Minute Mysteries [Detectograms] Chapter 10: Part 10

right, and they look like blood to me.’ ‘I’m not surprised. Hold them both.’ Why was the Professor suspicious of the Carroll brothers? 55 _Tragedy at the Convention_ The Convention was in an uproar! The Drys were making a determined stand and showing some unexpected last-minute strength. The Wets were shouting, clamoring, and stamping. The Chairman was vainly trying to restore order amid a scene of wild confusion. As the excitement reached its pitch, Hurlenson, a powerful leader of the Wets, told a companion seated next to him that he felt a heart attack coming on and was going back to the hotel. An hour later, the Convention was stunned to learn he had committed suicide in his room. Professor Fordney, a guest at the Convention, went immediately to the hotel. In Hurlenson’s room he found the police, the doctor, and Pollert, an influential delegate, who had discovered him. ‘The last time I saw Hurlenson was at the party last night, and he seemed in excellent spirits,’ said Pollert. ‘I arose late this morning—my room’s down at the other end of the corridor—and I was just leaving for the Convention hall when I heard a shot. I dashed directly here, but it was too late. He must have died immediately.’ ‘He did,’ said the doctor. ‘He apparently stood in front of the mirror, took aim, and blew out his brains. There are powder-burns all around the wound.’ Learning that none of the maids or any of the other guests were on the floor at the time, Fordney advised the police to hold Pollert on suspicion of murder. Why? 56 _A Murderer’s Mistake_ ‘Look, Professor! That’s how the murderer got in, all right,’ said Tracy. As Fordney walked over to the ladder standing two feet from the back of the house, he knelt down and carefully studied the heavy footprints around it. ‘Whose room is that?’ he inquired, pointing to a second-story window against which the top of the thirty-foot ladder rested. ‘That’s Uncle’s study,’ replied Tracy. Going into the house, Fordney first questioned Withers, who had discovered the body of Lane, Tracy’s uncle. ‘I was reading in my room,’ he said. ‘About two o’clock I heard a noise, so I armed myself and crept out into the hall. Then I heard it again, apparently in the study, so I stole down the corridor, opened the door, and rushed in. I turned on the lights, ran over to the open window, looked out, and saw a man scurry down the ladder, jump off, and run. I fired twice, but evidently missed him,’ he concluded. ‘Were you home all evening, Mr. Tracy?’ ‘No. I had just put up the car when I heard the shots and saw a figure dash around the house.’ ‘I’ll take a look at your car later, Tracy. ‘Withers, show me exactly how you found Lane before you lifted him to the divan.’ As Withers righted an overturned chair, fitted its legs carefully to four impressions in the rug at the right of a smoking-stand, sat down, and slumped over to the left, Fordney said, ‘That’s enough. Which one of you killed him?’ Why did Fordney make this startling accusation? 57 _Babe Comes Through_ ‘Strike two!’ shouted Umpire Starlen. ‘Kill the Umpire! You big bum! Thief!’ Professor Fordney turned in his place directly behind the plate to look at the excited man in the next box, waving an empty pop-bottle. He smiled. Couldn’t blame a chap for getting excited. Starlen did seem to be calling them wrong today. That last one _was_ wide! What a ball game! Six to three in favor of Philadelphia, last half of the ninth, three on, two out, and three and two on the mighty Babe. The crowd was on its feet, yelling and stamping. The excited pitcher delivered the next throw quickly. Just as Babe connected with it for a home run a bottle hurtled through the air with terrific force and caught Starlen on the back of the head. He went down like a shot. Pandemonium broke loose. Women screamed, and a panic was threatened. ‘That’s him! That’s him!’ shouted several people, as a policeman ran down the ramp and grabbed the man who had attracted Fordney’s attention. ‘Tryin’ to get away, are you?’ bellowed the cop. ‘I didn’t do it! Let go of me!’ he cried, as the officer dragged him to the office. Fordney followed. ‘May I ask a few questions?’ he inquired. ‘Let’s see your score card, young man. H’m, why didn’t you record that last hit? Everything else is here.’ ‘Why, I was running at the time. I had an engagement.’ ‘I see,’ said Fordney. ‘Officer, you have the wrong man. He didn’t do it.’ How did Fordney know? 58 _A Soldier of Fortune_ ‘You’ll find Walter Briggs interesting, Fordney. He’s been all over the world,’ said Attorney Hamilton over the telephone. ‘He’s turned up after two years, claiming his uncle’s fortune. Better dine with us tonight.’ ‘Thanks, I’ll be glad to. See you at eight.’ As the three men sat around the dinner-table, Fordney remarked: ‘You’re a fortunate chap, Briggs. What have you been doing in the thirty-two years you have been away from America?’ ‘Well, lots of things. Mr. Hamilton, no doubt, told you I went to the Congo with Father when I was three. When he died, I attended school in England. Then I traveled for a while; did a bit of tiger-shooting in Africa, killed elephants in India, and became an ivory-trader, roaming over the Orient four or five years. I finally drifted into Russia, where I was a technical advisor to the Soviet.’ ‘What a jolly life you’ve had, Briggs!’ ‘Not altogether, Professor. I was in Manchuria, where life was anything but jolly. And then, being in sympathy with the Chinese, I took an active part in the Sino-Japanese War. It was in China I learned of my uncle’s death, so I came to New York immediately.’ ‘Are you remaining here?’ asked Hamilton. ‘No. Me for Paris as soon as things are settled.’ After a pleasant evening, the three men parted. Reaching home, Fordney hesitated about telephoning Hamilton. After all, it _was_ his duty to advise him to check Briggs’s story carefully before turning over the inheritance. As for him, he was frankly skeptical! Are you? Why? 59 _Number Twenty-Six_ ‘You fellows _must_ remember that more often than otherwise the little, seemingly inconsequential trifles, placed together, lead to the solution of crime. Never take anything for granted; examine thoroughly what appear to be the most unimportant details. You didn’t do so well with your last lesson,’ said Professor Fordney, addressing his class. ‘Now try your wits at this one. ‘“I know it sounds fishy, Inspector,”’ continued he, reading from a paper, ‘“but I was walkin’ along Sixteenth Street mindin’ my business. When I gets in front of number 26 I hears a dame scream ‘Help! Murder!’ so I dashed up the steps to the house, pushed open the door, and rushed in. As I was halfway through the hall, a big guy steps out of a room and says, ‘Ah, there, Mr. Farrell, just in time!’ I asks him what’s goin’ on, and just then three coppers came in and takes me, this guy, and a woman, in. Neither one of them would talk to me on the way, so I don’t know what it’s all about.” ‘“I’m going around myself,” replied the Inspector. “I’ll talk with you when I get back.” ‘As Kelley turned the knob at number 26, the door was violently pushed open in his face. ‘“Sorry,” said Detective Bradford. “Just going back to Headquarters. Found plenty of dope all right. Here’s something you’ll be interested in,” showing Kelley a man’s hat initialed “D.F.” “There are three packets of cocaine under the sweatband.” ‘This story, of course, is fictitious,’ said Fordney, putting down the paper, ‘but it illustrates my point. There’s just one, small, unimportant detail that’s wrong. To repeat, you _must learn_ to detect inconsistencies quickly, however insignificant. Quickly, now!’ Do _you_ get it? In the next few anecdotes you will see the Professor at work and at play, on cases both serious and amusing, involving pure deduction. As in the preceding cases, however, every fact, with the clue necessary to the solution, is given. There is only one right and logical answer to each—to be deduced from the evidence presented. Time yourself; see how long it takes _you_ to deduce the answer. And then, after you have solved or missed them, try them on your friends. They make a fascinating game—and there are lots of people who don’t play bridge. 60 _The Pullman Car Murder_ ‘Tell your story to Professor Fordney,’ said the superintendent, introducing the conductor. ‘Well,’ said Jackson, ‘last night just after we left Albany, lower eight let out a terrifying shriek. I was standing at one end of the car, the maid, porter, and brakeman at the other end. We met at the berth as Briggs was gasping his last from a knife wound in the heart. I immediately had both doors of the car guarded as well as the doors to the washrooms. Every berth was occupied, and by this time the passengers were milling around in the aisle. ‘I began to look for the missing knife with which Briggs had been killed. Every passenger, even the maid, brakeman, and porter, every inch of the car and all baggage, were searched, but still we failed to find it. ‘The window-sills were covered with freshly fallen snow and an examination proved that none of them had been opened. No one had left the car and no one had entered either washroom. I knew the knife must be in the car—but where? ‘Washington, our old Negro porter, really discovered the murderer’s identity by “scrutinizin’ ’em all.” ‘I know your reputation, Professor, so you will probably have little difficulty in determining how Washington located the assassin, but I’ll bet you can’t tell me where I found the knife.’ Jackson’s face fell as Fordney quickly replied, ‘As there was only one possible place it could have been, you found it....’ How long did it take _you_ to discover the knife? 61 _Forgery_ ‘Can it be possible that this has happened to me!’ thought Everett Taber, as he stood in the National Bank of New York ready to deposit his fortune. Having completed his arrangements late the day before with the bank’s executives, he was the first patron of the morning. Standing alone in the bank’s commodious quarters, he regretted he had no one with whom to share his happiness. Suddenly, as he was making out his deposit slip, he decided to use his own name, Everett Mead, instead of his stepfather’s name, by which he had been