“I’m sunk!” The ashes of Heath’s cigar toppled off and fell over his waistcoat, but he didn’t notice them.
“But, Sergeant, I gave you many warnings. And there was the motive. I’m convinced that Bliss knew there was no more financial help coming from Kyle; and there’s nothing he wouldn’t have done to insure a continuation of his researches. Furthermore, he was intensely jealous of Salveter: he knew Mrs. Bliss loved the young cub.”
“But why,” put in Markham, “did he not merely kill Salveter?”
“Oh, I say! The money was a cardinal factor,—he wanted Meryt-Amen to inherit Kyle’s wealth. His second’ry object was to eliminate Salveter from Meryt-Amen’s heart: he had no reason for killing him. Therefore he planned subtly to disqualify him by making it appear that Salveter not only had murdered his uncle but had tried to send another to the chair for it.”
Vance slowly lighted a fresh cigarette.
“Bliss was killing three birds with one stone. He was making himself a martyr in Meryt-Amen’s eyes; he was eliminating Salveter; he was insuring his wife a fortune with which he could continue his excavations. Few murders have had so powerful a triple motive… And one of the tragic things is that Mrs. Bliss more than half believed in Salveter’s guilt. She suffered abominably. You recall how she took the attitude that she wanted the murderer brought to justice. And she feared all the time that it was Salveter…”
“Still and all,” said Heath, “Bliss didn’t seem very anxious to get Salveter mixed up in the affair.”
“Ah, but he was, Sergeant. He was constantly involving Salveter while pretending not to. A feigned reluctance, as it were. He couldn’t be too obvious about it—that would have given his game away… You remember my question of who had charge of the medical supplies. Bliss stuttered, as if trying to shield some one. Very clever, don’t y’know.”
“But if you knew this—,” Heath began.
“I didn’t know all of it, Sergeant. I knew only that Bliss was guilty. I was not sure that Salveter was the object of his plot. Therefore I had to investigate and learn the truth.”
“Anyhow, I was right in the first place when I said Bliss was guilty,” Heath declared doggedly.
“Of course you were, Sergeant.” Vance spoke almost affectionately. “And I felt deuced bad to have to appear to contradict you.” He rose and, going to Heath, held out his hand. “Will you forgive me?”
“Well…maybe.” Heath’s eyes belied his gruff tone as he grasped Vance’s hand. “Anyhow, I was right!”
Vance grinned and sat down.
“The plot itself was simple,” he continued after a moment. “Bliss phoned Kyle in the presence of every one and made the appointment for eleven. He specifically mentioned the new shipment, and suggested that Kyle should come early. You see, he had decided on the murder—and on the whole plot, in fact—when he made the fatal rendezvous. And he deliberately left the scarab pin on the study desk. After killing Kyle he placed the pin and the financial report near the body. And note, Markham, that Salveter had access to both objects. Moreover, Bliss knew that Salveter was in the habit of going to the museum after breakfast; and he timed Kyle’s appointment so that Salveter and his uncle would probably meet. He sent Salveter to the Metropolitan to get him out of the house while he himself killed Kyle. And he also fixed the statue of Sakhmet so that it would look like a trap. The murderer could easily have come back at any time before we arrived and planted the pin and the report and made the foot-prints—provided of course Bliss had been asleep with the opium…”
Heath sat upright and squinted at Vance.
“That trap was only a stall?” he asked indignantly.
“Nothing else, Sergeant. It was set up after the murder, so that even if Salveter had had an alibi, he still could have been guilty. Furthermore, the possibility of Kyle’s having been killed by an absent person was another point in favor of Bliss. Why should Bliss have made a death-trap when he had every opportunity to kill Kyle by direct contact? The trap was merely another counter-clew.”
“But the pencil used in the trap,” interposed Markham. “It was not the kind Salveter used.”
“My dear Markham! Bliss used one of his own pencils for the ‘upright’ in order to create another clew against himself. A man actually planning a death-trap is not going to use his own pencil,—he would use the pencil of the man he was trying to involve. The doctor therefore used his own pencil—in order to throw suspicion elsewhere. But the trap did not fool me. It was too fortuitous. A murderer would not have taken such a chance. The falling statue might not have fallen exactly on Kyle’s head. And another thing: a man struck in that fashion is not likely to fall in the position we found Kyle, with his head just beneath the place where the statue struck him, and with his arms stretched out. When I made my experiment, and the statue fell exactly where Kyle’s head had been, I realized how unlikely it was that he had actually been killed by the statue falling.” Vance’s eyes twinkled. “I did not raise the point at the time, for I wanted you to believe in the death-trap.”
“Right again!” Heath slapped his forehead dramatically with his palm. “And I never thought of it!… Sure, I’ll forgive you, Mr. Vance!”
“The truth is, Sergeant, I did everything I could to make you overlook the inconsistency of it. And Mr. Markham didn’t see it either.* As a matter of fact, Kyle was killed while he was looking into the cabinet, by a blow from some one behind him. I have an idea, too, that one of those heavy flint or porphyry maces was used. His body was arranged in the position we found it, and the statue of Sakhmet was then dropped on his skull, obliterating the evidence of the first blow.”
“But suppose,” objected Markham, “you hadn’t seen the loose ring on the curtain?”
“The trap was arranged so that we would discover it. If we had overlooked it, Bliss would have called our attention to it.”
“But the finger-prints—” began Heath, in a kind of daze.
“They were purposely left on the statue. More evidence, d’ye see, against Bliss. But he had an alibi in reserve. His first explanation was so simple and so specious:—he had moved Sakhmet because it wasn’t quite straight. But the second explanation why there were no other finger-prints on Sakhmet was to come later, after his arrest—to wit, no one had actually wielded the statue: it was a death-trap set by Salveter!”
Vance made an open-handed gesture.
“Bliss covered every clew against himself with a stronger clew pointing to Salveter… Regard, for instance, the evidence of the foot-prints. Superficially these pointed to Bliss. But there was the omnipresent counter-clew—namely: he was wearing bedroom slippers yesterday morning, and only one tennis shoe was to be found in the study. The other tennis shoe was in his room, exactly where he said he had left it the night before. Bliss simply brought one shoe down-stairs, made the foot-prints in the blood, and placed the shoe in the waste-basket. He wanted us to find the prints and to discover the shoe. And we did—that is, the Sergeant did. His answer to the foot-prints, after his arrest, would merely have been that some one who had access to his room had taken one tennis shoe down-stairs and made the tracks to involve him.”
Markham nodded.
“Yes,” he said; “I’d have been inclined to exonerate him, especially after the discovery of opium in his coffee cup.”
“Ah, that opium! The perfect alibi! What jury would have convicted him after the evidence of the opium in his coffee? They would have regarded him as the victim of a plot. And the District Attorney’s office would have come in for much severe criticism… And how simple the opium episode was! Bliss took the can from the cabinet, extracted what he needed for the ruse, and placed the powder in the bottom of his coffee cup.”
“You didn’t think he had been narcotized?”
“No. I knew he hadn’t. A narcotic contracts the pupils; and Bliss’s were distended with excitement. I knew he was pretending, and that made me suspect I’d find a drug in his coffee.”
“But what
about the can?” Heath put the question. “I never did get that can business straight. You sent Hani—”
“Now, Sergeant!” Vance spoke good-naturedly. “I knew where the can was, and I merely wanted to ascertain how much Hani knew.”
“But I see the Sergeant’s point,” Markham put in. “We don’t know that the opium can was in Salveter’s room.”
“Oh, don’t we, now?” Vance turned toward the hall. “Hani!”
The Egyptian opened the sliding door.
“I say;”—Vance looked straight into the man’s eyes—“I’m dashed admirin’ of your deceptive attitude, but we could bear some facts for a change.—Where did you find the opium tin?”
“Effendi, there is no longer any need for dissimulation. You are a man of profound wisdom, and I trust you. The tin was hidden in Mr. Salveter’s room.”
“Thanks awfully.” Vance was almost brusque. “And now return to the hall.”
Hani went out and softly closed the door.
“And by not going down to breakfast yesterday morning,” Vance continued, “Bliss knew that his wife and Salveter would be in the breakfast-room alone, and that Salveter might easily have put the opium in the coffee…”
“But,” asked Markham, “if you knew Bliss put the opium in his own coffee, why all the interest in the samovar?”
“I had to be sure who it was Bliss’s plot was aimed at. He was trying to make it appear that he was the victim of the plot; and since his object was to involve some one else, I knew the real victim would have had to have access to the coffee yesterday morning.”
Heath nodded ponderously.
“That’s easy enough. The old boy was pretending some one had fed him knock-out drops, but if the bird he was aiming at couldn’t have fed him the drops, his plot would have gone blooey… But look here, Mr. Vance;”—he suddenly remembered something—“what was the idea of the doc’s trying to escape?”
“It was a perfectly logical result of what had gone before,” Vance explained. “After we had refused to arrest him, he began to worry. Y’see, he yearned to be arrested; and we disappointed him frightfully. Sittin’ in his room, he got to planning. How could he make us re-order his arrest and thus give him the chance to point out all the evidences of Salveter’s heinous plot against him? He decided to attempt an escape. That gesture, he figured, would surely revive suspicion against him. So he simply went out, drew his money openly from the bank, taxied to the Grand Central Station, asked loudly about trains to Montreal, and then stood conspicuously by the gate waiting for the train… He knew that Guilfoyle was following him; for, had he really intended making his escape, you may rest assured Guilfoyle would never have traced him. You, Sergeant, accepted Bliss’s action at its face value; and I was afraid that his silly disappearance would produce the very result he intended—namely, his re-arrest. That was why I argued against it so passionately.”
Vance leaned back but did not relax. There was a rigid alertness in his attitude.
“And because you did not manacle him, Sergeant,” he continued, “he was forced to take a further step. He had to build up a case against Salveter. So he staged the drama with the dagger. He deliberately sent Salveter to the study to get a memorandum-book in the desk—where the dagger was kept…”
“And the sheath!” exclaimed Markham.
“Oh, quite. That was the real clew against Salveter. Having put the sheath in Salveter’s room, Bliss suggested to us that we might find the would-be assassin by locating the sheath. I knew where it was the moment he so helpfully mentioned it; so I gave Hani a chance to lie about it…”
“You mean Hani didn’t find the sheath in the hall?”
“Of course not.”
Vance again called Hani from the hall.
“Where did you find the sheath of the royal dagger?” he asked.
Hani answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“In Mr. Salveter’s room, effendi—as you well know.” Vance nodded.
“And by the by, Hani, has any one approached this door to-night?”
“No, effendi. The doctor is still in his study.”
Vance dismissed him with a gesture, and went on:
“Y’see, Markham, Bliss put the sheath in Salveter’s room, and then threw the dagger into the headboard of his bed. He phoned me and, when we arrived, told an elaborate but plausible tale of having been assaulted by an inconnu.”
“He was a damn good actor,” Heath commented.
“Yes—in the main. But there was one psychological point he overlooked. If he had actually been the victim of a murderous attack he would not have gone down-stairs alone in the dark to phone me. He would have first roused the house.”*
“That’s reasonable.” Markham had become impatient. “But you said something about the picture not being complete—”
“The letter!” Vance sat up and threw away his cigarette. “That was the missing factor. I couldn’t understand why the forged hieroglyphic letter didn’t show up last night,—it was the perfect opportunity. But it was nowhere in evidence; and that’s what troubled me… However, when I found Scarlett working in the museum, I understood. The doctor, I’m convinced, intended to plant the forged letter—which he had placed temporarily in the desk-table drawer—in Meryt-Amen’s room or some place where we’d find it. But when he looked into the museum through the study door he saw Scarlett at work at the desk-table. So he let the letter go, reserving it for future use—in case we didn’t arrest Salveter after the dagger episode. And when I deliberately avoided the clews he had prepared against Salveter, I knew the letter would appear very soon. I was afraid Scarlett might in some way block Bliss’s scheme, so I warned him to keep away from the house. I don’t know what more I could have done.”
“Nor I.” Markham’s tone was consoling. “Scarlett should have followed your advice.”
“But he didn’t.” Vance sighed regretfully.
“You think, then, that Scarlett suspected the truth?”
“Undoubtedly. And he suspected it early in the game. But he wasn’t sure enough to speak out. He was afraid he might be doing the doctor an injustice; and, being an English gentleman, he kept silent. My belief is, he got to worrying about the situation and finally went to Bliss—”
“But something must have convinced him.”
“The dagger, Markham. Bliss made a grave error in that regard. Scarlett and Bliss were the only two persons who knew about that smuggled weapon. And when I showed it to Scarlett and informed him it had been used in an attempt on Bliss’s life, he knew pretty conclusively that Bliss had concocted the whole tale.”
“And he came here to-night to confront Bliss…?”
“Exactly. He realized that Bliss was trying to involve Salveter; and he wanted to let Bliss know that his monstrous scheme was seen through. He came here to protect an innocent man—despite the fact that Salveter was his rival, as it were, for the affections of Meryt-Amen. That would be like Scarlett…” Vance looked sad. “When I sent Salveter to Boston I believed I had eliminated every possibility of danger. But Scarlett felt he had to take matters in his own hands. His action was fine, but ill-advised. The whole trouble was, it gave Bliss the opportunity he’d been waiting for. When he couldn’t get the forged letter from the museum last night, and when we declined his invitation to find the sheath in Salveter’s room, it was necessary for him to play his ace—the forged letter.”
“Yes, yes. I see that. But just where did Scarlett fit?”
“When Scarlett came here to-night Bliss no doubt listened to his accusation diplomatically, and then on some pretext or other got him into the museum. When Scarlett was off guard Bliss struck him on the head—probably with one of those maces in the end cabinet—and put him in the sarcophagus. It was a simple matter for him to get the jack from his car, which he keeps parked in the street outside,—you recall that he offered to drive Salveter to the station…”
“But the letter?”
“Can’t you see how everything
fitted? The attack on Scarlett took place between eight and eight-thirty. Salveter was probably up-stairs bidding adieu to Mrs. Bliss. At any rate, he was in the house, and therefore could have been Scarlett’s murderer. In order to make it appear that Salveter was actually the murderer of Scarlett Bliss crumpled up the forged telltale letter and stuck it in Scarlett’s pocket. He wanted to make it appear that Scarlett had come to the house to-night to confront Salveter, had mentioned the letter he’d found in the desk-table drawer, and had been killed by Salveter.”
“But why wouldn’t Salveter have taken the letter?”
“The assumption would have been that Salveter didn’t know that Scarlett had the letter in his pocket.”
“What I want to know,” put in Heath, “is how Bliss found out about Salveter’s original letter.”
“That point is easily explained, Sergeant.” Vance drew out his cigarette-case. “Salveter undoubtedly returned to the museum yesterday morning, as he told us, and was working on his letter when Kyle entered. He then put the letter in the table-drawer, and went to the Metropolitan Museum on his errand. Bliss, who was probably watching him through a crack in the study door, saw him put the paper away, and later took it out to see what it was. Being an indiscreet letter to Meryt-Amen, it gave Bliss an idea. He took it to his study and rewrote it, making it directly incriminating; and then tore up the original. When I learned that the letter had disappeared I was worried, for I suspected that Bliss had taken it. And when I saw it had been destroyed and thrown away, I was convinced we would find another letter. But since I had the original, I believed that the forged letter would, when it appeared, give us evidence against Bliss.”
The Scarab Murder Case Page 25
