“That Sunday when I went to the house with Van I inquired of Ada if Sibella spoke German. I put my questions in such a way that she could not answer without telling me whether or not she, too, knew German well; and she even used a typical German locution—‘Sibella speaks very well German’—showing that that language was almost instinctive with her. Incidentally, I wanted her to think that I suspected Sibella, so that she would not hasten matters until I returned from New Orleans. I knew that as long as Sibella was in Atlantic City she was safe from Ada.”
“But what I want to know,” put in Heath, “is how she killed Rex when she was sitting in Mr. Markham’s office.”
“Let us take things in order, Sergeant,” answered Vance. “Julia was killed first because she was the manager of the establishment. With her out of the way, Ada would have a free hand. And, another thing, the death of Julia at the start fitted best into the scheme she had outlined; it gave her the most plausible setting for staging the attempted murder on herself. Ada had undoubtedly heard some mention of Chester’s revolver, and after she had secured it she waited for the opportunity to strike the first blow. The propitious circumstances fell on the night of November 8; and at half past eleven, when the house was asleep, she knocked on Julia’s door. She was admitted, and doubtless sat on the edge of Julia’s bed telling some story to explain her late visit. Then she drew the gun from under her dressing-gown and shot Julia through the heart. Back in her own bedroom, with the lights on, she stood before the large mirror of the dressing-table, and, holding the gun in her right hand, placed it against her left shoulder-blade at an oblique angle. The mirror and the lights were essential, for she could thus see exactly where to point the muzzle of the revolver. All this occupied the three-minute interval between the shots. Then she pulled the trigger—”
“But a girl shooting herself as a fake!” objected Heath. “It ain’t natural.”
“But Ada wasn’t natural, Sergeant. None of the plot was natural. That was why I was so anxious to look up her family history. But as to shooting herself; that was quite logical when one considers her true character. And, as a matter of fact, there was little or no danger attaching to it. The gun was on a hair-trigger, and little pressure was needed to discharge it. A slight flesh wound was the worst she had to fear. Moreover, history is full of cases of self-mutilation where the object to be gained was far smaller than what Ada was after. Gross is full of them. …”
He took up Volume I of the Handbuch für Untersuchungsrichter, which lay on the table beside him, and opened it at a marked page.
“Listen to this, Sergeant. I’ll translate the passage roughly as I read: ‘It is not uncommon to find people who inflict wounds on themselves; such are, besides persons pretending to be the victims of assaults with deadly weapons, those who try to extort damages or blackmail. Thus it often happens that, after an insignificant scuffle, one of the combatants shows wounds which he pretends to have received. It is characteristic of these voluntary mutilations that most frequently those who perform them do not quite complete the operation, and that they are for the most part people who manifest excessive piety, or lead a solitary life.
’33 … And surely, Sergeant, you are familiar with the self-mutilation of soldiers to escape service. The most common method used by them is to place their hand over the muzzle of the gun and blow their fingers off.”
Vance closed the book.
“And don’t forget that the girl was hopeless, desperate, and unhappy, with everything to win and nothing to lose. She would probably have committed suicide if she had not worked out the plan of the murders. A superficial wound in the shoulder meant little to her in view of what she was to gain by it. And women have an almost infinite capacity for self-immolation. With Ada, it was part of her abnormal condition.—No, Sergeant; the self-shooting was perfectly consistent in the circumstances. …”
“But in the back!” Heath looked dumbfounded. “That’s what gets me. Whoever heard—?”
“Just a moment.” Vance took up Volume II of the Handbuch and opened it to a marked page. “Gross, for instance, has heard of many such cases—in fact, they’re quite common on the Continent. And his record of them indubitably gave Ada the idea for shooting herself in the back. Here’s a single paragraph culled from many pages of similar cases: ‘That you should not be deceived by the seat of the wound is proved by the following two cases. In the Vienna Prater a man killed himself in the presence of several people by shooting himself in the back of the head with a revolver. Without the testimony of several witnesses nobody would have accepted the theory of suicide. A soldier killed himself by a shot with his military rifle through the back, by fixing the rifle in a certain position and then lying down over it. Here again the position of the wound seemed to exclude the theory of suicide
.’ ”34
“Wait a minute!” Heath heaved himself forward and shook his cigar at Vance. “What about the gun? Sproot entered Ada’s room right after the shot was fired, and there wasn’t no sign of a gun!”
Vance, without answering, merely turned the pages of Gross’s Handbuch to where another marker protruded, and began translating:
“ ‘Early one morning the authorities were informed that the corpse of a murdered man had been found. At the spot indicated the body was discovered of a grain merchant, A. M., supposed to be a well-to-do
