Philo Vance 12 Novels Complete Bundle

by S. S. Van Dine

  "My word, Sergeant!" Vance hailed him. "We synchronize, don't y' know. We arrive at the same destination at the same time, but from opposite directions. Jolly idea."

  Heath acknowledged the somewhat enigmatical pleasantry with a grunt.

  "What's all the excitement anyway?" he asked Markham. "You didn't give me much of an earful over the phone."

  "An attempt has been made on Doctor Bliss's life," Markham told him.

  Heath whistled softly.

  "I certainly didn't expect that, sir."

  "Neither did Mr. Vance." The rejoinder was intended as a taunt.

  We went up the stone steps to the vestibule, but before we could ring the bell Brush opened the door. He placed his forefinger to his lips and, leaning forward mysteriously, said in a stage whisper:

  "Doctor Bliss requests that you gentlemen be very quiet so as not to disturb the other members of the household. . . . He's in his bedchamber waiting for you."

  Brush was clad in a flannel robe and carpet slippers, but despite the hot sultriness of the night he was visibly shivering. His face, always pale, now appeared positively ghastly in the dim light.

  We stepped into the hall, and Brush closed the door cautiously with trembling hands. Suddenly, Vance wheeled about and caught him by the arm, spinning him round.

  "What do you know about the occurrence here to-night?" he demanded in a low tone.

  The butler's eyes bulged and his jaw sagged.

  "Nothing--nothing," he managed to stammer.

  "Really, now! Then why are you so frightened?" Vance did not relax his hold.

  "I'm afraid of this place," came the plaintive answer. "I want to leave here. Strange things are going on--"

  "So they are. But don't fret; you'll be able to look for another berth before long."

  "I'm glad of that, sir." The man seemed greatly relieved. "But what has happened to-night, sir?"

  "If you're ignorant of what has taken place," returned Vance, "how do you happen to be here at this hour awaiting our arrival and acting like a villain in a melodrama?"

  "I was told to wait for you, sir. Doctor Bliss came down-stairs to my room--"

  "Where is your room, Brush?"

  "In the basement, at the rear, just off the kitchen."

  "Very good. Go on."

  "Well, sir, Doctor Bliss came to my room about half an hour ago. He seemed very much upset, and frightened--if you know what I mean. He told me to wait at the front door for you gentlemen--that you'd arrive any minute. And he instructed me to make no noise and also to warn you--"

  "Then he went up-stairs?"

  "At once, sir."

  "Where is Doctor Bliss's room?"

  "It's the rear door on the second floor, just at the head of the stairs. The forward door is the mistress's bedchamber."

  Vance released the man's arm.

  "Did you hear any disturbance to-night?"

  "None, sir. Everything has been quiet. Every one retired early, and I myself went to bed before eleven."

  "You may go back to bed now," Vance told him.

  "Yes, sir." And Brush went quickly away and disappeared through the door at the rear of the hall.

  Vance made a gesture for us to follow him and led the way up-stairs. A small electric bulb was burning in the upper hall, but we did not need it to find Doctor Bliss's room, for his door was a few inches ajar and a shaft of light fell diagonally across the floor outside.

  Vance, without knocking, pushed the door inward and stepped into the room. Bliss was sitting rigidly in a straight chair in the far corner, leaning slightly forward, his eyes riveted on the door. In his hand was a brutal-looking army revolver. At our entrance he leapt to his feet, and brought the gun up simultaneously.

  "Tut, tut, doctor!" Vance smiled whimsically. "Put the firearms away and chant us the distressin' rune."

  Bliss drew an audible sigh of relief, and placed the weapon on a small table at his side.

  "Thank you for coming, Mr. Vance," he said in a strained tone. "And you, Mr. Markham." He acknowledged Heath's and my presence with a slight, jerky bow. "The thing you predicted has happened. . . . There's a murderer in this house!"

  "Well, well! That would hardly come under the head of news." (I could not understand Vance's attitude.) "We've known that fact since eleven this morning."

  Bliss, too, was perplexed and, I imagine, somewhat piqued by Vance's negligent manner, for he stepped stiffly to the bed and, pointing at the headboard, remarked irritably:

  "And there's the proof!"

  The bed was an old Colonial piece, of polished mahogany, with a great curving headboard rising at least four feet above the mattress. It stood against the left-hand wall at a right angle to the door.

  The object at which Bliss pointed with a quivering finger was an antique Egyptian dagger, about eleven inches long, whose blade was driven into the headboard just above the pillow. The direction of penetration was on a line with the door.

  We all moved forward and stood for several seconds staring at the sinister sight. The dagger had undoubtedly been thrown with great force to have entered the hard mahogany wood so firmly; and it was obvious that if any one had been lying on the pillow at the time it was hurled, he would have received the full brunt of it somewhere in the throat.

  Vance studied the position of the dagger, gauging its alignment and angulation with the door, and then he reached out his hand to grasp it. But Heath intercepted the movement.

  "Use your handkerchief, Mr. Vance," he admonished. "There'll be fingerprints--"

  "Oh, no, there won't, Sergeant." Vance spoke with an impressive air of knowledge. "Whoever threw that dagger was careful to avoid any such incriminatin' tokens. . . ." Whereupon he drew the blade, with considerable difficulty, from the headboard, and took it to the table-lamp.

  It was a beautiful and interesting piece of workmanship. Its handle was ornamented with decorations of granulated gold and with strips of cloisonné and semi-precious stones--amethysts, turquoises, garnets, carnelians, and tiny cuttings of obsidian, chalcedony and felspar. The haft was surmounted with a lotiform knob of rock crystal, and at the hilt was a chair-scroll design in gold wire. The blade was of hardened gold adorned with shallow central grooves ending with an engraved palmette decoration.*

  * A similar dagger was found on the royal mummy in the tomb of Tut-ankh-Amûn by the late Earl of Carnarvon and Howard Carter, and is now in the Cairo Museum.

  "Late Eighteenth Dynasty," murmured Vance, fingering the dagger and studying its designs. "Pretty, but decadent. The rugged simplicity of early Egyptian art went frightfully to pot during the opulent renaissance following the Hyksos invasion. . . . I say, Doctor Bliss; how did you come by this flamboyant gewgaw?"

  Bliss was ill at ease, and when he answered his tone was apologetic and embarrassed.

  "The fact is, Mr. Vance, I smuggled that dagger out of Egypt. It was an unusual and unexpected find, and purely accidental. It's a most valuable relic, and I was afraid the Egyptian Government would claim it."

  "I can well imagine they'd want to keep it in their own country." Vance tossed the dagger to the table. "And where did you ordinarily keep it?"

  "Under some papers in one of my desk drawers in the study," he replied presently. "It was a rather personal item, and I thought it best not to list it in the museum."

  "Most discreet. . . . Who besides yourself knew of its existence?"

  "My wife, of course, and--" He broke off suddenly, and a peculiar light came in his eyes.

  "Come, come, doctor." Vance spoke with annoyance. "This won't do. Finish your sentence."

  "It is finished. My wife was the only person I confided in."

  Vance accepted the statement without further argument.

  "Still," he said, "any one might have discovered it, what?"

  Bliss nodded slowly.

  "Provided he had been snooping through my desk."

  "Exactly. When did you last see the dagger in your desk drawer?"

  "Thi
s morning. I was searching for some foolscap paper on which to check my report for poor Kyle. . . ."

  "And who, to your knowledge, has been in your study since we left the house this afternoon?"

  Bliss pondered, and shortly a startled expression came over his face.

  "I'd rather not say."

  "We can't do anything to help you, doctor, if you take that attitude," Vance said severely. "Was it Mr. Salveter who was in the study?"

  Bliss paused for several seconds. Then he set his jaw.

  "Yes!" The word fairly burst from his lips. "I sent him to the study after dinner to-night to get me a memorandum book. . . ."

  "And where did you keep the book?"

  "In the desk." This information was given reluctantly. "But any attempt to connect Salveter--"

  "We're not attemptin' just now to connect any one with this episode." Vance interrupted. "We're merely tryin' to accumulate all the information possible. . . . However, you must admit, doctor," Vance added, "that young Mr. Salveter is--how shall I put it?--rather interested in Mrs. Bliss--"

  "What's that?" Bliss stiffened and glared at Vance ferociously. "How dare you intimate such a thing? My wife, sir--"

  "No one has criticised Mrs. Bliss," Vance said mildly. "And one A.M. is hardly the time for indignant pyrotechnics."

  Bliss sank into his chair and covered his face with his hands.

  "It may be true," he conceded in a despairing voice. "I'm too old for her--too much absorbed in my work. . . . But that doesn't mean that the boy would attempt to kill me."

  "Perhaps not." Vance spoke indifferently. "But who, then, do you suspect of endeavorin' to sever your carotid?"

  "I don't know--I don't know." The man's voice rose pitifully.

  At this moment the door leading into the front apartment opened, and Mrs. Bliss stood on the threshold, a long flowing robe of oriental pattern draped about her. She was perfectly calm, and her eyes were steady, if a bit brilliant, as they took in the scene before her.

  "Why have you gentlemen returned at this hour?" she inquired imperiously.

  "An attempt has been made on your husband's life, madam," Markham answered sombrely; "and he telephoned to us--"

  "An attempt on his life? Impossible!" She spoke with over-emphasis, and her face turned perceptibly pale. Then she went to Bliss and put her arms about him in an attitude of affectionate protection. Her eyes were blazing as she lifted them to Vance. "What absurdity is this? Who would want to take my husband's life?"

  "Who, indeed?" Vance met her gaze calmly. "If we knew, we could at least arrest the person for assault with a deadly weapon--I believe that's the phrase."

  "A deadly weapon?" She frowned with obvious distress. "Oh, tell me what happened!"

  Vance indicated the dagger on the table.

  "All we know thus far is that yon golden dagger was projectin' from the head of the bed when we arrived. We were on the point of asking your husband for a full account of the affair when you appeared--a charming Nefretîti--at the door. . . . Perhaps," he went on, turning to Bliss, "the doctor will recount the entire episode for us now."

  "There's really little to tell." Bliss sat up and began nervously to make creases in the folds of his dressing-gown. "I came here to my room shortly after dinner, and went to bed. But I couldn't sleep, and got up. Just then Salveter passed my door on his way up-stairs and I asked him to fetch the memorandum book from the study,--I thought I might take my mind off the dreadful events of the day--"

  "One moment, doctor," Vance interposed. "Was your door open?"

  "Yes. I had opened it when I arose, in order to get a little more air in the room,--the atmosphere was stifling. . . . Then I went over a few old notes and entries relating to last winter's excavations. But I couldn't keep my mind on them, and finally I closed the door, switched off the lights, and lay down again on the bed."

  "That would have been about what time?"

  "Between half past ten and eleven, I should say. . . . I dozed intermittently till midnight--I could see the time by that clock with the luminous dial--and then became unaccountably restless. I got to thinking about poor Kyle, and all inclination to sleep left me. However, I was dog-tired physically, and lay quite still. . . . About a quarter past twelve--the house was very quiet, you understand--I thought I could hear footsteps on the stairs--"

  "Which stairs, doctor?"

  "I couldn't determine. The footsteps might have been coming down from the third floor, or they might have been ascending from the first floor. They were very quiet, and if I had not been wide awake and keyed up I wouldn't have noticed them. As it was, I couldn't be sure, though at one time I imagined I heard a slight creak as if a board were a little loose under the carpet."

  "And then?"

  "I lay speculating on who it might be, for I knew the other members of the house had retired early. I did not exactly worry about the sounds until I heard them approach my own door and suddenly halt. Then your warning, Mr. Vance, swept over me with full force, and I felt that some terrible unknown danger was lurking on the threshold. I was, I admit, temporarily paralyzed with fright: I could feel the roots of my hair tingle, and my body broke out in cold perspiration."

  He took a deep breath, as if to rid himself of a haunting memory.

  "Just then the door began to open slowly and softly. The light in the hall had been turned out and the room here was in almost pitch darkness, so I was unable to see anything. But I could hear the gentle swish of the door as it swung open, and I could feel the mild current of air that came in from the hall. . . ."

  A tremor ran over his body, and his eyes glowed unnaturally.

  "I would have called out, but my throat seemed constricted, and I did not want to imperil Mrs. Bliss, who might have answered my call and run unwittingly into something dangerous and deadly. . . . And then the blinding ray of a flash-light was thrown directly into my eyes, and I instinctively lurched to the far side of the bed. At that moment I heard a swift, brushing sound followed by a dull wooden detonation near my head. And immediately I became conscious of footsteps retreating--"

  "In which direction?" Vance again interrupted.

  "I'm not sure--they were very faint. I was aware only of their stealthy retreat. . . ."

  "What did you do after that, doctor?"

  "I waited several minutes. Then I cautiously closed the door and switched on the lights. It was at that moment I realized what had made the noise at the head of the bed, for the first thing I saw was the dagger. And I knew that I had been the object of a murderous attack."

  Vance nodded and, picking up the dagger, weighed it on the palm of his hand.

  "Yes," he mused; "it's blade-heavy and could easily have been thrown accurately even by an amateur. . . . A peculiar form of assassination, though," he went on, almost to himself. "Much simpler and surer for the wielder to have sneaked to the bed and thrust it into his intended victim's ribs. . . . Most peculiar! Unless, of course--" He stopped and glanced thoughtfully at the bed. Presently he shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Bliss. "After discovering the dagger, I opine, you telephoned to me."

  "Within five minutes. I listened at the door a while and then went down to the study and called your number. After that I roused Brush and told him to watch for you at the front door. I came back up-stairs,--I'd armed myself with my revolver while in the study,--and awaited your arrival."

  Mrs. Bliss had been watching her husband with a look of deep anxiety during his recital.

  "I heard the sound of the dagger striking the headboard," she said in a low, fearful voice. "My bed is against the other side of the wall. It startled me and woke me up, but I didn't give it a second thought, and went to sleep again. She threw her head back and glared at Vance. "This is shameful and outrageous! You insist upon my husband staying in this house that harbors a murderer--a murderer who is plotting against him--and you do nothing to protect him."

  "But nothing has happened to him, Mrs. Bliss," Vance replied with gentle sternness. "He ha
s lost an hour's sleep, but really, y' know, that's not a serious catastrophe. And I can assure you that no further danger will beset him." He looked straight into the woman's eyes, and I was conscious that some understanding passed between them in that moment of mutual scrutiny.

  "I do hope you find the guilty person," she said with slow, tragic emphasis. "I can bear the truth--now."

  "You are very courageous, madam," Vance murmured. "And in the meantime you can best help us by retiring to your room and waiting there until you hear from us. You can trust me."

  "Oh, I know I can!" There was a catch in her voice. Then she bent impulsively, touched her lips to Bliss's forehead, and returned to her room.

  Vance's eyes followed her with a curious expression: I could not determine if it was one of regret or sorrow or admiration. When the door had closed after her he strolled to the table and replaced the dagger on it.

  "I was just wonderin', doctor," he said. "Don't you lock or bolt your door at night?"

  "Always," was the immediate reply. "It makes me nervous to sleep with an unlocked door."

  "But what about to-night?"

  "That is what puzzles me." Bliss's forehead was knit in perplexity. "I'm sure I locked it when I first came to my room. But, as I told you, I got up later and opened the door to get some air. The only explanation I can think of is that when I went back to bed I forgot to relock the door. It's possible of course, for I was very much upset. . . ."

  "It couldn't have been unlocked from the outside?"

  "No, I'm sure it couldn't. The key was in the lock, just as you see it now."

  "What about finger-prints on the outside knob?" Heath queried. "That cut glass would take 'em easy."

  "My word, Sergeant!" Vance shook his head despairingly. "The concocter of this plot knows better than to leave his visitin' card wherever he goes. . . ."

  Bliss sprang to his feet.

  "An idea has just struck me," he exclaimed. "There was a gold-and-cloisonné sheath to that dagger; and if the sheath should not be in my desk drawer now, perhaps--perhaps--"