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Show Th E IC E H N E Iv ts. m I j IMIuimoem (Case " "" I CHAPTER I The Bolted Bedroom. It was exactly three months after the slartllng termination of the Scarab murder case that I'lillo Vance was drawn Into the subtlest and the most perplexing of all the criminal problems prob-lems that came his way durlnj; the four years of John F.-X. Markham's Incumbency as district attorney of New York county. Rarely In the annals an-nals of modern crime has there been a case that seemed to reverse so completely com-pletely the rational laws by which humanity hu-manity lives and reasons. In the words of the doughty and practical Sergt. Krnest Heath of the homicide bureau, the case "didn't make sense." On the surface It smacked of strange and terrifying magic, of witch-doctors and miracle-workers; and every line of Investigation ran Into a blank wall. In fact, the case bad every outward appearance of being what armchair criminologists delight In calling the perfect crime. And, to make the plotting plot-ting of the murderer even more mystifying, mysti-fying, a diabolical concatenation of circumstances was superimposed upon the events by some whimsical and perverse per-verse god, which tended to strengthen every weak link In the culprit's chain of ratiocination, and to turn the entire Moody affair Into a maze of Incomprehensibility. Incompre-hensibility. Curiously enough, however. It was the very excess of ardor on the part of the murderer when attempting to divert suspicion, that created a minute hole In the wall of mystery, through which Vance was able to see a glimmer glim-mer of light. In the process of following follow-ing that light to the truth, Vance did what I believe was the shrewdest and profoundest detective work of his cn rcer. For years he had been a breeder of Scottish terriers. Sometimes I think he manifested a greater enthusiasm enthusi-asm In his dogs than In any other recreative phase of his life. I mention men-tion that fact or Idiosyncrasy, If you prefer because It so happened that Vance's ability to look at a certain etray Scottish terrier and recognize Its blood lines and show qualities, was what led him to one phase of the truth In the remarkable case which I am now recording. That which led Vance to another Important Im-portant phase of the truth was his knowledge of Chinese ceramics. He possessed a small but remarkable collection col-lection of Chinese antiquities museum mu-seum pieces he had acquired in his extensive travels and had written various va-rious articles for Oriental and art Journals on the subject of Sung and Wing monochrome porcelains. Scottles and Chinese ceramics! A truly unusual combination. And yet, without a knowledge of these two antipodal an-tipodal Interests, the mysterious murder mur-der of Archer Coe, in his old brown-Btone brown-Btone house In West Seventy-first street, would have remained a closed book for all time. The opening of the case was rather tame: it promised little in the line of sensationalism. But within an hour of the telephone call Markham received re-ceived from the Coe butler, the district dis-trict attorney's office and the New Af; iffpipli Am mmm 8cotties and Chinese Ceramics! A Truly Unusual Combination. lork police department were plunged into one of the most astounding and baffling murder mysteries of our day. It was shortly after half-past eight on the morning of October 11, that Vance's doorbell rang; and Currie, his old English valet and majordomo, oshered Markham Into the library. I was temporarily installed In Vance's duplex roof-garden apartment at the time. For years, almost since our Harvard days, I had been Vance's legal adviser and monetary steward (a post which included as much of friendship as of business) and his affairs kept me (airly busy. On this particular Autumn morning I was busily engaged with a mass of canceled checks and bank statements when Markham arrived. "Go ahead with your chores, Van Dine," he said, with a perfunctory nod. "I'll rout out the sybarite myself." He Heossd a trifle perturbed as he dis appeared Into Vance's bedroom, which was just off the library. I heard him call Vance a bit peremptorily, per-emptorily, and I heard Vance give a dramatic groan. "A murder, I presume," Vance complained com-plained through a yawn. "Nothing less than gore would have led your footsteps to my boudoir at this ungodly un-godly hour." "Not a murder " Markham began. "Oh, I say! What time might it be, then?" "Eight forty-five," Markham told him. "So early and not a murder!" (I could hear Vance's feet hit the door). "You Interest me strangely. . . . Your wedding morn perhaps?" "Archer Coe has committed suicide," sui-cide," Markham announced, not without with-out Irritation. "My word !" Vance was now moving about. "That's even stranger than a murder. I crave elucidation. . . . Come, let's sit down while I sip my coffee." Markham re-entered the library, followed fol-lowed by Vance clad In sandals and an elaborate mandarin robe. Vance rang for Currie and ordered Turkish coffee, at the same time settling himself in a large Queen Anne chair and lighting one of bis favorite cigarettes. "What did you mean, Vance," Markham Mark-ham asked, "by Coe's suicide being stranger than' murder?" "Nothing esoteric, old tiling," Vance drawled languidly. "Simply that there would be nothing particularly remarkable remark-able in anyone's pushing old Archer Into the Beyond. He's been Inviting violence ail his life. Not a sweet and love-inspiring chappie, don't y' know. But there's something deuced remarkable remark-able In the fact that he should push himself over the border. He's not the suicidal type far too egocentric." "I think you're right. And that Idea was probably in the back of my head when I told the butler to hold everything every-thing till I got there." "Why should you be notified at all? And what did the butler pour into your ear over the phone? And why are you here curtailing my slumbers? Why everything? Why anything? Just why? Can't you see I'm bursting burst-ing with uncontrollable curiosity?" And Vance yawned and closed his eyes. "I'm on my way to Coe's house." Markham was annoyed at the other's attitude of Indifference. "Thought maybe may-be you'd like to what's your favorite word? 'toddle' along." This was said with sarcasm. "Toddle," Vance repeated. "Quite. But why toddle blindly? ' The corpse won't run away, even If we are a bit lntish." Markham hesitated, and shrugged. Obviously he was uneasy, and obviously obvious-ly he wanted Vance to accompany him. As he had admitted, something was In the back of his head. "Very well," he acquiesced. "Shortly "Short-ly after eight this morning Coe's butler but-ler the obsequious Gamble phoned me at my home. He was In a state of nerves, and his voice was husky with fear. He informed me, with many hems and haws, that Archer Coe had shot himself, and asked me If 1 would come to the house at once. My first instinct was to tell him to notify the police; but, for some reason, I checked myself and asked him why he had called me. He said that .Mr. Raymond Wrede had so advised him" "Ah !" "It seems he had first called Wrede . who, as you know, is an intimate family friend and that Wrede had Immediately Im-mediately come to the house." "And Wrede said 'get Mr. Markham.' Mark-ham.' " Vance drew deep on bis cigarette. ciga-rette. "Something dodging about In the recesses of Wrede's brain, too, no doubt. . . . Well, any more?" "Only that the body was bolted in Coe's bedroom." "Bolted on the Inside?" "Exactly." "Amazin' !" "Gamble brought up Coe's breakfast at eight as usual, but received no answer an-swer to his knocking. . . ." "So he peered through the keyhole yes, yes, butlers always do. Some day, Markham, I shall, in a moment of leisure, Invent a keyhole that can't be seen through by butlers. Have you ever stopped to think how much of the world's disturbance is caused by butlers but-lers being able to see through key holes?" "No, Vance, I never have," returned Markham wearily. "My brain Is Inadequate Inad-equate I'll leave that speculation to you. . . . Nevertheless, because of your dalliance In the matter of inventing invent-ing opaque keyholes, Gamble saw Coe seated In his armchair, a revolver in his hand, and a bullet wound In his right temple. . . ." "But what about Brisbane Coe? Why did Gamble call Wrede when Archer's brother was in the house?" "Brisbane Coe didn't happen to be In the house. He's at present In Chicago." Chi-cago." "Ah! Most convenient ... So when Wrede arrived he advised Gamble Gam-ble to phone direct to you, knowing that you knew Coe. Is that it?" "As far as I can make out." "And you. knowing that I had visited Coe on various occasions, thought you'd pick me up and make it a conclave con-clave of acquaintances." "Do you want to come?" demanded .Markham, with a trace of anger. "Oh, by all means," Vance replied dulcetly. "Rut, really, y' know, I can't go In these togs." He rose and started towards the bedroom. "I'll hop into appropriate Integuments." As he reached the door he stopped. "And I'll tell you why your Invitation enthralls me. I had an appointment with Archer Coe for three this afternoon after-noon to look at a pair of peach-bloom vases fourteen inches high he had recently re-cently acquired. And, Markham, a collector who has Just acquired a pair of peach-bloom vases of that size doesn't commit suicide the next day." With this remark Vance disappeared, and Markham stood, his hands behind him, looking at the bedroom door with a deep frown. "I shouldn't wonder If Vance were right," he mumbled, as If to himself. "He's put my subconscious thought Into words." A few minutes later Vance emerged, dressed for the street. "Awfully thoughtful of you, and all that, to pick me up," he said, smiling Jauntily at Markham. "There's something some-thing positively fascina-tin' about the possibilities, it might be convenient to have Sergeant Heath on hand." "So It might," agreed Markham drily, putting on his hat. "Thanks for the suggestion. But I've already notified noti-fied him. He's on his way uptown now." Vance's eyebrows went up whimsically. whimsi-cally. "Oh, pardon ! . . . Well, let's grope our way hence." We entered Markham's car, which was waiting outside, and were driven rapidly up Madison avenue. The Coe house was an old brownstone mansion of double frontage occupying two city lots, built In a day when dignity and comfort were among the ideals of New York architects. As we ascended the steps the door was opened for us before be-fore we had time to pull the old-fashioned brass bell-knob; and the flushed face of Gamble looked out at us crlngingly. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Markham." Mark-ham." His voice reeked of oily subservience. sub-servience. "It's very terrible, sir. And 1 really didn't know just what I should do" Markham brushed the man aside and we stepped into the dimly lighted hallway. Ahead of us a broad flight of carpeted stairs led upward into a vault of darkness. On the right hung a pair of deep maroon portieres evidently evi-dently veiling double sliding doors. To the left were other portieres; but these were drawn back, and we could look through the open doors Into a stuffy drawing room, filled with all manner of heavy ancient furniture. Two men came forward from this room to greet us. The one In advance ad-vance I recognized Immediately as Raymond Wrede. He, I knew, was a close friend of the Coe family, and particularly of Hilda Lake, Archer Coe's niece. He was a studious studi-ous man In his late thirties, slightly slight-ly gray, with an ascetic, calm face of the chevaline type. He was mildly interested In Oriental ceramics probably prob-ably as a result of his long association associa-tion with Coe though his particular fancy was ancient oil lamps; and he owned a collection of rare specimens. As he greeted us. there was a look bordering on bewilderment In his wide set, gray eyes. He bowed formally to Markham, whom he knew slightly; nodded perfunctorily per-functorily to me; and extended his hand to Vance. Then, as If suddenly remembering something, he turned toward the man behind him, and made a brief presentation, which In reality was an explanation. "Signor Grassl. . . . Mr. Grassl hH6 been a house guest of Mr. Coe's for several days. He represents an Italian miisuem of Oriental antiquities at Milan." Grass! bowed very low, but said nothing. He was considerably shorter than Wrede, slim, immaculately dressed, with shiny black hair brushed straight back from his forehead, and a complexion com-plexion whose unusual pallor was accentuated ac-centuated by large luminous eyes. His features were regular, and hit' Hps full and shapely. His manicured hands moved with an almost feline grace. Markham wasted no time on ceremony. cere-mony. He turned abruptly to Gamble. "Just what Is the situation? A police po-lice sergeant and the medical examiner will be here any moment." "Only what I told you on the telephone, tele-phone, sir." The man, beneath his obsequious manner, was patently frightened. "When I saw the master through the keyhole I knew he was dead it was quite unnerving, sir and my first impulse was to break in the door. But I thought it best to seek advice before taking such a responsibility. respon-sibility. And, as Mr. Brisbane Coe was in Chicago, I phoned to Mr. Wrede i.nd begged him to come over immediately. imme-diately. Mr. Wrede was good enough to come, and after looking at the master mas-ter he suggested that I call you, sir, before doing anything else " "It was obvious" Wrede took up the story "that poor Coe was dead, and I thought It best to leave everything every-thing Intact for the authorities. I I didn't want to Insist on having the door broken In." Vance was watching the man closely. "But what harm could that have done?" he asked mildly. "Since the door was bolted on the Inside, suicide was rather plainly indicated eh, what?" "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Vance." Wrede appeared ill at ease. "But somehow my Instinct told me that It might be best " "Quite quite." Vance took out his cigarette case. "You, too, were sceptical scep-tical despite the appearances." Wrede gave a start, and stared fixedly fix-edly at Vance. "Coe," Vance continued, "wasn't exactly ex-actly the suicidal type was he?" "No-o." Wrede's eyes did not shift. Vance lighted a cigarette. "My own feeling is you acted quite wisely." "Come!" Markham turned toward the stairs and made a peremptory gesture ges-ture to Gamble. "Lead the way." The butler turned and mounted the stairs. Markham, Vance and I followed, fol-lowed, but Wrede and Grassl remained below. Gamble, without a word, indi cated the door. Markham came forward, tried the knob, and shook It. Then he knelt down and looked through the keyhole. When he rose his face was grim. "It looks as If our suspicions were uJfounded," he said In a low voice. "Coe Is sitting In his chair, a black hole In his right temple, and his hand is still clvtchlng a revolvei. The electric elec-tric lights are on. , . . Look, Vance." . Vance was gazing at an etching on the wall at the head of the stairs. "I'll take your word for It, Markham," Mark-ham," he drawled. "Really, y' know, It doesn't sound like a pretty sight. And I'll see It Infinitely bettor when we've forced an entry." At this moment the front door bell rang violently, and Gamble hastened down the stairs. As he drew the door Then He Knelt Down and Looked Through the Keyhole. back, Sergeant Ernest Heath and Da tective Hennessey burst Into the lowef hallway. "This way, Sergeant," Markham called. Heath and Hennessey came noisily up the stairs. "Good morning, sir." The sergeant waved a friendly hand to Markham. Then he cocked an eye at Vance. "I njlghta known you'd be here. The world's champeen trouble-shooter!" He grinned good-naturedly, and there was genuine affection In his tone. "Come, Sergeant," Markham ordered. "There's a dead man in this room, and the door's bolted on the Inside. Break it open." Heath, without a word, hurled himself him-self against the crosspiece of the door just above the knob, but without result. re-sult. A second time his shoulder crashed against the crosspiece. "Give me a hand, Hennessey," he said. "That's a bolt no foolin'. Hard wood." The two men threw their combined weight against the door, and now there was a sound of tearing wood as the bolt's screws were loosened. During the process of battering In the door, Wrede and Grassl mounted the stairs, followed by Gamble, and stood directly behind Markham and Vance. Two more terrific thrusts by Heath and Hennessey, and the heavy door swung inward, revealing the death chamber. The room, which was at the extreme rear of the house, was long and narrow, nar-row, with windows on ' two sides. There was a bay window opposite the door, and a wide double window at the left, facing east. The dark green shades were all drawn, excluding the daylight. But the room was brilliantly lighted by an enormous crystal chandelier chan-delier In the center of the ceiling. At the rear of the room stood an enormous canopied bed, which, I noticed, no-ticed, had not been slept in. The bedroom, bed-room, like the drawing room, con tained far too much furniture. On the right was a large embayed book-case filled with octavo and quarto volumes, and, facing the door was a mahogany kidney-shaped desk covered with books, 'pamphlets and papers the desk of a man who spends many hours at literary lit-erary labor. To the left of this desk, In the east wall, was a large fireplace. Gas logs were In the grate. About the walls hung at least a dozen Chinese scroll paintings. Had there not been a bed and a dressing table in the room, one would have taken It foi a collector's sanctum. These details of the room, however, protruded themselves upon us later. What first focused our attention was the Inert body of Archer Coe, with its quiet pallid face and the black grisly spot on the right temple. The bodj was slumped down in a velour upholstered uphol-stered armchair beside the desk. The head seemed to He almost on the left shoulder, as if the Impact of the bullet had forced it Into an unnatural angle. There was an expression of peace on the thin aquiline features of the dead man; and his eyes were closed as though in sleep. His right hand the one nearest the fireplace lay on the end of the desk clutching a carved, Ivory-inlaid revolver of fairly large caliber. His left hand hung at his side over the tufted arm of the chair. TO BE CONTINUED. |