Philo Vance 12 Novels Complete Bundle

by S. S. Van Dine

  "Oh, markedly," Vance readily agreed. "All rather circumstantial, however, isn't it, Lieutenant?"

  "That may be." There was a touch of bravado in his voice: a satisfying sense of triumph over Vance. "But sufficient grounds for arresting the man."

  "Oh, tut, tut. I wouldn't do that." Vance was all mildness. "So far you've done exceeding well, Lieutenant. You put things together deuced cleverly. Why spoil it all by moving too precipitately? Tie a few more ends."

  "I don't intend to act speedily. I could do with a few more facts."

  "Exactly. A common need of mankind. I'll bear your theory in mind. Maybe I'll be able to supply the missing facts. Credit all yours."

  O'Leary knocked out his pipe and rose. "I've several lines I'm following quietly. But I thought I'd tell you which way they're leading. I was hoping you might see things from my point of view."

  "I do," Vance assured him. "You've done well. Thanks again for your confidence."

  When O'Leary had shaken hands and gone, Vance crushed out his cigarette and walked to the window.

  "Deuce take it, Van," he said, "the man's too specious. Speciousness. Curse of our modern age. He thinks straight, though. Competent chap. All for the best. Not a nice theory. I hope he's wrong."

  An hour later Vance went below. The party that had driven off to Winewood earlier had returned. We saw some of them in the lower hall. From the drawing room came sounds indicating others there.

  Doctor Quayne was sitting with Joan Rexon and Ella Gunthar on the veranda. He got up when he saw us and smiled.

  "You come just in time, Mr. Vance," his pleasant voice greeted us. "Now you can entertain the young ladies. I'll have to run away in a few minutes to see some of my patients who need me much more than Joan does. I dropped by to make sure she was strong enough for the party tonight, and she doesn't need me at all. With the rest last night and this beautiful mild weather, she's all in readiness for the festivities."

  "Anyway," Miss Rexon said, "I managed to keep you here an hour, doctor."

  "That was purely social, my dear Joan." He turned back to Vance. "If all my patients were as charming as these two young ladies I'd never complete my rounds. The temptation to remain and visit would be greater than I could resist."

  "Mr. Vance, is flattery supposed to be a cure?" Joan Rexon seemed very happy.

  "There can be no flattery where you are concerned," Vance returned. "I know that Doctor Quayne means every word he says to you."

  Several of the guests came out, joined us a moment to make a fuss over Joan Rexon, and then returned indoors. The midday siren sounded. Bassett, too, I noticed, strolled out; but he merely nodded and remained at the other end of the veranda. He sat down at a small table and began a game of solitaire.

  The doctor glanced at his watch. "Good Heavens! That was the noon signal!" He gave the two girls a cordial bow. "You're both a corrupting influence." He went quickly through the drawing-room door. A few minutes later we saw him drive away.

  We remained on the veranda for another half hour, relaxing in the warm sunshine, and Vance entertained the girls with tales of his travels in Japan. In the midst of his engaging narrative he glanced toward the French doors just behind us. Excusing himself suddenly, he hastened toward the door. As he stepped inside he turned and beckoned me to follow.

  Higgins was standing just by the entrance, his face like chalk, his watery old eyes bulging. Fear and horror pervaded his entire being as he clasped and unclasped his hands against his breast.

  "Thank God you were here, Mr. Vance!" His voice quavered and the words were barely audible. "I couldn't find Mr. Richard. Come quickly, sir. Something terrible--" He moved swiftly toward the rear of the main stairs and led us to Carrington Rexon's den.

  There, on the floor before the grate, lay the owner of Rexon Manor.

  CHAPTER X - THE MISSING KEY

  (Saturday, January 18; 12:30 p.m.)

  Vance, down on one knee in a moment, cursorily examined the coagulating trickle of blood behind Carrington Rexon's right ear. He listened a moment to the labored breathing, then sought the pulse. He turned the man's face toward the light, found it ashen pale. He raised the upper eyelid of one eye; the eyeball was firm, the pupil contracted. He touched the cornea with his fingertip. The lids immediately compressed tightly.

  "Not serious," Vance announced. "He's reacting now from unconsciousness...I say, Higgins, summon the doctor immediately." He loosened Rexon's collar and stock.

  Higgins coughed.

  "I phoned Doctor Quayne before I came out to you, sir. Fortunately, he was at home, sir. He should be here directly."

  "Stout fella, Higgins. Now, if you'll call Lieutenant O'Leary--tell him to come here at once. Urgent. Explain, if necess'ry."

  "Yes, sir." Higgins picked up the telephone, put through the call, and returned the receiver. "The Lieutenant says he'll be here in ten minutes, sir."

  Vance stepped to the window and opened it. Then he went to the fireplace and added a fresh log. The crackling flames seemed to dissipate the gloom that hung over the room. A knock on the door was followed by the entry of Doctor Quayne, bag in hand.

  "Good God! What's this!" He rushed to Rexon.

  "Not too serious, doctor. No. Bad rap on the head." Vance moved away a step. "He should be coming to. Every indication of return of muscular tone. I found his pulse weak but regular. There was a definite corneal reflex when I opened his eye. Unmistakable resistance when I moved his head."

  Quayne nodded and fussed with the wound. A low moan came from Rexon. His eyes opened, glazed, unseeing. At an order from Quayne, Higgins brought brandy. The doctor forced a stiff dose gently between Rexon's lips. The prostrate man moaned again and closed his eyes.

  "Lucky I went home for lunch before continuing on my rounds..." The doctor chatted casually as he proceeded to examine Rexon. Finally he rose. "Everything quite in order," he finished cheerfully.

  Rexon's eyes opened again, almost clear now. He recognized Vance and Quayne, attempted a smile, winced, and raised a hand to the back of his head.

  "We'll take care of that in a moment." Quayne was kindly reassuring. Then, with Higgins' help, he placed Rexon on the sofa. With deft fingers he dressed the wound, continuing his assurances to the man.

  While the doctor was thus busied, Lieutenant O'Leary came in. Vance, in a low tone, gave him the details.

  "May we put a query or two now?" Vance asked as the doctor stepped away from the sofa.

  "Certainly, certainly," Quayne told him. "Mr. Rexon'll be quite all right now."

  Vance motioned Higgins from the room, and stepped to the sofa with O'Leary.

  "Now, what can you tell us, old friend?" he asked.

  "I doubt if I can tell you anything, Vance." Rexon's voice was low and husky, but it gained in volume as he continued. "I'd just risen from my desk to ring for Higgins...I must have been struck from behind." His hand moved to his head again. "The next thing I knew, you and Quayne were with me."

  "Any idea how long ago that was?"

  "Only a vague one, I'm afraid." Rexon thought a moment..."But wait! I think I heard the first notes of the siren before I lost consciousness...Yes. I'm positive. I recall being annoyed because it was so near twelve and my breakfast tray hadn't been removed. It's usually taken out of my way by eleven. That's why I was going to call Higgins."

  "Had you been here in the den since you came down this morning, sir?" O'Leary put in.

  "More or less, yes, Lieutenant. But I was out of the room for a few minutes once or twice."

  "Had any one been here with you?" asked Vance.

  "Yes. Bruce came in for instructions, as she usually does when there are guests. And my son spent about a half hour with me. Doctor Quayne here stepped in to say hello before he went out to Joan. Sydes and Carlotta came in for a minute. Some of the other guests did, too. I'll try to think back, if you want to know who else."

  "No--oh, no. Really doesn't matter." Vance stepped back.

  "Do you recall
any feeling of giddiness when you first rose to call Higgins?" the doctor asked. "Judging from the wound, I'd say it was highly possible you hit one of the fire irons as you fell."

  "I don't see how," answered Rexon a bit nettled. "I wasn't dizzy. The sensation was I was struck from behind."

  "All! I see," said Quayne thoughtfully.

  Rexon suddenly started forward, his eyes averted frantically. A bunch of keys on a long chain dangled from his trousers pocket over the edge of the divan. He caught the keys and sank back fumbling with them hysterically.

  "The key!" he gasped after a moment. "The Gem-Room key! God in Heaven! It's gone!"

  "Easy now, Rexon," admonished the doctor. "It can't be gone. Look again--calmly."

  Rexon ran his hands hopelessly through his pockets. O'Leary searched vainly on the floor. Vance stepped from the room, returning instantly to report that the Gem-Room door was safely locked.

  "Proves nothing!" exploded Rexon. "We must get in there at once. I'll get the duplicate key."

  He rose feebly as he spoke, and moved unsteadily across the room. Snatching a priceless Rembrandt etching from the opposite wall, he threw it carelessly aside. Then he pressed a small wooden medallion, and a narrow panel shifted, revealing an oval steel plate with a dial and knob. His nervous fingers managed a sequence of turns--left and right and left again. Finally he pulled the plate open and reached inside the hidden wall safe. He brought out a key with a long slender shaft. Taking it from him, Vance led the way through the hall.

  He had a little difficulty fitting the key into the lock, but finally succeeded and pushed the heavy steel door inward. Rexon brushed past him excitedly and came to a sudden stop in the middle of the famous Gem Room.

  "They're gone?" His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "The most precious part of my collection. And Istar's--" His voice broke as he pointed spasmodically and began to sway.

  Quayne stepped to him immediately, and took his arm. "My dear friend," he cautioned. He turned to us. "I'll take him back to the den, gentlemen." He led Rexon from the room.

  Vance closed the door after the two men, and locked it. Lighting a cigarette, he moved leisurely through that interesting room, with O'Leary following him in silence. The room was completely void of furnishings except for the ebony carpet and the numerous metal-bound glass cases along the walls. Emeralds of various shapes and sizes, in exquisite and unique settings, were displayed against white velvet backgrounds. In the corner to which Rexon had pointed a case larger than the others had its front pane shattered. A smaller case beside the large one was similarly broken. Both were empty. But none of the other cases in the room seemed to have been disturbed.

  "Very mystifyin'," Vance murmured. "Only two cases broken."

  "Probably didn't have time; hurried job," suggested O'Leary.

  "Quite, Lieutenant. All indications pointin' thus...Wonder what Istar has to do with it."

  He stepped to the side window and forced the catch open. O'Leary looked on as he examined the heavy criss-cross iron bars that enclosed the entire window frame. Then they made a similar inspection of the other window.

  "My word! Here's something interestin', Lieutenant. Bit of tamperin', what?" He directed O'Leary's attention to some peculiar ragged scratches across three of the bars.

  O'Leary's brows went up. "Whoever it was must've tried this means of entry first and found it too cumbersome an undertaking. No patience."

  "Or," returned Vance, "an interruption occurred. Aborted attempt. Could be. Let's toddle."

  They reclosed the windows. Vance took another look about the room before unlocking the unwieldy door.

  In the den Doctor Quayne was attempting futilely to console Rexon. "It's not as if they'd all been taken." Platitudes like that. "Only a few pieces..."

  "Only a few pieces!" repeated Rexon despairingly. "The very pieces that matter! If they'd taken all the others and left me those--" He did not complete the sentence.

  Vance handed Rexon the key. "I've relocked the door, of course. Now tell us just what is missing. And how is Istar mixed up in it?"

  Rexon jerked himself up in his chair; leaned wearily against the desk. "Every unset stone I owned. Spent a lifetime collecting 'em."

  "Those would be the easiest to dispose of, I take it," observed O'Leary respectfully.

  "Yes. Exactly. A fortune for any one into whose hands they came. All but the Istar..."

  "Again, wherefore Istar?" persisted Vance.

  "Queen Istar's necklace," groaned Rexon. "The rarest piece in my collection. From Egypt--eighteenth dynasty. It can never he replaced. Six high cabochon emeralds of flawless cut on a chain of smaller stones set in silver and pearls...You must remember it, Vance."

  "Ah, yes. Of course," said Vance sympathetically. "Naughty queen-- Istar. Always poppin' in and out to annoy folks."

  O'Leary was making notes in a small book. "When were you last in the room?" asked Vance.

  "This morning, early. I go in every morning. Had Bruce there with me to do a little dusting. For the display to my guests this evening."

  "Ah, yes. Very sad. Now, of course, there'll be no display."

  "No." Rexon shook his head in keen disappointment.

  "But the youngsters must have their party tonight as though nothing had happened. You agree, Rexon?" Vance's tone was significantly imperative.

  "Yes, by all means," complied Rexon. "No need to upset everybody."

  The doctor rose presently, picked up his bag. "You don't need my services any more just now, Rexon. Wish I could be more helpful. But I'll be back this evening to keep an eye on Joan for you."

  "Thank you, Quayne. That's very good of you."

  The doctor bowed himself out.

  O'Leary closed his notebook. "Tell me, Mr. Rexon, was your overseer in to see you this morning?"

  "Gunthar? No," replied Rexon. "He's probably been working on the rink and the pavilion all morning. But it's strange you should ask that. Higgins told me when I came down this morning that Gunthar had been here about half an hour earlier asking if he could see me. Higgins told him I wasn't down yet, and the man went away grumbling to himself. I don't understand it, for he never comes here unless I send for him."

  O'Leary nodded with satisfaction. He stepped to the open window, lowered it and raised it again. Then he leaned out for a moment as if inspecting the flagging below. There was a speculative look in his eyes as he rejoined us.

  In the hall Vance drew the Lieutenant aside. "What about Gunthar?" he asked in a low tone. "Any secrets to unbosom?"

  "It's a clearer-cut case now than it was yesterday." The Lieutenant was solemn. "You admitted I had a good case then, sir. But add this to it: I tried to see Gunthar this morning. One of the workmen told me he had gone to the Manor to speak to the Squire. Seemed natural. So I waited around a while. But Gunthar didn't come back."

  O'Leary cocked a triumphant eye at Vance.

  "You see, sir, how easy it would have been for the man to have entered the den through the window, either then or later when Mr. Rexon was out of the room. He had only to wait back of the screen till the time was ripe. When he had struck the blow it would have been a moment's work for him to snatch the key and get to the Gem Room."

  Vance nodded. "Deuced clever, Lieutenant. Logical from many points of view."

  "Yes. And what's more," persisted O'Leary, "I'm not at all convinced his daughter Ella wasn't mixed up in it--you know, sir, like giving him the tip-off--"

  "Oh, my dear fellow! You startle me no end. I say, aren't you carrying this prejudice against Gunthar a bit too far?"

  O'Leary looked surprised that Vance apparently could not appreciate the circumstantial possibilities of the situation.

  "No, I wouldn't say so," he retorted with the calmness of conviction. "I've got enough to arrest the girl along with her father."

  "But on what grounds, Lieutenant?" Vance was concerned.

  "As a material witness, if nothing else," was O'Leary's confident rejoinder.
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  Vance lighted a cigarette and blew a long ribbon of smoke. "Not attemptin' to try your case, Lieutenant. No. It's far too logical. Merely making an urgent request. Neither the girl nor papa is likely to run off tonight, what? Surely, tomorrow will serve your purpose quite as well. You'll wait, Lieutenant? I'm beggin'."

  O'Leary studied Vance several moments. There was no denying the look of admiration beneath his perturbation and doubt. Finally he nodded. "I'll wait, sir. Though it goes against my best judgment." And he strode off across the veranda and disappeared down the side steps.

  Vance, too, stepped out on the veranda a moment later. Joan Rexon still sat where we had left her, but Ella Gunthar was no longer there. In her place sat Carlotta Naesmith.

  "My word!" murmured Vance. "No use hopin' the doughty Lieutenant didn't note Miss Ella's absence. No. Observin' fellow, O'Leary."

  Bassett was still hunched over the table where he had started his game of Canfield. Stanley Sydes had joined him and sat in a chair opposite, acting as banker. A decanter of Bourbon stood between them.

  CHAPTER XI - FAREWELL SOIRÉE

  (Saturday, January 18; 9 p.m.)

  The afternoon had passed uneventfully. After lunch Carlotta Naesmith and Stanley Sydes invited Vance to go with the others and watch their practice routine on the ice. He had politely declined. Richard Rexon, who likewise remained at the Manor, had talked briefly with Vance regarding the stolen emeralds and spent the rest of the afternoon brooding about the matter. Miss Joan retired to her sitting room for a rest. The house was unusually quiet.