, Inspector,’ and Alli gave him a sad little smile. ‘Yesterday I was a nervous wreck and declined to see anybody. The funeral last evening left me almost in a state of collapse. On my return home I went to bed at once. I intended telling you about the letter this morning, then this second death occupied all our attention to the exclusion of everything else. Here is the letter if you want to read it. If I answer it at all it must be done tonight.’
Inspector Manton read the letter through, then handed it over to Captain Burnet for perusal.
‘What do you intend to do in the matter?’ Manton asked her.
‘I have not quite decided but I think I shall put the advertisement in the paper as he suggests. I feel that it is my own affair and that I am quite competent to handle the situation.’
‘May I warn you that you are probably running into danger? An abductor of a human being is one of the most formidable of criminals, and in some ways an abductor of a book may be equally dangerous. I beg of you, Mrs Balfour, do not run unnecessary risks. Report to me any important step you contemplate taking and let me see to it that you are duly protected.’
Alli’s icy attitude thawed a little.
‘You are kind,’ she said, ‘but I’ve no idea what plan the thief will suggest to me, if any. Moreover, Mr Stone is working for my good and will doubtless be amply able to look after my interests.’
‘I’ve no desire to intrude but I will remind you that many situations can be met only by police assistance and should not be handled by citizens however capable and willing.’
‘There can be nothing definite done in the matter of the book today or tonight,’ Stone said. ‘If Mrs Balfour puts a notice in the paper it must be in tomorrow morning’s issue. It will then take some time for an answer to reach her and you may rest assured I shall let her take no chances where her personal safety is concerned.’
‘So you see, Inspector,’ Alli went on, coaxingly now, ‘I must have permission to keep any appointment in regard to that book, without being under this strict surveillance of yours, or the abductors may get frightened off and I may not be able to arrange for the return of the book. See?’
The girl looked very wheedlesome, and in truth the Inspector was glad to be relieved of the responsibility of finding the book. He felt he had quite enough to do with two murders on his hands and the two people he suspected of the crimes showing no inclination to confess!
He and Burnet had agreed that the guilty parties in the first murder must be Ramsay and Mrs Balfour. In the second murder—if it were a murder—they were so palpably the criminals he felt no need to look further.
But proof or at least strong evidence must be obtained to establish his beliefs and how could he hunt for proof, if all bound up in the entanglements of a very complicated theft?
‘Very well, Mrs Balfour,’ he said, at last. ‘Consider yourself free to hunt for your missing book, but have a care for your own safety and do nothing at the behest of people you do not know, however plausible their arguments and however promising their plans. You understand me, Stone? You know how desperate a bold thief can be. And this book theft has all the villainous possibilities of a kidnapping case. Look out for the welfare of Mrs Balfour in preference to retrieving the book.’
‘Yes, Inspector,’ and Stone spoke sincerely, ‘I do understand and you are entirely right. I shall use most extreme care and discretion. And in case of need I shall be glad to call on you for assistance.’
Some time later the Inspector asked Stone to go with him for a conference in the safe room.
Stone went, and they found Burnet already there.
‘We have reached a conclusion, Mr Stone,’ Manton said. ‘We have carefully investigated the circumstances of Guy Balfour’s death and we must conclude that it was brought about by foul play.’
‘That was my opinion from the first,’ Stone said. ‘Have you also discovered the criminal?’
‘There can be no doubt that it was the work of Mr Ramsay or Mrs Balfour, or the two in collusion.’
‘There is doubt of that in my mind,’ Stone returned. ‘Will you tell me why you are so sure?’
‘Yes. Mrs Balfour had a key that would open a door into Guy Balfour’s dressing room. There was no other mode of entrance as the hall door was locked last night.’
‘Yes, I know that. But that does not prove that the dressing room key was used—until it was used to open the door by us this morning. What time do the doctors set for Guy’s death?’
‘They agreed that it must have taken place soon after midnight.’
‘But don’t you see that the arrangements in the steam room could have been made much earlier than that?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Burnet. ‘Guy was in his rooms with some of his cronies before he went to his father’s funeral at the mortuary chapel.’
‘Yes, and he was there for some time before those friends came. Anyone could have been with him and could have fixed the lock of the steam room door and also have turned the steam pressure gauge a few pounds higher. The criminal, a caller let us say, could have done this without Guy’s knowledge, or could have done it while Guy was at the funeral.’
‘It is possible but far from probable.’
‘Not possible, either,’ declared Burnet. ‘A caller couldn’t have marched into the steam room in front of Guy’s very eyes and fixed up the place.’
‘Yes, he could, if other callers were there all talking and jesting among themselves, as I’m told they were.’
‘Cut it out!’ Burnet showed his annoyance. ‘Don’t make up fairy tales when the truth lies open before you. Who wants that young man out of the way? His stepmother and her lover. Why?’
‘Well, why?’
‘I’ll tell you why! Because it was Keith Ramsay who killed Philip Balfour down at the bookshop. Guy Balfour found that out and was about to expose him, so they had to put him out of the way. Of course, Mrs Balfour was not at the shop when her husband was killed, but she knew all about it and knew Guy had found it out.’
And then Stone suddenly remembered that Guy had begun to tell him something just before the funeral the night before, but just then Potter had called him, Stone, to the telephone, and he never had heard what Guy was about to tell him.
It could be that Guy had learned who killed his father and had told Alli or Ramsay, and together they had conspired to kill him.
The fact that Alli did have a key that gave access to Guy’s suite was a damning fact against her—and therefore against Ramsay.
Stone’s heart was heavy as he realized the score they could count up against the two lovers. Yet it was absurd, too. Had they chosen, either of them could have found a chance to enter Guy’s rooms through the day, Sunday, and do whatever they chose unheeded.
Stone said this to the policemen, but Manton said: ‘Well, yes, of course that could be, but the easier way was for Mrs Balfour to slip in, from one dressing room to the other, by means of her key. If she had been seen, she could have said she was taking fresh towels or some special soap or anything like that.’
‘I don�
��t believe Mrs Balfour would kill her husband’s son!’ and Stone showed a trace of anger.
‘Well, all right, then Ramsay did it,’ Burnet said. ‘She gave him the key, and he could choose his own time.’
‘But, Burnet, you’re just imagining all that. Stick to facts. There were those young fellows in Guy’s lounge. How many?’
‘I d’ know, five or six, I guess.’
‘Well, anyone of those could have met the conditions. Could have fixed the door catch and the pressure gauge and then gone off home. Of course, the steam room wasn’t used until Guy used it late at night after his return from the funeral. I asked Potter, and he found out from the clean-up people that the steam room was all in order when the bathrooms were done up. So later on, when they all came home, Guy, as I learned, excused himself rather soon and went up to bed. Weary and worn out, he took refreshing baths and after a shower went into the steam room and just as his father had done for three years, he flung the door shut behind him and turned on the steam, giving neither gesture a thought beyond its routine. Then, the door latch having been set, so that it would not open from inside, and the steam pouring out so fast he could neither check it nor turn it off, he fell to the floor and was suffocated. No imagination there. Just the facts as they must have happened. But I am sure you agree to all that. Where we disagree is the name of the one who did all this.’
‘That’s right, Stone,’ Manton said, speaking positively. ‘We do agree to all that. But Burnet is set on the guilt of those two. You seem to have someone else in your head—who is it?’
‘No, I haven’t anyone else in my head. But I do think it was not one of the pair you suspect, nor do I think it was Gill or any of the servants here. I’m speaking now of the first murder. And I think Guy’s death was by murder, too, and I think the same person committed both murders. I mean to look for him among Guy’s crowd or at least among Guy’s acquaintances. What about that man called Rollinson?’
‘I saw him,’ Burnet stated. ‘He’s of no interest. He’s sort of ringleader of this gang Guy had fallen in with, but he’s a well-mannered chap and he tries to keep the others in order. Some of them came over here to see Guy late yesterday afternoon, but I don’t think they went around fixing death traps.’
‘What about those two men who live in the house?’ Stone asked. ‘Aren’t they friends of Guy’s?’
The Inspector gave the information. ‘One is; Swinton used to know the Balfours in Johnnycake Corners, or wherever they lived in Connecticut. He went to see Guy quite often before his father died. But he’d have no reason to kill either of them. Wiley, now, he is a parasite sort. He’d fawn on Guy or the old man either, in hope of getting a present of a rare book. Or if not a present, then as a bargain. He was, like many collectors, anxious for high spots, as they call ’em, but not anxious to pay high prices. I’ve talked to both those men and they gave me no slightest reason to suspect them.’
‘Same here,’ Stone said. ‘I called on them both, but got from them exactly nothing. Now, Inspector, you won’t make any arrest until after this next funeral, will you?’
‘Oh, no, not before Guy is buried. Well, Stone, go about your kidnapped book, but be careful of the lady. I’d rather see her under arrest than in the clutches of a kidnapper. They are ruthless, you know.’
‘Yes, when they abduct a child, or an adult; but a book is merely a theft.’
‘I hope it will prove so. Do you know when the funeral services will be held?’
‘No, Inspector, I don’t. Most likely tomorrow night or Wednesday. Poor Mrs Balfour, she will be ill if things go on like this!’
‘She’s ill now. Well, Stone, I’d like to see you pull off one of your surprise stunts, but I see no sign of such a thing.’
‘The game’s never out till it’s played out. You can’t tell what may happen. But don’t make any arrests for a few days. You can keep your suspects under the strictest surveillance and yet learn a lot if they think they’re free. I’m going to see Mrs Balfour about the missing book now and perhaps I’ll learn something. I say, Burnet, did you say you saw that Rollinson chap at his home, or just over here, yesterday?’
‘I stopped in to see him a minute about noon today. I had to go out on another errand and I looked him up. He was amiable enough, but he seemed to have nothing to say. Not surly or taciturn, you know, but just sort of blank. Couldn’t believe Guy was dead. Knew nothing about the steam room, wasn’t there when Guy was showing off his new home. He was shocked at my news, said it must be an awful blow to Mrs Balfour and then shut up and waited for me to go. I was in a hurry, so I went.’
‘You think him innocent because he was so unconcerned?’
‘I think him innocent because I see no reason to think him otherwise. Why don’t you go to see him?’
‘I am going as soon as I get a chance. And you mark my word, there are others to consider before you pounce on Keith Ramsay. Don’t forget Preston Gill. If he was guilty in the first case, or if he is mixed up in the missing book business, you’d better get him clean before you arrest innocent people.’
Stone left the room and went in search of Alli.
He found her with Ramsay in the library.
He looked around at the great, beautiful room, and wondered into whose possession it would pass if—if Alli Balfour were arrested.
This thought gave him a shock, and when he entered the room, Ramsay exclaimed:
‘For Heaven’s sake, man, what has happened now?’
‘Nothing new,’ Stone returned, forcing a smile. ‘What is going to happen is the question. Mrs Balfour, are you still determined to answer the letter about the book?’
‘No,’ said Alli in a low somewhat frightened tone, ‘I am beginning to feel afraid. Suppose the bad men want me to come to see them alone, or at night, and then abduct me as well as the book!’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, dear,’ said Ramsay, who took but slight pains to hide his affection before Stone. ‘You see, Stone, I look at it this way. That book belongs to Mr Balfour’s library—I mean, the library needs it. It is a rounding out book. It completes the lot of the signers.’
‘And is a set of signers’ autographs of such national importance?’
‘That’s just what it is—of national importance. And this splendid library,’ he looked around, ‘has its signers complete, save for Button Gwinnett. It has most of its items complete. You know, often a book demands another book to make it perfect. I want Alli to put that notice in the paper, even if she never follows it up.’
‘Oh, I’m willing to do that,’ and Alli looked at Keith, ‘but if their next directions are too hard, I won’t meet them—alone.’
‘You needn’t,’ Stone told her; ‘we won’t allow you to do that.’
‘Then all right,’ Alli agreed. ‘But I won’t do anything till after Guy is buried.’
‘Of course not,’ Keith said; ‘shall we word it just as he said?’
‘Yes, why not?’ and Stone began to think the librarian rather insistent.
‘Then I have it here already written. But I think I’ll telephone it. Shall I have to give my name?’
‘Yes.’ Stone looked at him. ‘Why don’t you go to the newspaper office and deliver it yourself? It’s no secret, you know.’
‘That would be better. Here, look it over.’
Stone read the typed slip, ‘Your proposition will be considered.’ It was signed ‘B.G.’
Ramsay took it again and left the room.
CHAPTER XII
WHERE DID ALLI GO?
MORE than a week had passed since Philip Balfour had come to his untimely end. And nearly a week since his son had followed him.
It was Saturday morning. For some reason known only to themselves the police had not yet arrested Keith Ramsay. It was obvious that the reason implied was merely a lack of sufficient definite evidence and they hoped to achieve that soon. Whether such hopes were well founded only the future could tell.
Fleming Stone, not depending o
n the efforts of the Inspector and his aides, worked tirelessly after his own fashion.
He had gone to Trentwood seeking information among those who used to know Philip Balfour and his son. He found many who knew them, but none who knew them well or who knew anything against them.
They described Balfour as a book collector and a bookworm who kept himself very much to himself, associating with only a few friends who were also bibliophiles.
Guy seemed of no interest to anybody. He was spoken of as one who would never set the North River on fire and, indeed, few people are expected to do that.
Carl Swinton had lived there for a brief period, but he, too, had left no mark, shining or otherwise.
Starting with the postmaster and the shopkeepers, Stone received hints as to the friends of these men, but when he hunted them up, they were either dead or moved away, or, if available, they remembered no definite or helpful details about their one-time fellow citizens.
Stone might well have said, ‘Well, this is the hardest case I ever tackled!’ But that was not his attitude toward his work. Instead, he said to himself, ‘Guess I’ll have to put my most desperate energies on this problem!’
His temptation was to assume some person or persons unknown and endeavour to make their acquaintance. But first, he must exhaust every possibility of the suspects now claiming his attention.
He favoured Gill because of his exceptional opportunities, then Ramsay, because of his strong motive, then the unknown intruder who left no trace, because of his mystery, and—at last, very reluctantly, Alli.
Reluctantly, but definitely and logically. Always his nature refused to blind himself to a possible suspect because of his own interest or affection. If from what he knew it could logically follow that Balfour’s wife had been instrumental in his taking-off, then he must suspect her and follow up those suspicions.
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