Professor Augustus Van Dusen: 49 Detective Mysteries in One Edition. Jacques Futrelle
very clear.”
That was the substance of Moran’s story. Detective Mallory then called at the telegraph office and indisputable records there showed that they had telephoned a message for Mr. Thomas at precisely six minutes of two. Detective Mallory was satisfied.
Within an hour Franklin Chase was under arrest. Detective Mallory found him sound asleep in his room in a boarding house less than a block away from the Avon. He seemed somewhat astonished when informed of his arrest for murder, but was quite calm.
“It’s some sort of a mistake,” he protested.
“I don’t make mistakes,” said the detective. He had a short memory.
Further police investigation piled up the evidence against the prisoner. For instance, minute blood stains were found on his hands, and a drop or so on the clothing he had worn the night before; and it was established by three fellow lodgers—young men who had come in late and stopped at his room—that he was not in his boarding house at two o’clock the night before.
That afternoon Chase was arraigned for a preliminary hearing. Detective Mallory stated the case and his statement was corroborated by necessary witnesses. First he established the authenticity of the dying man’s writing. Then he proved that Chase had been with De Forrest at half past eleven o’clock; that there had been a quarrel—or argument—in De Forrest’s room just before two o’clock; and finally, with a dramatic flourish, he swore to the blood stains on the prisoner’s hands and clothing.
The august Court stared at the prisoner and took up his pen to sign the necessary commitment.
“May I say something before we go any further?” asked Mr. Chase.
The Court mumbled some warning about anything the prisoner might say being used against him.
“I understand,” said the accused, and he nodded, “but I will show that there has been a mistake—a serious mistake. I admit that the writing was Mr. De Forrest’s; that I was with him at half past eleven o’clock and that the stains on my hands and clothing were blood stains.”
The Court stared.
“I’ve known Mr. De Forrest for several years,” the prisoner went on quietly. “I met him at the theatre last night and walked home with him. We reached the Avon about half past eleven o’clock and I went to his room but I remained only ten or fifteen minutes. Then I went home. It was about five minutes of twelve when I reached my room. I went to bed and remained in bed until one o’clock, when for a reason which will appear, I arose, dressed and went out, say about ten minutes past one. I returned to my room a few minutes past three.”
Detective Mallory smiled sardonically.
“When I was arrested this morning I sent notes to three persons,” the prisoner went on steadily. “Two of these happen to be city officials, one the City Engineer. Will he please come forward?”
There was a little stir in the room and the Court scratched one ear gravely. City Engineer Malcolm appeared inquiringly.
“This is Mr. Malcolm?” asked the prisoner. “Yes? Here is a map of the city issued by your office. I would like to ask please the approximate distance between this point—” and he indicated on the map the location of the Avon—“and this.” He touched another point far removed.
The City Engineer studied the map carefully.
“At least two and a half miles,” he explained.
“You would make that statement on oath?”
“Yes, I’ve surveyed it myself.”
“Thank you,” said the prisoner, courteously, and he turned to face the crowd in the rear. “Is Policeman No. 1122 in Court?—I don’t know his name?”
Again there was a stir, and Policeman Gillis came forward.
“Do you remember me?” inquired the prisoner.
“Sure,” was the reply.
“Where did you see me last night?”
“At this corner,” and Gillis put his finger down on the map at the second point the prisoner had indicated.
The Court leaned forward eagerly to peer at the map; Detective Mallory tugged violently at his moustache. Into the prisoner’s manner there came tense anxiety.
“Do you know what time you saw me there?” he asked.
Policeman Gillis was thoughtful a moment.
“No,” he replied at last. “I heard a clock strike just after I saw you but I didn’t notice.”
The prisoner’s face went deathly white for an instant, then he recovered himself with an effort.
“You didn’t count the strokes?” he asked.
“No, I wasn’t paying any attention to it.”
The colour rushed back into Chase’s face and he was silent a moment. Then:
“It was two o’clock you heard strike?” It was hardly a question, rather a statement.
“I don’t know,” said Gillis. “It might have been. Probably was.”
“What did I say to you?”
“You asked me where you could find a dentist, and I directed you to Dr. Sitgreaves across the street.”
“You saw me enter Dr. Sitgreaves’ house?”
“Yes.”
The accused glanced up at the Court and that eminent jurist proceeded to look solemn.
“Dr. Sitgreaves, please?” called the prisoner.
The dentist appeared, exchanging nods with the prisoner.
“You remember me, doctor?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask you to tell the Court where you live? Show us on this map please.”
Dr. Sitgreaves put his finger down at the spot which had been pointed out by the prisoner and by Policeman Gillis, two and a half miles from the Avon.
“I live three doors from this corner,” explained the dentist.
“You pulled a tooth for me last night?” went on the prisoner.
“Yes.”
“Here?” and the prisoner opened his mouth.
The dentist gazed down him.
“Yes,” he replied.
“You may remember, doctor,” went on the prisoner, quietly, “that you had occasion to notice the clock just after I called at your house. Do you remember what time it was?”
“A few minutes before two—seven or eight minutes, I think.”
Detective Mallory and the Court exchanged bewildered glances.
“You looked at your watch, too. Was that exactly with the clock?”
“Yes, within a minute.”
“And what time did I leave your office?” the prisoner asked.
“Seventeen minutes past two—I happen to remember,” was the reply.
The prisoner glanced dreamily around the room twice, his eyes met Detective Mallory’s. He stared straight into that official for an instant then turned back to the dentist.
“When you drew the tooth there was blood of course. It is possible that I got the stains on my fingers and clothing?”
“Yes, certainly.”
The prisoner turned to the Court and surprised a puzzled expression on that official countenance.
“Is anything else necessary?” he inquired courteously. “It