Philo Vance 12 Novels Complete Bundle

by S. S. Van Dine

  Vance sighed deeply before continuing.

  "I arranged with Sergeant Heath to equip the post at the far end of the garden with a strong steel wire such as is used in theatres for flying and levitation acts. This wire was to be just long enough to reach as far as the height of the balcony on this floor. And to it was attached the usual spring catch which fastens to the leather equipment worn by the performer. This equipment consists of a heavy cowhide vest resembling in shape and cut the old Ferris waist worn by young girls in post-Victorian days, and even later. This afternoon Sergeant Heath brought such a leather vest--or what is technically known in theatrical circles as a 'flying corset'--to my apartment, and I put it on before I came here...You might be interested in seeing it. I took it off a little while ago, for it's frightfully uncomfortable..."

  He rose and went through the door into the adjoining bedroom. A few moments later he returned with the leather "corset." It was made of very heavy brown leather, with a soft velour finish, and was lined with canvas. The sides, instead of being seamed, were held together by strong leather thongs laced through brass eyelets. The closing down the middle was effected by a row of inch-wide leather straps and steel buckles by which the vest was tightened to conform to the contour of the person who wore it. There were adjustable shoulder straps of leather, and thigh straps strongly made and cushioned with thick rolls of rubber.

  Vance held up this strange garment.

  "Here it is," he said. "Ordinarily, the buckles and straps are in front and the attachment for the spring catch is in back. But for my purpose this had to be reversed. I needed the rings in front because the wire had to be attached at this point when my back was turned to Miss Beeton." He pointed to two heavy overlapping iron rings, about two inches in diameter, held in place by nuts and bolts in a strip of canvas, several layers in thickness, in the front of the corset.

  Vance threw the garment on the desk.

  "This waistcoat, or corset," he said, "is worn under the actor's costume; and in my case I put on a loose tweed suit today so that the slightly protruding rings in front would not be noticeable.

  "When I took Miss Beeton upstairs with me, I led her out into the garden and confronted her with her guilt. While she was protesting, I mounted the parapet, standing there with my back to her, ostensibly looking out over the city, as I had done last evening. In the semi-darkness I snapped the wire to the rings on the front of my leather vest without her seeing me do so. She came very close to me as she talked, but for a minute or so I was afraid she would not take advantage of the situation. Then, in the middle of one of her sentences, she lurched toward me with both hands outstretched, and the impact sent me over the parapet. It was a simple matter to swing myself over the balcony railing. I had arranged for the drawing-room door to be unlatched, and I merely disconnected the suspension wire, walked in, and appeared in the hallway. When Miss Beeton learned that I had witnesses to her act, as well as a photograph of it, she realized that the game was up.

  "I admit, however, that I had not foreseen that she would resort to suicide. But perhaps it is just as well. She was one of those women who through some twist of nature--some deep-rooted wickedness--personify evil. It was probably this perverted tendency which drew her into the profession of nursing, where she could see, and even take part in, human suffering."

  Vance leaned back in his chair and smoked abstractedly. He seemed to be deeply affected, as were all of us. Little more was said--each, of us, I think, was too much occupied with his own thoughts for any further discussion of the case. There were a few desultory questions, a few comments, and then a long silence.

  Doctor Siefert was the first to take his departure. Shortly afterward the others rose restlessly.

  I felt shaken from the sudden let-down of the tension through which I had been going, and walked into the drawing-room for a drink of brandy. The only light in the room came through the archway from the chandelier in the hall and from the after-glow of the sky which faintly illumined the windows, but it was sufficient to enable me to make my way to the little cabinet bar in the corner. I poured myself a pony of brandy and, drinking it quickly, stood for a moment looking out of the window over the slaty waters of the Hudson.

  I heard some one enter the room and cross toward the balcony, but I did not look round immediately. When I did turn back to the room I saw the dim form of Vance standing before the open door to the balcony, a solitary, meditative figure. I was about to speak to him when Zalia Graem came softly through the archway and approached him.

  "Good-by, Philo Vance," she said.

  "I'm frightfully sorry," Vance murmured, taking her extended hand. "I was hoping you would forgive me when you understood everything."

  "I do forgive you," she said. "That's what I came to tell you."

  Vance bowed his head and raised her fingers to his lips.

  The girl then withdrew her hand slowly and, turning, went from the room.

  Vance watched her till she had passed through the archway. Then he moved to the open door and stepped out on the balcony.

  When Zalia Graem had gone, I went into the den where Markham sat talking with Professor Garden and his son. He looked up at me as I entered, and glanced at his watch.

  "I think we'd better be going, Van," he said. "Where's Vance?"

  I went reluctantly back into the drawing-room to fetch him. He was still standing on the balcony, gazing out over the city with its gaunt spectral structures and its glittering lights.

  * * *

  To this day Vance has not lost his deep affection for Zalia Graem. He has rarely mentioned her name, but I have noted a subtle change in his nature, which I attribute to the influence of that sentiment. Within a fortnight after the Garden murder case, Vance went to Egypt for several months; and I have a feeling that this solitary trip was motivated by his interest in Miss Graem. One evening after his return from Cairo he remarked to me: "A man's affections involve a great responsibility. The things a man wants most must often be sacrificed because of this exacting responsibility." I think I understood what was in his mind. With the multiplicity of intellectual interests that occupied him, he doubted (and I think rightly so) his capacity to make any woman happy in the conventional sense.

  As for Zalia Graem, she married Floyd Garden the following year, and they are now living on Long Island, only a few miles distant from Hammle's estate. Miss Weatherby and Kroon are still seen together; and there have been rumors from time to time that she is about to sign a contract with a Hollywood motion-picture producer. Professor Garden is still living in his penthouse apartment, a lonely and somewhat pathetic figure, completely absorbed in his researches.

  A year or so after the tragedies at the Garden apartment, Vance met Hannix, the book-maker, at Bowie. It was a casual meeting, and I doubt if Vance remembered it afterward. But Hannix remembered. One day, several months later, when Vance and I were sitting in the downstairs dining-hall of the club-house at Empire, Hannix came over and drew up a chair.

  "What's happened to Floyd Garden, Mr. Vance?" he asked. "I haven't heard from him for over a year. Given up the horses?"

  "It's possible, don't y' know," Vance returned with a faint smile.

  "But why?" demanded Hannix. "He was a good sport, and I miss him."

  "I dare say." Vance nodded indifferently. "Perhaps he grew a bit weary of contributing to your support."

  "Now, now, Mr. Vance." Hannix assumed an injured air and extended his hands appealingly. "That was a cruel remark. I never held out with Mr. Garden for the usual bookie maximum. Believe, me, I paid him mutuel prices on any bet up to half a hundred...By the way, Mr. Vance,"-- Hannix leaned forward confidentially--"the Butler Handicap is coming up in a few minutes, and the slates are all quoting Only One at eight. If you like the colt, I'll give you ten on him. He's got a swell chance to win."

  Vance looked at the man coldly and shook his head. "No, thanks, Hannix. I'm already on Discovery."

  Discovery won that race by a length and a half.
Only One, incidentally, finished a well-beaten second.

  THE END

  THE KIDNAP MURDER CASE

  A Philo Vance Story

  by

  S. S. Van Dine

  1936

  Non semper ea sunt, quæ videntur; decipit

  Frons prima multos.

  Phædrus.

  CONTENTS

  I. Kidnapped!

  II. The Purple House

  III. The Ransom Note

  IV. A Startling Declaration

  V. On the Rungs of the Ladder

  VI. $50,000

  VII. The Black Opals

  VIII. Ultimatum

  IX. Decisions Are Reached

  X. The Tree in the Park

  XI. Another Empty Room

  XII. Emerald Perfume

  XIII. The Green Coupé

  XIV. Kaspar Is Found

  XV. Alexandrite and Amethyst

  XVI. "This Year of Our Lord"

  XVII. Shots in the Dark

  XVIII. The Windowless Room

  XIX. The Final Scene

  CHARACTERS OF THE BOOK Philo Vance

  John F.-X. Markham--District Attorney of New York County.

  Ernest Heath--Sergeant of the Homicide Bureau.

  Kaspar Kenting--A play-boy and gambler, who mysteriously disappears from his home.

  Kenton Kenting--A broker; brother of Kaspar and technical head of the Kenting family.

  Madelaine Kenting--Kaspar Kenting's wife.

  Eldridge Fleel--A lawyer; a friend of the Kenting family and their attorney.

  Mrs. Andrews Falloway--Madelaine Kenting's mother.

  Fraim Falloway--Madelaine Kenting's brother.

  Porter Quaggy--Another friend of the Kentings.

  Weem--The Kenting butler and houseman.

  Gertrude--The Kenting cook and maid; wife of Weem.

  Snitkin--Detective of the Homicide Bureau.

  Hennessey--Detective of the Homicide Bureau.

  Burke--Detective of the Homicide Bureau.

  Guilfoyle--Detective of the Homicide Bureau.

  Sullivan--Detective of the Homicide Bureau.

  Captain Dubois--Finger-print expert.

  Detective Bellamy--Finger-print expert.

  William McLaughlin--Patrolman on night duty on West 86th Street.

  Currie--Vance's valet.

  THE KIDNAP MURDER CASE

  CHAPTER I

  KIDNAPPED!

  (Wednesday, July 20; 9:30 a.m.)

  Philo Vance, as you may remember, took a solitary trip to Egypt immediately after the termination of the Garden murder case.* He did not return to New York until the middle of July. He was considerably tanned, and there was a tired look in his wide-set grey eyes. I suspected, the moment I greeted him on the dock, that during his absence he had thrown himself into Egyptological research, which was an old passion of his.

  * "The Garden Murder Case" (Scribners, 1935).

  "I'm fagged out, Van," he complained good-naturedly, as we settled ourselves in a taxicab and started uptown to his apartment. "I need a rest. We're not leavin' New York this summer--you won't mind, I hope. I've brought back a couple of boxes of archæological specimens. See about them tomorrow, will you?--there's a good fellow."

  Even his voice sounded weary. His words carried a curious undertone of distraction; and the idea flashed through my mind that he had not altogether succeeded in eliminating from his thoughts the romantic memory of a certain young woman he had met during the strange and fateful occurrences in the penthouse of Professor Ephraim Garden.* My surmise must have been correct, for it was that very evening, when he was relaxing in his roof-garden, that Vance remarked to me, apropos of nothing that had gone before: "A man's affections involve a great responsibility. The things a man wants most must often be sacrificed because of this exacting responsibility." I felt quite certain then that his sudden and prolonged trip to Egypt had not been an unqualified success as far as his personal objective was concerned.

  * This famous case had taken place just three months earlier.

  For the next few days Vance busied himself in arranging, classifying and cataloging the rare pieces he had brought back with him. He threw himself into the work with more than his wonted interest and enthusiasm. His mental and physical condition showed improvement immediately, and it was but a short time before I recognized the old vital Vance that I had always known, keen for sports, for various impersonal activities, and for the constant milling of the undercurrents of human psychology.

  It was just a week after his return from Cairo that the famous Kidnap murder case broke. It was an atrocious and clever crime, and more than the usual publicity was given to it in the newspapers because of the wave of kidnapping cases that had been sweeping over the country at that time. But this particular crime of which I am writing from my voluminous notes was very different in many respects from the familiar "snatch"; and it was illumined by many sinister high lights. To be sure, the motive for the crime, or, I should say, crimes, was the sordid one of monetary gain; and superficially the technique was similar to that of the numerous cases in the same category. But through Vance's determination and fearlessness, through his keen insight into human nature, and his amazing flair for the ramifications of human psychology, he was able to penetrate beyond the seemingly conclusive manifestations of the case.

  In the course of this investigation Vance took no thought of any personal risk. At one time he was in the gravest danger, and it was only through his boldness, his lack of physical fear, and his deadly aim and quick action when it was a matter of his life or another's--partly the result, perhaps, of his World-War experience which won him the Croix de Guerre--that he saved the lives of several innocent persons as well as his own, and eventually put his finger on the criminal in a scene of startling tragedy.

  There was a certain righteous indignation in his attitude during this terrible episode--an attitude quite alien to his customarily aloof and cynical and purely academic point of view--for the crime itself was one of the type he particularly abhorred.

  As I have said, it was just a week after his return to New York that Vance was unexpectedly, and somewhat against his wishes, drawn into the investigation. He had resumed his habit of working late at night and rising late; but, to my surprise, when I entered the library at nine o'clock on that morning of July 20, he was already up and dressed and had just finished the Turkish coffee and the Régie cigarette that constituted his daily breakfast. He had on his patch-pocket grey tweed suit and a pair of heavy walking boots, which almost invariably indicated a contemplated trip into the country.

  Before I could express my astonishment (I believe it was the first time in the course of our relationship that he had risen and started the day before I had) he smilingly explained to me with his antemeridian drawl:

  "Don't be shocked by my burst of energy, Van. It really can't be helped, don't y' know. I'm driving out to Dumont, to the dog show. I've a little chap entered in the puppy and American-bred classes, and I want to take him into the ring myself. He's a grand little fellow, and this is his début.* I'll return for dinner."

  * As I learned later, he was referring to his Scottish terrier, Pibroch Sandyman. Incidentally, this dog won the puppy class that day and received Reserve Winners as well. Later he became a Champion.

  I was rather pleased at the prospect of being left alone for the day, for there was much work for me to do. I admit that, as Vance's legal advisor, monetary steward and general overseer of his affairs, I had allowed a great deal of routine work to accumulate during his absence, and the assurance of an entire day, without any immediate or current chores, was most welcome to me.

  As Vance spoke he rang for Currie, his old English butler and majordomo, and asked for his hat and chamois gloves. Filling his cigarette case, he waved a friendly good-bye to me and started toward the door. But just before he reached it, the front doorbell sounded, and a moment later Currie ushered in John F.-X. Markham, District Attorney of New York Coun
ty.*

  * Markham and Vance had been close friends for over fifteen years, and, although Vance's unofficial connection with the District Attorney's office had begun somewhat in the spirit of an experimental adventure, Markham had now come to depend implicitly upon his friend as a vital associate in his criminal investigations.

  "Good heavens, Vance!" exclaimed Markham. "Going out at such an early hour? Or have you just come in?" Despite the jocularity of his words, there was an unwonted sombreness in his face and a worried look in his eyes, which belied the manner of his greeting.

  Vance smiled with a puzzled frown.

  "I don't like the expression on your Hellenic features this morning, old dear. It bodes ill for one who craves freedom and surcease from earthly miseries. I was just about to escape by hieing me to a dog show in the country. My little Sandy--"

  "Damn your dogs and your dog shows, Vance!" Markham growled. "I've serious news for you."

  Vance shrugged his shoulders with resignation and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

  "Markham--my very dear Markham! How did you time your visit so accurately? Thirty seconds later and I would have been on my way and free from your clutches." Vance threw his hat and gloves aside. "But since you have captured me so neatly, I suppose I must listen, although I am sure I shall not like the tidin's. I know I'm going to hate you and wish you had never been born. I can tell from the doleful look on your face that you're in for something messy and desire spiritual support." He stepped a little to one side. "Enter, and pour forth your woes."