Jordon removed his finger from the button. “Sorry.”
With the bolt extended, Humpheries bent one of the leads around one of the solenoid contacts. “And now, the other.” As soon as he touched the second lead to the second solenoid contact, the lock buzzed, retracting the bolt. He bent the lead around the second contact and, still holding the battery, stepped through the door. “Now I remove the chock and close the door.” The door closed on the wires and the lock controlled by the doorknob caught, while the solenoid lock remained retracted. “Now all I do is pull the wires through-” Humpheries grunted as he tugged at the wires. “Drat! That door does have a snug fit, doesn’t it?” One last grunt and the solenoid de-energized, slamming the bolt home.
Jordon laughed. “Good show! Well done, Humpheries.”
Sims-Danton pointed at the solenoid contacts. The wires were still attached. Humpheries walked around the door, sheepishly holding out the battery.
“I’m afraid I broke the wires.”
Sims-Danton rubbed his chin. “Charles, try it again, but don’t let the door latch. Leave it open just enough to pull the wires through.”
The experiment was repeated, with the door held open a bit. As the wires were pulled from the solenoid, the bolt shot home, forcing the door to shut on the wires. “It’s no use. I pulled them as fast as I could, but it’s just not fast enough.”
Sims-Danton pulled the door open. “Hook it up and try it again – but this time open the door a little further.”
The experiment was repeated but, instead of forcing the door shut, the bolt forced the door open. “Hmmm. That would never do.” Sims-Danton again pressed the button and opened the door. “The taper on the bolt seems to do it. When the door is in an approximate position, the bolt shoots for the bolt hole and either finds its way in, forcing the door closed, or hits the sharp edge of this lip, forcing the door open.” He closed the door, released the button, and shrugged. “I’m afraid that exhausts my theory as well.” He faced Nathan. “In which case, Mr Griever, it looks as though Slaughterhouse has another member.”
Nathan beamed but, feeling reckless, shook his head. “Sir James hasn’t had a crack at it yet.”
Cockeral cleared his throat. “Nate, you must understand that I am your sponsor. It wouldn’t be proper for me to make an attempt against my own candidate.”
Nathan shrugged and held out his hands. “Please – I insist.”
The membership looked at Sir James, who smiled and turned toward Nathan. “Very well, then. I’ll take a crack at it. Most of the solutions thus far appear to take up too much time. How long does it take to run from the kitchen, through the dining room and hall, then up the stairs to the bedroom door?”
Sims-Danton pulled out his notebook. “According to the police investigation, at the most Mr Griever would have fourteen to sixteen seconds from the time of the shooting to place the gun in the victim’s hand, leave the room, and make it into his own bedroom. One of the officers making the run did it in eleven seconds, but he was, I gather, an exceptional athlete.”
Sir James nodded. “That would appear to preclude anything complicated and time-consuming. If he used any extra equipment, I can’t imagine where he could have put it. He would only have time enough to get to his room before he had to turn around and come out to meet Angela, thereby making it appear that he too had been drawn by the sound of the shot.” He turned to Nathan. “Tell me, Nate – what physical shape was Angela in – old, young, slender, obese?”
“She was twenty-nine, but quite plump.”
Sir James nodded. “Then, for the sake of argument, let’s say the sixteen-second run was what she made.” He went to the side of the bed. “Therefore, within sixteen seconds he had to place the gun in the victim’s hand – say four seconds. Then he had to traverse the distance from the bed to the door.” Sir James turned to Jordon. “Give it a try, will you, old man? I’ll keep your time.”
“Of course.” Jordon moved to the side of the bed.
Sir James examined his watch. “Go!”
Jordon ran to the door and opened it, stepped through, and let the door close behind him. He opened the door and looked through. “How did I do?”
Sir James nodded. “Three seconds.” He turned to Sims-Danton. “Do we have the hallway outside the bedroom plotted? I would like to time a run from Mrs Griever’s door to Mr Griever’s door.”
Sims-Danton turned again to his notebook. “We don’t have it plotted, but tests by the police on the scene made the run at about four seconds, which includes opening his bedroom door, entering, and closing the door.” The Major closed the notebook and smiled at Sir James.
“Very well.” Sir James nodded and turned back to the bed. “Very well. On the sixteen-second run, that leaves only five seconds for Mr Griever to do whatever it was that he did to effect his exit. That would leave no time either to use or dispose of batteries, wires, and the like.” Sir James opened the front of the night stand, stooped, and looked inside. He then stood, looked at the back of the night stand, and carefully traced the wire to the solenoid lock. When he was satisfied, he turned and faced the room. “The insulation along the entire length is undisturbed, and I saw no discreet little holes in the wall, which would appear to preclude any sort of timing mechanism prepared in advance.” He rubbed his chin. “Hence, to my mind, it seems that whatever was used should still be in the room.”
Wallace Baines cleared his throat. “Sir James, it really is bad form to work against your own candidate. If you should guess the method, Mr Griever would be disqualified for admission. I would think that would cause bad feeling between you.”
The other members nodded and Sims-Danton stepped forward. “I agree.”
Nathan Griever held out his hands and grinned. “Please, gentlemen. I insist that Jim have his go at it. I’m not worried.” He turned to Sir James. “Go ahead, old boy. Give it your best shot.”
Sir James shrugged and walked to the side of the bed, then turned to the night stand and placed his finger on the push button. He tried it several times and listened as the solenoid energized and clicked back the bolt. Removing his finger from the button, he looked at the articles on the night stand, then lifted up the glass half filled with whiskey and water. He sniffed at it, replaced it, then opened several of the plastic containers of pills, uncapped the three plastic nasal-spray bottles, and unscrewed the tops on a bottle of nose drops and a bottle of eye drops. Then, replacing all the caps, he again lifted the glass of whiskey and water. He turned to Sims-Danton. “Tell me, did the police laboratory find anything unusual in any of these containers?”
Sims-Danton frowned. “Surely, Sir James, you don’t suspect that the victim was poisoned.”
Sir James looked back at the glass. “Oh.” He nodded and replaced the glass. “Of course not. How silly of me.” He turned to Nathan. “Well, Nate, it looks as though you’re a member of Slaughterhouse. We all seem to be baffled. Please accept my congratulations.”
Nathan shook the hands that were extended toward him, his face wreathed in smiles. “Thank you. Should I demonstrate now?”
Sims-Danton patted his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded. “Please do.”
Nathan walked to the side of the bed. “I suppose that all I have to do is to account for those five seconds?”
Sims-Danton replaced his handkerchief. “That is correct.”
Nathan nodded. “Jim, old boy, if you would time what I do, I’d like someone else to time how long the lock on the door is open.”
Sims-Danton pushed back his sleeve, uncovering the watch on his left wrist. “Any time, Mr Griever.”
Nathan smiled, rubbed his hands together, and nodded. “Go!” Nathan turned from the bed, uncapped the bottle of nose drops, put the end of the dropper into the water and whiskey, and sucked up barely enough to fill it past the tapered tip. Then he held the dropper over the push button, squeezed out four drops, and replaced the cap on the bottle as the liquid seeped into the space between the button and case, and shorted out the circuit. Nathan replaced the bottle as the solenoid buzzed and clicked open. “Of course the timing might be a bit off since I am using a different push button,” he said.
A moment later the buzzing stopped and the bolt shot back out. Sims-Danton looked up from his watch. “Seven seconds. That would enable him to get through the door with time to spare.”
Sir James nodded. “I have five seconds on the nose, Nate. Bravo! That accounts for the missing time, lets you absent the premises, baffles the police – and gets you into Slaughterhouse.”
