THE EXACT OPPOSITE
There was a glint of amusement in the eyes of Lester Leith as he lazily surveyed the valet, who was in reality no valet at all, but a police undercover operative sent by Sergeant Ackley to spy upon him.
"And so you don't like fanatical East Indian priests, Scuttle?"
"No, sir," he said. "I should hate to have them on my trail." Lester Leith took a cigarette from the humidor and flicked his lighter.
"Scuttle," he said, "why the devil should Indian priests be on anyone's trail?"
"If I were to tell you, sir, you'd think that I was trying to interest you in another crime. As a matter of fact, sir, it was a crime which caused me to voice that sentiment about East Indian priests."
"Indeed?" said Lester Leith.
"Yes, sir," he said. "I was thinking about the murder of George Navin."
Lester Leith looked reproachfully at the spy.
"Scuttle," he said, "is it possible that you are trying to interest me in that crime?"
"No, sir, not at all," the spy made haste to reassure him. "Although if you were interested in the crime, sir, I am satisfied that this is a case made to order for you."
Lester Leith shook his head.
"No, Scuttle," he said. "Much as I like to dabble in crime problems, I don't care to let myself go on them. You see, Scuttle, it's a mental pastime with me. I like to read newspaper accounts of crimes and speculate on what might be a solution."
"Yes, sir," said the spy. "This is just the sort of a crime that you used to like to speculate about, sir."
Lester Leith sighed. "No, Scuttle," he said. "I really don't dare to do it You see, Scuttle, Sergeant Ackley learned about that fad of mine, and he insists that I am some sort of a super-criminal who goes about' hijacking robbers out of their ill-gotten spoils. There's nothing that I can do to convince the man that he is wrong. Therefore, I have found it necessary to give up my fad."
"Well," said the valet, "of course, sir, Sergeant Ackley doesn't need to know everything that happens in the privacy of your own apartment, sir."
Lester Leith shook his head sadly. "One would think so, Scuttle, and yet Sergeant Ackley seems to have some uncanny knowledge of what I am thinking about"
"Yes, sir," he said. "Have you read anything about the murder of George Navin?"
Lester Leith frowned. "Wasn't he mixed up with some kind of a gem robbery, Scuttle?"
"Yes, sir," said the spy eagerly. "He was an explorer, and he had explored extensively in the Indian jungle. Perhaps you've heard something about those jungle temples, sir?"
"What about them, Scuttle?"
"India," the spy said, "is a land of wealth, of gold and rubies. In some of the primitive jungle districts the inhabitants lavish their wealth on idols. Back in a hidden part of the jungle, in a sect known as the Sivaites, there was a huge temple devoted to Vinayaka, the Prince of Evil Spirits, and in that temple was a beautiful ruby, the size of a pigeon egg, set in a gold border which had Sanskrit letters carved in it"
Lester Leith said: "Scuttle, you're arousing my curiosity." I'm sorry, sir.
Leith said: "Well, we won't discuss it any more, Scuttle. The way these things go, one thing leads to another, and then—But tell me one thing: is George Navin supposed to have had that gem?"
"Yes, sir. He managed to get it from the temple, although he never admitted it, but in one of his books dealing with some of the peculiar religious sects in India, there's a photographic illustration of this gem—and authorities claim that it would have been absolutely impossible to have photographed it in the temple, that Navin must have managed to get possession of the ruby and brought it to this country."
Lester Leith said: "Wasn't that illustration reproduced in one of the newspapers after Navin's death?"
"Yes, sir. I have it here, sir."
The spy reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out a clipping.
Leith hesitated, then reluctantly took it. "I shouldn't look at this. But I'm going to, Scuttle. After that, don't tell me anymore about it.
"Very well, sir."
Leith looked at the newspaper illustration. "There'd be a better reproduction in Navin's book, Scuttle?"
"Oh, yes, sir—a full-sized photograph."
Leith said: "And, as I gather it, Scuttle, the Hindu priests objected to the spoliation of the temple?"
"Very much, sir. It seems they attached some deep religious significance to the stone. You may remember four or five months ago, shortly after the book was published, there was an attempted robbery of Navin's house. Navin shot a man with a .45 automatic."
"An East Indian?"
"Yes, sir," said the spy. "A Hindu priest of the particular sect which had maintained the jungle temple."
Leith said: "Well, that's enough, Scuttle. I don't want to hear anything more about it. You'd have thought Navin would have taken precautions."
"Oh, but he did, sir. He hired a bodyguard—a chap named Arthur Blaire and a detective, Ed Springer. They were with him all the time."
"Just the three of them in the house?" Lester Leith asked. "No, sir. There were four. There was a Robert Lamont a confidential secretary."
"Accompanying Navin on his travels?" Leith asked.
The spy nodded.
"Any servants?" Leith asked.
"Only a housekeeper who came in and worked by the day."
Leith frowned and then said: "Scuttle, don't answer this if it's going to arouse my curiosity any more. But how the devil could a man get murdered if he had two bodyguards and his secretary with him all the time?"
"That, sir, is the thing the police can't understand. Mr. Navin slept in a room which was considered virtually burglar-proof. There were steel shutters on the windows, and a door which locked with a combination, and there was a guard on duty outside of the door all night."
"How did he get ventilation?"
"Through some ventilating system which was installed, and which permitted a circulation of air but wouldn't permit anyone to gain access to the room, sir."
"Don't go on, Scuttle," he said. "I simply mustn't hear about it."
"But, sir," said the spy wheedlingly, "you have heard so much now that it certainly wouldn't hurt to go on and have your natural curiosity satisfied."
Leith sighed. "Very well, Scuttle," he said. "What happened?"
The spy spoke rapidly. "Navin went to bed, sir. Blaire and Springer, the bodyguards, made the rounds of the room, making certain that the steel shutters were locked on the inside, and that the windows were closed and locked. That was about ten o'clock at night. About ten forty Bob Lamont, the secretary, received an important telegram which he wanted to take up to Mr. Navin. He had the bodyguards open the door, and call Navin softly to find out if he was asleep. Navin was sitting up in bed reading.
"They were in there for fifteen or twenty minutes. The guards don't know exactly what happened, because they sat outside on guard, but apparently it was, as Lamont says, just an ordinary business conference. Then Lamont came out, and the guards closed the door. About midnight Arthur Blaire retired, and Ed Springer kept the first watch until four o'clock in the morning. At four, Blaire came on and relieved Springer, and at nine o'clock the secretary came in with the morning mail.
"That was part of the custom, sir. The secretary was the first to go into the room with the morning mail, and he discussed it while Mr. Navin tubbed and shaved.
"The guard opened the door, and Lamont went in.
"The guard heard him say, 'Good morning,' to Mr. Navin, and walk across the room to open the shutters. Then suddenly he heard Lamont give an exclamation.
"George Navin had been murdered by having his throat cut. Everything in the room had been ransacked; even the furniture had been taken to pieces."
Lester Leith made no attempt to disguise his interest now.
"What time was the crime committed, Scuttle?" he asked. "The autopsy surgeon could tell that."
"Yes, sir," said the spy. "At approximately four A.M.,
sir."
"How did the murderer get into the room?" asked Lester Leith.
"There, sir," said the valet, "is where the police are baffled. The windows were all closed, and the shutters were all locked on the inside."
"And the murder was committed at just about the time the guards were being changed, eh?" said Lester Leith. "Yes, sir," said the valet.
"So that either one of the guards might be suspected, eh, Scuttle?"
The valet said: "As a matter of fact, sir, both of them are under suspicion. But they have excellent references."
"Well," said Lester Leith, "did the murderer get the ruby, Scuttle?"
"Well, sir, the ruby wasn't in that bedroom at all. The ruby was kept in a specially constructed safe which was in a secret hiding place in the house. No one knew of the existence of that safe, with the exception of George Navin and the two bodyguards. Also, of course, the secretary. Naturally, after discovering the murder, the men went immediately to the safe and opened it. They found that the stone was gone. The police have been unable to find any fingerprints on the safe, but they did discover something else which is rather mystifying.
"The police are satisfied that the murderer entered through one of the windows on the east side of the room. There are tracks in the soft soil of the garden beneath the window, and there are the round marks embedded in the soil where the ends of a bamboo ladder were place on the ground."
"Bamboo, eh, Scuttle?"
"Yes, sir. That, of course, would indicate that the murderers were Indian, sir."
"But," said Lester Leith, "how could they get through a steel shutter locked on the inside, murder a man, get out through a window, close the window, and leave the shutter still locked on the inside?"
"That is the point, sir."
"Then," said Lester Leith, "the bodyguards weren't mixed up in it. If they were mixed up in it, they would have let the murderer come in through the door.
"But," went on Lester Leith, "there is no evidence as to how the murderer could have secured the gem."
"That's quite true, sir."
"What are the police doing?"
"The police are questioning all the men. That is, sir, the servants and the bodyguards. Lamont left the house right after talking with Navin, and went to a secret conference with Navin's attorney, a man by the name of During. During had his stenographer there, a young lady named Edith Skinner, so that Lamont can account for every minute of his time."
"Do I understand that the conference lasted all night?"
"Yes, sir. The conference was very important. It had to do with certain legal matters in connection with income tax and publishing rights."
"But that's such an unusual time for a conference," said Lester Leith.
"Yes, sir," said the valet, "but it couldn't be helped. Mr. Lamont was very busy with Mr. Navin. It seems that Navin was rather a peculiar individual, and he demanded a great deal of attention. As soon as the lawyer said that the examination of the records and things would take a period of over eight hours, Navin made so much trouble that Lamont finally agreed to work all one night"
"What time did Lamont leave the conference?" asked Leith.
"About eight o'clock in the morning. They went down to breakfast, and then Lamont drove out to the house in time to get the morning mail ready for Mr. Navin."
"The police, of course, are coming down pretty hard on Blaire and Springer, eh, Scuttle?"
"Yes, sir, because it would have been almost impossible for anyone to have entered that room without the connivance of one of the watchmen. And then again, sir, the fact that the murder was timed to take place when the watchmen were changing their shift would seem to indicate that either Blaire was a party to the crime, and fixed the time so that he could put the blame on Springer, or that Springer was the guilty one, and had committed the crime just as soon as he came on duty so that suspicion would attach to Blaire."
"Rather a neat problem, I should say," said Lester Leith. "One that will keep Sergeant Ackley busy."
"Yes, sir," said the valet, "and it just goes to show how ingenious the Hindus are."
"Yes," said Lester Leith dreamily, "it's a very ingenious murder-save for one thing."
The valet's eyes glistened with eagerness. "What," he asked, "is that one thing, sir?"
"No, no, Scuttle," he said. "If I should tell you, that would be violating the pact which I have made with myself. I have determined that I wouldn't work out any more academic crime solutions."
"I would like very much, sir," said the valet coaxingly, "to know what that one thing is."
Lester Leith took a deep breath.
"No, Scuttle," he said. "Do not tempt me."
Lester Leith reclined in the long chair, his feet crossed on the cushions, his eyes watching the cigarette smoke.
"Do you know, Scuttle," he said, almost dreamily, "I am tempted to conduct an experiment"
"An experiment sir?"
"Yes," said Lester Leith. "A psychological experiment. It would, however, require certain things. I would want three fifty-dollar bills and fifty one-dollar bills, Scuttle. I would want a diamond tiepin, an imitation of the ruby which was stolen from Navin's house, and a very attractive chorus girl."
Edward H. Beaver, undercover man who was working directly under Sergeant Arthur Ackley, but who was known to Lester Leith as "Scuttle," surveyed the police sergeant across the battered top of the desk at Headquarters.
Sergeant Ackley blinked his crafty eyes at the undercover man and said: "Give me that list again, Beaver."
"Three fifty-dollar bills, fifty one-dollar bills, a large diamond stick-pin, an imitation of the ruby which was stolen, and a chorus girl"
Sergeant Ackley slammed the pencil down.
"He was taking you for a ride," he said.
The undercover man shook his head stubbornly.
"No, he wasn't," he said. "It's just the way he works. Every time he starts on one of his hijacking escapades, he asks for a bunch of stuff that seems so absolutely crazy there's no sense to it. But every time so far those things have all turned out to be part of a carefully laid plan which results in victory for Leith and defeat for the crooks—and for us."
Sergeant Ackley made a gesture of emphatic dismissal.
"Beaver," he said, "the man is simply stringing you along this time. He couldn't possibly use these things to connect up this crime. As a matter of fact, we have evidence now which indicates very strongly that the crime was actually committed by three Hindus. We've got a straight tip from a stool pigeon who is covering the Hindu section here."
The spy insisted: "It doesn't make any difference, Sergeant, whether or not Hindus committed the crime. I'm telling you that Lester Leith is serious about this, and that he's going to use these things to work out a solution that will leave him in possession of that ruby."
"No," went on Sergeant Ackley, "you have overplayed your hand, Beaver. You went too far trying to get him to take an interest in this crime."
"But," protested the harassed spy, What else could I do? Every time he pulls a job, you come down on him, triumphantly certain that you've cornered him at last, and every time he squirms out of the comer and leaves you holding the sack. As a result, he knows that you have some method of finding out what he is doing all the time. It's a wonder to me that he doesn't suspect me."
"Well," said Sergeant Ackley coldly, "you don't need to wonder any more, Beaver, because he does suspect you. He wouldn't have given you all this line of hooey unless he did."
"If it's hooey," snapped Beaver, "he's spending a lot of money."
"How do you mean?"
Beaver unfolded the morning paper which lay on the sergeant's desk.
"Take a look at the Classified Advertising Section,'' he said.
"Wanted: A young woman of pleasing personality and attractive looks, who has had at least three years experience on the stage in a chorus, preferably in a musical comedy or burlesque. She must have been out of work for at least eight months."
> "And here's another one," said Beaver, and he pointed to another ad.
"Wanted: Ambitious young man to learn detective work at my expense. Must be a man who has had no previous experience and who knows nothing of routine police procedure. I want to train a detective who has a fresh outiook, entirely untrammeled by conventional ideas of police routine. All expenses will be paid, in addition to a generous salary. Preferably someone who has recently arrived from a rural community."
Sergeant Ackley sat back in his chair. I'll be—"
"Now, then," said the spy, "if he doesn't intend to do something about that Navin murder, what the devil does he want to go to all this trouble for?"
"It doesn't make sense, Beaver," Ackley said. "No matter how you look at it, it's crazy."
The spy shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps," he said, "that's why he's always so successful."
"How do you mean, Beaver?"
"Because his stuff doesn't make sense, Sergeant. It's unconventional and so absolutely unique, there's no precedent to help you."
Sergeant Ackley fished a cigar from his waistcoat pocket
"Beaver," he said, "the real standard of a good detective is his ability to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now, I'm willing to admit that Leith has done some crazy things before, and they've always worked out. But this is once it won't happen."
"Well," said the undercover man, getting to his feet, "you can have it your own way, but I'm willing to bet he's up to something. 111 bet you fifty dollars against that watch that you're so proud of."
Cupidity glittered in Sergeant Ackley's eyes. "Bet me what?"
"Bet you," said Beaver, "that he uses every one of these things to work out a scheme by which he lifts that Indian ruby, and does it all so cleverly that you can't pin anything on him."
Sergeant Ackley's broad hand smacked down on the top of the desk.
"Beaver," he said, "your language verges on insubordination. Just by way of disciplining you, I am going to take that bet. Fifty dollars against my watch.
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