Vance insisted, somewhat against Markham’s inclination, that everyone in the house and every person who called there—however seemingly remote his connection with the case—should be regarded as a suspect and watched vigilantly; and Heath was ordered by the Inspector to convey this decision to O’Brien, lest her instinctive partiality should result in the relaxation of her scrutiny of certain persons. The Sergeant, it seemed, had already instituted a thorough investigation into the private affairs of Julia, Chester, and Rex; and a dozen men were at work on their associates and activities outside of the Greene mansion, with special instructions to gather reports of conversations which might have contained some hint or reference indicating a foreknowledge or suspicion of the crimes.
Just as Markham rose to terminate the discussion Vance again leaned forward and spoke.
“In case there is to be a poisoning we should, I think, be prepared. Where overdoses of either morphine or strychnine are administered immediate action will sometimes save the victim. I would suggest that an official physician be placed in the Narcoss Flats with the man set to watch the Greene windows; and he should have at hand all the necess’ry apparatus and antidotes used in combating morphine and strychnine poisoning. Furthermore, I would suggest that we arrange some sort of signal with Sproot and the new nurse, so that, should anything happen, our doctor can be summoned without a moment’s delay. If the victim of the attempted poisoning were saved, we might be able to ascertain who administered the drug.”
The plan was readily agreed to. The Inspector took it upon himself to arrange the matter that night with one of the official police surgeons; and Heath went at once to the Narcoss Flats to secure a room facing the Greene mansion.
XVIII
In the Locked Library
(Wednesday, December 1; 1 p.m.)
Vance, contrary to his custom, rose early the next morning. He was rather waspish, and I left him severely alone. He made several desultory attempts at reading, and once, when he put his book down, I glanced at the title—he had chosen a life of Genghis Khan! Later in the forenoon he attempted to busy himself with cataloguing his Chinese prints.
We were to have lunch with Markham at the Lawyers Club at one o’clock, and at a little after twelve Vance ordered his powerful Hispano-Suiza. He always drove himself when engaged on a problem: the activity seemed to steady his nerves and clarify his brain.
Markham was waiting for us, and it was only too plain from his expression that something of a disturbing nature had occurred.
“Unburden, old dear,” invited Vance, when we were seated at our table in a corner of the main dining-room. “You look as serious as Saint John of Patmos. I’m sure something wholly to be expected has happened. Have the galoshes disappeared?”
Markham looked at him with some wonder.
“Yes! The O’Brien woman called the Bureau at nine o’clock this morning and reported that they had been removed from the linen-closet during the night. They were there, however, when she went to bed.”
“And, of course, they have not been found.”
“No. She made a pretty careful search before phoning.”
“Fancy that. But she might have saved herself the trouble.—What does the doughty Sergeant opine?”
“Heath reached the house before ten o’clock, and made an investigation. But he learned nothing. No one admitted hearing any sound in the hall during the night. He re-searched the house himself, but without result.”
“Have you heard from Von Blon this morning?”
“No; but Heath saw him. He came to the house about ten and stayed nearly an hour. He appeared very much upset over the stolen drugs, and immediately asked if any trace of them had been found. He spent most of the hour with Sibella.”
“Ah, welladay! Let us enjoy our truffes gastronome without the intrusion of unpleasant speculations. This Madeira sauce, by the by, is very good.” Thus Vance dismissed the subject.
However, that luncheon was to prove a memorable one; for toward the end of the meal Vance made a suggestion—or, rather, insisted upon an action—that was eventually to solve and explain the terrible tragedies at the Greene mansion. We had reached our dessert when, after a long silence, he looked up at Markham and said:
“The Pandora complex has seized and mastered me. I simply must get into Tobias’s locked library. That sacred adytum has begun to infest my slumbers; and ever since you mentioned the legacy of those books I’ve had no rest. I yearn to become acquainted with Tobias’s literary taste, and to learn why he should have selected the police for his beneficiaries.”
“But, my dear Vance, what possible connection—?”
“Desist! You can’t think of a question I have not already put to myself; and I’m unable to answer any of them. But the fact remains, I must inspect that library even if you have to get a judicial order to batter down the door. There are sinister undercurrents in that old house, Markham; and a hint or two may be found in that secret room.”
“It will be a difficult proceeding if Mrs. Greene stands firm on her refusal to deliver the key to us.” Markham, I could see, had already acquiesced. He was in a mood to accede to any suggestion that even remotely promised a clarification of the problem posed by the Greene murders.
It was nearly three o’clock when we reached the house. Heath had already arrived, in answer to a telephone call from Markham; and we at once presented ourselves to Mrs. Greene. Following an ocular sign from the Sergeant the new nurse left the room; and Markham went directly to the point. The old lady had eyed us suspiciously as we came in, and now sat rigidly against her pile of pillows, her gaze fixed on Markham with defensive animosity.
“Madam,” he began, somewhat severely, “we regret the necessity of this call. But certain things have arisen which make
