Erle Stanley Gardner

The Monkey Murder

Chapter I

Lester Leith, his slender, well-knit form attired in a cool suit of Shantung pongee, sprawled indolently in the reclining wicker chair. The cool afternoon breezes filtered through the screened windows of the penthouse apartment. Leith’s valet, Beaver, nicknamed “Scuttle” by Lester Leith, ponderous in his obsequious servility, siphoned soda into a Tom Collins and deferentially placed the glass on the table beside his master’s chair.

If Leith had any knowledge that this man who served him, ostensibly interested only in his creature comforts, was in reality a police undercover man, planted on the job by Sergeant Arthur Ackley, he gave no indication. His slate-gray eyes, the color of darkly tarnished silver, remained utterly inscrutable as he stared thoughtfully at the bubbles which formed on the glass only to detach themselves and race upward through the cool beverage.

The valet coughed.

Leith’s eyes remained fixed, staring into the distance.

The police spy squirmed uneasily, then said: “Begging your pardon, sir, was there something you wanted?”

Leith, without turning his head, said, “I think not, Scuttle.”

The big undercover man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeted uneasily, then said: “Begging your pardon, sir, please don’t think I’m presumptuous, but I was about to venture to suggest— Well, sir—”

“Come, come, Scuttle,” Lester Leith said. “Out with it. What is it?”

“About the crime news, sir,” the undercover man blurted. “It’s been some time since you’ve taken an interest in the crime news, sir.”

Leith sipped his Tom Collins. “Quite right, Scuttle,” he said. “And it will probably be a much longer time before I do so.”

“May I ask why, sir?”

“On account of Sergeant Ackley,” Leith said. “Damn the man, Scuttle. He’s like a woman convinced against her will, and of the same opinion still. Somewhere, somehow, he got it through that fat head of his that I was the mysterious hijacker who has been ferreting out the criminals who have made rich hauls, and relieving them of their ill-gotten spoils.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said. “He certainly has been most annoying, sir.”

“As a matter of fact,” Leith went on, “whoever that mysterious hijacker is — and I understand the police are firmly convinced there is such an individual — he has my sincere respect and admiration. After all, Scuttle, crime should be punished. Crime which isn’t detected isn’t punished. As I understand it, the criminals who have been victimized by this hijacker are men who have flaunted their crimes in the faces of the police and got away with it. The police have been unable to spot them, let alone get enough evidence to convict them. Then along comes this mysterious hijacker, solves the crime where the police have failed, locates the criminal, and levies a hundred-per-cent fine by relieving him of his ill-gotten gains. That, Scuttle, I claim is a distinct service to society.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said. “Of course, you will admit that your charities for the widows and orphans of police and firemen killed in the line of duty, your donations to the associated charities and the home for the aged have been steadily mounting.”

“Well, what of it, Scuttle? What the devil has that to do with the subject under discussion?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, I think the sergeant wonders where you’re getting the money, sir.”

Lester Leith placed the half-empty glass back on the table, and reached for his cigarette case. “Confound the man’s impudence, Scuttle. What business is it of his where I get my money?”

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. Oh, quite, sir. But even so, sir, if you’ll pardon my making the suggestion, sir, it seems that you shouldn’t let such a trivial matter interfere with your enjoyment of life.”

“My enjoyment of life, Scuttle?”

“Well, sir, I know that you always derived a great deal of pleasure from looking over the crime clippings. As you’ve so frequently remarked, you used to feel that a man could study the newspaper accounts of crime and in many cases spot the guilty party, just from the facts given in the newspapers.”

“I still maintain that can be done, Scuttle.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said, lowering his voice. “And has it ever occurred to you, sir, that what Sergeant Ackley doesn’t know won’t hurt him?”

“Won’t hurt him,” Lester Leith exclaimed. “It’s what Sergeant Ackley doesn’t know that’s ruining him! If knowledge is power, Sergeant Ackley has leaky valves, loose pistons, scored cylinders, and burnt-out bearings. He’s narrow-minded, egotistical, suspicious, mercenary, selfish, and pig-headed. In addition to all of which, Scuttle, I find that I don’t like the man.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said, “but if you’d only interest yourself in the crime clippings just once more, sir, I have several very interesting items saved up for you. And Sergeant Ackley would never know, sir.”

Leith said reprovingly, “Scuttle, you’re trying to tempt me.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to... that is, really, sir. Well, of course, you may depend upon my discretion, sir.”

Leith half turned in his chair. “I can trust you, Scuttle?” he asked, looking at the spy with his inscrutable silver-gray eyes.

“Absolutely, sir, with your very life, sir.”

Lester Leith sighed, settled back, and tapped a cigarette on a polished thumbnail. “Scuttle,” he said, “perhaps it’s my mood, perhaps it’s the weather, perhaps it’s the drink; but I’ve decided to indulge in my hobby just once more, only mind you, Scuttle, this time it will be merely an academic pursuit. We’ll merely speculate on who the criminal might be and keep that speculation entirely to ourselves, a sacred confidence within the four walls of this room.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said, quivering with eagerness as he pulled a sheaf of newspaper clippings from his pocket.

“Sit down, Scuttle,” Leith invited. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

“Very good, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Lester Leith snapped a match into flame, held it to the tip of the cigarette, and inhaled deeply, extinguishing the match with a single smoky exhalation.

“Proceed, Scuttle,” he said.

“Yes, sir. The affair of the Brentwood diamond seems to have been made to order for you, sir.”

“Made to order for me. Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir,” the undercover man said, forgetting himself for the moment as he perused the newspaper clipping. “The police have never found the culprit. There’s a chance for you to make a good haul and—”

“Scuttle!” Lester Leith interrupted.

The valet jumped. “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean it in that way, sir. What I meant—”

“Never mind, Scuttle. We’ll pass the Brentwood diamond. What else do you have?”

“That was the main one, sir.”

“Well, forget it, Scuttle.”

The spy thumbed through the clippings.

“There’s the man who was choked and robbed of some two thousand dollars he’d won at gambling.”

“Skip it, Scuttle,” Lester Leith interrupted. “A man who wins two thousand dollars at gambling, and hasn’t sense enough to go to a downtown hotel and stay there until daylight, deserves to lose his winnings. That’s an old gambling-house trick. What else do you have?”

“There was the woman who shot her husband and claimed—”

“Tut, tut, Scuttle,” Lester Leith said.

“You’ve been reading the tabloids again. That is completely stereotyped. She shot him because he had forfeited her respect. She shot him because she couldn’t demean herself to accept the status in life which he thought a wife should have. She had been married ten years, but she made the revolting discovery of his baser instincts at a time when a revolver happened to be handy. She snatched it from her purse, thinking only to bring him to his senses, and then she can’t remember exactly what happened. She thinks he started for her, and everything went blank. She felt the recoil of the revolver as it roared in her hand. Then she couldn’t remember anything until she found herself at the telephone notifying the police. That was right after she’d slipped out of her house dress and put on her best outfit.”

“I see you’ve read it, sir,” the undercover man said. “I didn’t realize you were familiar with the case. May I ask, if you don’t mind, sir, how you happened to know about it? Were they friends of yours?”

“I’m not familiar with that case,” Leith said wearily, “but with dozens of others of the same type. Come on, Scuttle; let’s have something fresh.”

“Well, sir, I don’t think there’s— Oh, yes, sir, here’s something rather unusual. The murder of a monkey, sir.”

“The murder of a monkey?” Leith said, turning half around, so that he could study the spy’s face. “Why the devil should anyone want to murder a monkey?”

“Well, of course, strictly speaking, sir, it isn’t murder, but I’ve referred to it as murder because if what the police suspect is true, that’s virtually what it amounted to... that is, sir, I trust you understand me... I mean—”

“I don’t understand you,” Lester Leith interrupted, “and I have no means of knowing what you mean except from what you say. Kindly elucidate, Scuttle.”

“Yes, sir, it was a monkey belonging to Peter B. Mainwaring. Mr. Mainwaring was returning from a year spent abroad, principally in India and Africa.”

“Come, come, Scuttle,” Lester Leith said. “Get to the point. Why was the monkey murdered?”

“It was Mr. Mainwaring’s monkey, sir.”

“And who killed it, Scuttle?”

“The police don’t know. It was a holdup man.”

“A holdup man, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir. According to Mr. Mainwaring’s story, the bandit held up the automobile, shot the monkey through the head, and slit its body open. Mr. Mainwaring thinks the killer came from India. It’s some sort of a ceremony having to do with thuggee and the monkey priests who worship the monkeys and exact a death penalty from any monkey that deserts the clan.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that before,” Leith said.

“Yes, sir. That’s the story that Mr. Mainwaring has given to the police.”

“Bosh and nonsense,” Lester Leith said. “Thuggee is one thing; the monkey worship of India is entirely different... that is, there’s no possible connection which could result in a man following another from India to America just to kill a monkey and slit him open.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said dubiously. “The police don’t know much about it. I don’t mind telling you, sir, however, that... well, perhaps I shouldn’t mention it.”

“Go ahead,” Leith said. “What is it?”

“I think I mentioned at one time that one of my lady friends was quite friendly with a member of the force, not that she’s encouraged him, but he persists in—”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Leith said. “A policeman, isn’t it, Scuttle?”

“No, sir. He’s been promoted to a detective.”

“Oh, yes, Scuttle. I remember now. Where’s he stationed?”

The spy said: “Begging your pardon, sir, I’d rather not talk about that. But I don’t mind repeating a bit of information occasionally.”

“Am I to understand,” Lester Leith asked, “that this detective habitually tells this young woman police secrets, and the young woman in turn makes a practice of passing them on to you?”

The big spy smirked. “That’s rather a bald statement, sir.”

“Bald, nothing,” Leith observed; “you are doubtless referring to its whiskers.”

“Beg your pardon, sir?”

Leith said: “Nothing, Scuttle. I was merely making a comment to myself. Go on. Tell me what you were going to say about Mainwaring.”

“Well, sir, the police had an idea that Mainwaring may have been in league with a gang of smugglers and that he may have killed the monkey himself in order to cover up the real reason of the holdup. Or, then again, the man may have been an accomplice who had been tricked, and shot at Mainwaring and hit the monkey instead.”

“You may be interested in knowing that the police have reason to believe Mainwaring left India in fear of his life.”

“What has all this to do with smuggling, Scuttle?”

“Well, sir, if the native rumors are true, sir, Mainwaring may have slipped two very valuable gems to some native accomplice with instructions to smuggle them into this country. The gems weren’t in the car with Mainwaring, but he may have had them in India and intrusted this native to—”

“What gems, Scuttle?”

“The jewels of the monkey god, sir.”

“The jewels of the monkey god? Come, come, Scuttle; this is beginning to sound like one of Sergeant Ackley’s wild accusations.”

“Yes, sir. Over in India there’s the special god for monkeys, a god that’s named... Hanne... Hanney—”

“Hanuman?” Lester Leith suggested.

“Yes, sir. That’s it, sir. Hanuman. I remember the name now that you’ve helped me, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“What about Hanuman, the monkey god?” Lester Leith asked.

“It seems that back in the jungles, sir, there’s a huge statue of the monkey god. He’s covered with gold leaf. His eyes were emeralds, and his breast nipples consist of two huge emeralds. It seems that some adventurer managed to gain access to this temple and substituted bits of green glass for the emeralds. The substitution wasn’t discovered for some time.”

“And what has this to do with Mainwaring’s smuggling?” Lester Leith asked.

“The police, sir, have reason to believe that it was Mainwaring who made the substitution.”

“Peter B. Mainwaring?” Lester Leith asked.

The valet nodded.

Leith said thoughtfully: “Now, Scuttle, you interest me. You interest me very much indeed. I think you’ll agree with me, Scuttle, that if that were the truth, Mainwaring shouldn’t be allowed to retain the fruits of his nefarious action.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy agreed, his eyes eager. “Only Mainwaring apparently doesn’t have them.”

“And, by the same sign,” Leith said, “you will also admit that there is nothing to be gained by sending these stones back to the jungle to become part of the anatomy of a heathen idol.”

“Yes, sir, I agree with you upon that absolutely, sir,” the spy said with alacrity.

“Under the circumstances,” Leith announced, “we’ll consider the murder of this monkey, Scuttle. Tell me about it.”

“Yes, sir. Well, you see, sir, the police had been notified. They thought that perhaps Mr. Mainwaring was bringing the emeralds in with him although Mainwaring had denied having them in his possession or knowing anything about them. He admitted that he had been in that section of the country at about the time the stones disappeared. In fact, he said it was due to this fact and only to this fact that the natives thought he was responsible for the theft.”

“Yes,” Leith said. “I can understand how it would happen that a white man, under such circumstances, would be considered responsible for the loss by ignorant or superstitious natives. Perhaps Mainwaring was telling the truth after all, Scuttle.”

“Well, sir. You see, it was this way, sir. The police and the customs officials were watching Mainwaring closely. Mainwaring made no declaration of the gems, nor did a most thorough search of his baggage reveal them. But he must have been mixed up with Indian gangsters, the disciples of thuggee. At any rate, this stickup looks like it.”

“Mainwaring was traveling alone?” Lester Leith asked.

“His nurse was with him, sir.”

“His nurse, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Mainwaring is suffering from an indisposition, an organic heart trouble. At times when he’s seized with an attack, it is necessary that a nurse administer a hypodermic at once.”

“A male nurse, Scuttle?”

“No, sir. A female nurse, and rather a good-looking nurse at that.”

“Heart trouble, did you say, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can well understand it,” Leith said. “And the nurse was in India with him?”

“Yes, sir. Airdree Clayton is her name. There’s a photograph of both of them here if you’d like to see it, sir.”

Lester Leith nodded. The big spy passed across the newspaper photograph. Leith looked at it and then read the caption.

Peter B. Mainwaring and his nurse, Airdree Clayton, who have just returned from extensive travels in India and Africa. While customs officials were going through the baggage of himself and nurse with what Mainwaring indignantly insisted was unusual thoroughness, Miss Clayton sat on a table in the inspector’s office, chewed gum, and entertained Mr. Mainwaring’s pet monkey. This monkey was subsequently killed in a most mysterious holdup. Mainwaring threatened to report the customs officials for rudeness, unnecessary search, and unfounded accusations. Miss Clayton, on the other hand, said the customs inspector was “delightful,” and returned to his office after having been searched by a matron, to thank the inspector for his consideration.

Lester Leith said, “She chews gum, Scuttle?”

“So the newspaper article says. Apparently she chews gum vigorously.”

Leith digested that information for several thoughtful seconds.

“Scuttle,” he said, “I can imagine nothing more soothing to the nerves than a nurse who chews gum. There’s a quieting monotony in the repetition of chewing, as sedative in its effect as rain on a roof. I want a nurse who chews gum. Make a note of that, Scuttle.”

“A nurse who chews gum, sir!”

“Yes,” Leith said, “and she should be rather good-looking. I noticed that Miss Clayton’s... er... pedal extremities and the anatomical connecties are rather peculiarly adapted to photography.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said. “Do I gather that you want a nurse with shapely legs, sir?”

“Not exactly that,” Lester Leith replied. “I want a nurse who chews gum. If her means of locomotion are attractive to the eye, Scuttle, that’d be an added inducement.”

“But there’s no reason why you should have a nurse, is there? That is, I mean, sir, you aren’t sick?”

“No,” Leith said. “I feel quite all right, Scuttle. Thank you.”

“Therefore,” the spy said, “begging your pardon, sir, employing a nurse would seem rather... er... conspicuous, would it not?”

“Perhaps so,” Lester said. “And yet, on the other hand, Scuttle, I can imagine nothing which would more readily reconcile me to Sergeant Ackley’s continued existence than association with a young woman with shapely pedal extremities, who makes a habit of placidly chewing gum.”

The spy blinked his small, black eyes rapidly as he strove to comprehend the significance of Leith’s remark.

“Therefore,” Leith went on, “since a nurse seems conspicuous, as you have termed it, I shall insist upon a gum-chewing secretary, Scuttle. Make a note to call the employment agencies asking for an adroit, expert, inveterate gum chewer, a secretary with pulchritude and bovine masticational habits, a careless parker— Here, Scuttle, take a pencil, and take this down as I dictate it.”

“Yes, sir,” the dazed spy said.

“A position at good salary is open,” Lester Leith dictated, “for a pulchritudinous young woman with shapely means of locomotion, amiable, easygoing, good-natured, acquiescent young woman preferred, one who never becomes nervous under any circumstances, a proficient, adroit, expert, and inveterate gum chewer, preferably a careless parker, must be able to pop her gum loudly. Salary, three hundred dollars per month with all traveling expenses... Have you got that, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said, his voice showing dazed incredulity.

“Very good,” Leith observed.

“Telephone the employment agencies, and now let’s get back to Mainwaring.”

“Mainwaring got through customs on the evening of the thirteenth, sir. The customs officials found nothing which hadn’t been declared. It was then about seven o’clock and getting dark. Mainwaring’s chauffeur was waiting for him. He—”

“Just a minute, Scuttle. Mainwaring didn’t take his chauffeur on this tour with him, did he?”

“No, sir. The chauffeur stayed and acted as a caretaker at the house.”

“I see. Go on, Scuttle.”

“Well, the chauffeur loaded the hand baggage into the car, and they started for Mainwaring’s house. When they were somewhere around Eighty-sixth Street, the right rear tire blew out; and when the chauffeur went to fix it, he found the jack was broken. He knew of a garage some half dozen blocks away, and Mainwaring said he and Miss Clayton would wait in the car while the chauffeur went to the garage. The chauffeur had some difficulty as the garage was closed. He thinks he was gone perhaps some thirty minutes in all. The robber held up Mainwaring only a few minutes after the chauffeur started out. In fact the chauffeur saw the bandit drive past him, noticed him particularly because of his build. He was big, fat, massive, and with a swarthy complexion. The chauffeur actually saw his features, sir. He was the only one who did. The stickup man had put on a mask by the time he had driven abreast of the Mainwaring car.”

“Why did the chauffeur notice him so particularly, Scuttle?”

“Because he thought the man might stop, pick him up, and drive him to a garage, sir. The chauffeur had his livery on, and he stepped out from the curb and motioned to this man. The chauffeur’s quite thin himself, sir, and he naturally noticed the other’s corpulence.”

“The man didn’t stop, Scuttle?”

“No, sir. He seemed, according to the chauffeur, to be driving fast and with a purpose. When the chauffeur saw his swarthy complexion, he wondered if the man might not be following Mainwaring’s car; but he dismissed the thought as being a bit farfetched. Yet there can be no doubt of it that it was this man who held up Mainwaring and killed the monkey.”

“Killed the monkey!” Lester Leith exclaimed. “Do you mean that this was all the man accomplished?”

“Yes, sir. He killed the monkey. That seemed to be what he wanted to overtake the car for.”

“And didn’t take anything?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s odd,” Leith said. “And the man was masked?”

“Yes, sir, he was, but the nurse feels quite certain that he was a native of Southern India. Both she and Mainwaring agree that he was very fat although he moved with catlike quickness. He was driving a car which had been stolen.”

“How do they know the car was stolen?” Leith asked.

“Because the chauffeur, returning with the jack, saw this same car again. This time it was speeding away from the scene of the holdup. He noticed that the driver was wearing a mask which concealed his features, so he took occasion to notice the license number. He gave it to the police, of course, as soon as he learned of the holdup. The police found that the car had been stolen. Later on, they found the car itself parked on Ninety-third Street. It had been abandoned there.”

“On Ninety-third Street,” Lester Leith said, frowning. “Wait a minute, Scuttle. Isn’t there a suburban railroad station there?”

“Yes, sir. I believe there is, sir. That’s the station where nearly all of the incoming and outgoing trains stop to pick up passengers who prefer to avoid the congestion of the central depot.”

“And the monkey was slit open, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was the chauffeur’s name, Scuttle?”

“Deekin. Parsley B. Deekin, sir.”

“Any photographs of him?”

“Yes, sir. Here’s one, sir.”

Leith studied the photograph of the thin hatchet face, prominent cheekbones, and large eyes. “Rather young to be a chauffeur, isn’t it, Scuttle?”

“I don’t think he’s so young, sir. It’s because he’s thin that he looks young; the effect of a slender figure, you know.”

“I see,” Leith said, frowning thoughtfully. “And after the monkey was killed, he was slit open?”

“That’s right, cut almost in two, and then tossed back into the car. Mainwaring said he’s been afraid all along that an attempt would be made on the monkey’s life by some religious fanatic. He said that the monkey was a temple monkey, that his life was supposed to have been consecrated to the priests of Hanuman. He says that in India when a monkey has been so consecrated and then leaves the temple, the priests consider it a desertion just as they do when a priest has consecrated his life to the monkey god and then tries to leave the temple and take up life somewhere else.”

“Sounds like a barbarous custom, Scuttle.” Lester Leith said.

“Yes, sir, it is, sir. Oh, quite.”

“Any other witnesses, Scuttle?”

“None who saw the man’s face, sir. A young woman glimpsed a very fat, paunchy man with a mask which concealed his entire face driving a car. She couldn’t even tell the make of the car, however. She thought it was a sedan. The car the man used was, in reality, a coupe. It had been stolen about six o’clock in the evening. Because the man took such pains to conceal all of his skin, the police deduce he must have been swarthy.”

Leith grinned.

“Aided in that deduction, of course, Scuttle, by the chauffeur’s statement.”

“Yes, sir, I suppose so, sir. But Mainwaring and the nurse both thought he was a native of Southern India, you’ll remember, sir.”

Lester Leith held up his hand for silence. “Wait a minute, Scuttle; I want to think.”

For several seconds he sat rigid in the chair, his face an expressionless mask, his eyes slitted in thought. The valet-spy, his big form perched on the edge of the chair, regarded Lester Leith thoughtfully.

Suddenly Lester Leith said: “Scuttle, let me have the telephone book, and find out what trains pull out of the Ninety-third Street Station between seven and nine thirty in the evening. Get me the information at once.”

“Very good, sir,” the spy said, vanishing in the direction of the soundproof closet in which the telephone was housed.

Five minutes later, he was back with the information. “A train leaving the central depot at seven twenty, sir, stops at Ninety-third Street at seven fifty, at Belting Junction at eight ten, at Robbinsdale at eight thirty, and at Beacon City at nine thirty. After that, it becomes a limited train and makes no stops until after midnight. Those other stops are merely for the purpose of taking on suburban passengers.”

Leith said: “Very well, Scuttle. Plug in the telephone extension, and put the desk phones over here.”

When the spy had done so, Lester Leith called the baggageman at Belting Junction, and said: “Hello, I’m trying to trace a suitcase which was checked through on the train which leaves Central Depot at seven twenty in the evening. This suitcase went forward on the evening of the thirteenth, and has not been claimed. I have reason to believe it was checked to your depot.”

“Who is this talking?” the baggageman asked.

“This is the claim adjuster’s office,” Leith said. “Shake a leg.”

“Just a minute,” the baggageman said. And then after a few moments, he reported,

“No, there’s no such suitcase here.”

“Thank you,” Leith said, and hung up.

He called the station agent at Robbinsdale, made the same statement, and secured the same answer. But at Beacon City, the situation was different. The baggageman said:

“Yeah, we’ve got a suitcase here. It came on that train, and has never been called for. I’ve been charging storage on it at the rate of ten cents for every twenty-four hours, after it was uncalled for forty-eight hours. What do you want me to do with it?”

“Describe the suitcase,” Leith said.

“Well, it’s cheap, split-leather suitcase,tan, with straps. It’s rather large.”

“Any initials on it?” Leith said.

“Yes, there are the initials A.B.C. in black on both ends of the suitcase.”

“Well,” Leith said, “a man will probably call for it tomorrow. He won’t have his claim check. Make him deposit a bond of fifty dollars and describe the contents, then give him the suitcase.”

“It’ll be all right to give it to him if he doesn’t have the check?” the baggage agent asked.

“Yes, if he describes the contents, and if he puts up a fifty-dollar bond. The check’s been lost, and this party claims the baggageman here put a wrong check on it. I don’t think he did, but anyhow we’ve located the suitcase, and that’s all that’s necessary. He’ll be out tomorrow. In the meantime you open the suitcase, familiarize yourself with the contents, and don’t let anyone who can’t describe those contents have the suitcase. That’s important.”

Lester Leith hung up the telephone, and nodded to the spy.

“I think, Scuttle,” he said, “that the situation is now greatly clarified.”

“What do you mean, sir?” the spy asked.

Leith said: “Has it ever occurred to you, Scuttle, that Mainwaring resorted to rather aclever trick? Before he landed, he opened the mouth of the monkey and forced those emeralds into the monkey’s stomach, probably intending to kill the monkey himself and remove the stones when he had reached his home. However some clever holdup man, who deduced what must have happened, swooped down on him, killed the monkey, cut the animal open, and took out the stones. Mainwaring naturally isn’t in a position to make a complete explanation to the police because then he’d be guilty of smuggling and subject to a fine. So he had to put the best face he could on the matter and make up this cock-and-bull story about the priests of Hanuman following the monkey and exacting his life as a sacrifice.”

“Good heavens, sir! You’re right!” the spy exclaimed.

“Of course I’m right,” Leith said, frowning slightly. “Don’t seem so surprised, Scuttle. I have shown what is, after all, only very ordinary intelligence.”

“But what happened to the gems, sir?”

Lester Leith stared thoughtfully into space for several seconds. At length he said: “In order to answer that question, Scuttle, I would require two specially constructed canes, four imitation emeralds, a package of cotton, and a gum-chewing secretary.”

“You’ve already asked me to get the secretary,” the spy suggested.

“So I have,” Leith said, “so I have.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what type of cane did you have in mind?”

“I would need two canes, identical in appearance,” Lester Leith said, “two very large canes with hollow handles; that is, there must be a receptacle hollowed out in the handle of each cane. This receptacle must be capable of concealing two of the imitation emeralds; and one cane must have a telescopic metal ferrule so it can be extended and locked into position, or telescoped back and locked into position. Aside from that, both canes must be exactly alike.”

The spy blinked his eyes. “I don’t see what that has to do with it, sir,” he said.

Leith smiled. “After all, Scuttle, the gumchewing secretary is of prime importance. However, Scuttle, I think I’ve exercised my wits enough for this afternoon. I believe I have a dinner engagement?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right, sir. But when do you want these canes, sir?”

“I’d require them by tomorrow morning at the very latest. I— What’s that, Scuttle?”

“You were talking about the canes, sir, when you wanted them.”

“Good heavens,” Leith said. “I don’t want the canes. I was merely working out an academic solution for a crime. Under no circumstances, Scuttle, are you to take me seriously.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said.

“And I don’t want the canes.”

“No, sir.”

“Nor the cotton.”

“No, sir.”

“But,” Leith said, “you might get me the secretary, Scuttle. Have each agency send its most proficient gum chewer.”

Chapter II

Beaver Reports

Sergeant Ackley sat at a battered desk in police headquarters and scowled across at the undercover man who had finished making his report.

“Damn it, Beaver,” he said. “The thing doesn’t make sense.”

The undercover man sighed resignedly. “None of his stuff ever makes sense,” he said, “and yet somehow he always fits everything together into a perfect pattern and whisks the swag right out from under our noses. I’m getting tired of it.”

“Of course,” Sergeant Ackley went on, “this suitcase is important. You can see what happened, Beaver. The robber, whoever he was, stopped in at the depot and checked this suitcase.”

“That, of course, gives us a clue to work on,” the spy observed. “But Heaven knows what’s in that suitcase. Leith told the baggageman to open it, familiarize himself with the contents, and not to let anyone have it who couldn’t describe those contents. Now, of course, we could go down there with a warrant and—”

“Absolutely not,” Sergeant Ackley interrupted. “That’s foolish, Beaver. We’ve been working for months to catch this man, and now that we have a perfect trap all prepared, we’d be foolish to go down and steal the bait ourselves.”

“Then you don’t think the gems are in the suitcase?”

“Why the devil should they be?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

The undercover man shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Stranger things have happened.”

“Well, not that strange,” Sergeant Ackley snapped. “After all, the robber took considerable chances in order to get those gems. He undoubtedly must have followed Mainwaring from India. That much of Mainwaring’s story is true; and the robber, once having secured possession of those stones, certainly made tracks for parts unknown. He’s probably thousands of miles away from here by this time, traveling by airplane, but there must be something in that suitcase — something which fits into the scheme of the thing. But I don’t see how it’s going to do Leith any good, because he can’t describe the contents of that suitcase any better than we can.”

“Well,” Beaver said, “I’ve made my report.” And his voice indicated that he considered himself relieved from further responsibility.

Sergeant Ackley said: “We’ll plant a couple of men around the depot. The minute that suitcase leaves the place, we’ll get busy and follow it to its destination. If Leith picks it up, so much the better. If he sends some messenger, we’ll follow the messenger until he leads us to Leith. If it’s an accomplice of the crook, we’ll follow him. Of course, we’ve known all along that Mainwaring’s account of the crime was fishy. We felt certain the stickup was over those gems. That was why I wanted you to get Leith interested in working it out. Of course that suitcase may... well, we’ll just keep that as bait.”

Beaver got to his feet.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve told you everything I know. Now, I’ve got to get busy and give those girls a once-over as they come in. I suppose they’ll have chewing gum stuck all over the place.”

Sergeant Ackley assayed a ponderous attempt at humor. “Be careful they don’t gum the works, Beaver.”

The undercover man started to say something, then changed his mind, and marched to the door.

“Be sure to keep me posted, Beaver,” Sergeant Ackley warned. “This case is the most important one you’ve handled yet. We’ll catch Lester Leith redhanded. We’ll get enough proof to convict Mainwaring of smuggling, and if those two gems are equal to descriptions, we’ll pick up a nice reward.”

The undercover man said: “You thought you had him before. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll figure out what he wants those two canes for and where those four counterfeit stones fit into the picture. Otherwise you’ll come another cropper.”

“That will do, Beaver,” Sergeant Ackley roared. “I’m running this case. You get back on the job and stay there!”

“Very well, sergeant,” the undercover man said with that synthetic humility which he had learned to assume until it had become almost second nature to him.

He opened the door a few inches, oozed his huge bulk out into the corridor, then quietly closed the door behind him.

Sergeant Ackley reached for the telephone.

Chapter III

Gum Chewers

The undercover man surveyed the dozen young women who had gathered in response to Lester Leith’s summons. They sat grouped about the room in postures which were well calculated to show what Lester Leith’s memorandum had referred as to “shapely means of locomotion.” Each seemed vying with the other to attract attention to the fact that she was possessed of the necessary qualifications.

As might have been expected, however, from the nature of the request which had been sent to the employment agency, only those young women who had seen enough of life to become slightly calloused to the treatment afforded a working girl had applied. The qualification of being a blatant and inveterate gum chewer had also tended to accomplish the same purpose. Had Lester Leith deliberately sought to acquire a young woman who knew her way around, who was willing to take chance, and was unusually self-reliant, he could not have thought of any means better designed to give him exactly what he wanted.

Beaver, the undercover man, entered the room and surveyed the twelve waiting applicants, noted the rhythmic swing of the rapidly chewing jaws, heard unmistakable evidences of a proficiency in gum popping; and his black greedy eyes swept in eager appraisal the exposed lengths of sheer silk terminating in shapely, well-shod feet.

The undercover man took from his pocket twelve twenty-dollar bills, and cleared his throat.

Twelve pairs of eyes fastened on those twenty-dollar bills. The girls, with one accord and as though at some preconcerted signal, quit chewing, some of them holding their jaws poised, the wad of gum balanced precariously between upper and lower molars.

The valet said: “You young ladies are all applicants for this position. Mr. Leith has instructed me to give to each applicant a twenty-dollar bill. This will be in addition to the three hundred dollars a month salary which is to be paid to the one who gets the job. Mr. Leith has asked me to state that he appreciates your courtesy in coming here, and he wanted me to tell you that he felt quite certain that each of you had... ‘the external qualifications’ were the words he used,” the spy said, letting his eyes once more slither along the row of shapely limbs. “In just a moment Mr. Leith will—”

Lester Leith interrupted him by flinging open the door of his sitting room.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

Twelve pairs of eyes changed from cynical appraisal to interest.

“Good afternoon,” the applicants chorused.

Leith looked them over and said: “Obviously since there is only one position, eleven of you must necessarily be disappointed. I have tried to make some small contribution which will alleviate your disappointment somewhat, and, as you are all working girls, I believe that it is only fair to all concerned to pick a person to fill the position in the quickest manner possible. I will, therefore, look you over, and interview the person I consider the most talented first. I believe you understand that I am looking for young women with symmetrical limbs, and women who are inveterate gum chewers.”

“Say,” one of them said, “what’s the idea about the gams?”

“Just what do you mean?” Leith asked.

“Is this a job or ain’t it?” the girl asked.

“This,” Leith assured her gravely, “is a job.”

“Well,” the girl said, “I didn’t want to have any misunderstandings, that’s all.”

Lester Leith surveyed the girl with interest. “What,” he asked, “is your name?”

“Evelyn Rae,” she said, “and I think I’m speaking for most of the others as well as myself when I say that I came up here to look the proposition over. I’m not so certain I’m making an application for the job. I don’t like that crack about what you call shapely means of locomotion. I do my shorthand and my typewriting with my hands.”

One or two of the others nodded.

A blond at the far end of the line shifted her gum, and said: “Speak for yourself, dearie. I’ll do my own talking.”

Lester Leith smiled at Evelyn Rae. “I think,” he said, “you’re the young woman I want to interview first. Come in, please.”

She followed him into his private sitting room, surveying him with frankly dubious eyes.

“You may think I’m the one you want to work for you,” she said, “but I’m not so sure you’re the person I want to be my boss.”

“I understand,” Leith said. “I understood you the first time.”

“All right,” she said. “What are the duties?”

“Well,” Leith told her, “you will take a train out of the city which leaves the depot at seven twenty tonight. You will arrive in Beacon City at nine thirty. From there on, the train is a limited train, making no stops until after midnight. I’ll travel with you as far as Beacon City. We will have a drawing room.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said. “That’s what you think.”

“At Beacon City,” Leith went on heedless of the interruption, “a suitcase will be placed aboard the train. You will not open that suitcase. Under no circumstances are you even to look in it. At approximately ten p.m. you will be arrested.”

“Arrested for what?” she asked.

“For being an accessory after the fact in the theft of two emeralds,” Leith said.

“What’ll I be guilty of?”

“Nothing.”

“Then how can they arrest me?”

“It’s a habit some of the more impulsive officers have,” Leith pointed out.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” Leith told her.

“What else do I do?”

“You will continue aboard the train in the custody of the officers until they make arrangements to stop and take you off and return you to the city. At that time, you will be released. The officers will apologize. You will retain counsel and threaten a suit for false arrest. The officers will be glad to compromise. I don’t think you’ll receive a very large sum by the way of a cash settlement, but you doubtless will wind up with sufficient pull to square any parking or speeding tickets you or your friends may get within the city limits for some time to come. There will be no other duties.”

“Is this,” she asked, “a line of hooey?”

Leith took three one-hundred-dollar bills from his pocket.

“I am,” he said, “willing to show my good faith by paying you a month’s salary in advance. You look honest to me.”

“Honest but direct,” she said. “What’ll be doing in that drawing room between Central Depot and Beacon City?”

“Reading.”

“What’ll you be doing after the train leaves Beacon City?”

Lester Leith smiled, and said, “The less you know about that the better.”

Evelyn Rae looked at the three hundred-dollar bills speculatively. “That,” she said, “is a lot of money.”

Leith nodded.

“And not much work,” she added.

Again Leith nodded.

“What else am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“Chew gum,” Leith said. “Chew large quantities of gum. The gum, incidentally, will be furnished as a part of the traveling expenses. You will not have to pay for it.”

She studied him for several seconds with thoughtful worldly-wise eyes, then she slowly nodded her head, and said: “I don’t believe you’re on the level, but what’s the odds? It’s a go.”

Leith handed her the three one-hundred-dollar bills.

“And the first duty which you have,” he said, “will be to explain to the other applicants that the position is filled.”

She said: “Well, I’ve got to talk fast to put that idea across, particularly with that blonde.” She moistened her fingers, slipped a wad of chewing gum from her mouth absentmindedly, and mechanically stuck it under the arm of the chair.

Lester Leith nodded to himself, smiling his approval.

As she reached for the doorknob, Leith said:

“And you will start your duties at once. Please explain to Scuttle, my valet, that I do not wish to be disturbed for the next hour, and, in the meantime, arrange to pack your suitcase and get ready to travel. You will meet me at the Central Depot tonight, ready to board the seven-twenty train.”

When the door had closed behind her, Leith opened a drawer in his desk, and took from it a piece of clear green glass which had been ground into facets, giving it the general appearance of a huge gem. Tiptoeing across to the chair where the young woman had been sitting, he took the piece of glass and pushed it up into the wad of chewing gum, held it there by a firm steady pressure of thumb and forefinger for several seconds, then gradually released it.

Chapter IV

Planted Clue

The valet quietly opened the door of Leith’s private sitting room, thrust in a cautious hand, and then eased himself through the narrow opening.

Lester Leith, watching him with eyes that were lazy-lidded in amusement, said: “Scuttle, it doesn’t cost any more to open the door wide enough to walk through, instead of opening it a few inches and squeezing through sideways.”

“Yes, sir. I know, sir,” the spy said. “You mentioned it to me before. It’s just a habit I have, sir.”

Leith stared at him with wide startled eyes.

“Scuttle, what the devil are you carrying under your arm?”

“The canes, sir.”

“The canes, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good heavens, what canes?”

“Don’t you remember, sir, those that you ordered, the ones that have hollow handles, and one of them has an adjustable ferrule so it can be telescoped and locked in position?”

“Scuttle,” Lester Leith said, “I didn’t want those canes.”

“You didn’t, sir? I thought you told me to get them.”

“Why no,” Leith said, “I merely mentioned that I thought a person who had two canes such as that and an attractive secretary who was addicted to promiscuous gum chewing could solve the mystery of the murdered monkey. But I told you not to get the canes.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I must have misunderstood you. I thought you wanted to solve it.”

“No, no!” Lester Leith exclaimed. “I was merely outlining an academic solution.”

“But you’ve hired the secretary.”

“I know I have,” Leith said. “That’s an entirely different matter. I hired her on general principles.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m frightfully sorry, but I thought you wanted me to get the canes. Now that I have them, sir... well—”

Leith said: “Oh, well, now that you have them, I may as well take a look at them. Pass them over, Scuttle.”

The spy handed over the canes. Leith regarded them with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

“It’s rather a neat job,” the spy said. “ You see, they’re canes with just a knob for a handle, and that knob unscrews. The joint is rather cleverly concealed, don’t you think so?”

Leith nodded, twisted the head of one of the canes. It promptly unscrewed. Leith looked inside and gave a sudden start of surprise.

“Why, Scuttle,” he said, “there are emeralds in here!”

“No, sir, not emeralds, sir. Just the imitations which you ordered.”

“Ordered, Scuttle?”

“Well, you mentioned them as being things which would enable you to solve the mystery of the murdered monkey.”

Leith said reprovingly: “Scuttle, I don’t like this. I was outlining merely an academic solution. Why the devil would I want to solve the mystery of the murdered monkey?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir, except that it would be a source of great gratification for you to know that your reasoning had proved correct.”

Leith said irritably: “I don’t need to go to all that trouble to demonstrate the correctness of my reasoning, Scuttle. It’s self-evident when you consider the basic facts of the case.”

The spy wet his thick lips with the tip of an anxious tongue.

“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly. And then after a moment, “You were about to mention what you consider the basic facts, sir?”

Lester Leith eyed him coldly. “I was not, Scuttle.”

“Oh,” the spy said.

“By the way,” Leith observed, “I’ve given Evelyn Rae a month’s wages in advance.”

“Yes, sir. So Miss Rae told me, sir. She said that you didn’t wish to be disturbed for an hour so I waited to give you the canes. You were, perhaps, busy?”

Leith said, “Perhaps, Scuttle.”

“I’ve just had the devil of a time, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so,” the spy complained.

“How come?” Leith inquired.

“Cleaning up after those young women.”

“Were they untidy?” Leith asked.

“Chewing gum, sir. I don’t think I ever had quite so disagreeable a job in my life. It was stuck to the underside of the chair arms, the chair buttons, under the table. It was in the most unlikely places and the most annoying places, sir. You’d drop your hand to the arm of the chair, and a wad of moist chewing gum would stick to your fingers.”

Leith yawned, and stifled the yawn with four polite fingers. “Doubtless, Scuttle,” he said, “you’ll remember in the call which I sent out for secretaries, I asked for gum chewers who were careless with their parking, inclined to be promiscuous with their leftovers. Doubtless, Scuttle, the young ladies were merely attempting to show that they were properly qualified for the position. After all, Scuttle, you know jobs aren’t easily obtained these days, so one can hardly blame the young ladies for being anxious to secure one which pays a good salary.”

The spy said: “That’s one of the things I couldn’t understand... if you don’t think I’m presumptuous, sir.”

“What is that, Scuttle?”

“Why you wanted a young woman who was such an inveterate gum chewer and what you were pleased to describe as such a promiscuous parker.”

Leith nodded. “I dare say, Scuttle.”

“Dare say what, sir?”

“That you couldn’t understand it,” Leith said.

The spy’s face flushed an angry brick-red.

“And now,” Leith said, “I have some preparations to make. By the way, Scuttle, did you notice in the newspaper that Mr. Mainwaring was to address the Explorers’ Club tonight on ‘Changes in the Psychology of Native Religions’?”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said.

“Probably it will be a most interesting lecture,” Leith observed.

“Did you intend to be present?” Beaver asked.

“I?” Leith inquired. “Good heavens, no, Scuttle! I’d be bored to death, but I merely commented that the lecture would probably be interesting... to those who have a taste for that sort of thing. By the way, Scuttle, you’d better pack my bag, and get me a drawing room on the seven-twenty train tonight.”

“A drawing room, sir?”

“Yes, Scuttle.”

“Very good, sir. Where to?”

“Oh, clean through,” Leith said airily. “As far as the train goes. I don’t believe in halfway measures, Scuttle.”

The valet said, “I thought perhaps you wanted it only as far as Beacon City, sir.”

“Beacon City?” Leith inquired. “Why the devil should I want to go to Beacon City?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” the spy said.

“And I’m quite sure you don’t,” Leith observed in a tone of finality as he terminated the interview.

After Leith had left the room, the big spy, his face twisted with rage, shook clenched fists at the door.

“Damn you,” he said. “Damn your sneering, supercilious hide! One of these days I’ll have the pleasure of watching you in a cell, and when I do, I’ll give you something to think of! You’re quite sure I don’t, eh? You and your chewing gum. Bah!”

The spy sat down in the big chair, mopped his perspiring forehead, then pocketing his handkerchief, wrapped his thick fingers around the arm of the chair. With an exclamation of annoyance, he jumped up and scrubbed at his fingers with the handkerchief.

“Another wad of gum!” he exclaimed irritably. Wearily, he opened the blade of a huge pocketknife, dropped down to his knees, and prepared to scrape off the moist wad of chewing gum.

Something green caught his eye. He tapped it experimentally with the blade of his knife. Then, with sudden interest showing in his eyes, he cut off the wad of gum, and stared at the piece of green glass which had been embedded in it.

For several seconds, the spy stared with wide, startled eyes. Then, with the wad of chewing gum and the glass gem still smeared on the blade of his knife, he stretched his long legs to the limit as he dashed for the telephone to call Sergeant Ackley.

“Hello, hello, hello, sergeant,” Beaver called as soon as he heard the sergeant’s voice on the line. “This is Beaver talking. I’ve got the whole thing doped out.”

“What thing?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“That monkey murder.”

“Go ahead,” Sergeant Ackley ordered. “Spill it.”

“The murder of the monkey was just a blind,” Beaver said. “The chewing gum is the significant thing about the whole business. Remember that the nurse sat on a table and chewed gum all the time the customs officials were searching Mainwaring, and then, of course, the customs officials searched her.”

“Well, what about it?” Sergeant Ackley asked in his most discouraging tone. “What the devil does gum chewing have to do with it?”

“Don’t you see, sergeant?” Beaver said. “While she was chewing gum with a certain amount of nervousness natural to a young woman under those circumstances, she was able to feed large quantities of gum into her mouth without exciting suspicion.”

“Well?” Sergeant Ackley asked in a voice well calculated to chill even the most loyal supporter.

“Well,” Beaver went on, speaking slightly slower and with less assurance, “you can see what happened. While she was chewing gum, she sat there on the table, swinging her legs. She’d chew for a while, and then she’d take a wad of gum out of her mouth and stick it on the under side of the table. Then she’d start chewing more gum. Now, she had those emeralds with her. While they were searching the baggage and asking questions of Mainwaring, she stuck those emeralds in the gum on the under side of the table in the customs inspector’s office right under his very nose. Then, after they’d finished searching her and her baggage and Mainwaring and his baggage, she made an excuse to run back to the office of the customs inspector. You’ll remember that the newspaper said she thanked him for his courtesy. Well, while she was thanking him, she reached her hand under the table, and slipped out the emeralds and walked out with them. It was cleverly done.”

There was a long pause while the undercover man waited, listening; and Sergeant Ackley remained thoughtfully silent.

“Well,” Beaver asked at length, “are you there, sergeant?”

“Yes, of course I’m here,” Sergeant Ackley said. “What else, Beaver?”

“What else? Isn’t that enough? I’ve got it all doped out. That’s the manner in which—”

“I think you’re getting unduly excited over a very obvious matter, Beaver,” Sergeant Ackley said. “I had figured all that out just as soon as you told me Leith insisted upon a secretary who was an inveterate gum chewer and a promiscuous parker.”

“Oh,” the undercover man said, and then after a moment added: “I see. You thought of it first.”

“That’s right,” Sergeant Ackley said. “By the way, Beaver, how did you happen to think of it?”

“I just thought it out,” the spy said wearily.

“No, no, Beaver. Now don’t hang up. There must have been something which brought the idea to your mind.”

“I reasoned it out,” the spy said.

“ But something must have given you a clue.”

“What was it gave you your clue?” the undercover man asked.

“I,” Sergeant Ackley said with dignity, “have risen to greater heights in my profession than you have, Beaver. It stands to reason that my mind is trained to arrive at conclusions more rapidly than yours. Also, I have more time for concentration. You were busy with your duties as valet. I feel certain that something must have given you the tipoff. Now what was it? Don’t be insubordinate, Beaver.”

“Oh, all right,” the undercover man said wearily. “I happened to find where Leith had been rehearsing the secretary. He’d given her a wad of gum and a piece of green glass about the size of a good big emerald. She’d practiced sticking the gum on the under side of a chair arm, and then slipping the emerald up into the chewing gum. Evidently, they’re rehearsing an act they’re going to put on later.”

“You should have told me that,” Sergeant Ackley said reproachfully, “as soon as you had me on the line, and not tried to make a grand-stand with a lot of deductive reasoning. Don’t let it happen again, Beaver. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” the spy said, as he dropped the receiver into its cradle.

Chapter V

The Rubber Suit

Evelyn Rae was standing by the train gate when Lester Leith arrived. Her jaws were swinging with the rhythmic ease of a habitual gum chewer. Despite the fact that it was only two minutes before train time, she showed no nervousness whatever, but raised her eyes to Lester Leith and said casually:

“Hello, there. I was wondering if you were going to leave me at the altar.”

“Hardly,” Leith said, “but I’ve been rather busy. Here, give your bags to this redcap. Let’s go.”

The conductor was yelling, “All aboard,” as Leith grabbed Evelyn Rae’s arm and rushed her through the gates. And as soon as the porter had juggled the baggage through behind them, the gateman snapped the brass chain into position, and swung the big doors shut — the seven-twenty limited had officially departed. Actually it waited for Leith and his newly-employed secretary to get aboard before lurching into creaking motion.

Leith settled down in the drawing room, opened his bag, and took out a case of chewing gum in assorted flavors. “I want you,” he said, “to try these and see which you prefer.”

Back in the depot, a plain-clothes man telephoned ahead to Sergeant Ackley, who was waiting at Ninety-third Street. “O.K., sergeant,” he said, “You’ve got thirty minutes to get things fixed up and get aboard. Your drawing room is all reserved.”

“He took the train?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“He’s aboard all right. He played it pretty slick. He had his watch set right to the second, and waited to be certain he and the girl were the last people through the gates. He did that so you couldn’t follow him aboard the train, but he overlooked the fact that it stopped at Ninety-third Street.”

“Well, I haven’t overlooked it,” Sergeant Ackley said gloatingly. “The time will come when that crook will realize that he’s fighting a master mind. It’s only luck that’s enabled him to slip through my fingers so many times before. When it comes to brains, I’ll match mine with his any day in the week.”

“Atta boy, sergeant!” the detective exclaimed approvingly, dropped the receiver into place, and then, running out his tongue, showered the transmitter with a very moist but heartfelt razzberry.

Lester Leith took off his shoes, put on bedroom slippers, hung up his coat and vest, slipped into a lounging robe, and took a book from his suitcase.

Evelyn Rae watched him with cautious, appraising eyes. As Lester Leith became engaged in his book, she slowly settled back against the cushions.

Leith rang for the porter, ordered a table, and when it was placed in position in between the seats, put the case of chewing gum on it.

Evelyn Rae moistened her thumb and forefinger, slipped out the wad of gum she had been chewing, and absent-mindedly pushed it against the under side of the table. She tore open a package of Juicy Fruit and fed two sticks into her mouth, one after the other.

“Pretty good stuff,” she said, between chews. “This must be pretty fresh.”

Leith said: “It’s direct from the wholesalers, and they say it left the factory less than a week ago.”

After she had chewed for several minutes, Leith said: “I’d like to have you try some of that Doublemint and then contrast that flavor with the pepsin.”

“O.K.,” she said. “Give me a few more minutes with this. I haven’t got the good out of it yet.”

The train rumbled along through the darkness. Evelyn Rae began to make herself at home.

“Gotta magazine or anything?” she asked.

Leith nodded, and took several magazines from his suitcase. She settled down with a motion-picture magazine to casual reading. Soon she became interested.

“Don’t forget that Doublemint,” Leith said.

“I won’t,” she told him, and pressed the chewed Juicy Fruit against the under side of the table.

At Ninety-third Street, Sergeant Ackley gave last-minute instructions to the undercover man and two detectives who were pacing the platform.

“Now listen,” Ackley said. “Remember he may be looking out of the window, or he may get out and walk up and down the platform. We’ve got to get aboard without him seeing us. You two birds stand out on the platform when you hear the train coming. He doesn’t know you. His reservation is Drawing Room A in Car D57. You two get aboard, go on back to that car and make sure he’s in his drawing room. Then signal with your flashlight, and Beaver and I will come aboard and go directly to our drawing room which is in D56, the car ahead. Do you get me?”

“O.K., sergeant,” the older of the two detectives said.

“Get ready,” Sergeant Ackley warned. “Here she comes.”

A station bell clanged a strident warning. The big yellow headlight of the thundering locomotive loomed up out of the darkness. Passengers for the limited swirled into little excited groups, exchanging last farewells as travelers picked up their baggage.

The big limited train rumbled into the station. While Sergeant Ackley and Beaver hid in the waiting room, the two detectives spotted Lester Leith’s stateroom, flashed a go-ahead signal, and the officers dashed aboard. The brass-throated bells clanged their warning, and the long line of Pullmans creaked into motion.

In Drawing Room A in Car D57, Lester Leith merely glanced at his wrist watch, then took a cigarette from the hammered silver case in his pocket, tapped it on his thumbnail, and snapped a match into flame.

On the opposite seat, Evelyn Rae, her back bolstered up with pillows, her mind absorbed in the picture magazine, slid around to draw up her knees to furnish a prop for the magazine. Absent-mindedly, she slipped the gum from her mouth, pressed it against the under side of the table, and groped with her fingers until she found a fresh package. Without taking her eyes off the article she was reading, she tore off the wrappers and fed sticks of gum into her mouth.

The train, having cleared the more congested district of the city, rumbled into constantly increasing speed.

Belting Junction at eight ten and Robbinsdale at eight thirty were passed without incident. At five minutes past nine, Lester Leith said:

“I think I’ll take a stroll on the platform when we get to Beacon City.”

Evelyn Rae might not have heard him. She was reading an absorbing article on one of her favorite motion-picture stars. The article told of the gameness, courage, the moral stamina of the star, and Evelyn Rae occasionally blinked back tears of sympathy as she traced the star’s unfortunate search for love and understanding through the tangled skein of Hollywood’s romance.

Lester Leith picked up his shoes, dropped one of them, and bent over to retrieve it.

Looking up at the under side of the table, he saw wad after wad of moist gum pressed against the wood.

Slipping two of the imitation emeralds from his pocket, he pushed them up into the soft gum. Wetting the tips of his fingers, he kneaded the sticky substance over the imitation gems.

The train slowed for Beacon City, and Evelyn Rae was not even conscious that it was slowing. Busily absorbed in reading the adventures of an extra girl who came to Hollywood and attracted the romantic interest of one of the more popular stars, she barely looked up as Lester Leith slipped out of the door and into the corridor.

As the junction point, Beacon City represented an important stop in the journey of the limited. Here two passenger coaches were transferred from one line and two Pullmans added from another. The station rated a fifteen-minute stop.

Lester Leith picked up a porter and hurried to the baggage room.

“I’m on the limited,” he told the man in charge of the baggage counter. “I have a suitcase I want to pick up. I haven’t the check for it, but I can describe the contents. It came down on the night of the thirteenth on the limited, and was put off here to wait for me. The whole thing was a mistake. I got in touch with the claim office, and they located—”

“Yes, I know all about it,” the baggageman said. “You’ve got to put up a bond.”

“A what?”

“A cash bond.”

“That’s an outrage,” Leith said. “I can describe the contents. There’s absolutely no possibility that you can get into any trouble by delivering that suitcase to me, and what’s more—”

“No bond, no suitcase,” the man said. “I’m sorry, but that’s orders from headquarters. They came from the claim department.”

“How much bond?” Lester Leith asked.

“Fifty dollars.”

The two detectives who had followed Leith into the baggage room were busy checking articles of hand baggage. Apparently, they paid no attention to the conversation which was going on.

Leith opened his wallet, took out ten five-dollar bills, and said:

“This is an outrage.”

“O.K.,” the baggageman said. “You can get this money back later on. You’ll have to take it up with the claim department. This is just the nature of a bond to indemnify the railroad company. Now, what’s in the suitcase?”

At this point the detectives seemed suddenly to become absent-minded. They lost interest in their baggage and moved surreptitiously closer.

Leith said, without hesitating. “It’s part of a masquerade costume joke that was played on some friends. There’s a costume in there by which a thin man can make it appear he’s enormously fat.”

“You win,” the baggageman said. “I’d been wondering what the devil those pneumatic gadgets were for. Regular rubber clothes. I couldn’t figure it. I guess you pump them up with a bicycle pump, and that’s all there is to it, eh?”

“Not a bicycle pump,” Leith said, smiling. “It’s quicker to stand at the nozzle of a pressure hose at a service station. All right, make me out a receipt for the fifty dollars, and I’ll be on my way. I have to catch this train.”

He turned to the porter, handed him a dollar, and said:

“All right, redcap, rush this aboard the train, put it in Drawing Room A in Car D57. There’s a young woman in there. So knock on the door and explain to her that I had the suitcase put aboard. She’s my secretary.”

“Yassah, yassah,” the grinning boy said. “Right away, suh.”

The detectives took no chances. One of them followed the suitcase aboard the train. The other waited for Leith to get his receipt.

“All aboard. All aboard for the limited,” the brakeman cried.

The station bell clanged into sharp summons.

The baggageman looked up from the receipt he was writing. “You’ve got a minute and a half after that,” he said.

“All aboard. All aboard,” cried the conductor.

The baggageman scribbled a hasty receipt. The bell of the locomotive clanged into action. The baggageman thrust the receipt into Leith’s hand.

“O.K.,” he said, “you’d better hustle.”

Leith sprinted across the platform. Porters were banging vestibule doors. The long train creaked into motion.

A porter saw Leith coming, opened the vestibule door, and hustled Leith aboard. The detective caught the next car down.

The minute the detective had vanished into the vestibule, Leith suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I forgot my wallet!”

“You can’t get off now, boss,” the porter said.

“The hell I can’t!” Leith told him, jerked open the vestibule door, and stepped down to the stairs. He swung out to the platform with the easy grace of a man who has reduced the hopping of trains to a fine art.

The engineer, knowing he had a straight, uninterrupted run during which he must smoothly clip off the miles, slid the throttle open, and the powerful engine, snaking the long string of Pullmans behind it, roared into rocking speed as Lester Leith, left behind on the station, saw the red lights on the rear of the train draw closer together and then vanish into the darkness.

In the stateroom of Car D56, Sergeant Ackley sat hunched over a table, his elbows spread far apart, his chin resting in his hands, chewing nervously at a soggy cigar. His eyes, glittering with excitement, stared across at Beaver, the undercover man. The two detectives made their report.

“Hell, sergeant,” the man who had followed the suitcase aboard said, “the thing’s all cut and dried. Leith pulled that stickup himself. He’s got a bunch of rubber clothes he can put on and inflate with air, and they made him look like a big fat guy. He stuck on a cap and mask, and—”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Sergeant Ackley interrupted. “Leith didn’t pull that stickup himself. Leith is pulling a hijack.”

“Well, that’s what’s in the suitcase, all right,” the detective said, “and Leith knew all about it.”

“That’s right,” the second officer chimed in. “He spoke right up and described the stuff in the suitcase — a masquerade costume to make a thin guy look fat.”

Sergeant Ackley twisted the cigar between trembling lips. Suddenly he jumped to his feet.

“O.K., boys,” he said. “We make the pinch!”

He jerked open the door of his drawing room.

“Do I stay here?” Beaver asked.

“No,” Sergeant Ackley said, “you can come with us. You can throw off your disguise, and face him in your true colors. You can get even with him for some of these taunts and insults.”

The burly undercover man’s fist clenched.

“The big thing I want to get even with him for,” he said, “is his calling me Scuttle. He Scuttles me this, and Scuttles me that. He says that I look like a pirate, and keeps asking me if perhaps some of my ancestors weren’t pirates.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Sergeant Ackley said, “the sky’s the limit. My eyes aren’t very good, and if you say he was resisting arrest and took a swing at you, I’ll be inclined to help you defend yourself.”

“I don’t want any help,” Beaver said. “All I want is three good punches.”

Sergeant Ackley turned to the other two officers. “Remember,” he said, “if Beaver swears this guy made a swing at him, we’re all backing Beaver’s play.”

Two heads nodded in unison.

“Come on,” Sergeant Ackley said, putting his star on the outside of his coat, and led the procession which marched grimly down the swaying aisle of the Pullman car where the porter, struggling with mattresses and green curtains as he made up the berths, looked up to stare with wide eyes.

“Do we knock?” Beaver asked, as they swayed down the aisle of Car D57.

“Don’t be silly,” Ackley commented. He twisted the knob of the stateroom door, slammed it open. The car porter watched them with wide-eyed wonder. A moment later he was joined by the porter from the car ahead.

Evelyn Rae was sprawled comfortably on the seat, her left elbow propped against the table, a pillow behind her head, her right instep fitted against the curved arm of the upholstering. She looked up with casual inquiry, then suddenly lowered her knees, pulled down her skirt, and said:

“Say, what’s the idea?”

“Where’s Leith?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“Why, I don’t know. Who are you? Why, hello, Beaver. What is this?”

Sergeant Ackley said, “Come on! Where’s Leith?”

“I haven’t seen him for a while. I was reading and—”

“How did that suitcase get here?”

“A redcap brought it in. He said Leith told him to put it aboard.”

“Where was that?”

“This last stop.”

“What did Leith say after we pulled out of that last stop?”

“Why, I haven’t seen him since the suitcase was delivered here.”

Sergeant Ackley’s laugh was scornful and sarcastic. “Try and get me to fall for that one. You must think I’m crazy. Beaver, open the door to the lavatory. Jim, dust out and cover the train.”

The undercover man jerked open the lavatory door.

“No one here,” he said.

The other detective dashed out into the car.

The car porter pushed his head in the door. “What yo’-all want? The gen’man what—”

Sergeant Ackley held up the lapel of his coat to emphasize the significance of his badge. “Get the hell out of here,” he said.

The porter backed out, his jaw and lips moving, but no words coming.

Sergeant Ackley slammed the door shut.

“Let’s take a look in that suitcase,” he said.

The officers unstrapped the suitcase, opened it. Sergeant Ackley pawed through the clothes.

“O.K.,” he said to the girl, “where are those two gems?”

“What two gems?”

“Don’t stall. The two gems that were in there.”

“You’re nuts!” she said.

“I’ll show you whether I’m nuts or not,” Sergeant Ackley said. “You’re an accomplice in this thing right now. You give me any more of your lip, and I’ll arrest you as an accessory after the fact.”

“After what fact?” she asked.

Sergeant Ackley’s gesture was one of irritation.

“Mr. Leith thought he’d left you in the city,” she said to Beaver.

“What Lester Leith thinks doesn’t count right now,” Sergeant Ackley observed. “I want those two emeralds.”

“Those two emeralds?”

“Yes.”

Before she could answer, the door of the drawing room burst open, and the detective who had been sent to find Leith said:

“ Say, sergeant, here’s a funny story from the porter of the second car back. That’s the one that Leith hopped when the train pulled out. I grabbed the one behind. I went back and asked the porter what happened to the man who got aboard and—”

“Never mind all that palaver,” Sergeant Ackley interrupted irritably. “Go ahead and tell me the answer. What happened?”

“He said that Lester Leith climbed aboard all right, and then jumped right back off again.”

Sergeant Ackley’s face darkened. “So you let him give you the slip, did you?”

The detective said indignantly: “Let him give me nothing! He got aboard the train all right, and I saw the vestibule door shut. The train damn near jerked my arms off when I got aboard the next car back. I hurried up to follow Leith to his stateroom here, but before I could get through the car, he’d had plenty of time to reach this stateroom. Remember, he was one car ahead of me. No one else could have done the thing any differently. How was I to know he was going to jump off?”

Sergeant Ackley whirled to Evelyn Rae. “I’m going to get those two stones,” he said, “if I have to search every stitch you have on. So you’d better come through with them.”

“I tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

Beaver said significantly: “Remember that piece of glass in the chewing gum, sergeant. I’ll bet they were just trying to find out whether a wad of chewing gum would hold—”

“Now,” Sergeant Ackley said, “you’re talking sense.” He grabbed the table, swung it up on its hinges, looked at the assortment of gum gobs which studded the under side of the table. Suddenly a flash of green light caught his eye. With a whoop of triumph, he grabbed at the blob of gum. It stuck to his fingers, but pulled away enough to show the surface of a huge green object which was embedded in the sticky depths. “Hooray,” Sergeant Ackley cried.

“Caught at last. Snap the handcuffs on that woman.”

Chapter VI

The Two Trick Canes

There were lights in the building occupied by the Explorers’ Club. From time to time could be heard bursts of laughter or spatterings of applause. The curb around the building was crowded with parked automobiles. Here and there chauffeur-driven cars showed a driver huddled over the steering wheel dozing or, perhaps, listening to the radio.

Lester Leith, swinging along the sidewalk, spotted the license number of Peter B. Mainwaring’s automobile without difficulty. The chauffeur of the car was slumped over the wheel.

Leith walked around the car, and tapped him on the shoulder.

The man snapped to quick attention as he felt the touch of Lester Leith’s finger. His right hand started toward his left coat lapel.

Lester Leith said easily, “You’re Mainwaring’s chauffeur?”

The man’s thin, hatchet face was without expression as he said, from one side of his mouth, “What’s it to you?” His right hand was held hovering over the left coat lapel.

“I have the cane that Mainwaring ordered,” Lester Leith said. “He told me to deliver it to you, and to show you the secret compartment.”

“Secret compartment?” Deekin said. “Say, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leith said: “Well, I don’t give a damn whether you do or not. You don’t need to be so short about it. I’m a working man, same as you are, and a damn good cane maker. I’m carrying out instructions, that’s all. Now, here’s the cane for Mainwaring. You tell him when he wants to get at the hidden receptacle, all he has to do is unscrew the top.”

“What does he want a receptacle in a cane for?” Deekin asked, his voice more friendly.

Lester Leith smirked and said: “Probably to carry liver pills in. How the hell do I know? I have about a dozen clients who give me orders like this, and I’m paid enough to keep my mouth shut. Do you understand?”

Slow comprehension began to dawn on Deekin’s face. The right hand which had been hovering near his chest moved away to rest on the steering wheel.

“What’s this about unscrewing the head of the cane?” he asked.

Leith said, “Let me show you.”

With deft fingers, he unscrewed the head of the cane, showed a cotton-lined receptacle on the interior. He pushed two fingers down into the cavity to show its depth. “There you are,” he said. “Four and a half inches deep as ordered, and I defy anyone to look at this cane and tell that there’s anything phony about it. Here it is.”

“What’s that other cane you’ve got?” Deekin asked.

“One I’m delivering to another customer,” Leith told him.

“Say, what do you want me to do with this?”

“Just give it to Mr. Mainwaring, that’s all,” Leith said. “It’s all paid for. Mainwaring will understand. He told me to be at the Explorers’ Club, but not to ask for him, that his car would be waiting outside, and I was to leave the cane with his chauffeur. Don’t be so damn dumb.”

“I’m not so damn dumb,” Deekin said, inspecting the cane with approval. “Say, buddy,” with increasing friendliness, “that’s a neat job.”

“You’re damn right it’s a neat job,” Leith said. “You ain’t telling me anything... Say, I wonder if Mainwaring is interested in knowing that they’ve caught the guy that robbed him.”

“What do ya mean, robbed him?” Deekin asked.

Leith laughed scornfully. “I wasn’t born yesterday,” he said. “That story about the priests of Hanuman who showed up to avenge the monkey-deserter from the temple is a lot of hooey that might go with some people, but you can save your breath as far as I’m concerned. They cut that monkey open to get at the smuggled gems. If your boss had had this cane with him, they wouldn’t— Oh, well, never mind.”

“What’s this about catching the robber?” Deekin demanded.

“Well, they’ve just as good as caught him,” Leith said. “They found out he wasn’t a fat man at all. That was just a disguise. The guy stole a car just to pull the stickup, then he ran the car down to the Ninety-third Street Station, went in the men’s room and took off his clothes. He had a specially constructed rubber-lined suit. All he had to do was put an air hose on it and blow it up so he looked as though he weighed about three hundred pounds. He stuck that suit in the suitcase, bought a railroad ticket to Beacon City, and checked the suitcase on the ticket. He figured no one would pay any attention to it there, and he’d have a chance to pick it up sometime later.”

“Say, how about this?” Deekin interrupted. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know who did it. I heard this other stuff come in over the radio just a little while ago,” Leith said, “and I thought Mainwaring would probably be interested.”

“How long ago?” the chauffeur asked.

“Oh, I don’t know; ten or fifteen minutes ago. The police said they were working on some hot clues and expected an arrest to be made before midnight. You know how it is, the news announcers don’t hand out too much information over the radio in a crime like that until the police tell them it’s O.K. to release it. Well, buddy, I’ve got to be going. Be sure Mainwaring gets this cane. So long.”

“So long,” Deekin said.

Lester Leith walked down the street, swinging the other cane behind him.

The chauffeur mopped cold perspiration from his forehead. He looked apprehensively up at the Explorers’ Club, then apparently seized with a sudden inspiration, jumped out of the car, pulled up the front seat, and attacked the body of the automobile with a screwdriver. A few moments later, he had lifted up a cleverly concealed plate and removed two blazing green stones from a hidden receptacle. He unscrewed the head of the cane, dropped the two emeralds into the cotton-lined hollow, and screwed the head of the cane back on. He replaced the front seat in the automobile, jumped out, and started walking rapidly toward the corner, swinging the cane casually in his hand.

He heard running steps behind him.

“Hey,” Lester Leith called. “I’ve made a mistake in that cane.”

Deekin stopped, bracing himself ominously. His right hand once more sought the vicinity of his necktie.

Leith, drawing closer, said, “Gosh, I entirely forgot about the difference in length. The colonel is a long-legged guy, and the long cane is for him. I think I gave you the long cane, instead of the short one.”

Deekin said ominously, “Well, what you think, don’t count. I think this is the cane that Mainwaring wanted.”

“By gosh,” Leith said, with relief in his voice, “I guess you’re right. That is the short cane after all.”

Deekin clutched the cane firmly in his left hand, but appeared somewhat mollified as Leith made the announcement.

“Just a minute,” Leith said; “let’s measure them, just to be sure.”

Still holding his cane firmly in his left hand, his right hand ready to dive under the lapel of his coat, Deekin stood perfectly still while Leith compared the canes. The one which Leith was holding was a full inch longer than the other.

Leith heaved a sigh.

“By gosh,” he said, “I didn’t realize that I was as long-legged as I am. You know, after I left you and started out to deliver this cane to the colonel, I swung it around a couple of times and damned if it didn’t almost fit me. So then I got scared and—”

“Well, it’s all right now,” Deekin said.

“I’ll say it is,” Leith told him, twisting the ferrule of the cane in his gloved hands as though to polish it. “What were you doing, taking a walk?”

“Yes,” Deekin said shortly.

“Well,” Leith told him, “I’ll go with you as far as the corner.”

Deekin hesitated a moment, then said shortly, “All right, as far as the corner.”

The two men walked side by side. Lester Leith took out his handkerchief and polished the glass surface of the cane which he held in his hand.

Deekin, after a hundred feet, surreptitiously turned to cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder.

At that moment, Lester Leith shoved his cane down and to the left. It caught in between Deekin’s legs just as the chauffeur was taking a long step forward.

The cane was wrenched free from Leith’s grasp. Deekin fell heavily forward, losing the grip on his own cane. At the same time, an ugly blue-steel automatic shot from its holster under his left armpit and slid for a foot or two along the sidewalk.

Leith said: “Good heavens, man, are you hurt? I’m so sorry. I was polishing that cane and—”

Deekin grabbed for the gun. “Say,” he said, “I’ve seen enough of you. Beat it!”

“But, my heavens!” Leith said. “It was an accident, purely and simply. Great heavens, man, what are you doing with that gun? I suppose Mainwaring makes you carry it, but—”

Deekin said: “Never mind all that talk. Just pass over that cane of mine.”

“Oh, yes,” Leith said, “a thousand pardons. I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you to your feet.”

“You keep your distance,” Deekin said, menacing him with the gun. “Give me that cane. Hold ‘em out so I can see both of them. Don’t try any funny stuff now. Give me that shorter one. O.K., that’s it. Pass it over, and don’t come close.”

“But I don’t understand,” Leith said. “After all, this was just an accident. Perhaps the blunder was on my part, but still—”

“Go on,” Deekin said. “Beat it. I’ve seen all of you I want to see. I crave to be alone. I don’t want to have anyone tagging around. Turn around and walk back the other way, and keep walking for ten minutes.”

“But I simply can’t understand,” Leith said, “why you should adopt this attitude. Man, you’re pointing that gun at me! You’re—”

“Beat it,” the chauffeur ordered.

Leith, apparently realizing all at once the menace of that gun, turned and took to his heels, the cane held under his arm.

Deekin took four or five quick steps, then paused to dust off his clothes, walked another fifteen or twenty feet, and then apprehensively twisted the head off the cane, and peered into the interior. The street light reflected in reassuring green scintillations from the interior, and Deekin, breathing easier, swung into a rapid walk.

Chapter VII

Beaver’s Deductions

Beaver, the undercover man, coughed significantly until he caught Sergeant Ackley’s eye, then motioned toward the door.

They held a conference in the car vestibule.

“There’s something fishy about this, sergeant,” the undercover man said.

“I’ll say there’s plenty fishy about it,” Sergeant Ackley said suspiciously. “I’m going to put that guy who let Leith give him the slip back to pounding pavements.”

“He couldn’t have helped it,” Beaver said, “but that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, sergeant.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Those two emeralds couldn’t have been in that suitcase.”

“What do you mean, they couldn’t have been?” Sergeant Ackley shouted. “Where else could they have been?”

“Right in Lester Leith’s pockets,” Beaver said.

“Bosh and nonsense,” Sergeant Ackley snapped. “If that’s all you have to offer in the way of suggestions, I’m—”

“Just a moment, sergeant,” Beaver said. “ You forget that Leith told the baggageman to look through the suitcase in order to familiarize himself with the contents. Now, if those emeralds had been in there, the baggageman certainly would have seen them, and then he wouldn’t have let the suitcase go for any fifty-dollar deposit. He’d have got in touch with the claim department and—”

Sergeant Ackley’s expression of dismay showed that he appreciated only too keenly the logic of the undercover man’s words.

“So you see what that means,” Beaver said. “If those gems weren’t in the suitcase, then Leith must have brought them; and if Leith brought them, he’d never have stuck them to the under side of that table and then got off the train.”

“Well, then the girl stuck them there,” Ackley said.

“No, she didn’t, sergeant. That girl is just a plant.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just a red herring to keep us occupied while Leith is actually getting the stones.”

“You’re crazy!” Sergeant Ackley said. “We have the stones.”

“No, we haven’t, sergeant. You left the chewing gum on them so they’d be evidence, but if you’ll pull that chewing gum off and wash those stones in gasoline, I’ll bet you’ll find they’re two of the imitation stones that I got for Leith. He fixed this whole thing so that we’d be carried away on the train ‘way past Beacon City while he was doubling back by an airplane to shake down the guy who has those stones.”

“Who?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“The chauffeur,” Beaver said. “Can’t you see? The chauffeur was a thin guy. He had a board with some nails in it planted so he could puncture a tire on the car right where he wanted to. No one knows that the jack was broken. They only have his word for it. He said he was going out to get another jack. What he really did was climb in this stolen car which he’d planted before he went down to the dock to meet the boat. He slipped this rubberized suit of clothes over his others, drove into a service station, blew himself up, put on a mask, went over to the stalled automobile, stuck them up, killed the monkey, took the stones, drove back, parked the car, deflated the suit, put it in the suitcase, checked it up, salted the emeralds somewhere, and then came back to the car. To keep suspicion from centering on him, he said that he’d seen this fat man and gave the license number of the car. He—”

Sergeant Ackley groaned. “You’re right! But, by gosh, we’ll get a plane, we’ll telephone, we’ll—” His hand shot up to the emergency air cord.

A moment later, the long string of Pullmans, rocketing through the night, suddenly started screaming to an abrupt stop, with passengers thrown about in their berths like popcorn in a corn popper. Sergeant Ackley started forward. His right shoe went stickety-stick — stickety-stick. He looked down at the wad of chewing gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. Curses poured from his quivering lips. He pawed at the wad of moist chewing gum. The motion of the stopping train pitched him forward, threw him off balance. His hat was jerked from his head. With gum-covered fingers, he retrieved the hat, clamped it back on his head, and then, feeling a lump between his hair and the hatband, realized too late that he had pressed the wad of moist gum into his hair.

Chapter VIII

Beavers Big Moment

Sergeant Ackley, Beaver, and the two detectives burst into Leith’s apartment to find Lester Leith sprawled in a lounging robe, reading. He looked up with a frown as the men came charging through the door.

“Scuttle,” he said, “what the devil’s the meaning of this, and where have you been, Scuttle? I didn’t tell you you could have the evening off— Good evening, sergeant and... gentlemen.”

“Never mind all that stuff,” Sergeant Ackley yelled. “What the hell did you do with those emeralds?”

“Emeralds, sergeant?” Lester Leith asked. “Come, come, sergeant; let’s get at this logically and calmly. You’re all excited, sergeant. Sit down and tell me what you’re talking about. And is that gum in your hair, sergeant? Tut, tut, I’m afraid you’re getting careless.”

“Search him,” Sergeant Ackley yelled to the two detectives.

“Now, just a minute, sergeant,” Lester Leith said. “This is indeed an utterly useless procedure. I certainly don’t know what you’re looking for, but—”

“Search him!” Sergeant Ackley repeated, his voice rising with his rage. The detectives searched the unresisting Leith.

“Come, come, sergeant,” Leith said, when they had finished with their search. “I suppose you’ve made another one of your perfectly asinine blunders, but, after all, there’s no use getting so incensed about it. Do you know, sergeant, I’m commencing to get so I’m rather attached to you, and you’re going to burst a blood vessel if you don’t control your temper. Tut, tut, man, your face is all purple.”

Sergeant Ackley tried to talk, but his first few words were incoherent. After a moment, he managed to control himself enough to say: “We caught Mainwaring’s chauffeur. He had a cane with two imitation emeralds in it.”

“Did he, indeed?” Lester Leith said. “Do you know, sergeant, I gave him that cane.”

“So I gather.”

“Yes,” Lester Leith said, “I gave it to him. I thought that perhaps Mr. Mainwaring might be interested in it.”

“And why did you think Mainwaring might be interested in it?”

“Oh, just as a curiosity,” Leith said. “I had two of them, and I really had use only for one, you know. And Mainwaring’s a traveler, an explorer who—”

“Where’s the other one?” Ackley interrupted.

“Over there in the corner, I believe,” Leith said unconcernedly. “Would you like it, sergeant? I’ll give it to you as a souvenir of your visit. I had some idea for a while that a person might be able to work out a solution — and, mind you, sergeant, I mean a purely academic solution — of a crime by using these canes. But I find that I was in error, sergeant. So many times one makes mistakes, or do you find that to be true in your case, sergeant?”

“Tut, tut, sergeant, don’t answer, because I can see it’s going to embarrass you. I can realize that the professional officer doesn’t make the errors that a rank amateur would, yet I see that I’ve embarrassed you by asking the question.”

“Anyway, sergeant, I decided there was a flaw in my reasoning so I decided to get rid of the canes. I gave one to Mr. Mainwaring, thinking he might like it — that is, I left it with his chauffeur — and I’m giving you this other one.”

Sergeant Ackley said: “Like hell you made a mistake. You solved that Mainwaring robbery.”

“Robbery!” Lester Leith asked. “Surely sergeant, you must be mistaken. It was the killing of a monkey, wasn’t it? The malicious, premeditated killing of a harmless pet. I felt very much incensed about it myself, sergeant.”

“You felt incensed enough so you went out and grabbed the emeralds,” Sergeant Ackley charged.

“What emeralds?”

“You know very well what emeralds — the two that were in the monkey’s stomach, the two that the chauffeur stole.”

“Did the chauffeur tell you that he stole any emeralds?” Lester Leith asked.

“Yes, he did. He made a complete confession,” Sergeant Ackley snorted. “He and Mainwaring’s nurse had been corresponding. She wrote him a letter mentioning the emeralds and their plan for smuggling them in by making a monkey swallow them. Of course, she denies all that, but we know Deekin’s right about it. You trapped Deekin into taking two emeralds out of their place of concealment in the car he was driving, and putting them into that cane.”

“Indeed, I did nothing of the sort,” Lester Leith said. “I had no idea there were any emeralds in the cane.”

“Don’t hand me a line like that,” Sergeant Ackley told him. “You figured it all out.”

“And what did the chauffeur do with the emeralds?” Leith asked.

“Put them into the hollowed-out place in the cane he was carrying.”

“Then you must have found them in the cane, sergeant! Congratulations on an excellent piece of detective work! The newspapers will give you a big hand over this.”

“Those emeralds in the cane were imitations, and you know it,” Sergeant Ackley said.

“Tut, tut,” Lester Leith said sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, sergeant. I was hoping you’d been able to solve a case which would result in a great deal of newspaper credit, perhaps a promotion. But you can’t go to the newspapers with a lot of hullabaloo about getting two imitation emeralds. It’s too much like killing a caged canary with a ten-gauge shotgun, sergeant. They’d laugh at you. It’s anticlimactic. Now tell me, sergeant, in his confession, did the chauffeur state that the same two emeralds he had taken from the monkey’s stomach were in that cane?”

“Yes, he did, because he thought those were the two, but by some sleight-of-hand hocus-pocus you must have switched canes and got the cane which had the genuine emeralds.”

Lester Leith smiled. “Really, sergeant, at times you’re exceedingly credulous, and opinionated, and careless with your accusations. If the chauffeur swears that the emeralds he took from the monkey’s stomach were the ones which were concealed in that cane, then they must be the ones; and if there’s anything wrong with those emeralds, any question as to their genuineness or authenticity, it must have been the monkey who made the substitution. Monkeys are quite apt to do that, sergeant. They’re very mischievous.”

“And, incidentally, sergeant, I’d be very, very careful, if I were you, about making an accusation against a reputable citizen based entirely upon the word of a self-confessed crook, on the one hand, and an assumption of yours, on the other. There’s really nothing to connect them up. As I see it, sergeant, you simply cannot make a case against me unless you could find those genuine emeralds in my possession. Of course, I have only a layman’s knowledge of the law, but that would seem to me to be the rule. As I gather it, Mainwaring will swear he never had any emeralds. And certainly Mainwaring’s word will be more acceptable than that of his chauffeur, a self-confessed crook, according to your statement, sergeant. Of course, if there never were any emeralds stolen from Mainwaring, I could hardly be convicted of taking what had never been taken. At any rate, that’s the way I look at it. Larceny involves the taking of property. If you can’t show that there ever was any property, you can’t support a charge of larceny. That’s the way it appears to me, sergeant, although I’m just an amateur.”

“What do you think about it, Beaver? You know something of police matters; that is, you’re friendly with a young woman who is friendly with— But perhaps I shouldn’t mention that in front of the sergeant. He’s so zealous, he might resent any possible leak from headquarters.”

Sergeant Ackley stood in front of Leith, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Leith,” he said, “you got by this time by the skin of your eyeteeth. I almost had you. If it weren’t for making myself appear so damned ridiculous if the facts ever became public, I’d throw you in right now and take a chance on convicting you.”

Lester Leith said: “Well, sergeant, don’t let your personal feelings stand between you and your duty. Personally, I think it would be an awful mistake for you to do anything like that. In the first place, you couldn’t convict me; and in the second place, it would put you yourself in a very ridiculous light. To think that with all the facilities which the police had at their command, they couldn’t solve a case so simple that a rank amateur by merely reading a newspaper clipping— No, no, sergeant, it would never do. They’d laugh you out of office.”

Sergeant Acklev nodded to the two men. “Come on,” he said; “let’s go. Beaver, step this way. I want a word with you.”

Sergeant Ackley led the undercover man into the soundproof closet where the telephone was kept.

“Beaver,” he said, “you’ve got to fix up a story to square yourself.”

“Great Scott, sergeant!” the undercover man exclaimed. “I can’t. He’s seen me working with you. He knows—”

“Now listen,” Sergeant Ackley interrupted. “We’ve spent a lot of money getting you planted on this job. With you here, we can keep track of what he’s doing. The very next time he tries anything, we’ll be certain to get him. But without you to keep us posted, he’ll laugh at us, flaunt his damned hijacking right in our faces, and get away with it. The man’s too diabolically clever to be caught by any ordinary methods.”

“I can’t help that,” the spy said doggedly. “I’ve shown myself in my true colors now, thanks to you.”

“What do you mean, thanks to me?” Sergeant Ackley demanded.

“You insisted that I accompany you.”

Sergeant Ackley’s face flushed with rage. “If you want to come right down to facts, Beaver,” he said, “you’re the one who’s responsible for this whole mess.”

“How do you mean I’m responsible for it?”

“I had the idea all along that those emeralds were in the monkey’s stomach. Then you got that brainstorm of yours that the nurse had stuck ‘em in the chewing gum, and damned if I didn’t let you sell me on the idea. I should have known better. You—”

“I thought that was your idea,” Beaver charged.

“Mine?” Sergeant Ackley’s eyes were round with surprise. “Why, don’t you remember telephoning me, Beaver, that—”

“Yes, and you said it was your idea.”

Sergeant Ackley said patronizingly: “You misunderstood me, Beaver. I told you that I’d already considered that possibility. That was all.”

The undercover man sighed.

“Now then,” Ackley went on, “you’ll have to make up for that mistake by devising some way of getting yourself back in Leith’s good graces.”

The big undercover man, his black eyes suddenly glittering, said. “O.K., I have an idea!”

“What is it?” Sergeant Ackley wanted to know.

“I could claim that I was under arrest; that you came here and pinched me first and then kept me with you all the time you were laying for him on the train and—”

“That’s fine,” Ackley said. “We’ll put that across.”

“But,” Beaver went on, “it won’t explain our conversation in the closet. You’ve spilled the beans now.”

“You’ll have to think up some explanation,” Sergeant Ackley said. “You thought up that other, now you can think up—”

“Of course,” Beaver said, “I could say that you’d called me in here and made me a proposition to spy on him and that I resented it.”

“Swell,” Sergeant Ackley said. “That’s exactly what we want. I knew we could think up something if we put our minds to it, Beaver.”

“Oh, we thought of this, did we?” Beaver asked.

“Certainly,” Sergeant Ackley said. “That is, I outlined to you what was required, and directed your thoughts in the proper channels. It shows you the value of supervision.”

“I see,” the spy said, his eyes still glittering, craftily. “But Lester Leith won’t believe that story unless I tell him that I bitterly resented your attempt to bribe me.”

“Well, go ahead and resent it,” Sergeant Ackley said.

“But how can I resent it?”

“You can shout at me, abuse me in a loud tone of voice.”

“No,” Beaver said, “this closet is virtually soundproof.”

“Well, think of something,” Sergeant Ackley said impatiently.

“I could push you up against the wall.” Beaver said, “and he could hear that. Then I’d have to hit you.”

Sergeant Ackley seemed dubious. “I don’t think we need to carry things that far, Beaver. We can scuffle around a bit and—”

“No. That will never do,” Beaver said. “We have to put this thing on right, or not at all. I won’t stay here unless we can do it convincingly.”

“Oh, all right,” Sergeant Ackley said. “Just to make it seem convincing, I’ll hit you first. You hit me easy, Beaver. You’re a big man. You don’t know your own strength. Come on; let’s get started. Now remember, Beaver, after things quiet down, I want you to get him started on the affair of the drugged guard.”

“What’s that?” Beaver asked. “I hadn’t heard of it.”

“Well, you will hear of it. We’ll give you all the dope. It happened last night. Karl Bonneguard was collecting funds for a political cult movement in this country. We don’t know how far it had gone. But he’d collected quite a bit of money. There was a grand jury investigation in the offing, so Bonneguard drew all the money out of the bank and—”

“I get you,” Beaver said. “What happened?”

“Somebody drugged the guard, and burgled the safe. We can’t find out how the guard got doped. It’s a mix-up that simply doesn’t make sense.”

“You don’t think the guard framed it and copped the dough?”

“No. The guard’s O.K. He warned Bonneguard soon as he felt drowsy. I’ll have to tell you about it later, Beaver. We haven’t time to discuss it now. We’ll go ahead with the act. We’ll open the door. You’ll be indignant.”

“O.K.,” Beaver said, “let’s go.”

They raised their voices in loud and angry altercation. Beaver flung open the closet door and said:

“I think it’s the most contemptible thing I ever heard of.”

“Go ahead and be a dumb cluck, then,” Sergeant Ackley roared. “You keep playing around with this crook and you’ll wind up behind the bars. You’re a crook yourself!”

“Liar!” Beaver shouted.

Sergeant Ackley lunged a terrific swing at Beaver’s jaw.

The undercover man, moving with the swift dexterity of a trained boxer, stepped inside of the blow. For a fraction of a second, he set himself. A look of supreme enjoyment became apparent on his face. He moved his right in a short, pivoting jab which caught Sergeant Ackley on the point of the jaw.

Ackley’s head snapped back. The force of the punch lifted him from the floor, slammed him back into the arms of the two detectives.

One of the detectives reached for his blackjack. The other dragged out a gun. Beaver whirled to face them, so that his back was to Lester Leith. He gave a series of warning winks and said:

“I call on you to witness that he struck me first, after accusing me of being a crook. Do you know what he wanted? He wanted to bribe me to stay on in this job and act as spy. I told him what I thought of him. I told him Mr. Leith was the best man I ever worked for.”

He took a deep breath and turned to Lester Leith. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said, “for losing my temper. But Sergeant Ackley took me into custody, very much against my will, earlier in the evening. Disregarding my demands that I be taken before a magistrate, he dragged me aboard that train and forced me to accompany him. I didn’t dare disobey him. However, when he made this infamous proposal to me, I felt that I was well within my rights as a citizen in couching my refusal in no uncertain language and in defending myself against attack. I trust I haven’t done wrong, sir.”

The police officers stared in amazement at the spy. Lester Leith regarded the limp form of Sergeant Ackley with eyes that were half closed in thoughtful concentration. At length he said:

“No, Beaver, you’ve done exactly what I should have done under similar circumstances. I distinctly saw Sergeant Ackley make an unprovoked assault upon you.”

Turning to the two officers, Beaver said: “And I call on you two gentlemen to be witness to what has happened. I demand that you take Sergeant Ackley out of here. I think, when he recovers consciousness, he will be the first to tell you that I have done exactly what the situation called for.”

One of the detectives returned the spy’s wink. “O.K., Beaver,” he said, “you win. Come on, Al. Give me a hand and we’ll drag the sarge out of here before there’s any more trouble.”

When the door had closed behind them, Beaver said to Lester Leith: “Disloyalty, sir, is one of my pet abominations. I detest one who is disloyal. I couldn’t restrain myself.”

“I don’t blame you in the least,” Lester Leith said. “I’m surprised that Sergeant Ackley had the temerity to arrest you and drag you aboard that train.”

“So am I, sir,” the spy said. And then, with a look of cunning in his eyes, added: “Incidentally, sir, while I was with them in the drawing room, I heard them discussing a crime which was committed no later than last night; a crime involving a drugged guard—”

Lester Leith held up his hand, palm outward. “Not now, Scuttle,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The spy said, “Perhaps tomorrow, when you’re feeling rested—”

“No, not tomorrow, Scuttle.”

The spy did not press the point. “Very well, sir,” he said.

“By the way, Scuttle,” Leith commented, “I think I’d like a brandy, and you’d better join me. I derived a great deal of satisfaction from the way you hung that punch on Sergeant Ackley’s jaw.”

Content

Erle Stanley Gardner
The Monkey Murder

Chapter I

Chapter II Beaver Reports

Chapter III Gum Chewers

Chapter IV Planted Clue

Chapter V The Rubber Suit

Chapter VI The Two Trick Canes

Chapter VII Beaver’s Deductions

Chapter VIII Beavers Big Moment