Philo Vance Omnibus Vol 2
Page 63
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
Footnotes
[1] "The Casino Murder Case" [1934]
[2] I realize that this statement will call forth considerable doubt, for real Napoléon brandy is practically unknown in America. But Vance had obtained a case in France; and Lawton Mackall, an exacting connoisseur, has assured me that, contrary to the existing notion among experts, there are at least eight hundred cases of this brandy in a warehouse in Cognac at the present day.
[3] It is interesting to note the recent announcement that a magnetic accelerator of five million volts and weighing ten tons for the manufacture of artificial radium for the treatment of malignant growths, such as cancer, is being built by the University of Rochester.
[4] At one time Vance was a polo enthusiast and played regularly. He too had a five-goal rating.
[5] When Vance read the proof of this record, he made a marginaal notation: "And I might also have mentioned Sir Barton, Sysonby, Colin, Crusader, Twenty Grand, and Equipoise."
[6] Miles Siefert was, at that time, one of the leading pathologists of New York, with an extensive practice among the fashionable element of the city.
[7] Vance at one time owned several excellent race-horses. His Magic Mirror, Smoke Maiden, and Aldeen were well known in their day; and Magic Mirror, as a three-year-old won two of the most important handicaps on the eastern tracks. But when, in the famous Elmswood Special, this horse broke a leg on entering the back-stretch and had to be destroyed, Vance seemed to lose all interest in racing and disposed of his entire stable. He is probably not a true horseman, any more than he is a truly great breeder of Scottish terriers, for his sentiments are constantly interfering with the stern and often ruthless demands of the game.
[8] These three horses were the first to better, by fractions of a second, Jack High's 1:35 record for the
mile at Belmont.
[9] In America, where earths are not stopped, not more than one fox in twenty is actually killed in the open, and it is very unpopular—and by many considered unsportsmanlike—to force a fox out of a place in which he has taken refuge, in order to kill him. But this practice is regularly resorted to in England, for various reasons; and occasionally an American Master will ape the English to this extent in order to boast that he had killed his fox and not merely accounted for him.
[10] "Lucky" Baldwin, the owner of Los Angeles, insisted upon run-off (which was the privilege of the owners of dead-heat winners up to 1932), and Los Angeles won.
[11] On the "cards" for New York State, however, the numbers do not correspond to the post positions, as here these positions are drawn shortly before the races begin, except in stake races.
[12] Alexis Flint was the service announcer at the central news station.
[13] Vance was referring to Nash's famous couplet: "Philo Vance Needs a kick in the pance."
[14] Hannix was Floyd Garden's book-maker.
[15] The pari-mutuel prices.
[16] David Alexander, the entertaining turf chronicler, wrote an item about these two horses recently. "Morestone," said Mr. Alexander, "could run plenty fast—up to six furlongs. But after six furlongs he flagged the horse ambulance. Morestone could quit in track record time. Nothing like it had been seen since they tried to make Nevada Queen go more than a half-mile a few years ago. There were two mysteries about Morestone. One was how he could run so fast, and the other was how he could quit so fast."
[17] Mutuel prices are figured on the basis of a two-dollar bet made at the track, and already paid in there. Therefore, away from the track, where the money wagered has not actually been passed over, the two dollars is subtracted from the mutuel price and the remainder is then divided by two to ascertain the exact odds which the horse paid on one dollar. In this particular race, Vance's horse paid $3.90 to come in second, or place. Two dollars subtracted from this leaves $1.90, and this amount divided by two gives ninety-five cents—that is, in the position in which Vance played him, Black Revel paid ninety-five cents on the dollar. Hence, Vance, having wagered $100 on the horse to place, won $95. In Hammle's case, the horse paid $5.80 in third place, so that the net odds were $1.90 to the dollar in that position. And, since he bet $25 on the horse to come in third, he won $47.50. But, from this must be deducted the $25 he played on the horse to win, and the $25 he put on the same horse to come in second—both of which bets he lost. This left him minus $2.50.
[18] Short for totalizator, an electrical, automatic betting device used at mutuel tracks.
[19] Garden was referring to the last race of the final day of a recent Saratoga season, when Anna V. L., Noble Spirit, and Semaphore finished in that order, and all were disqualified, Anna V. L. for swerving sharply at the start and causing other horses to take up, Noble Spirit for swerving badly at the eighth pole, and Semaphore for alleged interference with Anna V. L. The official placing, after the disqualifications, was Just Cap, first; Celiba, second; and Bahadur, third—the only other three horses in the race.
[20] Sergeant Ernest Heath of the Homicide Bureau, who had had charge of the various criminal investigations with which Vance had been associated.
[21] This collection was later sold at auction, and many of the items are now in the various museums of the country.
[22] Snitkin and Hennessey were two detectives of the Homicide Bureau, who had worked as associates of Sergeant Heath on the various criminal cases with which Vance had previously been connected.
[23] Doctor Emanuel Doremus, the Chief Medical Examiner of New York.
[24] Vance was referring to the suicide of a man in Houston, Texas, who left the following note: "To the public—Race horses caused this. The greatest thing the Texas Legislature can do is to repeal and enforce the gambling law."
[25] Hugo Kattelbaum, though a comparatively young man, was one of the country's leading authorities on cancer, and his researches on the effect of radium on the human viscera had, for the past year, been receiving considerable attention in the leading medical journals.
[26] Doctor Siefert was undoubtedly alluding to recent distressing stories in the press of radium poisoning—one of the death of a prominent steel manufacturer and sportsman, presumably resulting from the continued use of a radioactive water extensively advertised as a cure for various ailments; and another of the painful and fatal poisoning of several women and girls whose occupation was painting so-called radiolite watch-dials.
THE KIDNAP MURDER CASE
First Published 1936
Non semper ea sunt, quæ videntur; decipit
Frons prima multos.
—Phædrus.
CONTENTS
1. Kidnapped!
2. The Purple House
3. The Ransom Note
4. A Startling Declaration
5. On the Rungs of the Ladder
6. $50,000
7. The Black Opals
8. Ultimatum
9. Decisions Are Reached
10. The Tree in the Park
11. Another Empty Room
12. Emerald Perfume
13. The Green Coupé
14. Kaspar Is Found
15. Alexandrite and Amethyst
16. "This Year of Our Lord"
17. Shots in the Dark
18. The Windowless Room
19. 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.
1. 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.[1] 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.
"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.[2] 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 tha
t 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.
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.