Murder in the Bookshop

by Carolyn Wells

  ‘I know,’ Stone replied, ‘but what can you do?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, but I mean to begin a search. Also, there will, of course, be a desperate search for Mrs Balfour and if you find her you can doubtless lay hands on the book. It would be terrible to have that volume mutilated, and I mean to have the unscrupulous dealers learn what will be coming to them if they get chummy with the thief.’

  ‘Perhaps they’ve chopped it up already.’

  ‘Heaven forbid! But I don’t think that, for they are wise to rare books, their letters prove that.’

  ‘Well, where do you think Mrs Balfour is?’

  ‘In the clutches of the thief of the book and the murderer of the two men.’

  ‘And they may murder the lady?’ Stone suggested.

  ‘Not likely. They need her in various ways. As a hostage—’

  ‘But she went for the book. At least, it’s logical to suppose she did, and that she took with her the ransom money.’

  ‘I can’t think she’d be such a fool as to do that. If she did, I’m sorry for her—that would mean trouble.’

  ‘I expect trouble, Sewell, and I think it’s imminent. I’m tempted to go out to meet it, but I’ll wait a little longer for it to come to me. Now, I’m going home—that is, up to the Balfour place. Ramsay is taking care of the library and I’m taking care of everything else. I admire the way I’ve taken care of Mrs Balfour! But I’ll find her, and I’ll find the thief and the murderer. No, this isn’t boasting, John, you know me better than that. But I’m desperate and when I let go of my caution, as I propose to do, something has got to happen!’

  ‘Look out it don’t happen to you,’ said Sewell, gravely.

  ‘Probably it will. I say, John, do you know anybody who writes different hands with equal ease? Multiple writers, they’re called.’

  ‘I only know Swinton; he can do that.’

  ‘He can? Then he’s our murderer!’

  ‘Not so,’ and Sewell shook his head. ‘That chap has a real alibi, one that can’t break down. He was at the Balfour house that night while Balfour was being murdered over here. I was there myself, you know. And Carl Swinton was there when I went in and I left him there when I came out, so there’s not a chance. I thought of him, too. You know Alli Cutler threw him over for Philip Balfour? But you can’t get around his being there, calling on her, while her husband was being murdered. He wouldn’t do it, anyway. He doesn’t care for her now in any romantic way—I doubt if he ever did. It was just a half-hearted affair. He told me all about it at the time and he was glad when Balfour took her off his hands. He’s not a marrying man, but he was always proud of his acquaintance with the Balfours and he couldn’t have had that except through his earlier acquaintance with her. He’s a big bluffer about books and all that, but he’d never have the nerve to push that silver skiver into a man’s heart! And he was a real pal of Guy’s. They were nearer of an age. Why would he do in Guy’s father and then Guy himself—for I think the two murders were the work of the same hand, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. You’ve pretty well shot away my theory of Swinton, though that was only because of the writing.’

  ‘Lots of people can write multiple. Those are the ones we have to beware of—they forge autographs. Well, you look after Mrs Balfour and the murderer, I want to find the book. Even if we never catch the thief, I hope we’ll get the book back. What d’ye think?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say I think one depends on the other and I fear we may never again see Mrs Balfour or the book either.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Stone, it isn’t like you to be so pessimistic. A few moments ago you were full of energy and resolve.’

  ‘There are some things that energy and resolve can’t accomplish. All the same, John, you’ve helped me a lot and I’ll do my best to get that book back. And I think—can do. So possess your soul in patience and await developments.’

  Stone went back to the Balfour apartment and put in a few miserable hours in his bête noire of all occupations, waiting.

  He was not idle, he was racking his brain for some solution to his problem, some overlooked clue, some unnoticed evidence, but he found little.

  He hadn’t banked much on Swinton, but, according to Sewell, he had what is so often called, and so seldom is, an iron-clad alibi. He turned to Wiley, for it seemed to him those two men had unusual opportunity.

  But so far as he could see neither had motive. Swinton couldn’t kill a man and his son, too, because of a long-ago jilting, which, after all, seemed to suit his book. Wiley had shown positively no motive, but if he had one it must have been to get possession of the Button Gwinnett book.

  And at last the telephone bell rang and it was Benson.

  ‘Hello, Mr Stone?’

  ‘Yes, Stone speaking. Hello, Benson.’

  ‘I’ve something to report. Too much to telephone. And I’m starving with hunger. What about it?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Just down the street a piece. In a drug store on Madison Avenue.’

  ‘All right. Did you get a hat I sent you?’

  ‘Hat? No, sir, I ain’t been home since I saw you.’

  ‘Well, you go to the Mansion House, get our private room, order what you want and go to it. I’ll be with you as soon as I can get there.’

  ‘Yeppy, I’ll do just that. Hurry along. I’ve got a lot to report.’

  Bless the boy, said Stone to himself, what a brick he is!

  Getting into his coat and taking his hat, he paused only to tell Potter of his plans.

  ‘I’m going out now, Potter. After I’m away, tell Mr Ramsay that I said I’d probably be back soon, but I might stay longer and I might possibly not return till morning. Tell him I’ve heard nothing alarming but I’m off on some inquiry.’

  ‘Yes, sir; and the Inspector the same?’

  ‘Yes, if he calls up. Or leave it to Mr Ramsay.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Stone left the apartment and took the elevator down with quiet dignity, but once in the street, he jumped in a taxi and told the driver to speed to a certain small restaurant, which he and Benson called the Mansion House, and where the knowing proprietor heeded the request of either of them for a private room.

  Arriving at the small eating-place, Stone looked inquiringly at the head waiter who jerked his head toward a closed door, behind which the detective found his famished henchman making good with knife and fork.

  Stone sat down, dismissed the hovering waiter and said, ‘Did you find her?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ and Benson showed a woebegone countenance. ‘Shall I start at the beginning, or tell it hit or miss?’

  ‘Start at the beginning, but don’t spin it out too long. Eat your food slowly and don’t speak with your mouth full.’

  ‘Yessir,’ said Benson.

  CHAPTER XV

  STONE STARTS ON HIS QUEST

  BENSON managed, very successfully, to attend to his food and tell his story at the same time.

  ‘It was this way, Mr Stone. I had a word with Dorlon, round the corner, you know, and I find out that he watched the car till it was outa sight. It run south on Madison Avenue and I walked along, speaking to some more doormen. They’re good talkers, you see, ’cause they just stand and watch what’s going on. So a feller on Madison said he saw that big car scoot by, and then another said he saw it, till I just practically follered the route of that car on along down and across, and at last I found it had stopped at a house ’way over east, and a lady and a man had got out of the car and went into the house. Then the big car druv away. A guy next door told me that. So I plants myself to wait and I had my full of it. But after a long time a car came along and stopped at the house I was watching. Not the fine big car, but an ordinary car that you wouldn’t notice.’

  ‘All right so far, Benson. Get on with your ice cream before it melts. Want coffee?’

  ‘Yessir, a big cup.’

  This was ordered and Benson resumed.

  ‘
So then the man and the lady came out of the house and got in the car.’

  ‘Describe them.’

  ‘Just like you said, sir. She was all in black and droopy-looking and he was mejum-sized and no style to him, but he knew what he was about. She didn’t wanta get into the car much, but he took hold of her arm and said something I didn’t hear and she got in quick. They started off, going west, and I hops a taxi, which I had waiting, kinda on approval like. I told my man to foller the car, unbeknownst, and he caught on noble, and we follered the elopers or whatever they are.’

  ‘Get along, Benson. Tell me all, but speed up a bit.’

  ‘Yessir. Well, the car went across and up town and over the George Washington Bridge, us follerin’, and then we was in Fort Lee. Then we went north and after a while we was sorta lost in the woods. Not so good. But I took the paper offen some cigarettes I had in my pocket, and I dropped bits along the way, kinda far apart though, ’cause that was all the paper I had. But it’ll be a tracker. Then, the car ahead druv into a kinda lane that led to a house. A good-looking house it was but seemed like nobody was living in it. I got outa the taxi, told the man to wait outa sight in among the trees and I follered the car on foot. Everything was vacant-looking. The weeds and bushes was all snarleyow and the gate was broke on its hinges and all like that. There was such a lot of underbrush and canebrakes I could keep hid easy, so I pushed as near as I could.’

  ‘Did you see them or hear anything?’

  ‘Not much. It was getting dark, being so woodsy, you know, and the man was a whole lot muffled up, and the lady had on a little black veil. She didn’t have that on when she started. The man got out first and he said, “Come along, Allie,” not very pleasant. The lady got out, and then two people came out of the house to meet them. One was a sorta oldish woman, and the other was the biggest man I ever saw. He was a reg’lar giant.’

  ‘Did he look cruel?’

  ‘I’ll say he did! He looked like an ogger, or what you call it.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, the man took hold of the lady’s arm and led her up the steps and into the house, and the other two went in after them and shut the door.’

  ‘And the car?’

  ‘The showfer druv that around back where I guess there was a garridge. I watched the house for a bit, but the shades was all pulled down and there was dim lights in two or three rooms, and I thought I might wait all night without seeing anything. The showfer was fussin’ around, too, in and out of the back door, and I decided I’d make for home and mother.’

  ‘You did splendid work, Benson. Now, could you take me to that house this evening?’

  ‘Not in the dark, no, sir. Them bits of paper are few and far between. But I could pick up on ’em in the daylight. How ’bout early tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Yes, that would be better. I can lay some plans and you can get some rest, and we’ll start at daybreak. You’re in on this, Benson, and it’s a big chance for you to make good. If you do, you may yet be my regular assistant. Now, about your taximan. Is he a friend of yours? Is he reliable?’

  ‘He’s a friend of mine, but he ain’t just exactly what you’d call reliable. But he’d do anything for money. He’d even be reliable if you paid him enough.’

  ‘You’re sure of that, Benson?’

  ‘Yessir.’

  ‘What did you pay him for the trip you took today?’

  ‘I paid him fifteen dollars, Mr Stone. The trip was about ten and I guv him five more. You told me to pay what was necessary—and it was.’

  ‘That’s all right, lad. What you accomplished is worth much more than that to me. Now, the trip tomorrow morning will be worth quite a lot, and I’ll give it to you now, and do you hide it away till needed. This journey tomorrow will be very dangerous for me but not for your friend—what’s his name?’

  ‘We call him Tiny, sir, he’s such a long piece of goods.’

  ‘Is he strong?’

  ‘One time he was a prize fighter, but he isn’t as strong as that now. He knows all the tricks, though. Jew-jitsy and all that.’

  ‘He sounds a useful man. I hope we won’t need his strong arm work, but if we do, it’s good to know it’s there and at our disposal. I’ve taken a liking to Tiny already.’

  ‘Did you say danger to yourself, Mr Stone? Do you mean that?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say I do. And right here I’ll say if you get into any trouble or bother, call the police and if they arrest you, go along with them and insist on seeing Inspector Manton. When you get to him, tell him all you know, truthfully. Tell him about the house in the Palisades woods, tell him about me and he will take entire charge of the situation and give you a medal besides. Don’t be afraid; we’re working with the police not against them.’

  ‘Huh, I ain’t afraid of anything you’re mixed up in. Now, you going to tell me things?’

  ‘Yes, I’m going to tell you as much of the story as it is necessary for you to know. And you are not to pry into it any further.’

  ‘I know that. I never have any curiosity about your affairs, Mr Stone. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, lad, but this is an intricate case, and I want to be sure you keep your own counsel. Don’t tell Tiny a word more than you have to. Tell him any curiosity shown will bring him just that much less payment. Make him understand.’

  ‘Oh, he will. He’s nobody’s fool. Go on.’

  ‘The situation is this, unless I’m on a wrong tack entirely, and I don’t think I am. That lady you saw I believe to be Mrs Balfour, the widow of the man who was murdered in Sewell’s bookshop.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And the man I believe to be the murderer, or one who had the murder done by a paid killer. This man’s identity I am not sure of, but I think he has abducted the lady and will hold her for ransom. I am going to that house in the woods tomorrow morning and I shall confront that man if he is there, and if he is not there I shall wait till he comes. Now it is quite possible the big man who seems to be in charge of the house may beat me up or may imprison me or may simply order me off the premises. But I am going to rescue that lady and I shall not give her up without a struggle. We will call that lady Mrs White and the man who carried her off we will call Mr Black. The two in the house already we will call Mr and Mrs Gray. At seven tomorrow morning I will come out of the apartment house where Mrs Balfour lives, and you and Tiny will be here in his car, crawling along. At sharp seven come to the door and stop and I’ll get in. Then we’ll go over to the house in the woods, if you can find the way by your torn papers, and on the way I will give you further orders. But here is the principal one now. When we reach that house, or nearly, I’ll get out and go to it, and you two remain in the car. By the way, have Tiny change the number; he can manage that?’

  ‘Oh, yes. And we stay hid—how long?’

  ‘Until I come out and return to the taxi. But—if I’m not out in an hour, then you can conclude they’ve held me and I am no longer able to control my actions. That means trouble and yet we don’t want to raise an alarm too soon. In such case, send Tiny and his car deeper into the woods, and you edge round toward the house, keeping carefully out of sight. If I still make no appearance then you try to get into the house by some ingenious trick.’

  ‘Tell ’em I’ve lost my dog?’ suggested Benson.

  ‘Yes; maybe you can work on the old lady’s feelings and she’ll let you come in and tell her about it.’

  ‘Guess I could work that. I did once—when it was a real dog. Then, say I get in the house—what?’

  ‘Try to see me. Or if you’re not allowed that, look for a folded paper lying around. I’ll have two or three with me, and I’ll put the one that fits the case best on the mantel or window-sill. You’ll see it. Of course, Benson, all this will mean that I can’t get free. Rest assured if there is a ghost of a glimmer of a means of escape, I shall use it, but what I fear and expect is a simple locking in by a means that precludes my breaking out.’

  �
��I see, Mr Stone. Go on.’

  ‘It may be you can’t see any note and very likely you won’t be allowed to see me. You’ll just have to be guided by your judgment in that case. But if there is nothing to be done at all, then you and Tiny drive away, but keep within seeing distance of the front gate and watch for Mr Black to come. I have reason to think he came back to the city tonight and will go to the house in the wood again tomorrow. I don’t know what will happen when he and I meet, but the fur will certainly fly. Now, boy, I’m putting a lot of responsibility on your young shoulders, but there is no one else I know of who can help me as you can.’

  Benson’s eyes glowed, but he said only:

  ‘Tell me all you can, Mr Stone. It would be terrible if I got a chance and didn’t know what to do with it.’

  ‘True enough. Well, supposing you come round again to hunt your dog or something else, you might try to get into the good graces of Mrs Gray. Ask her for a cookie or something like that. Use your winning ways to make her like you, and that way you might get a word with Mrs White. Never use that lady’s real name. And here’s another thing: there’s a very valuable book missing. Listen in to hear any word about that. Find it if you can. And if you think I’m held prisoner in the house, be around at exactly midnight any night or every night, and I’ll manage to get out and speak to you. Not to escape myself; that would leave Mrs White unprotected and I am sure I can’t get her away too.’

  ‘Maybe you can.’

  ‘We’ll see. Run along home now, get a good sleep and be on deck at sharp seven tomorrow morning, just as I told you.’

  Benson was not an infant prodigy, nor did Fleming Stone think he was. But the detective recognized in the lad the eager desire to get at the heart of a mystery, the quick-witted questioning toward that end and the ability to coordinate the results that go to make up what is called the detective instinct. He thought that with some advice and some training he would become an able assistant, and he was experimenting.

  He went home thinking, not about Benson, but about his new project and whether he could put it over. He had to admit to himself that the question was open to grave doubt. He stopped first at his own apartment and there picked up a suitcase and a few things he wanted. Then on to the Balfour apartment and to his own rooms there.