by Otto Penzler
“What do ya mean, robbed him?” Deekin asked.
Leith laughed scornfully. “I wasn’t born yesterday,” he said. “That story about the priests of Hanuman who showed up to avenge the monkey deserter from the temple is a lot of hooey that might go with some people, but you can save your breath as far as I’m concerned. They cut that monkey open to get at the smuggled gems. If your boss had had this cane with him, they wouldn’t— Oh, well, never mind.”
“What’s this about catching the robber?” Deekin demanded.
“Well, they’ve just as good as caught him,” Leith said. “They found out he wasn’t a fat man at all. That was just a disguise. The guy stole a car just to pull the stickup, then he ran the car down to the Ninety-third Street Station, went in the men’s room and took off his clothes. He had a specially constructed rubber-lined suit. All he had to do was put an air hose on it and blow it up so he looked as though he weighed about three hundred pounds. He stuck that suit in the suitcase, bought a railroad ticket to Beacon City, and checked the suitcase on the ticket. He figured no one would pay any attention to it there, and he’d have a chance to pick it up sometime later.”
“Say, how about this?” Deekin interrupted. “Who did it?”
“I don’t know who did it. I heard this other stuff come in over the radio just a little while ago,” Leith said, “and I thought Mainwaring would probably be interested.”
“How long ago?” the chauffeur asked.
“Oh, I don’t know; ten or fifteen minutes ago. The police said they were working on some hot clues and expected an arrest to be made before midnight. You know how it is, the news announcers don’t hand out too much information over the radio in a crime like that until the police tell them it’s O.K. to release it. Well, buddy, I’ve got to be going. Be sure Mainwaring gets this cane. So long.”
“So long,” Deekin said.
Lester Leith walked down the street, swinging the other cane behind him.
The chauffeur mopped cold perspiration from his forehead. He looked apprehensively up at the Explorers’ Club, then apparently seized with a sudden inspiration, jumped out of the car, pulled up the front seat, and attacked the body of the automobile with a screwdriver. A few moments later, he had lifted up a cleverly concealed plate and removed two blazing green stones from a hidden receptacle. He unscrewed the head of the cane, dropped the two emeralds into the cotton-lined hollow, and screwed the head of the cane back on. He replaced the front seat in the automobile, jumped out, and started walking rapidly toward the corner, swinging the cane casually in his hand.
He heard running steps behind him.
“Hey,” Lester Leith called. “I’ve made a mistake in that cane.”
Deekin stopped, bracing himself ominously. His right hand once more sought the vicinity of his necktie.
Leith, drawing closer, said, “Gosh, I entirely forgot about the difference in length. The colonel is a long-legged guy, and the long cane is for him. I think I gave you the long cane, instead of the short one.”
Deekin said ominously, “Well, what you think, don’t count. / think this is the cane that Mainwaring wanted.”
“By gosh,” Leith said, with relief in his voice, “I guess you’re right. That is the short cane after all.”
Deekin clutched the cane firmly in his left hand, but appeared somewhat mollified as Leith made the announcement.
“Just a minute,” Leith said; “let’s measure them, just to be sure.”
Still holding his cane firmly in his left hand, his right hand ready to dive under the lapel of his coat, Deekin stood perfectly still while Leith compared the canes. The one which Leith was holding was a full inch longer than the other.
Leith heaved a sigh.
“By gosh,” he said, “I didn’t realize that I was as long-legged as I am. You know, after I left you and started out to deliver this cane to the colonel, I swung it around a couple of times and damned if it didn’t almost fit me. So then I got scared and—”
“Well, it’s all right now,” Deekin said.
“I’ll say it is,” Leith told him, twisting the ferrule of the cane in his gloved hands as though to polish it. “What were you doing, taking a walk?”
“Yes,” Deekin said shortly.
“Well,” Leith told him, “I’ll go with you as far as the corner.”
Deekin hesitated a moment, then said shortly, “All right, as far as the corner.”
The two men walked side by side. Lester Leith took out his handkerchief and polished the glass surface of the cane which he held in his hand.
Deekin, after a hundred feet, surreptitiously turned to cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder.
At that moment, Lester Leith shoved his cane down and to the left. It caught in between Deekin’s legs just as the chauffeur was taking a long step forward.
The cane was wrenched free from Leith’s grasp. Deekin fell heavily forward, losing the grip on his own cane. At the same time, an ugly blue-steel automatic shot from its holster under his left armpit and slid for a foot or two along the sidewalk.
Leith said: “Good heavens, man, are you hurt? I’m so sorry. I was polishing that cane and—”
Deekin grabbed for the gun. “Say,” he said, “I’ve seen enough of you. Beat it!”
“But, my heavens!” Leith said. “It was an accident, purely and simply. Great heavens, man, what are you doing with that gun? I suppose Mainwaring makes you carry it, but—”
Deekin said: “Never mind all that talk. Just pass over that cane of mine.”
“Oh, yes,” Leith said, “a thousand pardons. I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you to your feet.”
“You keep your distance,” Deekin said, menacing him with the gun. “Give me that cane. Hold ‘em out so I can see both of them. Don’t try any funny stuff now. Give me that shorter one. O.K., that’s it. Pass it over, and don’t come close.”
“But I don’t understand,” Leith said. “After all, this was just an accident. Perhaps the blunder was on my part, but still—”
“Go on,” Deekin said. “Beat it. I’ve seen all of you I want to see. I crave to be alone. I don’t want to have anyone tagging around. Turn around and walk back the other way, and keep walking for ten minutes.”
“But I simply can’t understand,” Leith said, “why you should adopt this attitude. Man, you’re pointing that gun at me! You’re—”
“Beat it,” the chauffeur ordered.
Leith, apparently realizing all at once the menace of that gun, turned and took to his heels, the cane held under his arm.
Deekin took four or five quick steps, then paused to dust off his clothes, walked another fifteen or twenty feet, and then apprehensively twisted the head off the cane, and peered into the interior. The street light reflected in reassuring green scintillations from the interior, and Deekin, breathing easier, swung into a rapid walk.
CHAPTER VII
BEAVERS DEDUCTIONS
Beaver, the undercover man, coughed significantly until he caught Sergeant Ackley’s eye, then motioned toward the door.
They held a conference in the car vestibule.
“There’s something fishy about this, sergeant,” the undercover man said.
“I’ll say there’s plenty fishy about it,” Sergeant Ackley said suspiciously. “I’m going to put that guy who let Leith give him the slip back to pounding pavements.”
“He couldn’t have helped it,” Beaver said, “but that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, sergeant.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Those two emeralds couldn’t have been in that suitcase.”
“What do you mean, they couldn’t have been?” Sergeant Ackley shouted. “Where else could they have been?”
“Right in Lester Leith’s pockets,” Beaver said.
“Bosh and nonsense,” Sergeant Ackley snapped. “If that’s all you have to offer in the way of suggestions, I’m—”
“Just a moment, sergeant,” Beaver said. “Yo
u forget that Leith told the baggageman to look through the suitcase in order to familiarize himself with the contents. Now, if those emeralds had been in there, the baggageman certainly would have seen them, and then he wouldn’t have let the suitcase go for any fifty-dollar deposit. He’d have got in touch with the claim department and—”
Sergeant Ackley’s expression of dismay showed that he appreciated only too keenly the logic of the undercover man’s words.
“So you see what that means,” Beaver said. “If those gems weren’t in the suitcase, then Leith must have brought them; and if Leith brought them, he’d never have stuck them to the under side of that table and then got off the train.”
“Well, then the girl stuck them there,” Ack-ley said.
“No, she didn’t, sergeant. That girl is just a plant.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a red herring to keep us occupied while Leith is actually getting the stones.”
“You’re crazy!” Sergeant Ackley said. “We have the stones.”
“No, we haven’t, sergeant. You left the chewing gum on them so they’d be evidence, but if you’ll pull that chewing gum off and wash those stones in gasoline, I’ll bet you’ll find they’re two of the imitation stones that I got for Leith. He fixed this whole thing so that we’d be carried away on the train ‘way past Beacon City while he was doubling back by an airplane to shake down the guy who has those stones.”
“Who?” Sergeant Ackley asked.
“The chauffeur,” Beaver said. “Can’t you see? The chauffeur was a thin guy. He had a board with some nails in it planted so he could puncture a tire on the car right where he wanted to. No one knows that the jack was broken. They only have his word for it. He said he was going out to get another jack. What he really did was climb in this stolen car which he’d planted before he went down to the dock to meet the boat. He slipped this rubberized suit of clothes over his others, drove into a service station, blew himself up, put on a mask, went over to the stalled automobile, stuck them up, killed the monkey, took the stones, drove back, parked the car, deflated the suit, put it in the suitcase, checked it up, salted the emeralds somewhere, and then came back to the car. To keep suspicion from centering on him, he said that he’d seen this fat man and gave the license number of the car. He—”
Sergeant Ackley groaned. “You’re right! But, by gosh, we’ll get a plane, we’ll telephone, we’ll—” His hand shot up to the emergency air cord.
A moment later, the long string of Pullmans, rocketing through the night, suddenly started screaming to an abrupt stop, with passengers thrown about in their berths like popcorn in a corn popper. Sergeant Ackley started forward. His right shoe went stickety-stick—stickety-stick. He looked down at the wad of chewing gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. Curses poured from his quivering lips. He pawed at the wad of moist chewing gum. The motion of the stopping train pitched him forward, threw him off balance. His hat was jerked from his head. With gum-covered fingers, he retrieved the hat, clamped it back on his head, and then, feeling a lump between his hair and the hatband, realized too late that he had pressed the wad of moist gum into his hair.
CHAPTER VIII
BEAVER’S BIG MOMENT
Sergeant Ackley, Beaver, and the two detectives burst into Leith’s apartment to find Lester Leith sprawled in a lounging robe, reading. He looked up with a frown as the men came charging through the door.
“Scuttle,” he said, “what the devil’s the meaning of this, and where have you been, Scuttle? I didn’t tell you you could have the evening off— Good evening, sergeant and … gentlemen”
“Never mind all that stuff,” Sergeant Ackley yelled. “What the hell did you do with those emeralds?”
“Emeralds, sergeant?” Lester Leith asked. “Come, come, sergeant; let’s get at this logically and calmly. You’re all excited, sergeant. Sit down and tell me what you’re talking about. And is that gum in your hair, sergeant? Tut, tut, I’m afraid you’re getting careless.”
“Search him,” Sergeant Ackley yelled to the two detectives.
“Now, just a minute, sergeant,” Lester Leith said. “This is indeed an utterly useless procedure. I certainly don’t know what you’re looking for, but—”
“Search him!” Sergeant Ackley repeated, his voice rising with his rage. The detectives searched the unresisting Leith.
“Come, come, sergeant,” Leith said, when they had finished with their search. “I suppose you’ve made another one of your perfectly asinine blunders, but, after all, there’s no use getting so incensed about it. Do you know, sergeant, I’m commencing to get so I’m rather attached to you, and you’re going to burst a blood vessel if you don’t control your temper. Tut, tut, man, your face is all purple.”
Sergeant Ackley tried to talk, but his first few words were incoherent. After a moment, he managed to control himself enough to say: “We caught Mainwaring’s chauffeur. He had a cane with two imitation emeralds in it.”
“Did he, indeed?” Lester Leith said. “Do you know, sergeant, I gave him that cane.”
“So I gather.”
“Yes,” Lester Leith said, “I gave it to him. I thought that perhaps Mr. Mainwaring might be interested in it.”
“And why did you think Mainwaring might be interested in it?”
“Oh, just as a curiosity,” Leith said. “I had two of them, and I really had use only for one, you know. And Mainwaring’s a traveler, an explorer who—”
“Where’s the other one?” Ackley interrupted.
“Over there in the corner, I believe,” Leith said unconcernedly. “Would you like it, sergeant? I’ll give it to you as a souvenir of your visit. I had some idea for a while that a person might be able to work out a solution—and, mind you, sergeant, I mean a purely academic solution—of a crime by using these canes. But I find that I was in error, sergeant. So many times one makes mistakes, or do you find that to be true in your case, sergeant?
“Tut, tut, sergeant, don’t answer, because I can see it’s going to embarrass you. I can realize that the professional officer doesn’t make the errors that a rank amateur would, yet I see that I’ve embarrassed you by asking the question.
“Anyway, sergeant, I decided there was a flaw in my reasoning so I decided to get rid of the canes. I gave one to Mr. Mainwaring, thinking he might like it—that is, I left it with his chauffeur—and I’m giving you this other one.”
Sergeant Ackley said: “Like hell you made a mistake. You solved that Mainwaring robbery.”
“Robbery!” Lester Leith asked. “Surely sergeant, you must be mistaken. It was the killing of a monkey, wasn’t it? The malicious, premeditated killing of a harmless pet. I felt very much incensed about it myself, sergeant.”
“You felt incensed enough so you went out and grabbed the emeralds,” Sergeant Ackley charged.
“What emeralds?”
“You know very well what emeralds—the two that were in the monkey’s stomach, the two that the chauffeur stole.”
“Did the chauffeur tell you that he stole any emeralds?” Lester Leith asked.
“Yes, he did. He made a complete confession,” Sergeant Ackley snorted. “He and Mainwaring’s nurse had been corresponding. She wrote him a letter mentioning the emeralds and their plan for smuggling them in by making a monkey swallow them. Of course, she denies all that, but we know Deekin’s right about it. You trapped Deekin into taking two emeralds out of their place of concealment in the car he was driving, and putting them into that cane.”
“Indeed, I did nothing of the sort,” Lester Leith said. “I had no idea there were any emeralds in the cane.”
“Don’t hand me a line like that,” Sergeant Ackley told him. “You figured it all out.”
“And what did the chauffeur do with the emeralds?” Leith asked.
“Put them into the hollowed-out place in the cane he was carrying.”
“Then you must have found them in the cane, sergeant! Congratulations on an excellent piece of
detective work! The newspapers will give you a big hand over this.”
“Those emeralds in the cane were imitations, and you know it,” Sergeant Ackley said.
“Tut, tut,” Lester Leith said sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, sergeant. I was hoping you’d been able to solve a case which would result in a great deal of newspaper credit, perhaps a promotion. But you can’t go to the newspapers with a lot of hullabaloo about getting two imitation emeralds. It’s too much like killing a caged canary with a ten-gauge shotgun, sergeant. They’d laugh at you. It’s anticlimactic. Now tell me, sergeant, in his confession, did the chauffeur state that the same two emeralds he had taken from the monkey’s stomach were in that cane?”
“Yes, he did, because he thought those were the two, but by some sleight-of-hand hocus-pocus you must have switched canes and got the cane which had the genuine emeralds.”
Lester Leith smiled. “Really, sergeant, at times you’re exceedingly credulous, and opinionated, and careless with your accusations. If the chauffeur swears that the emeralds he took from the monkey’s stomach were the ones which were concealed in that cane, then they must be the ones; and if there’s anything wrong with those emeralds, any question as to their genuineness or authenticity, it must have been the monkey who made the substitution. Monkeys are quite apt to do that, sergeant. They’re very mischievous.
“And, incidentally, sergeant, I’d be very, very careful, if I were you, about making an accusation against a reputable citizen based entirely upon the word of a self-confessed crook, on the one hand, and an assumption of yours, on the other. There’s really nothing to connect them up. As I see it, sergeant, you simply cannot make a case against me unless you could find those genuine emeralds in my possession. Of course, I have only a layman’s knowledge of the law, but that would seem to me to be the rule. As I gather it, Mainwaring will swear he never had any emeralds. And certainly Mainwaring’s word will be more acceptable than that of his chauffeur, a self-confessed crook, according to your statement, sergeant. Of course, if there never were any emeralds stolen from Mainwaring, I could hardly be convicted of taking what had never been taken. At any rate, that’s the way I look at it. Larceny involves the taking of property. If you can’t show that there ever was any property, you can’t support a charge of larceny. That’s the way it appears to me, sergeant, although I’m just an amateur.
