you have to question me.”
“I’m Shayne,” the detective growled. “And don’t start accusing me of murder or I’ll slough you one. I’m tired of getting the run-around.”
The butler pulled the door open and pointed outside. “If I may suggest-”
“You may, and to hell with you.” Shayne set himself solidly with his jaw jutting. “You’ll either give me information or I’ll beat it out of you.”
“Y-yes, sir.” The butler gulped. His Adam’s apple slid up and down rapidly.
“Where did Thrip talk to Darnell-in which room?”
“In the library, sir.”
“Alone?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“And it was the library window that was found open later in the night?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Shayne said, “H-m-m.”
“If I may say so, it is my theory that the criminal unlatched the window while he waited in there for Mr. Thrip to come down. I suggested that possibility to the police and they concurred heartily.”
“You’re a big help,” Shayne muttered, “All right, let’s get on from there. Did they go out of the library after their conference? Together, I mean.”
“If my memory serves me right, Mr. Thrip showed the fellow over the upstairs, probably in the belief that the man could fulfill his duties more efficiently if he was acquainted-”
“Leave your conjectures out of it,” Shayne snapped. “Was Mrs. Thrip at home when the man was here?”
“No, sir. She arrived some time later. She inquired about the man you were to send and appeared deeply gratified when I informed her the fellow had talked with Mr. Thrip earlier and had departed.”
“Who locks up at night?”
“It is one of my duties, but Mr. Thrip is often in the library late and he allows me to retire without closing up in there.”
“Is that what happened last night?”
“Yes, sir. Otherwise I would have tested all the windows and the tragedy might have been averted.”
Shayne changed the subject abruptly, asking him about the other servants.
There were, it appeared, two maids, a cook, and the chauffeur besides the butler employed in the Thrip mansion. They all slept on the third floor and the butler said they had all retired about 11:30. The butler explained that the corps of servants was quite inadequate to the duties to be performed, and that they were usually tired and retired early. The servants were aware of a strain upon the household and it was impossible for them not to learn of existing conditions by a word overheard here and there. They were a little on edge and nervous, but they had been given to understand that there was a private detective guarding the house and all of them had slept more soundly than on any night since Mrs. Thrip began receiving the threatening notes.
After learning that Mr. Thrip had been left in the library, that Mrs. Thrip was in her bedroom, and that Dorothy and Ernst were out last night instead of “having a gang in the house,” Shayne demanded to be taken to Mr. Thrip.
With a be-it-on-your-own-head look on his long face, the butler acquiesced and led Shayne up the stairs, past the closed door of the fatal room, and to a door standing ajar just beyond.
The man started to rap, but Shayne caught his arm and pulled it back when he heard Thrip talking to someone inside. Pushing the butler aside after a gesture commanding perfect quiet, Shayne opened the door silently and walked into a living-room connecting two bedrooms, a duplicate of the one across the hall between Dorothy and Ernst’s rooms.
Thrip was talking over the telephone. He sat in a low chair with his back to the door. He wore a dressing- gown of black satin with yellow piping. Smoke curled up from a partly smoked cigar in an elaborate smoking-stand beside the chair, Moving silently forward on the thick rug, Shayne saw that the French phone was a jade color ornamented with gold.
“Why don’t you come out in the open so that I can know what I’m fighting?” Thrip was saying irritatedly. “Your veiled threats mean nothing to me. I won’t listen further to such nonsense. Reveal your identity and I’ll deal with you.”
Shayne was standing behind Thrip when he clicked the instrument on its prongs and turned to pick up his cigar.
It was as if Thrip felt rather than heard Shayne in the room. He turned, frowned, and demanded fretfully, “How did you get in and what do you mean by eavesdropping?”
“I’m a detective,” Shayne’s wide mouth curved in a sardonic grin. “I didn’t want to interrupt your interesting conversation so I waited until you finished.”
“You’re well supplied with brazen effrontery, Shayne,” the realtor observed bitingly. “After what took place in the next room last night I should think you’d hesitate to show your face in my house.”
Shayne laughed shortly. He slouched down into a chair and ill a cigarette. “Granting that Darnell did choke your wife, you’re as much to blame as I am, Thrip.”
Thrip’s face turned darkly florid. His underlip trembled like a pendulum gone out of control. “You’d better leave, Shayne. I don’t propose to listen to your insults.”
“I’m staying, and you’ll listen to what I have to say.” He crossed his long legs and settled his left arm comfortably. He took a deep puff from his cigarette, emitted smoke slowly, and said, “Don’t forget that I know why Darnell was here-why he jimmied the window and-the reason for his coming upstairs at an early hour in the morning.”
Thrip tucked his cigar into the pouch of his thick lips, took a deep puff before replying. “I’ve explained to the police and they’re satisfied. You sent him in response to my request for a guard because of the threatening notes my wife had been receiving lately.”
Shayne simulated amazement. “Is that the story you cooked up? I wondered how you were going to get around the truth.”
“You will make matters very difficult for yourself if you contradict my story. You have no proof to the contrary and the police have the threatening notes.” Thrip leaned back in the low chair. A long breath wheezed through his nostrils.
“You mean there actually were some notes?” Shayne leaned forward attentively.
“Of course. As I am prepared to take oath, I explained to you yesterday afternoon.”
Their eyes met briefly. Thrip’s were calmly triumphant.
Shayne’s bushy red brows came down over half-closed gray eyes. He wondered whether Thrip knew of his wife’s visit to his apartment yesterday.
“I begin to see your game,” Shayne said slowly. “I suppose not even your wife knew the true reason for Darnell’s presence here last night?”
“Naturally not.” Thrip spoke with irritation. “A matter like that cannot be conducted without the utmost secrecy. Do you suppose my wife would have agreed to converting her jewels into cash? Not Leora. It made no difference to her that I needed a large sum of money desperately to swing a big deal.”
Shayne leaned back comfortably and changed the position of his legs. “I’m just beginning to realize what a scoundrel you are, Thrip. You not only planned to defraud the insurance company, but also to steal your wife’s jewels and make her think the robbery genuine. By God, I’m beginning to think you did have a perfect crime planned. Too bad an accident had to upset it.”
“My wife,” said Thrip coldly, “was mean and tyrannical. Since our marriage she has derived the most intense pleasure from being in a position to force me and my children to go to her for any sum of money beyond the inadequate allowances she grudgingly doled out. Not only was I refused the appointment as administrator of her deceased father’s estate, but she humiliated me by keeping control of every dollar of the income in her own hands.”
“It was her money,” Shayne snapped.
Thrip sat back in his chair looking straight ahead.
Shayne studied his pudgy face. He could clearly imagine the obsession the man had built up through the years into a persecution complex. Thrip honestly felt he had grounds for righteous indignation at being refused control of
