Dutch Shoe Mystery (8 page)

“A
ND AGAIN,” SAID ELLERY
, bowing deferentially to Dr. Janney as the door closed on the three detectives, “we return to the fountain-head of knowledge. Doctor … precisely who was your visitor?”

Inspector Queen moved chairward. In walking across the room he trod softly, as if he were afraid of breaking a spell. Ellery stood in utter stillness—even the practical, unimaginative men circulating slowly about the room sensed something of the drama in his lightly worded question.

Dr. Janney did not reply at once. He puckered his lip and frowned, as if within himself he was debating some abstruse problem known to him alone. And when he spoke his brow was untroubled.

He said simply, “You’re making a fuss, Queen, about a very small matter. My visitor was a friend. …”

“A friend by the name of Swanson.”

“Exactly. He happens to be strapped financially, and he called upon me for a personal loan.”

“Very laudable, very!” murmured Ellery. “He needed money, and he asked you for some. … Nothing mysterious about that, I agree!” …

He smiled again. “Of course you gave it to him?”

The surgeon stiffened. “Yes—my personal check for fifty dollars.”

Ellery laughed outright, inoffensively. “Hardly an embarrassing touch, Doctor! You were lucky at that. … By the way, what is your friend’s full name?”

He paused carelessly, as if his question were the most natural one in the world. Inspector Queen, keeping his eyes on Janney, explored his pocket and brought out a brown old snuff-box. Midway between the box and his nostrils, his hand stopped—waiting. …

Janney’s rejoinder was curt. “I prefer not to tell you!” Inspector Queen’s hand continued its journey, performed its function and returned. He sniffed and rose, stepping forward with a mild look of inquiry on his placid features.

But Ellery forestalled him. He said in even tones, “That is exactly what I wanted to know, Doctor. … This chap Swanson must be very dear to you indeed to merit such heroic shielding. He is an old friend, of course?”

“Oh, no!” said Janney quickly.

“No?” Ellery’s eyebrows went up. “Scarcely consistent with your attitude, Dr. Janney. …” He stepped up to the little surgeon, loomed over him. “Answer one question, Doctor, and you silence me forever. …”

“I don’t see what you’re driving at,” muttered Janney, retreating a step.

“Nevertheless,” said Ellery softly, “answer … Why, if this man Swanson is not a particularly close friend, did you give him fifteen minutes of your precious time this morning, while your benefactress lay desperately ill, unconscious, awaiting the unique skill of your hand and knife? … And take all the time you want in answering.”

He turned on his heel even while Janney, a steadily growing light of rebellion in his eyes, said coldly, “I have nothing to say that can have any bearing on your investigation.”

Ellery sauntered to the chair his father had vacated, sat down and waved his hand, as if to say, “Your witness.”

The old man’s smile, if anything, grew gentler. He paced up and down before Janney, followed by the surgeon’s defiant little eyes.

“Needless to say, Dr. Janney,” began the Inspector politely, “we cannot accept your stand in this matter. You see that, of course. …” It was a challenge. “Perhaps you’ll honor me by giving straight replies, without subterfuge.” Janney said nothing. “Very well, let me begin. … What happened between you and Swanson in the fifteen minutes you were together in your office?”

“I’m really not being stubborn,” said Dr. Janney with a startling change of manner. He looked tired, sought the back of a chair for support “Swanson came to see me, as I told you, to borrow fifty dollars, which he needed urgently and could not get elsewhere at the moment. I refused at first. He began to explain the circumstances. They were such that common decency demanded I accede to his request. I gave him my check, we talked about his affairs, he left. That’s all.”

“A most reasonable statement, Doctor,” replied the Inspector gravely. “However, if this is all as innocent as you make it out to be, why won’t you give us the man’s name—his address? You must realize that we have certain routine inquiries to pursue, that your friend’s testimony is necessary to support your own. Give us the information we’re lacking, and there’s an end of it!”

Janney wagged his shaggy head heavily. “I’m sorry, Inspector. … Perhaps I should explain that my friend is an unfortunate, a victim of circumstances—sensitive nature and excellent breeding. Any notoriety particularly at this time would be bad in its effect on him. And he simply couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder of Mrs. Doorn.” His voice rose slightly, became shrill. “By God, why do you insist?”

Ellery scrubbed his
pince-nez
glasses thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving the face of Dr. Janney.

“I suppose it’s useless for me to ask you to describe Swanson?” demanded the Inspector. The smile had left his face.

Janney clamped his lips together.

“Very well, then!” snapped the old man. “You realize that without Swanson’s testimony to bolster yours your position becomes downright dangerous, Dr. Janney?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“I shall give you exactly one more chance, Dr. Janney.” The Inspector’s voice was deadly now with cold rage; his lips trembled slightly. “Give me Swanson’s visiting card.”

There was a short stifling silence. “Eh?” growled Janney.

“The card, the card!” cried the Inspector impatiently—“the card with Swanson’s name on it, which the doorman handed you while you talked in the corridor with Dr. Minchen and Mr. Queen. Where is it?”

Janney raised haggard eyes to the old man. “I haven’t got it”

“Where is it!”

Janney remained still as the grave.

The Inspector whirled instantly to Velie, who stood aloof and glowering in the corner. “Search him!”

The surgeon gasped, retreated to the wall, glaring about him with a hunted, animal look. Ellery half-rose in his chair, but sank back as Velie crowded the little man to a corner and said, impersonally, “Will you hand it over or do I have to take it from you?”

“By God!” gasped Janney, livid with rage, “you touch me and—and I’ll …” His voice trailed off from sheer impotence.

Velie swept his huge arm about the fragile figure of the surgeon, gathered him in as easily as if Janney had been a child. Beyond one frantic shudder of his frame, the surgeon did not resist. The rage fled from his face, drained out of his eyes. …

“Nothing.” Velie stepped back to his corner.

Inspector Queen gazed earnestly at the little man, with a sort of unwilling admiration. He spoke without turning his head, spoke almost casually. “Search Dr. Janney’s office, Thomas.”

Velie lumbered out of the room, taking a detective with him. …

Ellery was frowning. He unrolled his lean length from the chair. He spoke in low tones to the Inspector. The old man waggled his head doubtfully.

“Dr. Janney.” Ellery’s voice was low. The surgeon stood limply against the wall, staring at the floor. His face was dark with blood and he breathed in heavy, uneven pants. “Dr. Janney, I’m frightfully sorry this occurred. You gave us no choice. … We are trying, really trying, to see your point of view. … Doctor, hasn’t it struck you that if Swanson, whom you mask so valiantly, is as good a friend of yours as you are of his he will
want
to step forward and substantiate your story? No matter how unfortunate he is. … Don’t you see?”

“I’m sorry. …” Janney spoke in so hoarse a tone that Ellery cocked his head sharply to catch the words. But defiance had fled. The doctor seemed utterly spent.

“I see.” Ellery was grave. “Then there is only one thing more to ask. I can see no way of forcing you to reply. … Dr. Janney, did either you or Swanson leave your office even for a moment, between the time you entered and the time you said good-by to each other?”

“No.” And Janney raised his head to look full into Ellery’s eyes.

“Thank you.” Ellery stepped back and sat down again. He brought out a cigarette and lighted it, puffing thoughtfully.

Inspector Queen sent a detective off with a curt command. A moment later the man returned with Isaac Cobb. The doorman entered confidently, his red face shining.

“Cobb,” began the Inspector without preliminary, “you said before that you saw Dr. Janney’s visitor both when he entered the Hospital and left it. Describe him to me.”

“Oh, sure!” Cobb beamed. “I never forget a face, sir. … Yes, sir. This feller was just about middlin’ in height sort of blond, I’d say, clean-shaved, and he was rigged out in kind of dark clothes. Wore a black overcoat anyway.”

“Did you get the idea,” put in Ellery instantly, “that he was well off, Cobb—I mean from the way he dressed?”

“Cripes no!” The doorman was emphatic, shaking his head vigorously. “Looked down at th’ heel, I’d say. … Yeah, an’ he must have been—oh, I’d say thirty-four, five or somewhere thereabouts.”

“How long have you been here, Cobb?” asked Ellery.

“Mighty nigh onto ten years.”

The Inspector said coolly, “And have you ever seen this man Swanson before, Cobb?”

The doorman did not reply at once. “We-e-ell,” he said finally, “seems t’me he looked kinda familiar but—I dunno.”

“Mmm!” Inspector Queen took a pinch of snuff. “Cobb,” he wheezed as the snuff flew up his nostrils, “what was this man’s first name? You know it!” he added sharply, slapping, his snuff-box away into his pocket “You brought Dr. Janney his card!”

The doorman looked frightened. “Why, I—I dunno. I didn’t look at it—just handed it over t’ Dr. Janney.”

“Cobb, my dear fellow,” interposed Ellery lazily, “this is remarkable! You don’t accept honorariums, and you aren’t inquisitive. It simply baffles me!”

“You mean to tell me,” demanded the Inspector threateningly, “that when this man gave you his card, you walked all the way down the corridor to find Dr. Janney and didn’t even look at it once?”

“I—no—no, sir.” Cobb was frankly scared.

“Rubbish!” muttered the Inspector, turning his back. “The man’s a fool. Get out, Cobb!”

Mutely, Cobb slunk away. Sergeant Velie, who had slipped into the room while Cobb was being questioned, came quietly forward.

“Well, Thomas.” The Inspector was clearly not sanguine of his sergeant’s report. He looked at Velie almost grumpily. Ellery stole a glance at Dr. Janney. The surgeon seemed unconcerned, wrapped in thought

“Wasn’t there.”

“Ha!” The Inspector stalked slowly to Dr. Janney. “What did you do with that card? Answer me!” he thundered.

Janney spoke wearily. “I burned it,” he said.

“Very well!” growled the Inspector. “Thomas!”

“Right.”

“Start the wheels moving. I want this man Swanson at headquarters by tonight. Medium height, fair, dark clothes, shabby, about thirty-five, and in poor circumstances. Get busy!”

Ellery sighed. “Velie.” The detective halted on his way to the door. “Just a moment. …” Ellery turned to Dr. Janney. “Doctor, have you any objection to showing me your check-book?”

Janney jerked convulsively; anger mounted to his eyes once more. But when he spoke it was with the same deadly fatigue. “Not at all.” He brought out a folded check-book from his hip-pocket, handed it without another word to Ellery.

Ellery turned rapidly to the first leaf on which a check appeared. To the left was a memorandum-page. The last notation read:
CASH.

“Ah!” Ellery smiled, returned the book to Janney, who, without moving a muscle of his face restored it to his pocket. “Velie, get that check. Your first stop might be the Bank of the Netherlands. Then the clearing-house. The check-number is 1186, made out to Cash for fifty dollars, dated to-day, on Dr. Janney’s personal account. You’ll have Swanson’s signature, at any rate.”

“One thing more!” Ellery’s voice rang out like a bell. “When you examined Dr. Janney’s office, did you look in his personal address-book for a ‘Swanson’?”

A wintry smile flickered over Velie’s lips. “Sure did. And nothing doing. Nobody by that name. Wasn’t listed on a personal telephone list under the glass top of the doctor’s desk, either. That all?”

“Quite.”

“Look here.” The Inspector stalked over to Janney. “There’s no necessity for you to be standing, Doctor,” he said in a kinder tone. “Why don’t you sit down. …” The surgeon looked up in dull surprise. “For,” continued the old man grimly, “we’ll be here for some time yet. …”

Janney sank into a chair. There was silence until a tattoo on the West Corridor door brought a detective across the room to open it.

Detective Ritter burst into the Anteroom, bearing a large shapeless white bundle under his arm. Behind him, more sedately, came Johnson and Hesse, both grinning.

Inspector Queen lunged forward. Ellery rose, took an eager step. Janney’s head was sunk on his breast; he seemed asleep.

“What’s this?” cried the Inspector, snatching at the bundle.

“The duds, Chief!” shouted Ritter. “We found the murderin’ crook’s duds!”

Inspector Queen spread the contents of the bundle on the wheel-table from which Abigail Doorn’s lifeless body had been taken. “At last we’ve something to go on,” he muttered. He looked up quickly at Ellery, glee in his eyes.

Ellery bent over the table, prodded the bundle with his long white finger. “More fuel, more fire!” he murmured, and glanced slyly at the chair in which Dr. Janney was now sitting alertly, craning his neck to see what was on the table.

“What are you mumbling about?” demanded the Inspector, busy prodding the clothes.

“Ashes,” said Ellery enigmatically.

T
HEY CROWDED AROUND THE
wheel-table, heads cocked over and watched Inspector Queen separate the various articles composing the bundle.

Dr. Janney made an impatient gesture. He half-rose, sank back into his chair, raised himself again. Then curiosity, it seemed, mastered him. He sidled toward the table, peered over the shoulders of two detectives.

The Inspector lifted a long white garment and held its spotless length high. “Hmm. Surgical gown, eh?” His grey brows bunched suddenly; he shot a droll sidewise look at Janney. “This yours, Doctor?”