The Secret of the Morgue A 511697 70 M UTUUL MINIMUULUUN ARTES SCIENTIA LIBRARY VERITAS OF THE OF MICHIGAN UNIVERSITY OF MICH TIT UTIONUMUNTIINTILININ scene MLEROUSITUOTTITUTIONERET VISA TCEBOR SI:QUERIS PENINSULA NAINIS TRCUMSPICE MINUTTED IUITHOU UR . 9 . 000S UOS enim N ERALITA M INISTON muutununa HUT BEQUEST OF ORMA FITCH BUTLER, PH.D., '07 PROFESSOR OF LATIN GINTUITION نے ک E15 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE IF you think you're shock proof try this new Eberhard thriller. When Dr. Eberhard dissects a corpse for you the chills race up and down your spine In his new book Eberhard starts with an innocent appear- ing suicide. A bank official had apparently paid his penalty for a $200,000 shortage. Soon afterwards his wife burns to death. The coroner's jury calls it an accident. . . . But Lyman K. Wilbur, lawyer and criminologist dis- agrees. He succeeds in recovering the corpses, and has an autopsy performed. What secrets of the morgue are disclosed? For gruesome thrills no mystery published this season is likely to come within a hundred miles of this new Eberhard hair-raiser. I THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE by Frederick G. Eberhard Author of SUPER-GANGSTER and THE 13th MURDER New York, THE MACAULAY COMPANY Copyright, 1932 By THE MACAULAY COMPANY Printed in the United States of America The characters in this yarn are purely fictional-believe it or not. F. G. E. C.F. 972 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE II . DORO . 0 5-14-40 . . I A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE . . . . II THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS . . . . III WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? . . . . . . . IV A SHANK BUTTON . . . . V THE UNDERTAKER. .. VI “Coon Hollow”. . . . VII DYNAMITE!. . . . . . . . . . VIII GUN PLAY . . . . . . . . . 124 IX THE SHERIFF Pays a Call . . . . . 133 X The Rum RUNNER . . . . . .. 148 XI A SURGICAL CASUALTY . . . . XII Poison!........i XIII Black Light . . . . . . . . XIV The Lady Takes a Hand . . . . . XV A SEARCH FOR A SURGEON . . . . . 197 XVI PELLETIERES' FUNERAL HOME . . . . 208 XVII A SCOTCH FUNERAL . . . . . . . 222 XVIII LITTLE GRAINS OF SAND . . . . . . 226 XIX A Fatal INTERVIEW . . . . . . . 229 XX THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 236 191 CHAPTER I A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE Lyman K. Wilbur, an able lawyer who had for- saken his profession to become a criminologist of note, sat reading a late mystery thriller in his apart- ment one afternoon on an early spring day. He threw the book down with disgust. "They're all alike," said he to himself. "Stereo- typed! The plots are hackneyed. In nine out of ten you can guess the guilty party after the first two chapters. They're abominable. They're rotten. All the authors are alike. Rubbish! Twaddle! And someone said big men read them for mind rest. God! Anyone who can stand the rank and file of them doesn't need to worry—his mind's at rest all right. It's dead." Wilbur walked over to a very smart Volsteadian cellarette and brought forth a decanter from which he poured a rather stout portion. He drank the drink with a wry face. "The damn liquor's worse than the thrillers now- adays," he continued to himself. "One's at least as rotten as the other." ii 12 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE The telephone rang. He stepped to a small table, picked up the instrument and answered the call. "Bankers' Indemnity," said he. "Yes. A murder! At Summitville—Cashier of the Citizens Trust? Two hundred thousand gone and no trace of it?—Looks like an inside job? Sure I can go—right away! I'll catch a train at once." He hung up. "Damn it all," he remarked, as he poured another drink from the decanter and shed his dressing gown. "And I just qualified in the bil- liard tournament. That's hell!" An hour later Lyman K. Wilbur was on a train speeding toward the city of Summitville to investi- gate a murder. At twelve o'clock midnight the next night he arrived in Summitville. He was the only passenger to get off the train. A rather unctuous por- ter sat his grips on the platform before he alighted. "Thanks, Mistah Wilbur, thanks," the porter effused, as he pocketed Wilbur's half dollar tip and crawled back on the train. "How the "Wilbur started to ask the porter how he knew his name, but the train pulled out. Wilbur looked around. There was no one about the station. A dim electric light shone above some clicking telegraph keys in the oriel window of the agent's office and lighted the platform slightly. A flickering railroad lantern sitting on the dispatcher's desk seemed to be alive. The train upon which Wil- bur had arrived whistled in the distance; a light shot skyward as the stoker fed the engine of the train more coal; and then all was quiet. Wilbur picked up A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 13 his grip and walked down the platform toward a street. It was the main artery of Summitville. Coming to the street he put his grips down, lit a cigarette and calculated the main thoroughfare. "So this is Summitville! Ha! I'll bet a damn good drink of Bourbon whiskey the case is a suicide," he said to himself. "This dump would drive anyone to it. A suggestion of murder is outlandish. I'll bet an- other drink someone's been reading those impossible detective yarns down here. Oh, well, Hell!" Summitville justified all Wilbur's impressions, if not more. It was located on the junction of a U. S. and a state highway, which roads ran through the place simply because there was no evasion. The place was infected with seven thousand inhabitants. Dog ate dog in the business section. Chain stores alone escaped this form of cannibalism. Customers couldn't park on the main street because all of the merchants had their own cars in front of their own places. A scab-minded attorney who had a notion that Blackstone was some form of granite juggled the city politics with the aid of underlings who continually and ravenously ate his sop. As a consequence the mayor was an easy shifting sort, the police depart- ment a dog pound and the board of works—just that. From the fact that Summitville represented a con- siderable of the county population, the mange- minded attorney controlled the county officers, and although the county seat was in a neighboring small town it functioned from Summitville. A clique ran everything. There were three large factories in the •4 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE town, a few small ones and a nursery. Bootlegging flourished. Drinking was the town diversion. There was a chapter of the D. A. R., a women's club, a W. C. T. U.—those necessary organizations for female quidnuncs and morality righters. A few men with gyratory thoughts made up the Chamber of Com- merce. The sunken, the damned, and the moral lepers hung out at Storer's cigar store where they played "rummie," bet on baseball pools or concocted plans for practical jokes. This was Summitville where three rivers met, surrounded by numerous lakes. Lyman K. Wilbur walked up the main street in search of the hostelry. The street was deserted. The night police were napping after their round of door inspections. He crossed a bridge that spanned the Rat Tail river, went past the statue of a union soldier which stood in the center of the intersection of the two highways, and came finally to the hotel, The Summitville House. An electric light gleamed above the clerk's desk. Wilbur entered the place. Upon the desk under the light was a poorly printed sign which read, "Ring the bell for clerk." Wilbur pushed the bell vigorously. While awaiting the appearance of the clerk he read a copy of the Summitville Daily Times. On the front page was an account of the Morley case, the one in which he was interested. It was as follows: "After thorough investigation, much thought and deliberation, the Morley case has been disposed of. The coroner's jury came to the conclusion that A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE • 5 Eugene Morley was not murdered. It has rendered a verdict of death by suicide. We believe the verdict voices a popular opinion. As most readers of the Times know, the body of the missing cashier of the Citizens' Trust was found in his cottage on Ramona Lake. Dr. Simpson and Dr. Clyde, two of our leading dentists made the identification of the body this morning. They readily identified dental work which each of them had done for the late Mr. Morley. The body of the dead cashier was in a bad state of decomposition when found. Mrs. Morley definitely identified the body as that of her husband. Mr. Fellows and Mr. Tully of the Citizens' Trust also identified it. The dentist's identifications left no room for doubt. The gun found beside the body was one belonging to the bank which had been in the cashier's cage for a number of years. "Pierre LaVell, our genial undertaker and com- petent coroner, said that the clothes removed from the corpse were those of Morley. There seems nothing to indicate Morley met foul play as was first sus- pected. The fact that there were two bullet wounds in Morley's body does not indicate a murder, accord- ing to Jud Haynes, Lieutenant detective of police. Detective Haynes says that it is possible for a suicide to shoot himself in the head and then through the heart, and cites a review of the Burton case in New- port, R. I., in 1885 by the late Professor Agnew to prove his point. Professor Agnew demonstrated the fact theoretically: 1st, a bullet may enter the brain and not cause the injured person to lose conscious- 16 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE ness; 2nd, it may course the brain and cause no mus- cular paralysis; 3rd, a man may with his own hand first shoot himself in the head and a minute after- ward shoot himself in the heart, and 4th, a suicide may first shoot himself through the heart and imme- diately afterward shoot himself in the head. Pro- fessor Agnew then cited several actualities in sup- port of his theory. As we all know Morley was shot through the head and through the heart. There is only one feature of the suicide unexplained. No one knows what became of the defalcator's money, if the money was really embezzled by Morley." "That's a hot one," said Wilbur to himself. "The chap that wrote the article seems to have his doubts that Morley took the money. Maybe he didn't. And he shot himself in the brain and through the heart! That's one for the psychopathic ward even if it has been done. I know it has too. But just because Lind- bergh hopped to Paris is no reason to believe that a sparrow can leave Sag Harbor and fly to Deauville. Christ walked on the water too, but nobody else has done it. I'm a little like the reporter on the sheet— maybe Morley didn't embezzle the money." The night clerk who received almost all of his nocturnal rest the same as any other right living in- dividual in spite of his occupation, appeared as Wil- bur made his appraisal of the article. "Howdy, stranger!" said he as he loped down the stairs in a pair of slapping sandals, wearing a bath- robe and having disheveled hair. "I'm just a little A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE i7 bit late gittin' down after yer ringin'. You'll have to overlook that, stranger." "I thought something detained you," said Wilbur. "I'll say there did, brother. But what can I do for you?" "I'd like a room," replied Wilbur, and with a wink added, "without" "Oh, I get you—you slept in one of those city hotels last night. You don't need to worry, mister, we ain't got 'em. If they was one in the house I'd know it too, cause I'm duck soup for the bugs. Sign the register." Wilbur dipped a spluttering pen in an ink well and wrote his name upon the hotel register which was offered by the clerk. The clerk turned the register and looked at the name. "Oh, you're Lyman K. Wilbur, eh?" said he. "That's my name." "Well sir, they's some folks summerin' out on Ramona Lake asked me to tell you to come out there as soon as you came in." "But I don't know anyone at this place you speak of." "Yep. I'll bet you do. This guy's name is Jack Haughton. He and his wife's out there. An' say! His wife ain't hard to look at while yer talkin'. She's got all the females in this town down to bare skin an' fuzz. She don't wear any socks an' ain't got no hair on her legs. An' them pins she's got, mister! The women in Summitville have been tryin' to imi- tate her and you and me and God knows that a pair 18 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE of pinfeathered toothpicks can't hold a candle to her'n. You know what I mean. She's built!" "Yeah!" laughed Wilbur at the description. "That's her I guess." "Well, Haughton heard you was comin' to these diggin's and he told me to scoot you out to Ramona Lake no matter what hour you came in." "How do you get out there?" "Listen, brother, I'll get you out there quicker than it takes to tell. Service is our motto." "Go to it." The night clerk reached for the telephone, called a number and soon had a sleepy inhabitant of Sum- mitville on the wire. "Hello, is this you, Joe?" he asked. "Well, this is Si, up at the Summitville House. I've got a cash customer wants to go out to Haughton's cottage on Ramona Lake." The answer must have been to the clerk's liking for he hung up the telephone with a bang. "There's a taxi man—this Joe. God, he don't care where he goes at night nor what hour. Keeps his nose clean too. An' he's been in some durn dirty scrapes—boozey neckin' parties that made our paper open up a new sport column. Yep! Joe's all right. He'll be right over. Drives a good car, too— got a heater for winter drivin', and a fan fer summer." "Thanks!" "Hm! Don't thank me, stranger. I'll get a little divvy from Joe. An' 'fore I forget about it, this A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE IQ Haughton cottage is right next to the one where they found the dead man. That ought to interest you. Haughton was tellin' me you was quite a detective. Gosh all hemlock, how do you guys look at dead ones all the time?" "Dead people are harmless, Si." "Huh!" Si snickered. "They ain't around here- abouts." "So!" answered Wilbur as he heard the irregular tattoo of a car's motor outside. "I think your friend Joe has arrived." "Yep, that's him," answered Si. "I know that motor jest like the prayers my ma taught me. He's stalled me between here and Ramon a Lake with more women than there is blue gills in the durn lake. An' if you don't think bein' stalled with a married woman five miles from town ain't somepin' to worry about when she's got to be back home on time, you aint never taken your Ten Commandments seri- ously." Si helped Wilbur outside the Summitville House where Joe's car was idling. Si put Wilbur's grip in the back seat and then spoke to Joe. "Take Mr. Wilbur out to Haughton's cottage. He's all right. He's a detective that's here investigating the Morley killin'." "The papers said it was suicide," said Wilbur. "Well, I 'spose I hadn't ought to say killin'," re- plied Si, "but the folks hereabouts for the most part just doubt this suicide business spite what the blad- der says. If I've heard one person say Eugene Morley 20 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE was murdered instead of suicidin', I've heard a hun- dred." "What do you think?" asked Wilbur. "Well, I ain't got much to base anything on, but it's durn funny, I'm thinkin', how Webb Tully, the president of the Citizens' Trust, has come up in the last couple of years. Two years ago he didn't have nothin' much but an outdoor privy, an' now he's got a forty thousand dollar home, drives a swell car, and is finishin' his two kids off east." "He might have been lucky in the stock market," suggested Wilbur. "Nope. Webb Tully ain't the gamblin' kind. He's a note shaver, a forecloser, and a penny grabber. He'd take the pennies off a dead man's eyes or the nickels out of a blind man's cup, but he won't gamble. He's got the first dime he ever earned. He ain't the chancin' kind." "What's your idea of his connection with the Morley case?" "My idea may be all wrong 'cause I can't back up my suspicions with nothin' but my own ideas, but I'm thinkin' it might'a been pretty easy for Webb to have taken that dough out of the Citizens' Trust an' pointed the finger of suspicion on Morley. You'll find out he ain't givin' out any statement about the bank. He tells everyone, 'The bank examiner found a shortage in Morley's accounts.' That's all. An' I wouldn't put it past him to kill Morley or have some- one else do it. He'd do that sooner'n he'd gamble. He's a chiseller." A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 21 "Hum!" exclaimed Wilbur as he lit a cigarette and stepped into Joe's car. "That's an idea." "Yep, an' there's more than me thinkin' that way," replied Si. Joe put the car of seasonal appointments in gear. "Well, so long boys," waved the night clerk. "An' good luck, Mr. Wilbur. Hope you get the dirty cuss that murdered Morley. Gene was a good kid." "Good night," answered Wilbur. Joe pulled away from the hotel and drove down the main artery until he came to the corner where the Civil War was memorialized. There he turned right and followed a paved road which was cluttered with signs advising the tourist and pleasure bent that Ramona Lake lay ahead, signs of the Hotel Fine view and the Cardinal Lodge. Every farm house had a stand in front of it and the price of country eggs and butter flashed in view every few minutes upon blackboards furnished gratuitously to the farmers by the Citizens' Trust. Below the price of the butter and eggs the sign told how far it was to the Citizens' Bank. Signs upon the stands advertised cottage cheese for sale, jellies, frying chickens, fruits, anything that a thrifty country woman could turn into the gold of the realm. Nearer the lake the stands disappeared. The signs persisted but most of them read, "Minnows for sale," or "Fishworms." "The hotel clerk seems to think Morley was mur- dered," said Wilbur after they turned at the memorial monument. "What's your idea about it, Joe?" "I'm thinkin' it was a murder too," replied Joe. 22 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "But I think Si is barkin' up the wrong tree. I don't believe Tully did it. In the first place Tully's yellow and ain't got no guts. But there's a bird connected with the Citizens' Trust that might have." "Who's that?" "Ambrose Fallows! He's an attorney that runs the works in this county. The runty politicians take orders from him. He's the 'big shot.' Every damn officer in this county is under his thumb an' on ac- count of his power in the county I guess his bark is heard upstate too. And he's a director in the Citizens' Trust." Wilbur whistled. "Seems to me his ratin' in Dunn and Bradstreet's been risin' fast the last two years, too," Joe went on. "He ain't done it flashy like, with a fine home and a big car. He's too damn smart for that. He just keeps on goin' around like a hayseed. He's gone right on livin' in an ordinary frame house an' drives an old Model T Lizzie. But they do say as how he's in- vested plenty away from home. It's my opinion he's gettin' plenty out of county graft or else he got into the Citizens' Tfust. It wouldn't surprise me none that he had Morley bumped off to cover his tracks. I can't believe Gene Morley would do anybody for a thin dime, much less bump himself off. There's skull- duggery somewhere." "This Ambrose Fallows would do such a thing, you think?" "Hell yes! He'd kill Christ if there was a quarter in it. An' what makes me more suspicious of him A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 23 than ever is the fact that he went out of town the night Morley disappeared. I know, 'cause I took him to Central City. But keep that under your hat 'cause I ain't said nothin' about it before. An' he didn't return for a couple of days. I don't know where he was an' don't think anybody else does." "Well," Wilbur thought to himself as the taxi driver recounted his theory, "I guess the big towns don't furnish all the smart ones. And I think I'll have to change my first impression of Summitville. This case looks like it might be complicated." "It's a rotten business," the driver continued. "I don't think there's anything to it but murder. That state detective says a man can shoot himself through the head and then shoot himself through the heart but damned if I believe Morley did." "It's about four weeks since Morley disappeared?" "Just about three weeks." "And the body was found day before yesterday?" "Yes, sir." "Well, a lot can happen in a week and more in three weeks." "Yes, sir, you said something, mister. The in- surance company was pretty decent to Mrs. Morley, I'm thinkin'." "Oh, Morley had insurance?" "I'll say he did! Fifty thousand dollars. Just as soon as the suicide verdict was given out they plunked over the dough, too. That Integrity Mutual is all right. They're sort o' proud of settlin' claims promptly." 24 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Mrs. Morley was the beneficiary?" "Yep, she got it all." "Another one for the book," said Wilbur to him- self. "That was a tough break for the insurance out- fit," Joe went on. "Morley'd just had the policies for five years." "Long enough to get by the suicide clause." "Yep, that's what I heard 'em say. Well, it all just goes to show I've always been right. I always says that just as soon as a man begins gamblin' on his life his luck's goin' to chance. I'm superstitious-like. Take me for example. If I was insured for fifty thousand dollars I'd be worth more dead than alive by a damned sight. An' let me tell you somethin', mister! If I was insured for fifty thousand and my wife knew it I'd be coffin fodder before next Labor Day." "You don't mean that Mrs. Morley?" "Oh no! I'm not insinuatin' Mrs. Morley had a thing to do with this job. I don't know, of course, but I'm thinking she ain't that kind of a woman. But my woman! Say! She'd cackle at my last gurgle if it meant fifty thousand smackers to her." "Well, Mrs. Morley is just another idea," said Wilbur. "It's been done, you know, in some of the best of families. A man's a man for a' that, and a pot of gold is a pot of gold. A woman can get a man most anytime but money is a little elusive. I have known of instances where women made marrying quite a profitable business." A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 25 "I wish you wouldn't bring that up. It gets me jumpy. My wife was married to two men before she got me. Both of them died an' she got a little in- surance out of both of them. The fact is, I bought this car with the insurance money her second hus- band brung her. You got me thinking." "But you haven't any insurance, or so I inferred." "How in hell do I know with all these big news- papers givin' accident insurance policies with sub- scriptions? She may have me lined up swell. I could be croaked accidentally and she'd draw one of them double indemnity things. Nobody would be wise. I'd just be number three and she would be lookin' for number four. I'm going to find out about this thing." "Don't get excited, Joe. There's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry I brought the subject up." "The hell there ain't nothin' to worry about! We're takin' The Chicago Graphic, The Detroit Fast Press, and The Cleveland Square Dealer." "Oh, that's nothing," answered Wilbur as he sup- pressed a laugh. "She probably loves to read." "Yeah! An' what she's probably dyin' to read is a notice of my passin'. Come to think about it, I've had two accidents with this car lately. I found my revol- ver cocked in my inside pocket the other morning and my last batch of home brew exploded the other night just as I was reachin' for a bottle opener. You don't suppose she's got anything planted on this road? You know some of them paper policies pay more if you're killed while ridin'." "No, Joe, I think your fears are all groundless. A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 27 no uncertain manner. "An' the folks are still up. That's luck." The front door of the cottage opened and Jack Haughton peered out. "Is that you, Lyman?" he yelled. "Yes," replied Wilbur. Thereupon Jack burst from the door of the cottage and ran down the inclining boardwalk to where Wilbur stood. His wife took his place in the doorway. Jack seized Wilbur's hand and shook it warmly. "Well, you old son of a gun!" ex- claimed Jack heartily. "It's sure good to see you. Who'd have ever thought you and I would get to- gether in this neck of the woods? Come on in. Where's your baggage?" Joe passed the baggage out and Wilbur paid him for the trip in a generous way. "Thanks! Much obliged!" said Joe enthusias- tically as he noted the size of the bill. "You can get me anytime at the Summitville House—that is, providin' the old lady ain't aimin' on spendin' the accident insurance." "Good night, Joe," replied Wilbur. Joe turned around and his tail light hopped along down the winding lake road. Wilbur and Jack climbed the slight rise which confronted the cottage, with Jack carrying the baggage. Mrs. Haughton flashed the porch light on and all three met under its glare. "Alice!" cried Wilbur as he grasped her out- stretched hand. "You look wonderful. One would never know you were the same person that rescued 28 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE your estimable husband and myself from the hands of that demon in the Rockies. You look marvelous." "Oh, you old flatterer!" replied Alice, as she kissed Wilbur and added, "Jack doesn't mind. I really don't know what you would do if you didn't have some woman to cajole. Come right in, though, I'll forgive you again." They entered the cottage. "Well, how on earth do you happen to be here and how did you learn of my arrival?" asked Wilbur after they had seated themselves inside the cottage. "That's a mystery to me." "You tell him, Alice," said Jack. "I'm going to prepare three highballs to celebrate this occasion." Turning to Wilbur he added, "You're not on the wagon?" "Not yet. I doubt if I ever shall be again. I've vowed that I could lie to myself no longer. But I hardly expected to bow before the shrine of Bacchus in these parts. I was under the impression that I was now in an arid desert." "Oh no, my dear Wilbur. This area was well rep- resented in the repeal column of the Digest Poll. This is what is popularly known as a drunken dry area. The gentle art of circumventing the prohibition law is at its best in this community. It's really en- lightening, this countryside. It broadens one. They are very urban in their tippling. You find most every- thing here that one does in Bellevue in New York— everything from Jake paralysis to mania a potu." "Very illuminating to me, I must say. The great American joke!" laughed Wilbur as Jack went to the A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 20 kitchen. "Now about my question," said he to Alice. "It's rather a simple tale," replied Alice. "Since our marriage Jack and I have been honeymooning here and there. About six weeks ago we passed through here and the lake intrigued us. It's really a delightful spot in the daytime. "I fell for the beauty of the place at once and so did Jack. The fishing is excellent. To make a long story short we bought the place and expect to keep it for summer vacations. We moved in here just a week before the man was murdered next door, having remained at the Summitville House during the time - that the cottage was being redecorated. The tragedy hardly interested us at first, being used to murder melange as we were." "I can readily understand," answered Wilbur. "After that affair at Folsom Lodge. A gruesome thing that. But go on." "When it became known that the murdered man had such a shortage in his accounts and that the Bankers' Indemnity had to make this good, Jack became interested, inasmuch as he is one of the direc- tors in the United Bankers' Indemnity. He became suspicious of the affair when there was no trace of the missing money. Of course he wired the Indemnity company and requested that you be detailed upon the case. Besides the fact that it promised to be of some interest, we also thought you might enjoy a vacation with us. That's how you happen to be here and why we knew you were going to arrive." "Very nice! I am sure I am going to enjoy the 30 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE visit with you folks but I am not at all enthusiastic about this murder case. From what I have been able to glean out of the Summitville paper, the hotel night clerk and the taxi driver who brought me out here, I believe it's just a question of elimination until I lay my hands on the guilty party." "Perhaps you may be fooled. This countryside looks entirely inoffensive and the natives anything but blase, but such is not the case, as we have found out in our short sojourn here." Jack returned with a tray upon which were three sparkling highballs. "These are very good despite the fact that we are far from our favorite bootlegger," said he as he held the tray forth so that Alice could select her glass. "The whiskey is more than un- common in quality—from the western province of Canada, British Columbia." He proffered the tray to Wilbur, who picked up a glass, and Jack continued, "I hope international bootlegging continues in spite of the drastic attempts to curb it until such time as our moonshiners develop a very palatable and safe brand. The natives around here who do their guz- zling with the homemade product tell me that im- provement is noted in every run." "That's encouraging," Wilbur remarked, as he sipped of the highball and commented, "It has a very excellent aroma, and an exquisite taste." "I thought you'd like it," Jack replied. "Were you surprised when you found out we were here?" "Surprised! That isn't the word. I was dumb- founded—bowled clear over. I might have imagined A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE however that you had something to do with my visit here. I'd forgotten that you were interested in the Bankers' Indemnity. What is the lowdown on this affair?" "That's what I want you to find out. It would ap- pear to me that a gala band of crooks are flourishing in this little out of the way place. This case won't be as exciting as the Milliken affair, I'm sure, and let us hope it isn't, but nevertheless I think it is going to present some unique features. I suppose you are acquainted with the salient facts?" "No, I know very little about this case—just what I gleaned from glancing over the Summitville paper and what the night clerk of the hotel and the taxi driver told me. I take it you know most of the story." "Your knowledge then must be meager. The in- habitants about here have voiced every possible theory, I assume, except the right one. You know a country community does nothing but talk about one of these affairs continually. As a result stories are contorted and actually changed. However there are certain things which are verified facts. The newspaper has contained nothing but what certain people prob- ably intended they should publish. If it's not too late I'll run over the affair with you. Alice and I are a couple of night owls, you know." "Go ahead," replied Wilbur. "I'm not at all sleepy or fatigued. Your effort at dispensing spiritus fru- menti has caused me a temporary insomnia at least." "Eugene Morley disappeared the night of May second," Jack began. "But first I'll take you back 32 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE and give you a little of his history. There is little known about his early life except for the fact that he was born in the New England states of ordinary parentage and that he struggled through his adoles- cent years much in the fashion of many young men, blacking boots, peddling newspapers and washing spittoons. He learned, as it were, from a meager schooling, the streets and toil. At an early age he gravitated westward and fate led him to the diminu- tive city of Summitville. There he entered the Citi- zens' Trust for the first time as a janitor, one of the many odd and lowly jobs by which he made a liveli- hood. He engaged the attention of Webb Tully, the president of the bank, and from then on his rise was spectacular. He became the cashier, married one of Summitville's most estimable young ladies and was regarded as a model citizen. He was supposed to be a respectable home-loving man. It is not known that he had a ticker-tape complex. He was more than frugal with the opposite sex. Toward the church he was plethoric. In short he had none of those qualities which often cause the sudden disappearance of widows' mites and children's pennies. I'll digress a few moments and give you some idea of Webb Tully. "Webb Tully is a man who has his fingers in every pie. His main source of money, however, is the Sum- mitville Casket Co." "What a familiar chord!" exclaimed Wilbur. "I always run into casket manufacturers, mummy col- lectors, or some form of burial parasite." "It seems that the casket business was at a low 34 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE No person, or person's body, was seen at any of these inspections. Then day before yesterday Mrs. Mor- ley and Pierre LaVell, a Summitville mortician, the county coroner and close crony of Morley, came out here to clean up the cottage for summer tenancy. They discovered the decomposed body of Morley lying on the bed in one of the rooms. Now we come to the strange occurrence which prompted me to send a wire to the Bankers' Indemnity. The undertaker and Mrs. Morley had no keys with which to open the cottage. They expected to break in. But when they arrived, lo and behold one of the windows was open. All of them at other inspections of the cottage had been closed. And now listen closely. LaVell would not allow Mrs. Morley to look at the corpse at this time. He took her to Summitville, then came back alone, took the clothing from the corpse and burned it— everything but a suit of underwear. Yesterday morn- ing some boys who were wading in the lake in front of the cottage found Morley's key ring in the water and upon it the one key to the cottage. Now I ask you, Wilbur, do you think that a man contemplat- ing suicide would throw the key to his locked cottage into the lake and then enter it a hard way—by open- ing a window which was nailed down on the inside?" "What? What's that?" "Exactly what I said. Every window was nailed, I examined them. They were nailed, in fact, so no one could raise them from the outside unless they broke the windows. Do you think a suicide would enter his cottage by way of the door, lock the door, ■ 36 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE secured a divorce from his wife. He's been trying to sell his undertaking business." "Ever been any talk about LaVell and Mrs. Mor- ley?" "Not a rumble until now." "There's a possibility, that's all. If LaVell did the murder, fifty thousand dollars and the loot from the bank would make a neat little sum for a couple to embark upon the sea of matrimony. I was told Mrs. Morley was paid that right after the coroner's in- quest. Be that as it may, she and LaVell are suspects. Any other woman who might be mixed up in the case?" "Nothing except a rumor." "Sometimes rumors are worth while." "Well, this one is a sort of intangible thing. You'll understand when I tell you. It seems there was some woman summered on the lake last year who went by the name of Mrs. Browne. No one knew where she came from or anything else about her. She came sud- denly, remained a couple of months, and departed as suddenly as she came. Very few people made her acquaintance. It was rumored that Morley was seen in her company. Understand, there was nothing posi- tive about it. There's no one to be found who will vouch for it. He might only have met the woman casually. You know the wrong construction is put on things like that many a time. For instance, someone might have seen you kiss Alice tonight. I might have already gone into the house. A vicious story might have been spread." A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 37 "Not much to that story, I fear. Well, we've four suspects—Webb Tully, Ambrose Fallows, Mrs. Mor- ley and Pierre LaVell. Any one of them might have committed the murder." "Yes, and there might be a collusion. All four may be implicated. I don't go in for the suicide business at all." "Me either. The coroner and others have probably destroyed anything which an inspection of the cot- tage would reveal?" "They probably have. Everything was gone over so there's but a slight chance that any evidence re- mains. I don't believe one could find a finger print or anything else of value. In fact the cottage was thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom." "That's a shame. But nevertheless we'll have a look at it in the morning. Something may have been overlooked." "I wish you would. Your eyes see more in a minute than the whole state department of safety would see in a week." "The jury, Jack," Mrs. Haughton prompted her husband. She had remained very silent up to this point. "Tell Mr. Wilbur of that while I fix some more highballs." She collected the empty glasses. "Oh yes, that's a peculiar thing," said Jack. "The coroner's jury returned a verdict without ever seeing the body. It was empanelled and undoubtedly hand picked by Fallows or LaVell. I talked with Ed Fox, one of them, relied upon to be non-talkative but nevertheless loquacious, and he told me that they 38 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE were taken before the casket of Morley to render their decision. At the time he remarked to the coroner, 'We don't know whether there is a body in the casket or not.' LaVell replied, 'You'll just have to take my word for that.'" "Hum! That's a strange thing. There must have been some tell-tale clue of the murder within the casket. Someone was probably fearful that some in- quisitive juror might ask too many questions con- cerning the two bullet wounds." "It's a strange affair. With such suspects and a political machine to toss monkey wrenches, I'm afraid the case is going to be a tough one." Alice returned with the highballs. Wilbur drank his with satisfaction. "There's another mystery," said he as he held his glass up. "Rattlin' good whiskey for a place like this —better by a damn sight than the stuff you get in New York where the ways are greased and easy." "It's not at all hard to get, either—quantities— pints, quarts, cases or otherwise." "I'm certainly getting interested in the com- munity," laughed Wilbur. "It's a revelation to me. I've heard of the wide spread distribution of alcoholic products but thought the thing was exaggerated. Hum! Damn it, I don't believe the half has been told. And at first sight I thought this hole was the deadest spot it had ever been my misfortune to con- nect with. The liquor is a life saver, anyhow. But why shouldn't bootlegging flourish in a community where they can get away with murder? It steps up a A MURDER IN SUMMITVILLE 39 murderer's courage and then after the deed it mellows his remorse. But getting back to the Morley case, what about the gun? Any finger prints on it?" "I understand there were. Plenty of them! An ex- pert from the state department of safety took them. They didn't prove anything, however." "Why not?" "The body was decomposed and they couldn't get any of the corpse." "Hum! That's right. It must have been badly de- composed if no prints could be recorded." "It was. The fingers were rotted away to the bone. And rats had been at the body. No impression was possible." "The four suspects! What about their impressions? Were they taken?" "I can't say positively. I don't think so. I think a monkey wrench was thrown into the investigation at that point and if there were any inquisitive people who wanted the thing done they were told to mind their own business. It was just one of those things." "I don't imagine any of the four will object to finger printing?" Wilbur chuckled. "They may." "They can. It's a constitutional privilege but it's done right along in spite of the privilege. Police officers do it almost universally. I'll ask each one of them to submit to the printing but if they object I won't force the issue. Damned if I don't hate to use police methods. Browbeating never gets them any- where. If any one of them objects that will be a lead .■ 40 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE in itself—a pointer. There'll be a way of obtaining information to convict afterward. There'll be noth- ing circumstantial about the evidence either. And that's another thing I'm against. One thing more: has the body been buried?" "Not yet. The funeral is set for tomorrow." "It may not occur tomorrow," was Wilbur's laconic reply as he looked at his wrist watch. "That's enough for tonight, or rather this morning. We'll get up early and inspect the cottage. Let's visit a while—forget murders and suicides. Then we'll tumble in. I know Alice is tired of gruesome chatter." "Oh no, not so long as you two boys are enjoying yourselves. In fact I'm getting so I love the morbid side of life. I've been that way ever since I almost witnessed a slaughter of the two of you." "Is that nice?" asked Wilbur. "One might imagine you were sorry you saved us from being murdered— and I don't know but what it might have been a good thing." "How is your snake collection?" asked Jack. "Oh, I've added a few since I last saw you," Wilbur grinned. "I'm still a collector while you are not. Your collection of feminine rejections stopped with Alice's acceptance of you, I believe. What is your hobby now?" "Trying to stump one of the cleverest criminolo- gists in the world today." The conversation turned to those things which are common to close friends, reminiscences, and topics of the day. Finally after a last salvo from the bottle they retired. CHAPTER II THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS Either from the uncommon result of more than passably good liquor or because of the tension oc- casioned by the mystery, Wilbur slept fitfully. His bedroom was on the north side of the cottage and the window to his room faced the Morley cottage which was some two hundred yards away. Outside it was one mass of darkness, for the moon had disap- peared. Long before it had gone down the lake revelers had come to shore. There was a forbidding stillness without, broken only by the lake water as it lapped the shore. In one of his moments of wake- fulness while peering out of the window into the blackness of the night, the criminologist thought he saw a light. If he did it was a flash, for by the time he sat bolt upright in the bed and rubbed his eyes it was gone. He strained his ear but there was no sound to be heard except the noise made by the water at the shore. There was no immediate repetition of the light. After some moments of staring into the black- ness, Wilbur sank back upon his pillow content in 42 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE the thought that the flash had either been a visual aberration or a mental thing. He dozed. How long he dozed he had no means of knowing but the next thing he remembered was being awakened by a loud knocking at the cottage door. He looked out of the window and before his eyes was a lurid scene. The blackness had been dissipated. The air, the night, seemed to be aflame. Jack had arisen and was going to the door. "Who's there?" he cried as he groped at a wall button which turned on the living-room lights. "Harmeson!" replied a voice from the outside. "I live in the cottage just south of you. The Morley cottage is on fire." Before Jack succeeded in turning on the lights in the living-room, Wilbur knew the cause of the light outside. He would have known it in an instant had he not thought that his vision had played a trick upon him before when he thought he had seen a flash of light. The entire cottage was in flame, consumed almost in one fiery burst, or so it seemed. "Someone set fire to it," said Harmeson when Jack finally opened the door and looked out into the light. "It's been soaked in oil. You can smell it. There's no use in trying to put the fire out. The cottage is gone up. But I thought I'd arouse you. A few flying sparks might set your place off." "Well, thanks, old man for arousing me," replied Jack. "I'll dress and see that he won't burn up too." As Harmeson left, Wilbur entered the living-room, closely followed by Alice. THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 43 "It's the Morley cottage," Jack explained to Alice who hadn't as yet comprehended what had happened. "It's burning up." Turning to Wilbur, Jack added, "We'd better dress and watch this place." "O.K." Both men dressed as quickly as possible and made their way to the Morley place. When they arrived there, a number of the cottagers stood about con- versing. The flames were subsiding, the sparks were no longer shooting skyward and what had once been a cottage was being rapidly reduced to a smoldering mass. The odor of kerosene was distinct. The heat was too great for any close inspection at this time. "Incendiary, all right," said Wilbur. "No doubt of it," returned Haughton. "Who did it and why? There was some tell-tale evidence in that cottage. That fire just about dis- proves the suicide theory completely. I wish I could have had a look inside of that place. There was some- thing. Oh, well, whatever it was it's gone now. Damn it!" "Why wasn't this done when the body was there? It would have destroyed all of the evidence, includ- ing the body." "That thought came to me. Had Morley been burned up, though, the insurance would not have been paid because there would have been no proof of Morley's death. This looks very much to me like positive proof that the widow is entangled in the murder. It strongly points toward Mrs. Morley and LaVell. It is my impression that Morley was mur- 44 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE dered some place away from the cottage and his body placed in the cottage after death. There was a reason why the body had to be discovered. It was either on account of the insurance or because the murderer wanted to stop the hunt that was going on. That hunt might have proved disastrous to some people we have mentioned. The finding of the body and the suicide verdict put an end to the search for Morley and the verdict ostensibly clears the murderer. But the master reason is this—burning of the body would have clearly established the case as a murder. A man doesn't suicide and then burn his body up, especially after inflicting wounds through his head and heart. No, Jack, there are very good reasons why this fire did not happen when the body was in the cottage and I am afraid there are some very good reasons why the fire happened after the body was removed." "There must have been some evidence which could not be removed from the place." "It appears so. There must have been something damaging to the suicide theory, not removable ex- cept by destruction. What was it? At the present I haven't the slightest idea. Maybe we'll be able to find out later, but I'm afraid not. First we want to keep everyone away from the place until I can in- spect the ground about it. The ground is damp and we may find footprints which will identify the party that fired the cottage. After that a close inspection of the ruins will be in order. Perhaps the evidence they sought to destroy did not burn. I don't believe any of the cottagers have been close yet." THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 45 "Hell no! Most of them have been scared to go near it. The countryside has conjured up all sorts of weird stories about the place since the body was found. I've heard every sort of tale. It's been haunted. Mysterious lights have been seen inside of it at all hours of the night, to hear the natives talk." "Well, I saw one either in it or right outside of it sometime before it was fired," said Wilbur. "There was one there tonight. I slept spasmodically and dur- ing a wakeful spell I saw it." A peculiar noise broke on the night air from the lake. Wilbur and Haughton turned and listened. It was the hum of a motor. It didn't sound like the hum of a motor boat engine. It was more like the motor of an airplane. And then as both men listened and looked, two lights flashed on the water of the lake far down the shore on the right. The hum increased in volume and the lights began to move toward the center of the lake, gathering momentum as they went. There was a roar. The lights lifted from the water. . Higher and higher they lifted. The roar faded into a slight drone. At last the lights faded from view. "An aquaplane," said Wilbur. "That looks mighty queer." "Whoever set fire to the cottage escaped in that plane," answered Jack. "No doubt of it. There's mystery! What does that mean, an aquaplane taking off at this hour in the morning under a cloak of darkness? And where did it come from?" "Hum! I never heard it come in." 46 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "No, neither do I imagine anyone else did. It probably settled in with a cutoff motor just before the moon disappeared. They'll cruise around until dawn and then land somewhere. Well, that's some- thing to investigate. There's not such a large number of such ships on the Great Lakes. It ought to be easy to locate. As soon as day breaks we'll investigate the point where it took off." The heat from the burning cottage was abating and an approach to the burning ruins was possible even though it was uncomfortable. The curious cottagers had left. Cautiously scanning every bit of ground with a flashlight, Wilbur searched for any clue which might lead to the perpetrator of the arson. There was no success in this painstaking effort until he reached the spot where the back door of the cottage used to be. Here there were distinct footprints. They were undoubtedly fresh. "There are the prints," said Wilbur to Haughton who was close beside him. "I see them," answered Jack. "But they only in- crease my bewilderment. Those prints are" "Yes, they are the footprints of a woman beyond any doubt. They go in and come out." "But" "Don't try to figure it out. Take your car and go directly to the Morley residence in Summitville. Ascertain if Mrs. Morley is in the city. I'll con- tinue my investigation of the cottage." Jack proceeded to do as Wilbur directed. Wilbur continued to go over the ground again and again. THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 47 After thoroughly satisfying himself that he could find nothing more than the footprints, he returned to the Haughton cottage. "What'll you have, Mr. Wilbur?" asked Alice who had arisen and dressed. "Whiskey or coffee?" "Never mind making me any coffee. I'll take about three fingers of straight whiskey and get back to work. I just ran over to get some of my parapher- nalia. We found some very interesting footprints and I'm anxious to make a permanent record of them. I sent Jack into town on an errand." "Here's your whiskey," said Alice, as she brought forth a full bottle which she had just opened. "Help yourself." Wilbur took a generous helping of the whiskey and then busied himself in his baggage. In a few moments he left the cottage carrying numerous things in his arms. He returned to the spot where the fresh prints were and went to work. He poured a quantity of incandescent charcoal into a special receptacle, lit it and then placed a warming pan over it. Next he heated earth to 220 degrees Fahrenheit and with stearic acid made a cast for a mold. It was the method of M. Hougolin to make permanent records of footprints. Wilbur had finished making the molds and had thoroughly examined them when Haughton returned. "What's the dope?" asked Wilbur. "There's no one at home," replied Haughton. "I met LaVell going out on a case and he said she left for some town up north and would be back tomorrow. THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 49 "Well, then, when we find a woman who does that, it ought to be easy to establish the identity of the party who fired the cottage, providing her shoes are the size of those imprints." "Hush! Hush! Not so fast, my dear Jack," re- plied the criminologist. "That is a popular idea. But the facts are, the foot and its print in soft earth or other soft substance do not accurately correspond, one being larger or smaller than the other." "It doesn't seem possible." "Nevertheless that is the case. The observation has been checked and counter-checked in Europe by the Surete and Scotland Yard. What we have discovered is just a bit of evidence. It will only serve to corrob- orate other evidence should we obtain any more. Let's take these molds to your cottage and await the dawn. Leave the tripod and pan. They're too hot to handle." In Haughton's cottage a few moments later Wilbur displayed the results of his genius and pointed out the peculiar features of the shoes which made the prints. Alice listened attentively and then turned to Wilbur. "That's clever," said she. "Very clever! But I did not burn the Morley cottage." "Who said you did? Those footprints are not yours." "I think I've heard you say you did not believe in coincidences?" "And I certainly do not." "Ho! Ho! Here's one time you'll have to believe 50 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE in one. I wear my own shoes off in exactly the same manner—the right heel and the left sole. If you don't believe me I'll show you." "Show me." Thereupon Alice removed her shoes and handed them to her guest. Wilbur surveyed them quietly a few minutes and matched them with the molds. His face flushed. "Hum! Hell! That's one on me," said he in a study. "Those molds and your shoe heels and soles are alike as two peas. It's got me. There's a sweet case of circumstantial evidence! You are sure no one has broken into your cottage and stolen a pair of your shoes?" "I don't think so," replied Alice, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But I'll see." She left the room to inspect her stock of footwear. "What do you make of that, Jack?" asked Wilbur. "People have been convicted of crimes upon such evidence. If you'll recall I just told you a while ago that those prints were only corroborative evidence. Now they're not even that, for we know damn well Alice was in the house and couldn't have fired the cottage. And yet she could have made the foot- prints." "It must be a coincidence," replied Jack. "Yes, damn it, it must be but I've never believed in them. It simply takes the wind right out of my sails. That's been one of my greatest assets in all of my cases. And now I pretty near have to admit there is such a thing." THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 5« Alice returned. "My collection of shoes is O.K." said she, as she held forth two more pair. "Here's two worn pair of the same kind. My good ones are not worn. That habit of mine has kept one shoe manufacturer, I really believe." Wilbur inspected the two pair of shoes and admit- ted defeat. "Well, it's a coincidence," said he. "It's just got to be. There is such an animal. That's tough for me to swallow. Those prints were fresh, but You haven't been about the Morley cottage lately, Alice?" "I have never been near it, not at any time," re- plied she. "Hum! Damn!" exclaimed Wilbur. "Let's have a drink." "That's an ideal solution," joked Jack as he started to arise. "Allow me," said Alice. "I'm used to starting fires." The drinks were once more produced and once more consumed. Such is Volsteadian swiftness. "Has any aquaplane ever landed on the lake since you took up residence here?" asked Wilbur after the stimulant. "I never saw one before," answered Jack. "One could have landed a number of times, though, and I not know it. Airplanes pass over so frequently one pays no particular attention to them. There's an air mail route over the lake and several passenger lines go over it also." Wilbur looked at his watch. "Let's get going down 52 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE the lake. It's about daybreak," said he. "We may find out where that plane took off. There's a chance they forgot something in their haste. Have you any idea where it was?" "It seemed to me they took off at a place called Baker's Landing. If it wasn't there it was close by." Turning to Alice Jack added, "You'd better go back to bed and get some sleep. You look as if you needed it." "I'm going," Alice nodded. "Cinderella is on her way." Wilbur and Haughton left the cottage. Dawn was breaking. The fog was lifting along the edges of the lake and fish were flopping. A flock of coots rocked idly near shore. From nearby barnyards cocks crew lustily. It was an exhilarating morning. Wilbur and Haughton walked lazily along toward Baker's Landing. They arrived there just as the sun burst luridly in the east. "The plane took off somewhere in this neighbor- hood," said Jack. "This is Baker's Landing. It's about the best spot on the lake to land. A plane could taxi near to shore." "Then keep your eyes peeled," admonished Wilbur as he himself began to scan the sand. "Look out for the imprints of a woman's foot." "You notice the sand, don't you?" "Yeah, funny lookin' stuff." "That's Ramona Lake sand. There's nothing like it any place else." "Peculiar color." 54 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "The little finger is stuffed. The woman has lost her little finger on the right hand. She's made a little cushion to fit the little finger of the glove. Another clue! She certainly took no chances of leaving tell- tale evidence behind her—using gloves and then the fire." "Let's see that glove," said Jack who had an amazed expression upon his face. Wilbur handed Haughton the glove. Haughton looked it over and removed the cushion which fitted accurately in the little finger of the glove. "Damnit, that's just as strange as the shoes, Wil- bur," said Haughton, and he looked curiously at Wilbur. "My wife wears a right hand glove like that. I'm positive, too, that she has never been near Baker's Landing." "Your wife!" "Yes. Her little finger on the right hand has been missing ever since a child. It was cut off in a lawn- mower." "I never noticed it." "You wouldn't, even with those hawk-eyes of yours. She is very sensitive about it and manages to keep it out of sight. I don't believe I've ever noticed it myself more than a couple of times. She wears Kayser gloves." "Well, that's coincidence number two. More cir- cumstantial evidence! It's certain there's another woman besides your wife who wears off her shoes in the same manner that she does. She evidently wears the same kind of peculiar right handed glove, that is, THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 55 providing your wife hasn't been in this neighbor- hood and dropped hers here inadvertently." Haughton wore a worried look. "I don't think she has ever been down here. I'm worried, Wilbur." "Well, don't worry, old fellow. Worry never did anyone any good," replied Wilbur with a slap on Jack's back. "The glove seems to be all there is of interest here except the presence of the prints. We'd best be going back to the ruins of the cottage and look that over before some of the early lake risers come along." "O.K." They trudged back to the smoldering mass that was once the Morley cottage. As yet there was no one snooping around it. It was light enough now to make a detailed examination. The structure above the ground was completely destroyed. All that remained was the basement. In it were smoldering pieces of woodwork; a mass of charred material which had once been siding, joints and uprights. As Wilbur surveyed it his keen eyes noted that there had been a singular bit of construction in regard to the floor- ing. It appeared that there had been a double floor. "That excites my imagination," said he as he called Jack's attention to his observation. "Why should a lake cottage be built with a double floor? Why a double floor like that in any place? If you will notice, Haughton, those two floors have been at least three feet apart, making a room, a closet, a hiding place or what have you. The construction was in- genious. When the building was standing I don't - 56 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE believe anyone would be able to detect the fact of the double flooring, despite the fact that there was a cellar. But why two floors?" "It might have been a soundproofing device, so that no one in the house could hear anything that was going on in the cellar." "Well, what might have been going on in the cellar?" "Counterfeiting! Gambling! A murder! What might be going on in anybody's basement in these days of prohibition? It might have been the 'Winegar woiks.'" "Quite so! The murder of Morley might have taken place there." "I said murder." "I said Morley's murder might have taken place there. But I don't think so. I don't take much to your soundproofing theory. I believe the space was created for some special purpose—a cache perhaps. The ground slopes gradually away from the level of the top flooring on all sides. The outside entrance to the cellar is some distance from the cellar wall and the ground is about three feet lower at that place. Coming into the cellar by that entrance one would think he was under the one and only floor to the cot- tage. Entering the cottage one would have no sus- picion of a second floor. I'll venture a guess that be- fore this cottage burned down there was a trap en- trance to the upper floor and a trap exit to the lower." "What could the space contain that it would be necessary to hide?" THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 57 "Oh, any number of things," replied Wilbur with a shrug. "We'll probably never find out." At this juncture Wilbur picked up a long pole which lay upon the ground and began poking about in the cellar debris, moving half consumed particles of timber to peer anxiously into the recesses he created by so doing. Jack watched his manoeuvers the while, keeping his eyes open for anything unusual that might be revealed. At one corner a section of both floors had caved into the cellar and had been only partially consumed by the flames. Wilbur shoved a mass of rubbish from the edge of this flooring and a ghastly sight was revealed. Protruding from the edge of the flooring were two human feet. "Another mystery! Another murder!" said Wilbur to Haughton as he exposed the gruesome sight. "There's the reason for the burning of the building." "Who can it be?" "I haven't the slightest idea. But whoever it is, it's a woman." "A woman?" "Sure, those feet are those of a woman." "What'll we do." "Get that body out and look it over before any- one else does. But how are we going to get it out? We can't raise that flooring without a great deal of time-consuming work. Anyhow it is too hot to get down in there yet." "I've an idea." "Spring it. You've always got the ideas." "I've a strong piece of rope in my cottage. We 58 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE can loop one end, slip the loop over the feet, tighten it up and pull the body out." "Bully! That's good. Get the rope." Haughton ran to his cottage, secured the rope and returned. They looped the rope and Wilbur lowered the loop to the protruding feet. Haughton guided the loop over the feet with the aid of the pole which Wilbur had been using. A pull on the rope tightened the loop. Then both men pulled on a line as much parallel to the body as was possible. Luckily the body was not pinioned between the two floors. It moved with the first pull. Slowly, more easily than they anticipated, the body issued from its hiding place between the two floors. "Let's pull her entirely out," suggested Wilbur. "We'll say we thought she might have some signs of life about her if the coroner says anything about it." Together they pulled again. Up came the body. Up, up it came. Finally they dragged it over the top of the cellar wall. It lay on the damp ground, a terrible looking spectacle. The body was burned badly. The clothing had been consumed by the flames and the form was entirely nude. "Go get something to throw over her," said Wilbur. Haughton dashed to his cottage and brought back a blanket which he spread over the corpse. "Terrible! Terrible!" said Wilbur. "The hair is all burned off and the face is charred almost as bad as some of those timbers. Does she resemble anyone you know? I mean of course her stature and general appearance. No one could recognize the face." THE MURDER COTTAGE BURNS 59 "It's no one that I know." "Maybe your wife might know her. Women usually scrutinize other women closely." "I'll call her. The sight of the body won't affect Alice." Haughton left to call his wife. While he was gone Wilbur took out a pad and pencil which he al- ways carried for just such an emergency. He knelt down by the corpse and noted everything he saw— jewelry, probable height and weight; probable age; the presence of any visible birthmark, wen, scar, mole, vaccination mark, blood or injury. He typed the head as to shape and form; made a note of a high forehead and prominent eyes, the latter's color. The ears which had almost escaped the effects of the flame he noted as having been pierced. The neck he de- scribed as short and thin with a large mole on the right side. Her form was jotted down as being an almost perfect thirty-six. He recorded her hands as being beautiful, the fingers long and tapering with well kept nails. He finished with some other general observations just as Haughton returned with Mrs. Haughton. Mrs. Haughton looked at the still form upon the ground and shuddered. "Yes, I believe I know her," said she. "I think it is Mrs. Morley." "Mrs. Morley?" said Wilbur, incredulous. "I can't say positively but I believe it is." 62 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE identified Mrs. Morley from her general appearance. An engraved wedding ring on her left hand made the identification complete. As in her husband's case a dentist identified her plates as having been made by himself. They were comparatively recent and bore a mark by which he identified his own work. Harmeson was questioned, as were Wilbur and Haughton, in the presence of a jury hastily assembled. A verdict of accidental death was rendered. After the verdict the undertaker LaVell placed the body of Mrs. Morley in a dead basket and removed it to his morgue. The morbidly curious milled about the ruins of the cottage. Wilbur and Haughton went to the latter's cottage. While Alice went ahead with her preparation of breakfast, the two men discussed the case further after the usual highball. "It was just as well that they delivered that verdict and removed the body," said Wilbur. "As soon as the excitement dies and the sightseers leave I want to examine that basement further. I don't believe Mrs. Morley burned up in that cottage ac- cidentally, although she might have. She could have come out there for the express purpose of burning the place up, saturated the rooms above, crawled into the space between the floors, saturated that, and then burned when the fire started accidentally before she was ready for it, but I don't believe it. Personally I think something happened to her before the fire. I think someone intended to cremate her." "Well, this happening proves one thing to my sat- isfaction," said Jack as he sipped at his highball. "It WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? 63 shows how incompetent officials are in criminal cases. And between you and me, it's a perfectly asinine system that permits a layman to be a coroner. God! If I was in the murdering business I wouldn't want any sweeter territory than a place where a layman was the coroner. They're incapable. The medical examiner system is the correct one. But try and tell this Anti-Saloon Leagued country anything outside of hair-trigger enforcement of the great American vassalage. Right now that death is explained to the complete satisfaction of the nincompoops by that slip-shod half-baked coroner. They're satisfied. But if they suspected that quart was sitting on the table there they'd have every officer in the country trying to find it and they'd keep on the job long after the contents was in headaches and purple parrots." "And did you see how they all looked at us when we told them an airplane took off from the lake?" "Yeah!" laughed Jack. "They've heard about fly- ing boats but don't believe one can fly. They thought we were kidding. They think the wheels would sink the fuselage. If you'd mention the word amphibian to them they'd think you were talking about a sea serpent. The way they looked us over I guess they thought we'd just lammed from the booby hatch." "And who was that hawk-faced fellow that kept snooping around the edge of the cellar all the time?" "Oh, that was Ambrose Fallows. The fellow with him was Webb Tully." "Aha!" exclaimed Wilbur. "Our little banker friends! I thought they were very much interested in 64 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE the remains of the cottage. Mrs. Morley's death didn't seem to interest them much.” "Maybe the cottage hadn't burned to suit them.” "Something about that cottage cellar engrossed them, that's sure. Well, so far we've two corpses, the imprints of some lady's shoes and a lady's glove. Oh, by the way did you tell Alice about the peculiar glove?" “Not yet.” “Alice!” said Wilbur. “Did you ever see this glove before?” Wilbur took the glove which he had picked up at Baker's Landing from his pocket and handed it to her. She examined it. "Why, of course," she replied. “That's one of mine." "One of yours?” said Jack. "Why, certainly, dear,” she replied. “Where'd you find it?" "Down by Baker's Landing," Jack answered. “Right where the plane took off. When were you down there?" "Why, I was never down there in my life!" she exclaimed in open-eyed astonishment. “Are you sure that's your glove?" asked Wilbur. "Take a look at your effects.” Alice left the room to inspect her supply of gloves. "You didn't see where her finger was missing when she examined the glove, did you?” Jack asked Wilbur. “I surely didn't.” "Well, you never will in the ordinary course of WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? 65 events. That's a regular sleight of hand trick with her." Alice returned carrying her gloves. The little fin- ger of the right handed ones were padded in exactly the same manner as the glove found on the lake shore. "I was mistaken," said she as she held out her gloves. "I have all of mine." Wilbur examined and compared the gloves. "Hum! Damn! Another coincidence! I'm losing my cunning or else I've been playing hunches all along. It looks as if Lady Luck had faced about too. Someone else has a right hand with the little finger missing. The most peculiar thing about it, though, is the fact that you and the other woman use the same identical kind of cushion to fill out the finger. Those cushions are all made of the same kind of silk." "Hum! That is perplexing," grunted Jack. "Well, talk it over at the table, boys," said Alice. "Breakfast is ready." They sat down to breakfast. "The glove affair and the shoe affair make me feel like a rank amateur," Wilbur remarked as he took a piece of toast. "If this thing keps on as it has I'll be playing with building blocks, cutting out paper dolls and riding in a kiddy kar. My clues are just like sailors' sweethearts. There's one in every port and they're all equally false. I think you were wrong when you said you thought I'd enjoy my vacation." "Oh, but you're hardly started," said Alice as she poured the coffee. "You only came last night. I think you've done remarkably well." 66 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Yes, I feel like a very celebrated criminologist," returned Wilbur with a laugh. "I'm good. Another murder has been committed right under my very nose. That's what I call rubbing it in. I wish I'd have crawled out of bed and gone over to that cottage when I saw the first flash of light. I might have saved that woman." "You might have," replied Jack as he squirted some grapefruit juice into his eye. "And then again that might have been the last time you'd have seen any light. And really, old dear, I don't believe you'd make a good cinder even though you are partially saturated with alcohol. Besides, it seems to me that these murderers hereabouts make really abominable looking corpses out of their victims. The Chicago method is much better, don't you think?—where they give you a sieve-like expression?" "Oh, Jack, behave yourself. We're eating break- fast," admonished Alice. "So we are," replied Jack. "Excuse me, honey." "Let's leave our further inspection of the cottage ruins until later," suggested Wilbur. "Didn't you say they intended to bury Morley today?" "That was the intention of the widow," replied Haughton. "But the way things have turned out I wouldn't be surprised that Morley's burial is off for today. It will probably be postponed in order that there may be a double funeral." "You'd better go down to Harmeson's after break- fast and telephone LaVell. He'll tell you if there's any change in the plans. You needn't tell him who 68 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE they found the heat not unbearable. Equipped with a long crowbar Wilbur began to explore the debris sys- tematically, turning over everything in sight. It was work, hard work, and consumed almost the entire forenoon. He watched carefully for clues as he did so. Haughton took his turn at the crowbar when Wil- bur tired. If system would unearth anything of im- portance they had it. Around the edge of the cellar above them a crowd of spectators looked down. At the point where the body of Mrs. Morley had lain, about six feet of the flooring remained unconsumed. It had fallen into the cellar, preserving the aperture between floors at the one end and narrowing at the other to an approximation of the two floors. It was in the V-shaped aperture so produced that the body had lain. "That's puzzling," said Wilbur, as he rested from his labor. "Did Mrs. Morley crawl into that floor compartment and accidently burn up? If so, why was she trying to burn up the cottage? Or was she killed and her body placed there by other hands? If she was killed why was she killed? What was the reason for the double floor? So far our search has revealed noth- ing to solve any of these questions. Get an axe, Jack, and we'll knock out this upper flooring." Jack procured an axe and together they battered out what remained of the upper flooring. This effort revealed nothing further about the death of Mrs. Morley but it did bring something to light that was interesting. Between the flooring along the far wall WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? 69 reposed several cases of liquor. Printed on the cases was the brand, "Coon Hollow." "There's the secret of the two floors!" exclaimed Wilbur as he broke a case open. "It's been a cache for liquor." "Pass it around," yelled some bystander who stood above them. "Morley's private stock, perhaps," said Haughton. "I don't think so," responded Wilbur. "The com- partment has been too large. Furthermore why should he keep it out here instead of in town at his residence if it was his private stock? The cottage has been unoccupied since last summer and a man would hardly leave such a large quantity out here to be taken by vandals. To tell you the truth, Haughton, this is not wholly unexpected by me for I have noticed much glass all through the debris. From the amount of glass I have noted I would imagine this secret hiding place was about half filled with those cases when the cottage burned." "You think Morley may have been involved in the illegal liquor traffic?" "I suspect as much." "That might be. It would furnish a motive for the murder of Morley and his wife." "I'll say! A perfectly good motive! He might have been tramping on someone's toes. He might not have split properly with someone he was in league with. And he might have been feared as 'a squawker.' If he was in the business there's any God's number of reasons why he might have been knocked off. When ■ THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE one gets into the great American business he soon finds out that it is highly competitive. A traitor in the liquor business is worse off than a spy in war. Let's dig around further. There's more that we must learn. Who was in this illegal business with Morley? There were others, that's sure. He worked in the bank and applied himself there closely. Someone else must have had charge of this business a part of the time. Do you suppose it might be Fallows, or Tully, or both? Remember they were very much interested in these ruins." Wilbur had spoken directly into Haughton's ear in a subdued tone so that the curious onlookers above them might not hear. "Something's rotten," replied Jack. "I've a hunch there's an exit out of this cellar besides the ones plainly evident. I'm going to sound out the walls." "That's a clever idea. Go ahead. I'll keep stirring this mess up while you do." Haughton began a methodical examination of the cellar walls and Wilbur continued to pick about in the dying embers. Jack had progressed about half way around the cellar when he suddenly called to Wilbur. "Come here!" said he. "I've found an exit." Wilbur approached him and Jack pointed to a spot in the wall. "Every one of those cement blocks comes out," Jack explained to Wilbur's amazement as he pointed to three tiers of blocks. "That's no plaster in between them. It's putty." He took his pen- knife and demonstrated the fact of the putty. WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? 71 "Clever camouflage! Damn clever!" said Wilbur. "Let's take the blocks out and see what we find." They removed the cement blocks which comprised the three tiers presumably cemented together. The blocks were still uncomfortably hot so the work was a bit tedious. After a time, though, they removed all of them and a doorway stood revealed which led into a recess of blackness. "Go get two of my guns, Jack," said Wilbur when the opening stood disclosed. "And bring a flashlight or two." When Jack returned with the flashlights and guns both men entered the door and disappeared. They found themselves within a corridor which was per- haps four feet wide with no visible end. Where it led to they had no idea, but with guns alert they went forward. Wilbur led the way, flashing his light upon the floor and walls. They took their time and ad- vanced cautiously. On and on the underground chan- nel went. "Stay close to the left wall," said Wilbur. "You'll notice footprints in the middle. They may prove of importance. Follow right behind me." "O.K." "It took a long time and a lot of work to put this over," Wilbur whispered as they went forward. "It wasn't tunneled out to satisfy a whim either. This thing was fashioned for a purpose. One might imagine this in a novel but to actually find it in the neighbor- hood of Summitville is almost beyond my compre- hension." 72 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "It almost proves Morley was engaged in some illicit traffic, either liquor or narcotics, maybe both. An underground affair like this can have but one meaning and that is certainly a sinister one," replied Jack. "It's a long thing. It doesn't seem to have any end. This was a job, if you ask me. Judging from the surface of the walls and the underfooting it's been used some time. Whatever the racket it's been going on for years." On and on they walked. Finally the end of the corridor appeared ahead. Both men ceased talking and stealthily approached. A door barred further progress. It was locked. "What'll we do?" asked Jack. "Step back a little," ordered Wilbur. "I'll shoot the lock out." He leveled his gun at the lock and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot reverberated down the underground passage. The door opened up without further difficulty. But another obstacle loomed. They stood facing a wall of concrete build- ing blocks. It was another wall the like of which was in the Morley cottage. They removed the blocks easily and stepped into the boat house at Baker's Landing. "Another proof of the connection between the flight of the aquaplane and the Morley murder," said Jack as he looked around him. "Undoubtedly," replied Wilbur, as he likewise cast his eyes about the room. "But what's it all about?" He strolled about the boathouse and examined the WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? 73 entire interior in his meticulous way. His eyes scanned the floor. "It's been scuffed from dragging something about, probably boxes," said he as he pointed to marks on the floor. "They've been dragged from the doorway." And then his eagle eye fell upon something lying upon the floor. He stooped and picked it up. It was a shank button covered with a blue serge material. He inspected it closely and passed it to Haughton. "Hold on to that," said he. "Put it away safely in your pocket." "It's only a button," observed Haughton. "I know that very well. But a man might burn on account of it. It's not an ordinary button. It's not a button with perforations. It's a shank button. Fur- thermore, it's covered with serge material. Whoever that button belongs to wears a blue serge suit. Do you see why it may be valuable?" "Yes, some one of the people we suspect may be wearing a blue serge suit which is minus a button." "That may be so and again it may not. We'll see. Who owns the boathouse?" "I don't know." "Well, that's something we'll have to find out." The boat house was combed for other evidences of occupation but no success attended the effort. "Well, that's that," said Wilbur who possessed the uncanny faculty of knowing when he had exhausted his resources. "Let's go back through the tunnel. There's no use going outside. We were all around this place this morning. While going back we'll give the 74 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE tunnel another once-over. I don't know why but I've a peculiar suspicion that those footprints we avoided coming down tell a story. Keep to the right." They entered the tunnel and Wilbur began to examine the footprints that were plainly visible in the center of the tunnel floor. "You are not anticipating any more lady slip- pers?" asked Haughton. "No," returned Wilbur. "The ground is too damp. But we might run across a cowslip. I'm fairly certain in my own mind that something slipped. Notice care- fully. There are two footprints. One set, the larger footprints, are coming down the tunnel from the direction of the cottage, and note—the man who made them came down twice. The other, the small footprints, are going toward the cottage. The person who made them went in that direction once and did not return." "Yes, I see that plainly." "I wish now I had taken the man's footprints at the beach. Anyhow I think I know enough. The large prints were made by a boot and unless I am greatly mistaken the same boot made the prints on the shore." "The aviator?" "Either the pilot or someone who was with him. That's important but I fancy I see in these large and small prints something that is more important. The door at the boathouse end of this passage was locked on the outside." "What's strange about that?" WHOSE FOOTPRINTS? 75 "My dear Haughton, there's nothing strange about it. The man going out locked the door on the outside, that's all. A man going toward the cottage couldn't lock it. The man making the small footprints never returned but the man making the big prints did." "It's too deep for me, Wilbur." "No, it's not, Jack. Use your eyes. Notice the im- prints. The man supposedly going out imprints his heel a great deal more than the man coming in, whereas the man coming in imprints his sole more than the man supposedly coming out. But that only holds for one set of the big prints." "I'm stumped." "No, you're not. Reason it out. They were both going in the same direction and were in this tunnel together. They were carrying something heavy." "Oh, I get you. The man making the big footprints was walking backward when he made one set of his tracks." "Correct. He came back alone, and locked the door on the outside. And what might these two men have been carrying?" "A corpse! Sure as hell." "Right again. Whose corpse?" "Mrs. Morley's." "No! No!" Wilbur said, almost in disgust. "Why not?" asked Jack. "Mrs. Morley had no button on her dress like that shank button. You can wager on that. And I don't believe you'll find any of the suspects wearing a blue serge suit that is minus a shank button." 76 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE “What's your idea?" "Continuing my reconstruction of what happened, I think two men carried Morley's dead body through this tunnel from the boat house to the cottage. His coat was buttoned tight when his body was brought into the boat house. The two men laid it down for some reason—rest or something. When they went to pick the body up again the blue serge covered button was torn off.” "Hum! Damn it, that's clever reasoning. I only hope you don't find that any of my shoes fit those big tracks. If mine do and the little ones run off on the heel of one and the sole of the other Alice and I are stuck." "Quit kidding. I'm reconstructing what actually happened. It sounds plausible, doesn't it?" “More than plausible. I'll bet that's what actually happened.” They finished the rest of the underground passage and came to the cottage end. They emerged. The group of curious onlookers was still present. “Do any of you know who owns the boat house at Baker's Landing?" asked Jack. "Sure-to-to-tootin'," stammered Buck Peters, a lake character. "It be-belonged to Mr. Mo Mor-Morley." "That settles that,” said Wilbur. “Let's go to your cottage, indulge freely just once and get busy again. I scent something big in this case.” CHAPTER IV A SHANK BUTTON 'The morbid throng had a good party while you were gone," was the greeting of Alice when they entered the cottage. "How's that?" asked Jack. "Someone of them climbed into the crematory and secured the cases of whiskey. They passed the bottles around and had a rousing good time. The sheriff hap- pened along, confiscated what was left and the song was ended for a time. Those who imbibed went down the lake road and from what I heard the melody lingers on." "Oh, the sheriff just happened along?" said Wilbur. Likely! I wouldn't be surprised that Ambrose Fal- lows sent him out with explicit directions to get the liquor." "Wonder why he didn't bother to see what we were doing in the tunnel?" pondered Jack. "He knew all about it, most likely," replied Wil- bur. "And figured we might as well have our fun. But I must say he is a charitable cuss to take the 77 A SHANK BUTTON 79 place to load out unobserved. From footprints in the tunnel it appears that two people carried something, we'll say it was a body, from the boathouse to the cottage. In the boathouse I found a coat button. That's the sum and substance of the knowledge we possess from a rather exhaustive examination of the cottage cellar, the tunnel and the boat- house." "Oh, I'm disappointed. That's not at all exciting." "It's not a great deal to be proud of," Wilbur ad- mitted. "But I feel certain that it is a beginning. The button, I believe, is important." Turning to Jack, Wilbur said, "Show her the button." "It looks just like an ordinary button to me," Alice commented, after she had examined the button. "It might belong to anyone." "That's just the point. I don't believe it is an ordi- nary button," Wilbur explained. "We'll see later about that. Didn't the coroner burn Morley's clothes when he found the body? Did you tell me that or did I read it in the paper?" "I told you," answered Jack as he wiped his face on a towel. "The coroner burned them up." "I wonder where he burned them. I hope he didn't do it in the cottage." "I don't imagine he did," Alice put in. "Most all that's ever in one of these cottages is a gas or kero- sene stove. I suspect he did it outside. There's a pile of ashes, a sort of refuse heap, behind the cottage." "Good! That sounds promising. I'm excited. Let's examine the ash pile. You know wool clothing doesn't A SHANK BUTTON 81 could furnish a number of motives in itself. And an- other suspect looms in place of Mrs. Morley: the next of kin. The uncle will inherit the entire Morley fortune. The uncle may have committed both mur- ders. I'm presupposing Mrs. Morley was murdered, of course." "There are many motives for Morley's murder," Wilbur replied. "They're all plausible. It's difficult to single one out which is more plausible than the other. Which one is most likely to connect Morley's murder with that of his wife? I surely think she was murdered. Why was she killed? Did she know too much? If she did what did her knowledge concern? Was it bootlegging, absconding, or something else? There's a number of unanswered questions. All I have definitely in mind at the present are the three shank buttons from the coat of Eugene Morley. I feel that this vicinity has given up about all the in- formation it can. Let's go back to the cottage, dress and drive to Summitville." At Haughton's cottage Wilbur and Jack shaved. They changed clothes and were soon on their way to the city of Summitville, that quiet unobtrusive place where Wilbur at first thought there could not pos- sibly be any crime. The run was made in quick order with Jack's high powered car. He parked it in front of the Citizens' Trust and they alighted. "We'll stay away from Ambrose Fallows and old man Tully for the moment at least," said Wilbur as they stood and decided their plans. "We've nothing on them at present and might get ourselves into 82 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE trouble. All we have is hearsay gossip which links them with this thing. That's all. Right now I think I want to interview the tailors. Those shank buttons are in my mind and they keep poking at my intellect. After the tailors I'm sure that I want to see LaVell." Wilbur looked up and down the main thorough- fare of Summitville, his eyes searching for a tailor's sign. Finally he spotted one. "There's a tailor," he said. "Felix Simon, the sign reads. The name sounds as if he might be rather fat and jovial, bench-legged and likable. Let's give him a call." "You're doing the detecting." "That has the earmarks of a nasty remark," said Wilbur as they started for Felix Simon's establish- ment. After climbing a flight of rickety stairs Wilbur and Haughton reached a landing from whence a maize of hallways led to lake real estate offices, dentists' torture chambers, beauty shops, insurance agents' hangouts and other offices one might expect the denizens of a small city to inhabit. After coursing these various hallways they came to a door which led into Mr. Simon's shop. They entered. Felix Simon, after the manner of his kind, sat cross-legged upon his bench. He was mending a pair of breeches which had been badly torn in a road house brawl. "Hello, gentlemen," said he. "What can I do for you? A nice suit? Beautiful patterns in the book. I'll make you a nice suit." "How's business, Felix?" asked Wilbur. A SHANK BUTTON 83 "Rotten, thanks! Al Hoover still does the presi- denting, the noble experiment has become nobler and the drouth—oh hell! Gott und Himmel, what's the use? Business! There must be a hell—business has gone somewhere." "I'm Mr. Wilbur, an investigator," said Lyman, with a laugh. "If business is so bad I'll probably not annoy you. And I really hate to annoy people when they are busy. I'd like to ask you a few questions which concern the death of Eugene Morley if I may." "Me? How should I know anything?" asked Felix in bewilderment. "The questions are not concerned about the actual murder. I wondered if you ever fashioned any clothes for the late Mr. Morley?" "For Mr. Morley!" exclaimed Felix. "Did I? I should say so and then some. I made all of Mr. Mor- ley's clothes. His death is a terrible loss to me. He was one of my best customers. Sure I made his clothes. They had to be tailor made. He was one of those few that remain who can't be fit by Hard, Shat- terem and Farce." "Fine," answered Wilbur. "You're just the man I'm looking for. Did you make a blue serge suit of clothes for Mr. Morley the coat buttons of which had shanks instead of eyes?" "Coat buttons with shanks? Me?" answered Felix in a tone of disgust. "Never! Always I use the but- tons with the holes in them. Mr. Morley never wore blue suits. For some reason or other he detested the color of blue. Many and many are the times I have CHAPTER V THE UNDERTAKER Pierre LaVell was what Wilbur described as "lousy." He never looked another man in the eyes. His demeanor showed him to be evasive, sly and cunning. "He'd cut his own mother's throat for a nickel," said Wilbur. "In the criminal world he'd be a 'rat.'" Further description of him would be super- fluous. He greeted Wilbur and Haughton with no great enthusiasm as they entered his funeral home. "As you no doubt have been informed, I am Lyman K. Wilbur, an investigator for the Bankers' Indemnity," said Wilbur by way of his introduc- tion. "And this is Mr. Haughton, a personal friend of mine." "Glad to know both of you," replied LaVell but his expression belied his words. "I have met both of you before, at the Morley cottage, I believe." "At the ruins of the cottage," Wilbur graciously corrected. "Quite right." "I am investigating the death of Mr. Morley, as 85 86 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE you have no doubt surmised. I understand you are the undertaker in charge of Mr. Morley's body, and also the county coroner," Wilbur went on. "Could I have a few words with you concerning the case?" "Most assuredly. Why not? Step inside." LaVell was trying to take the interview lightly. At his invi- tation Haughton and Wilbur entered the funeral home. LaVell showed them seats. He himself sat down after considerable purposeless movement. He was nervous despite an attempt to control himself. "Now, Mr. LaVell, I have been told that Mrs. Morley and yourself found the body of Eugene Mor- ley in the latter's cottage. Is that correct?" said Wilbur. "Quite correct," answered LaVell. "What was the occasion of this discovery?" "The disappearance of her husband had unnerved Mrs. Morley. She thought a residence at the cottage might help her to get hold of herself. The cottage had been unoccupied for a considerable length of time and of course Mrs. Morley wanted to clean it up before she occupied it. But on account of her hus- band's disappearance she was afraid to go there alone. Since I had been a close friend of the family, she asked me to accompany her, which I did." "What was she afraid of?" "I take it she was afraid of finding her husband's body there, as we unfortunately did." "The cottage, you say, had been unoccupied?" "Yes." "For how long?" THE UNDERTAKER 87 "All winter—since the last summer season." "Hadn't it been inspected several times with the idea that Morley's body might be there?" "Yes—in a way. Officers looked through the win- dows but such a search was of course perfunctory. The windows were nailed down on the inside, the doors locked and Mr. Morley had the only key. No one at that time felt he had the right to enter the cottage by force since there was no evidence that a crime had been committed. The cellar, which was entered through an outdoor entrance, was subjected to search and when one could see in every room through the windows and there was nothing unusual to be seen, no further attempt was made to enter the cottage. That's why. Mrs. Morley was not pressed for permission to enter the place." "If there was nothing seen at these examinations of the cottage prior to your discovery of the body, why was Mrs. Morley so afraid?" "I really don't know—a presentiment of what she would find, perhaps." "If Mr. Morley had the only key, how did you and Mrs. Morley intend to enter the cottage?" "She intended to break in." "Did she do that?" "No. When we arrived at the cottage we found one of the windows up. I entered through it and found Mr. Morley*s body in a bed in a terrible state of decomposition." "Were the doors locked?" "Yes." 88 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Rather strange that?" "We thought so," replied LaVell as he fidgeted a little. "Did you find the key to the cottage in Morley's clothes?" "No. The next day some children who were wad- ing in the lake found it." "That's rather strange, too, don't you think?" "I hadn't thought so." "Do you think a suicide would enter the cottage, lock the doors, open a window, go down to the lake, throw the key away and then crawl back through a window and kill himself? If he were that meticulous about the details of his death, don't you think he would have put the window down after he entered the cottage the second time—perhaps even nailed it again?" "I don't know. A man committing suicide might do anything. The very fact that he takes his own life is queer." "Did it occur to you that he might have been killed —murdered—and that his body was placed in the cottage? It seems to me the facts justify that con- clusion. Whoever placed his body in the cottage opened the doors with Morley's key and then placed the body in the cottage. They locked the doors while they were arranging the suicide stage. A window was raised—say on account of stench from the body. Or it might have been the intention of the murderers to close the window and then something frightened them at their task and they forgot it in their flight. THE UNDERTAKER 89 Going by the lake one of them realized that the incriminating evidence was upon him and threw the key into the lake. Is that likely?" "We thought of murder, gave it consideration, but there was no motive. There was a motive for a sui- cide. Morle/s peculations at the bank furnished that. He realized that the bank examiners were com- ing soon and that he would be discovered. Why, the gun that was found beside his body was one that had been in his cage at the bank for years. Granting that a few happenings are hardly compatible with suicide, we have all felt that the major factors pointed to it, however." "Have you the gun?" "Yes." "May I see it?" "Certainly." LaVell left them for a moment to return shortly with a revolver which he handed to Wilbur. The criminologist examined it closely. "It's a Colt .32 caliber," said Wilbur, as he broke it and examined the chambers. "This is the way it was when you found it?" He held the barrel toward the light and peered through it. As he did so he covertly removed two of the cartridges and con- cealed them in his hand. "It is as it was when it was picked up," answered LaVell. "There are two cartridges missing." "Oh no! Those are here—I mean the empty shells. I simply neglected to replace them in the gun." THE UNDERTAKER 9« a suit I had never seen him have on before, so the clothing gave no clue. Then there were scars upon his body, an operative scar on the abdomen espe- cially which his wife told me would clearly establish his identity." "Did you find the scars?" "No. When I had removed all of his clothing except the underwear I could go no further. The odor and condition of the body was so bad at that point that it was beyond human endurance and I desisted in the attempt." "What did you do with the clothing you took off?" "I burned it." "Why?" "It was of little consequence and was certainly something no one would like to lug around." "Where did you burn it?" "Am I to understand I am under a cross examina- tion?" "No, Mr. LaVell. I am only trying to get at a few facts. If you do not choose to answer my questions you need not. If you do not care to tell me where you burned the clothing, would you be kind enough to tell me what kind of a suit Mr. Morley had on at the time of his death? I believe you said he wore one you had never seen him wear." "It was a gray tweed." "LaVell, you're lying." "Well, if you know so much about it, why ask me?" Wilbur did not answer. Instead he reached in his 92 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE pocket and brought forth the shank buttons. He handed the one he had picked up in the boat house to LaVell. "Is that a button from Morley's blue serge suit?" he asked after a few moments of suspense. "It is not a button from the suit he had on when found dead," LaVell answered. "Well, possibly you're color blind. Maybe these other two buttons will freshen up your memory and give you more of an idea of color," said Wilbur as he passed the other two buttons to the undertaker. "I sifted these out of the ash pile behind what was once the cottage where you burned the clothing." LaVell looked at the evidence and laughed. "That's good! You're clever, Wilbur. Real clever! But I didn't burn the clothing behind the cottage. I burned it in the basement. I never saw these buttons nor any blue suit." "You're clever at answering questions also. Of course one could sift the contents of the cellar but I hardly think it necessary. Where is the corpse?" 'The corpse is in the morgue." "May I see it?" "No, sir. That is impossible. It is in an hermet- ically sealed casket." "My dear Mr. LaVell, you have been very courte- ous so far and I am sorry to cause any inconvenience but I must see the remains of the late Mr. Morley. Unless you desire to accommodate me I am afraid I shall have to invoke the aid of the court. I am going to view the remains. That is certain. Mr. THE UNDERTAKER 93 Morley, from evidence in my hands, did not die in a gray tweed suit. He was killed in a blue serge." "Sir!" said LaVell arising. "Do you mean to in- sinuate that I have lied? Do you mean to infer that I am in collusion with a murderer? Get out of my funeral parlors! Don't harass the dead. You won't in my place. You're positively insulting. Try and get a court to uphold you, you lowdown Keystone detective. You're funny! You can't come into this county and browbeat your way about. Men have been killed for less than you insinuate. They have hung people of your stripe around here. You insinu- ating pup!" "Now listen, Mr. LaVell," replied Wilbur. "Save your epithets for someone who will appreciate them. I've handled more murder cases than you ever dreamed of burying. I know what I'm doing. Now that you've asked me to secure court aid I'm going to tell you something. I'm going to do it. I'm not going to fool with any county court either, where a seventh grade attorney makes everyone say his prayers to the political harlot. I'm going clear over all of that. Besides a post mortem of Morley, I'm going to have one of Mrs. Morley. We'll see who holds the cards. I'm going to take Eugene Morley out of the forty-five dollar casket you have probably put him in and learn the truth. And get this: no lay coroner is going to do the job." Pierre LaVelle at that moment would have made an excellent model of the statue of Fear, as he clutched at himself, tried to be brave and put on a 94 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE front. But a culprit never has the stamina of an innocent man. He cringed, gulped and stammered. Haughton and Wilbur arose. “I am sorry, Mr. LaVell,” said Wilbur. “I must see the remains of Eugene Morley and intend to do so. Your trouble is my sorrow. I thank you deeply for every courtesy you have shown.” “Get the hell out of my funeral parlors," yelled LaVell. “I thank you,” Wilbur said once more. “We'll be seeing you." And then Lyman K. Wilbur left the funeral par- lors of Pierre LaVell with his friend Jack Haughton. CHAPTER VI "COON HOLLOW" "I am certainly going to leave no stones un- turned," Wilbur stated emphatically as he and Haughton left the funeral parlors. "I am going to have Eugene Morley posted. I am positive that a murder has been committed." "There's no doubt of it in my mind," answered Haughton. "What's the next move?" "I must secure permission to take Eugene Morley's body out of LaVell's casket." "How are you going about it?" "We must first find the Western Union office. I want to send a wire to the Governor. There's going to be action. The Bankers' Indemnity will see that there is. I'll wire them also and they will bear down on the Governor if it's necessary. No peanut poli- ticians are going to shunt my inquiry. It's not going to be hushed up. There will be no monkey wrenches thrown into the machinery. I'm going to the roots of this affair no matter how far I have to go." They climbed into Haughton's car, backed from 95 g6 the secret of the morgue the curbing and drove to the Western Union office. Telegrams were dispatched in order—one to the Gov- ernor and one to the Bankers' Indemnity. "That's that," said Wilbur as he dashed off the last word to the Indemnity company and paid for the wires. "Now I believe I want to interview Mr. Fallows—sort of a social call rather than a question- ing, just to get an insight into his character. You know where his office is, I presume." Haughton pulled his car up in front of the legal luminary's office a few moments later. "That is Mr. Blackstone's office," Jack remarked as he pointed to a front office in the second story of a frame building which was in a bad state of repair. "From the exterior you can readily perceive that he is one of the legal lights." They alighted from the car and sought Mr. Fal- lows' office. Now Ambrose Fallows' office was nothing to make even a common pettifogger feel jealous about. A long dusty table graced the reception room upon which were magazines of the year before. A few straight backed chairs sat in confusion about the room. Two overly filled chewing tobacco boxes served as spittoons and sat on the floor at either end of the table. The windows were dirty; the curtains frayed and full of coal smoke and dirty black cobwebs hung from the ceiling. There was a picture of Abraham Lincoln on one wall and another of Noah Webster on another. On some shelving in disorder were almost a score of law books, musty, moldy and antiquated. One could see by glancing around that Ambrose was "coon hollow" 97 a big bright example of a prosperous attorney—one who rarely needed counsel. He relied on personality. This he had. He could make a widow sign before the corpse was cold. He had a knack. His practice ran to the settlement of estates, difficulties, and divorce. He seldom took a case to court. "Settle out of court" was his good advice to all clients, and Ambrose nearly always managed to pocket the settlement. Into his office stepped Wilbur, closely followed by Haughton. A sallow faced maiden lady of at least forty summers met him. "Is Mr. Fallows in?" asked Wilbur. "Yes, sir," replied the lady who had crossed up in her mating period. "He's busy just at present." "Will he be engaged long?" "I don't think so. Won't you sit down and wait?" "Thanks." Wilbur and Haughton sat down in two of the straight backed chairs. The girl, or middle-aged woman, entered Fallows' private office. "You'd think she'd tidy this joint up a bit, wouldn't you?" asked Wilbur as he noted the room in detail. "These small town offices are all this way, I've noticed. It's an heritage of the past, I guess. You don't dare look too prosperous in a poor community. I don't believe old Fallows would permit it." The door opened into Fallows' private office and a tall well-dressed man came out. He cast a rather nasty look at the two men in the reception room and passed out. 98 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Who was that?" whispered Haughton. "Do you know him? He had a shoulder holster on. I got a squint at it." "Oh, Finlay!" Fallows called as he opened the door of his private office and looked out. There was no answer. "Guess he's gone," Fallows said and closed the door again. "I don't know the fellow personally but I've heard of him. I wouldn't have known if he hadn't called him," Jack whispered in answer to Wilbur's question. "It was Bob Finlay. He's supposed to be a rum runner." "Ho hum!" "He must have gotten into a jam." "Either that or else he just received his orders." The elderly miss came out of the office at this juncture. She glanced at them. "Mr. Fallows will see you now," said she. Wilbur and Haughton arose to enter Fallows' pri- vate office. "Be seated, gentlemen," importuned Fallows as he waved them to some chairs in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?" "Mr. Fallows, I am an investigator for the Bank- ers' Indemnity Company," said Wilbur and he turned to Jack. "This is Mr. Haughton, a personal friend of mine who is summering at Ramona Lake." "Glad to know you both," answered Fallows. "I would appreciate it very much if I could have a few words with you." Ambrose picked at his pince nei glasses, sucked in COON HOLLOW 99 his breath and answered, "All right What's on your mind, Mr. Wilbur?" "You are a director in the Citizens' Trust, I under- stand." "Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fallows. "A very trust- worthy institution." "When amply protected from absconders," Wilbur remarked pointedly. "We pay our premiums promptly." "Well, I don't care to discuss the solvency or insol- vency of your bank, Mr. Fallows. I am only inter- ested in it as it concerns the death of Eugene Morley. In spite of the suicide verdict I have made some discoveries which lead me to believe that Morley was murdered." "My dear man, you must be a super-sleuth. It seems to me it has been definitely proven that Morley committed suicide." "Definitely?" "It would appear to be a clearly established fact. The authorities have accepted the theory." "Well, Mr. Fallows, sometimes people call them- selves authorities when they are really doing the bidding of someone else. I have found officers of the law who owed obligations to others and who had to do as these other people dictated. I have just inter- viewed your coroner. He tells me that Eugene Morley had on a gray tweed suit when found. I have almost indisputable proof that he wore a blue serge." "Who said he had a gray suit on?" "Your coroner." IOO THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "He's wrong. He wore a blue suit the day he dis- appeared. I never saw him wear gray in my life." "How do you know?" "I saw him the day he disappeared. He wore a blue suit. I remember it clearly." "Well, someone is wrong. You tell me he wore a blue suit; LaVell tells me he had on a gray suit, and the tailor Felix Simon says that Morley had a deep aversion for blue and never wore the color. Of course I realize that he could have changed his mind about the color between the time of his disap- pearance and the discovery of his body. The color of the suit is of importance. But to get back to the death. I know Morley was killed. But who killed him?" "I don't believe it. No one killed him. He killed himself." "Well, you have it your way and I'll have it mine —until I prove that you are wrong. I'm not up here to argue. I just thought you might be able to help me a little on the case. Would you take a little nip of some good liquor with me, Mr. Fallows—just so we'll feel sociable?" "I never refused but once," replied Fallows, whose dry face actually gave way to a smile. "But I didn't understand the man's language." "How would a little Coon Hollow strike you, Mr. Fallows?" asked Jack as he produced a bottle from his hip pocket. "Coon Hollow!" exclaimed Fallows. "That's Cana- dian." 'coon hollow" 101 "Sure it's Canadian," answered Jack. "I got this from a revenue officer who is hot on the trail of bootleggers operating about here." "I'll take a small portion," said Fallows, as Jack poured a drink in the screw cup that fit over the cork of the bottle. "That's very good," said Fallows after the drink. "Nice and mellow." "I thought it was," answered Jack as he poured and passed a drink to Wilbur. "Are your county officers O.K.?" asked Wilbur after his swallow. "They're not liable to be mixed up in a liquor racket?" "Absolutely O.K.," Fallows answered. "Any officer in this county." "Well, tell me where all the Coon Hollow comes from in this county. It seems to be plentiful. One can get it most any place. Morley's cottage was loaded with this stuff." "What?" "Eugene Morley's cottage was loaded with Coon Hollow. Besides that, there is a secret passage from the Morley cottage to the boat house at Baker's Landing. It looks very much as if Morley and some other people were illicitly trafficking in liquor." Wilbur watched Fallows closely, expecting him to betray himself by some facial expression. The law- yer disappointed him, however, and never so much as batted an eye. His flinty face remained immobile. "What you tell me is of interest," Fallows replied. 102 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Somehow I have always felt that Morley was en- gaged in an illicit business. If he was murdered it was probably done by someone who was interested with him in that business." "You may be correct," replied Wilbur. "Morley was not a lone wolf." "Well, I am certain I can shed no light upon the subject." "Isn't it a fact that you are sort of a political czar in these parts?" "Oh, I don't know. That's been said. But really I haven't any power. I'm in politics, of course, but— well, anyone gets a kick out of it." "Doesn't it seem strange to you that Morley could operate with impunity over a long period of time without local protection?" "If he did, yes. But I reckon it could be done. You know we country cusses aren't as suspicious as you city fellows." "You're very intimate with Mr. Tully, aren't you?" "Oh yes! I probably know Webb as well as anyone. I've been associated with him in business most of my life." "Do you know anything about his financial con- dition?" "He's pretty well off." "Wasn't he in the hole pretty much a couple of years ago?" "I guess he was. The casket business was pretty rotten for a while." "coon hollow" 103 "It picked up in rather a startling fashion, didn't it?" "The business suddenly took on a phenomenal growth. It grew by leaps and bounds. I've a little stock in the company so I happen to know the inside." "I suppose LaVell buys his caskets direct from Tully, doesn't he?" asked Wilbur drily. "He'd hardly buy out of town," replied Fallows, unmoved by Wilbur's question. "Would you have another drink of Coon Hollow?" asked Wilbur and turning to Jack said, "Pass the drinks." Fallows took the drink which Jack poured, held it toward the light a moment from habit and then drank it. "Would you say that was genuine or a clever fake?" asked Wilbur. "It tastes genuine," replied Fallows. "Though one never knows these days. Labels and bottles are dupli- cated very easily." As he spoke, the poker face of Ambrose Fallows never changed in expression. Wilbur had gained little if anything from his interview. Fallows was not a man to be easily trapped. Wilbur ceased to point any further remarks at the liquor business and returned to the subject of Morley. "You say that Mr. Morley wore a blue serge suit the day he disappeared?" "As I remember it," replied Fallows who was astute enough to cover up any slip which he might 104 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE have made. "Of course it is possible that he wore gray." "But I thought you said your attention was called to the blue serge. Didn't you say that you remem- bered it clearly?" "Perhaps I did say that and perhaps I was wrong. You know and I know from contact with cases that no two men will give the same account of anything. It's that way with Morley's wearing apparel. I re- member it as blue, the coroner as a gray. It's quite possible that the man wore neither color. He might have worn a brown suit." "Memories are very deceptive," Wilbur replied. "Both you and LaVell saw the clothing Morley had on when last seen alive. You say he wore blue and LaVell says he wore gray. Felix Simon, the tailor, says he never wore blue. I know there was a blue suit on his dead body when it was found. Stick to the blue, Mr. Fallows. It was a very good guess." "Somebody is wrong." "Somebody is right. However I'll take up no more of your time. I'm very glad to have met you and will see more of you," said Wilbur as he terminated the interview. On the street again Wilbur spoke to Haughton. "Not much out of Fallows," said he. "I didn't expect anything. I really wanted to study the man. I think I have a very good idea of him too. He'll bear watch- ing. He measured his words carefully before speak- ing. The blue suit worries him. He said blue in the first place to agree with me. Later, after the liquor "coon hollow" 105 questioning, he became suspicious of everything and hedged on the color. His actions tell me that he knows more than he has told or will tell. The undertaker knows more than Fallows. This murder is a whole lot bigger than it appears on the surface. Now let's go to the Citizens' Trust. After seeing Fallows I feel I'd like to get an impression of Tully." Together they entered the Citizens' Trust. Mr. Tully was cooped up within an enclosure, and a brass sign upon a flat top desk proclaimed the fact that the occupant was Webb Tully, the bank's president. Mr. Tully was unoccupied when they entered and Wilbur passed through a low swinging gate into the president's place of conference, closely followed by Haughton. "I am Mr. Wilbur, an investigator for the Bankers' Indemnity," said Wilbur and he immediately laid his credentials upon Mr. Tully's desk. "I'm investigating the Morley case." "Oh yes," returned Tully as he drew up two chairs. "Mr. Fallows just telephoned that you were in the city. Won't you sit down?" "This is Mr. Haughton," said Wilbur. "I'm very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Haughton," said he as he shook hands with Jack. "Now, Mr. Tully," Wilbur began after seating himself. "Just what can you tell me about the Morley case?" "A dreadfully unfortunate thing," replied Tully. "And his wife's death, too. Her death was really “COON HOLLOW" 107 "Hum! That's interesting," replied Wilbur. “It's a motive for Mrs. Morley's murder. And you say the Morleys had no other living relative?” "None whatever.” “Hum! Well, Mr. Tully, there seems to be a great number of strange happenings connected with this case or cases. Did you ever know that Eugene Morley was interested in the traffic of illegal liquor?" "No, sir! It seems impossible. He applied himself to the bank too closely." "I won't contradict you on that score. The evi- dence proves conclusively that his application was perfect,” laughed Wilbur. “But nevertheless he was in the great American business clear up to his neck." "I can't believe it.” Wilbur then told Tully of his discovery of the liquor cache and the tunnel. He watched the banker's reaction to his account closely. He was confident after his recital that Tully was uneasy. "You're interested outside of the bank, aren't you, Mr. Tully?" the criminologist went on. “Oh, in a number of things." “How's the casket business?" “Better,” replied Tully with a grin. “The home undertaker bought two, you must remember.” "I'm serious, Mr. Tully. The casket business is very good, isn't it?" Webb Tully hardly knew how to take Wilbur. He was very uneasy. “Oh, it's very good, Mr. Wilbur," Tully replied. 108 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "It's a great deal better than it was a couple of years ago?" "Oh, much better. You must know that I almost failed two years ago." "I believe someone did mention that fact. You've a wonderful new home, haven't you—a Rolls-Royce and independence now?" "Yes, a kind of shack. Real nice, but you know how people exaggerate." "A man in my business always notices how people talk. The casket business must have become a bonanza." "A very good investment after the usual manufac- turers' vicissitudes," replied Tully as he passed a box of cigars which he pulled from a desk drawer. "No, thanks," replied Wilbur. "But I would ap- preciate it greatly if you could tell me where I could get some real good bonded liquor. My tongue is about to flatten out upon the floor." "I wouldn't know where to procure any, I am sure," replied Tully as he replaced the box of cigars after Jack had also declined to take one. "I understand there's plenty of the other kind—moonshine and the like." "You wouldn't know where I could get some Coon Hollow?" Wilbur watched Tully closely. "I don't know where you could procure a drop of good or indifferent liquor," replied Tully and Wil- bur's close scrutiny of the man revealed nothing. "I don't use the stuff myself." "You don't know anything more concerning Mor- ley—anything which might aid me in this case?" "coon hollow" 109 "I don't know that I do. Morley committed suicide and the money vanished. That's really about all the information anyone possesses. Up to the time of his disappearance the cashier had the respect of every- one. We never suspected him of any wrongdoing. It's a strange case." "Well, for the argument's sake we'll grant that Morley did commit suicide. How do you explain the death of Mrs. Morley and the disappearance of the insurance money?" "Her death was accidental. The money probably burned up with her clothing." "Do you think a woman would go to that cottage at a late hour of night carrying fifty thousand dollars?" "She might. Women do peculiar things. As a banker I have noticed they are far from being careful with money—especially insurance money." "It's my theory that someone killed them both. Whoever killed Morley killed his wife." "You still believe it is murder?" "Most assuredly. There's something else that I wanted to ask you about. I almost forgot it. Do you recall the color of the suit Morley wore the day he disappeared?" "Let me think!" replied Tully and after a few moments he said, "As I recall it he had on a gray suit. I'm almost positive of that." "Gray? It wasn't blue?" "Oh no, it couldn't have been blue. Morley had an aversion to blue. I don't believe I ever saw him wear a blue suit." 110 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "That's what his tailor told me," replied Wilbur as he showed the three shank buttons to Mr. Tully and explained, "Those buttons were on Morley's clothes when he died." Tully picked the buttons up and examined them. "Well, they may have come from the suit that Morley had on when he died, but I doubt it," said Tully as he handed the buttons back to Wilbur. "I've known Morley ever since he came to Summitville and I never saw him wear a blue suit. He was partial to gray. You'll notice such peculiarities in a man when you're closely associated with him day in and day out, year in and year out." "Thanks, Mr. Tully, for your information," said Wilbur as he and Jack arose. "I don't believe you can aid me any more than you have. I surely appreci- ate what you have told me." "Don't mention it. Good-by, gentlemen," replied Tully. "Don't hesitate to see me again if there's any- thing I can do to help you." Leaving the Citizens' Trust Jack was the first to speak. "Not much satisfaction there," said he. "Not much! And I'm beginning to wonder if the button clue isn't one of those numerous false clues that slip into a murder case. I've about lost my con- fidence in it. The tailor and Tully both say Morley would not wear a blue suit. LaVell and Tully say he wore gray. Fallows says he wore a blue suit the day he disappeared. I'm certain the lawyer was just at- tempting to agree with me, though. And why should he? That looks suspicious. Tully knows more than I 12 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE after we get through with Morley's body. Don't let me forget it. It's a hunch, nothing more, but it wouldn't surprise me to learn that Mrs. Morley re- ceived a subtle poison in a glass of Coon Hollow." "That's an idea. But who would do it?" "Just who would do that, most likely, knowing what you do?" "Pierre LaVell. He was out here with Mrs. Morley when the body of Morley was found and he was the last one to see her the night or morning she died." "Who else?" "Ambrose Fallows." "Right again. You really do have ideas. There's nothing directly against Fallows but I can see you feel the same about him as I do." "LaVell is the key." "And now going back to those puzzling shoeprints. Whom has your wife been intimate enough with—to the extent that they could ascertain the fact that she wears her shoes off as she does?" "God, Wilbur, I don't know. She's not been that intimate with anyone that I know of. And how any- one could duplicate her glove I haven't even the remotest idea. There's that damned coincidence again." "I don't think it is a coincidence. I think there is only one woman who wears her shoes off that way." "You can't—you don't mean that Alice?" "No, no. Hell, no!" "But—I don't get you." "Don't try to, Jack. This is too deep for a layman. "coon hollow" 113 The game is too intricate. It may be too big for a criminologist. Let's go down to the Western Union office and see if there is any word for me. Forget the shoes and the glove." "All right, Wilbur," Jack answered. "But you're away ahead of me. I don't know any more about it than I do about a game of chess and I can't tell a knight from a pawn." At the Western Union office Wilbur found an an- swer to his wire. The necessary authority would be forthcoming to perform a post mortem upon Eugene Morley. A representative of the state commission of safety would be in Summitville the next morning as an aid also. The criminologist read the telegram and expressed his satisfaction. "Now our good friend LaVell may cry and sob," said he as he pocketed the wire. "We'll be able to view the results of his handiwork. I think it will be interesting. And now is there anything else that we want to do before returning to the cottage?" "It's all up to you. I've no grasp of this affair at all," replied Haughton. "I'm entirely different," returned Wilbur. "I've more grasps than an octopus but I don't know which grasp is correct. I think of several things to do but we'll pass them up until something further develops. I have found that if you go too fast in one of these murder things you get twisted up terribly, whereas a slow deliberate pace is conducive to results. We'd better go out to the cottage. I'll try and digest what I have assimilated." CHAPTER VII DYNAMITE! After securing the groceries which Alice had noted as necessary upon a piece of paper, Wilbur and Haughton climbed into Jack's machine. They headed down Main Street and turned right upon the road which led to Ramona Lake. As they passed the office of lawyer Fallows, Wilbur looked upward. The hawklike features of the Summitville attorney were peering out of a window. To Wilbur it appeared that he was watching their course out of town. There seemed to be a sardonic grin on his wizened face. Or was he mistaken? Beyond the city limits Jack stepped on the accel- erator. The machine shot forward until the index of the speedometer pointed to sixty odd miles per hour. The minds of both men were on the mystery. Wil- bur's more than Jack's. They were probably out five miles from Summitville and approaching the bridge which spanned the Prairie River when Jack suddenly put on the brakes. Those mechanical devices fairly screamed. The car swerved right and left. Wilbur 114 dynamite! i«5 pitched forward and grabbed the edge of the door tightly. "What the ?" cried Wilbur and then as the car finally came to a stop without overturning, Jack said, "Look ahead! God, that was close!" * Wilbur straightened back in his seat and looked ahead. There was no bridge across the Prairie River. They both alighted from the machine and walked to the edge of the river where one end of the bridge had rested. The bridge structure lay in the stream, a twisted mass of wreckage. "Dynamite!" exclaimed Wilbur after a casual in- spection. "I thought I heard a detonation just after we left Summitville but your motor was purring so loudly I wasn't sure." "That was for our benefit. Whoever did it knows how I drive. They figured we would go hurtling into the river," replied Jack. "There's not a soul here yet, so it couldn't have been so long ago." "It makes me anxious about Alice." "Hum! I never thought of that. And this might not have been done to kill us, come to think of it. It might have been done to delay us. After doing this they wouldn't stop when it came to harming her. The murderers around here seem to have no com- punction about killing a woman. Turn around. How far is it to the lake now?" "The other way around it is all of fifteen miles." "Well, let's go! Step on it. God knows when any- one will be coming from Ramona Lake who might dynamite! 117 get you and me. Either that or it was blown up to delay us." "Don't take it too seriously, old man," answered Wilbur. "Wait until we find out. I think Alice is safe and sound." Jack was not so sure, however. "Well, if someone was clever enough to point the finger of suspicion at her through a pair of shoes they might be clever enough to do something else. Hell, but this car is slow," he said. Wilbur looked at the speedometer. It was doing seventy-eight miles an hour. Jack was taking curves at almost top speed, making turns at an ungodly rate, and doing a reckless job of driving. "Yes, it's crawling," replied Wilbur. "If you keep the speed you are now going you will do exactly what the destroyers hoped that the removal of the bridge would do." "I guess you're right," said Jack as he slowed his pace. "That's more like it." The register dropped from seventy-eight miles an hour to forty-five. "We're getting close anyhow," said Jack. "And from here on there's plenty of turns. This is the lake road now." They soon passed Bakers Landing, coming in as they did by another route. A few moments later they pulled up in front of Haughton's cottage. There was no sign of life about and Alice never failed to meet Il8 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE Jack whenever he arrived. They hopped out in less time than it takes to tell it and made for the front door. It was locked. "Good God!" cried Jack as he knocked loudly. "Alice! Alice!" There was no answer. "Let's go to the back," Jack suggested. "No!" an- swered Wilbur and with one smash of his fist he broke the glass in the front door. Not waiting to reach inside and turn the key they climbed in through the broken glass door. "Alice! Alice!" cried Jack as they ran from room to room. There was no answer from her. Every room was searched. There was no trace of her. "God, this is terrible, Wilbur," said Haughton as he sank into a kitchen chair. "Get me a drink. The bottle's in the cupboard." Wilbur procured the bottle and gave Jack a drink. "Don't go on so, old man," he cautioned. "Don't get panicky. Maybe she just stepped out. Maybe she's gone to one of the neighboring cottages." Wilbur poured himself a drink. He needed it. He wasn't so sure about the disappearance of Alice. The thing might have a nasty angle. He hadn't forgotten the shoes and gloves. But the object! "She never leaves the cottage except when she is with me," Jack answered. "Something is wrong." "Well, anyhow, pull yourself together. Let's look around again and make sure she isn't here. Then we'll go outside and make some inquiry. We'll cover every cottage on the lake. She might have taken a DYNAMITE! HQ notion to explore the tunnel. Maybe she went fishing." "No, she cares nothing for the sport." "Well, never worry, she'll turn up." They searched the cottage thoroughly again. "Yoo hoo!" a voice called from the outside just as they finished. Jack ran to the window and looked out. Coming up the road from the direction of Bakers Landing was Alice. "Here she comes," yelled Jack. He and Wilbur went out on the cottage porch. It was a great relief to see her. "You're a couple of fine gentlemen," said she as she approached them. "I yelled myself hoarse when you passed Bakers Landing but you wouldn't pay the least attention." "Sorry, but we didn't hear you," replied Jack. "Where on earth have you been? We've been worried sick. Someone blew up the bridge over the Prairie River and we had to detour. We came mighty near piling up in the river. We thought it might have been done to hold us up so the scoundrels that have offici- ated in these murders might harm you. When we arrived and you were not here you can imagine all the terrible things we thought." "It was lonesome around here. And having you two around all the time made me detective minded. I just thought I'd stroll about a bit and see what I could pick up in the way of evidence." "Any luck, Mrs. Haughton?" asked Wilbur. "Well, I don't know," she replied, as she brought 120 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE a hand forward which she had held behind her back. "But I found this lying in the grass near Bakers Landing." Her hand held a .32 caliber Smith and Wesson re- volver which she grasped at the end of the barrel. "Oh God!" exclaimed Wilbur. "You didn't han- dle it?" "Say, what kind of a dumb dick do you think I am?" asked Alice. "I suppose you think I've been playing with it, seeing whether it will fit my hand, or shooting it off. There's one thing I will say; it's not a coincidence. I didn't touch it except at the end of the barrel. Otherwise it's just as I found it." "Great!" exclaimed Wilbur as she carefully trans- ferred the weapon to his hands. "You're immense, Alice. Let's go. Get my paraphernalia out of my grip, Jack, and we'll go to work. We'll get the prints if there's any on it and after that we'll examine the gun." All three trooped into the cottage. Jack laid out all of Wilbur's fingerprint material and Wilbur pro- ceeded to take the prints. In no great time he secured what prints were on the handle. "Well, there are the prints," said Wilbur as he finished. "I don't know whose they are but we have them in case we need them. Now I'll examine the gun." Wilbur broke the weapon and removed the shells. Two had been fired. "That complicates matters," he remarked. "Or else it makes the job easier." DYNAMITE! 121 He held the gun toward the light and looked down the barrel. "Hum!" said he. "Right offhand I'd say this gun was fired at about the same time that the gun LaVell has was fired. I've got so used to the appearances that I don't even have to use a 'helixometer' any more." Looking up at Alice, he explained, "A helix- ometer is a periscopic tube and an arrangement by which the gun can be advanced and the tube rotated at the same time, enabling an examiner to cover the entire inside of a gun barrel as though he were look- ing directly at it. He can thus study the fouling, rust or whatever may be within the barrel. If my con- jecture is true we have quite a little mess on our hands." Wilbur examined the shells next. Two had been fired. "Two fired as in the gun which LaVell has!" he exclaimed as he picked up the gun again, suddenly examined it and remarked further, "The numbers have been filed off. A damn clever crook owned it. The gun didn't belong to an honest individual, that's sure, for honest individuals don't mutilate their weapons in that manner." Laying one of the unfired shells from the gun which Alice had picked up aside, Wilbur dug deep in his pocket and pulled forth another. As he laid this shell beside the other one on the kitchen table he remarked, "I did a little sleight of hand performance at LaVell's undertaking establishment today and filched this cartridge from the gun which is sup- posed to have shot the bullets which killed Morley." 122 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE The two cartridges lying side by side looked iden- tical. "Both have been made by the Peters Arms Company," said Wilbur. "They are alike, aren't they?" asked Jack. "That ought to tell a tale." "Not if they are alike," replied Wilbur. "I'm not at all sure that they are. In fact I hope they are not alike. We'll see." Thereupon Wilbur took the lead noses from the cartridges and dumped the contents of the cartridges upon the table. "Hum! Damn!" exclaimed Alice, and then collect- ing herself asked pardon for the assumption of Wil- bur's pet expression. "You see it, eh?" he asked. "Sure I do," replied Alice. "You'd make an excellent detective." "What is it?" asked Jack as he looked dumbly at the small piles of shell contents. "The powder!" cried Alice. "You dumbkopf." "Oh yeah!" "Sure!" exclaimed Wilbur as he pointed to each pile of powder in turn. "The cartridge from the gun which is supposed to have been used by Morley in the suicide is loaded with Ballistite smokeless powder. The • cartridge from the gun which Alice found is loaded with black powder." "I see it now. Well! Isn't that hot!" exclaimed Jack as he noticed the difference. "God, I'd never make a detective in a thousand years. I'm too slow." "That's something. Don't think it isn't," replied dynamite! 123 Wilbur and casting his eyes towards Alice he added, "And but for you we wouldn't know it." "Well, how about a little Coon Hollow for a change?" asked Jack. CHAPTER VIII GUN PLAY The rest of the day wore on. The trio in the cottage forgot the tragedies at Ramona Lake and indulged in a little recreation. They took a rowboat which Jack had acquired with his purchase of the cottage and went fishing. Alice rowed while Wilbur and Jack cast for bass. The day was a perfect one for a person with a president's tendencies. The bass had received no inhibition from the lake happenings and struck hard and frequently. As a result they returned to the cottage at dusk, the possessors of a fine fry. After the criminologist and Haughton had cleaned them, Alice did a fine job of frying. They sat down to their supper with a fisherman's appetite and proceeded to clean the platter. "That dynamiting of the bridge preys on my mind, Wilbur," Jack finally remarked after appeasing his appetite with a third helping of fish. "That was meant for us." "Oh, my dear boy," answered Alice. "Just as my absence from the cottage meant harm had befallen 124 GUN PLAY 125 me. You are murder-case conscious. Everything that occurs from now on will have" some connection with the Morley case, I suppose. It's a wonder to me you haven't supposed that the fish tasted funny—that they were poisoned for you and struck at your bait just because the Morley killers told them to. Come out of it." "It's silly, I guess," Jack answered. "Maybe I am jumpy, but when one gets that way what can one do?" "Buck up and forget it," replied Wilbur as he separated the bones from a piece of fish meat. "I know how you feel, though. I used to be that way a good deal and even get that way at times yet. You're jumpy, as you say. On a hard case shadows look like men to me, and men like shadows, and finally I get so bad that I imagine everything that happens has a bearing on the case I'm working on. It's nerves. You get over that largely in time but never entirely. The dynamiting of the bridge is probably as far away from the Morley case as Mars is from the earth. I still think it's a contractor's way of getting even with commissioners who wouldn't give him a break." "It isn't being jumpy at all if you ask me," said Alice. "It's just too much Coon Hollow." "All right, you two," replied Jack. "I'll get even with you. I've got one of my hunches. You'll find out I wasn't jumpy and that I didn't have too much Coon Hollow." Wilbur was about to lift a forkful of fish meat to his mouth when there was a crash. The north window 126 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE of the kitchen shattered into a million pieces and the light above the table went out. "Drop to the floor quick," warned Wilbur. "Where are the guns, Jack?" "Damn stupid, I'll say. They're in the other room on the table. I told you so," said Jack as he dropped to the floor. "Lie still!" commanded Wilbur as he wriggled like a snake into the living-room. As he did so four or five more shots entered the kitchen from all angles. Wilbur secured the guns, crawled back and gave one to Jack. "Come on!" said he. "Let's go!" Directing his con- versation to Alice he cautioned, "Stay where you are, Alice, and don't move." By stealth Wilbur and Haughton left the kitchen by a rear door and edged their way around the south side of the cottage. They approached the front of the cottage in the shadow of the building. Gaining that perspective, Wilbur looked around a corner and saw a fleeing form close by the lake going down the lake road toward Bakers Landing. He leveled his revolver at the fleeing figure and fired. "Come on Jack! There he goes," said he as he dashed forth from the cover of the cottage. Jack followed. The two had traversed about the first thirty feet in front of the cottage when a gun barked be- hind them. "Down! Down 1" shrieked Wilbur as the man who was fleeing down the lake road turned to fire. "We're pocketed." GUN PLAY 127 Both of them fell prone. As Wilbur turned and twisted to find out where the shots came from in the rear, he saw that the firing was coming from the cellar of the Morley cottage. He saw a flash, raised his gun to aim at the spot where the flash came from but did not fire. A burst of flame issued from the Haughton cottage. "Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!" came the staccato bark from Haughton's cottage. Silence, and then a lone return shot came from the basement of the Mor- ley cottage. A well directed shot from Wilbur to- wards the flash in the Morley cellar silenced every- thing. All the firing ceased. Slowly, carefully, Wilbur and Haughton made their way back to the cottage around the south side. They reentered it. Alice was standing a few feet from the window, doubled up, supporting her right arm. In her right hand she held an automatic. "Are you hurt, Alice?" asked Wilbur, who entered first and noted her position. "Slightly," she replied. "Not much though. That last shot from the cellar got me in the arm." "Come in the bedroom," said Jack. "Let's see it." Jack took her into the bedroom where he could safely turn a light on. Wilbur remained on guard in the darkened kitchen. Jack closed the door, turned on the light and found with much relief that his wife's injury was only a flesh wound. No bones were broken. It bled profusely but that was all right. He cleaned it up and flooded the puncture with mercurochrome and covered it with sterile gauze and a bandage. GUN PLAY 129 "The fiends that are doing all this devilish work will stop at nothing. They're gone now, but when darkness comes in earnest and when they think vigilance has been relaxed they will appear again. It is their intention to annihilate us if they can. We evidently know too much." "What do you suggest that we do?" "Well, I suggest that we pack up our evidence and whatever you have of value and go to the Summit- ville House. We've got to go to Summitville anyhow so that Alice can receive medical attention." "That's a splendid idea." "Sure it's a good idea. We could watch all night and perhaps outsmart anyone who attempted to get in the cottage. We might forestall any serious shoot- ing. But dynamite, nitroglycerine or pineapples could be hurled at us. There is ample evidence that we will be done away with if the thing is possible." "Hadn't I better slip out and report this to the sheriff?" asked Jack. "A waste of breath if you ask me," replied Wilbur. "It's probably already been done. That shooting was heard all up and down the lake. If the sheriff knew about it he'd only make a perfunctory examination and call the incident closed. No! Let it pass as an incident." "Who was it?" "I don't know. I'd like to examine those footprints along the lake but it's out of the question. It is too hazardous. I won't be able to do it in the morning either for I'll be too busy with LaVell." 130 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Well, if we are going let's get busy," said Jack. "You get your evidence and paraphernalia together while I pack up our important belongings." It was barely an hour until the Haughtons and Wilbur were ready to abdicate the Haughton cottage on Ramona Lake. The grips, packages and essential articles were surreptitiously placed in the automobile under the cloak of darkness. The latter had fallen fast. With guns alert, they escorted Alice to the car and helped her inside. Jack climbed in behind the wheel and started the motor. It sounded like a train on the still night air. Wilbur jumped in beside Jack as the big car started down the short lane which led from the cottage to the lake road. "Don't turn your lights on until you're on the lake road," Wilbur cautioned Jack. "And don't go toward Bakers Landing. It may be thirty miles to Summitville this way since the bridge is out but what matter? If we went toward the landing we might be ambushed since our attackers fled in that direc- tion. Take it easy too. There might be another bridge out." Jack made the lake road without any difficulty and turned to the left. He could follow the lake road without lights by driving slowly. This he did for a distance of a mile or so. "I think you can safely turn the lights on now," said Wilbur. "We're quite a way from the cot- tage, no one seems to be following us and there's nothing to indicate that this escape has been watched." GUN PLAY Jack flashed on the lights and accelerated the car. Everyone felt easy at last. "It's a long way to Summitville," said Jack as he lit a cigarette. "Never mind. I'm constrained to believe the route would be too short had we gone by way of Bakers Landing," replied Wilbur. "Oh yes, Lyman," said Jack. "I'd like to ask a question. Have you changed your mind about the Prairie River bridge, or do you still think that con- tractor is nursing his grudge?" "No, I'm forced to believe that someone thinks dead men tell no tales." "Well, things are getting exciting. You can't say that we don't have our little moments down here." "And how!" They sped along at a moderate rate of speed. The hum of the motor, the night air—everything was tranquil. And then all of a sudden there was a reverberation—a "boom" behind them. Wilbur leaned out of the car and looked back. "There it went! The cottage!" said he. "They've blown it up. God! We just escaped in time." "Oh!" shuddered Alice. "If it was to be there's no use in crying over spilled milk," said Jack philosophically. "The dump didn't cost a fortune. Even if it wasn't insured, we are still alive. We should worry." A few moments later Haughton headed the car eastward. All three could now see a lurid flame leap- ing skyward back on Ramona Lake. 132 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE “Oh say, did you bring the Coon Hollow?" asked Wilbur. "Didn't I tell you I'd pack up all of our important belongings?" answered Jack. CHAPTER IX THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL The trio, Alice, Wilbur and Jack, arrived in Sum- mitville with no mishap. Alice was taken to a doctor immediately. The professional man redressed her wound and gave her anti-tetanus serum. He gave a good prognosis and called the wound trivial. After this attention they registered at the Summitville House and secured adjoining rooms. Jack parked his car on a side street which ran along one side of the hotel where there were no parking limitations. He and Wilbur carried all of their belongings to their rooms. "I don't believe anyone will attempt to blow the hotel up," said Jack as he fished in his effects for the bottle. "The damn thing has my nerves, though —what we've experienced. Send out for some ginger ale, Lyman. I know I need some dutch courage, moral support or whatever a little liquor does to a tattered nervous system. In fact a large copious draught isn't going to do me one bit of harm. I'm sure there's no sleep for me tonight anyhow." "I'll just run out and get it myself," replied Wil- 133 134 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE bur. “I might get an earful on the explosions while I am out. I'll tell the clerk to bring a pitcher of ice water up." Wilbur purchased the ginger ale at a drug store about a block from the hotel. Going and coming from there he passed numerous knots of men who were discussing the dynamiting of the Prairie River bridge and the Haughton cottage. The latter news had been relayed in faster than Wilbur expected. He stopped at one knot after another and lingered at the edges to get the conversation. "It's just proof that Eugene Morley was mur- dered,” said a spokesman in one group. “There's a smart city detective workin' on the case and he's been staying at that fellow Haughton's cottage. He's just picked up some evidence that's goin' to hurt somebody and they tried to knock him off.” “There wasn't no one in the cottage when it went up, was they?” some inquisitive listener asked. "Nope," answered the spokesman. “Followin' the shootin' at the cottage, the Haughtons and this de- tective guy pulled out. Someone was tellin' me they pulled into the hotel a while ago.” "Close shave!” said someone else. “By cracky, I wouldn't want to be no detective.” "Oh, they'll get the guys that done the dynamitin'," the spokesman continued. “The sheriff's out at Ramona Lake now lookin' things over. He ain't so dumb.” “Only when Ambrose Fallows wants him to be," put in another party who evidently had some insight THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL 135 in the county situation. "I'm bettin' there ain't nothin' done about the whole thing. The county outfit will figure the shootin' to be a prank and the dyna- miting an accident. This county needs a cleanin'." At another group the speaker's voice was strangely familiar. When Wilbur got a good view of him he recognized the taxi driver who had taken him to Ramona Lake. "This guy from New York is a damn keen head," the taxi driver was telling his audience. "I took him out to the Haughton cottage the night he came in. He found the booze in the Morley cottage and dis- covered the tunnel leadin' down to the lake. I'll bet some bootlegger took Morley for a ride and he's learned the detective's got his number. It's that old gag that dead men tell no tales." "Yeah, I'll bet you're right too," put in a listener. "My sister works in the Western Union and there was a telegram came in today from the governor's office for this detective you're speakin' about. They're going to hold an autopsy on Morley in the morning. Whoever is guilty of killin' Morley knows the jig's up." "Well, there's something that guy already knows or is about to find out that's got someone pretty nervous," the taxi driver went on. "They seemed hell bent on gettin' rid of him tonight when they used dynamite after failin' with a gun." "Oh, I reckon the guy ain't scared none," put in another of the group. "He's been mixed up with regular he-gangsters where he came from. This Sum- r 136 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE mitville stuff is just sort of a lark for him, I'll bet." "Yeah, you can tell after talkin' to him that he's got guts," the taxi man extolled Wilbur, "An' damn my buttons if I don't think he's goin' to land Gene Morley's killer." Wilbur grinned when he left this group to listen to others. The conversation of all the gatherings was similar. He learned nothing, except the divergent opinions, which were many. Returning to the hotel he found company. The sheriff and the prosecutor were standing in the room. Jack introduced them. "The sheriff has been out at Ramona Lake looking the ruins over," said Jack. "He came here to ask us a few questions. From what he has asked so far I gather the impression that he thinks we are to blame for the dynamiting." "That's very likely," laughed Wilbur, as he set the ginger ale down. "I can hardly imagine anyone demolishing his home just for a pastime." "Insurance, perhaps," the sheriff suggested. "There was none on the building," replied Jack. "It ran out just before I purchased it and I neglected to take out a new policy. The cottage is a total loss." "It might have been destroyed to conceal some- thing. It strikes me funny that a New Yorker would purchase a cottage on this lake anyhow, so far away," replied the sheriff. "Conceal what? Explain yourself," said Wilbur. I38 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE answered. "And grantin' you're Lyman K. Wilbur, that ain't provin' you ain't mixed up in a bootleggin' scheme either. You might 'a had a hand in the other stuff too. You was here the night Mrs. Morley burned. You wouldn't be the first lily to be caught in the liquor racket." "Your theory is amazing," returned Wilbur in almost a rage. "It's so absolutely ridiculous it's too bad. You or somebody else think they are mighty clever. It is getting too hot for someone. It got hot today. The liquor racket and the Morley deaths are worrying someone. Somebody with a fast working mind planned a clever escape. Haughton here bought his cottage from Morley and he made a deed to him. After the discovery of the liquor and the tunnel, whoever was scared added all of Morley's adjoining property to that transfer, if the records at the court house are as you say they are. They thought to pin the thing on my friend—that and the deaths. Well, we'll see about it. It sounds clever, looks nice, and might work but I don't think so." Turning to Jack, Wilbur asked: "Where's your deed, Jack?" "I left the damn thing in the cottage," Jack an- swered in a crestfallen manner. "Ha! Ha!" laughed the sheriff and winked at the prosecutor. "That's a good one. The deed's gone, Morley's gone, and the recording is all that is left to establish ownership of the property. That'll be hard to take." "But we do not own the ground upon which the THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL 139 Morley cottage stood," put in Alice. "Somebody has changed the record." "I'm afraid you'll have to let a court decide that for you, Madam," said the sheriff. "As the matter now stands, the property evidently belongs to you. But really I wouldn't worry about it as all we have against you is possession of liquor. Under the Burle- son Act in this state the penalty for possession is only a thousand dollar fine and a year's imprison- ment. Of course a new construction will be put on the Morley deaths. It remains to be seen whether you can be connected with them." "Just a minute, sheriff," replied Wilbur. "You are a bit hasty and you had better slow down before you trip. The deed is gone—we'll admit that. Morley is dead—we'll admit that. We'll even admit that the record of the deed in the courthouse is as you say it is. In spite of everything you haven't proved any- thing." "I don't quite get you," replied the officer. "You wouldn't. Neither would the person with the clever brain who filled in the additional description of property on the record. The deed originally had a description of the cottage which was blown up and its grounds. Deeded by Morley in the first place, it was quite easy to add a description of the cottage which burned and the grounds which accompanied it. Morley is dead and couldn't come back to dispute it. His wife is also dead. It looks like there was no way of disputing it but there is. The additional des- cription was added a considerable period after the 140 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE record was first made. And if the record includes the Morley cottage and grounds I'll prove that it was added." "I've heard you city detectives were pretty smart," replied the sheriff with a grin. "The idea was very clever whosever it was, but there are those little niceties of detection of which the man who alters documents does not know. Since you have been so zealous to run down the ownership of the Morley cottage, did you learn who tried to kill us? Who did the shooting?" "No one except yourselves," replied the sheriff. "No one else about the lake saw anyone. It sounds like an excuse to blow the cottage up. That was clever too." "Do you think one of us deliberately shot my wife?" asked Jack as he pointed to Alice's bandaged arm. "A flesh wound no doubt. Yes, that would fit in well with your story," replied the sheriff. "You certainly have a marvelous brain, sheriff," put in Wilbur. "With your skull cut down to fit it I earnestly believe you could get along very well with a peanut shell for a hat. Your brain is a wonder. It's a wonder you are able to think at all. Now, I've a little suggestion to make. You arrest any or all of us pronto. I'll guarantee that things will sizzle. Or you can wait until after the autopsy tomorrow and bring that court record to Summitville. I'll demon- strate conclusively that the document is false. If I don't you may immediately arrest one or all of us THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL 141 for conspiracy to violate the prohibition law. But I'll warn you before you do that, too. The trial may result in the conviction of somebody else. I'm not guessing, not surmising, and won't have to change any documents. Do you understand me?" "No, I don't get you," replied the sheriff. "But if you can show me that the document has been tampered with I'd like to be shown. I'll not get out any warrants for any of you but right after the autopsy I'll be in Summitville with the record of that deed." "See that you do that, sheriff," answered Wilbur. "I'll show you the document was changed and after the autopsy I think I'll be able to show you that Morley was murdered. I'll go further than that. I'll even venture a guess that I'll prove Mrs. Morley was murdered as soon as I can have a toxicologist examine her remains." "That's an awful chunk to bite off," returned the sheriff as he and the prosecutor sought the door. "Oh, yeah! Well, thank God, neither Mr. Haugh- ton, his wife or myself will have to swallow it. Good night, gentlemen." "Good night," returned the two officials. Wilbur closed the door after the two county officers and shut the transom. "Look and see if there is a fire escape on this fire trap and lock the windows," he ordered. Jack examined them, reported there was no fire escape, and that the windows were locked se- curely. THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL 143 "I'm trying to piece the jumbled mess together," the criminologist replied. "It's worse than any puzzle I ever ran across. There are so many leads, angles, motives and suspects that I hardly know where to begin. The attempts to kill us failed. Now an attempt is being made to railroad us to prison. It looks to me like Morley's partners in the illicit traffic of liquor reside right here in Summitville." "They are desperate. I don't think they're pikers or engaged in a pikers' business," replied Jack. "They're men of importance and the business is too big to be given up easily. That's what prohibition has done—made criminals out of a large portion of the population." "It's a great racket when properly engineered. To start it and carry it through on a large scale would require a large sum of money. Bank funds would be readily accessible to people within a bank— sufficient for such an enterprise. Might Morley have furnished the funds? Might a demand of his for a return of that money have caused his associates to kill him? Might he not have known that his appro- priation was about to be discovered? He would be desperate in that case and if the money was not forthcoming he might have made threats which re- sulted in his death. Our knowledge of his involvement might have caused certain people to desire our disap- pearance." "You mean Fallows and Tully?" "That's just who I mean, together with the sheriff, the prosecutor, and other county officers. There may 144 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE be even more in the racket. It might be a state-wide affair." "Hum! Damn it! It looks like it but I can't see anything that connects any of them directly. It's all circumstantial evidence. That to me is just like a coincidence. And if any of them are involved, Pierre LaVell must be." "I forgot him. He's under Fallows' thumb." "It doesn't seem possible that so many supposedly respectable people could be involved in a thing of this kind and no actual proof against a single one." "That's 'organization.'" "Organization of that sort requires a master mind." "And you've got it—Ambrose Fallows. That hawk- bill isn't on his wizened face for nothing and his skull is no chemocephalic one." "Once you said you thought Morley's absconding had nothing to do with his murder." "Pardon me! That might have been the impression I created. I meant his suicide." "I'm only sure of one conclusion—we know too much or someone thinks we do. What's it about? The liquor business? Morley's death? Mrs. Morley's death? Or what have you?" "We are probably given credit for knowing a lot more than we really do. We must be, for we both know that we have no positive information about anything." "Does LaVell have to fit into this conspiracy?" "Why separate him? He's undoubtedly connected with it." THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL 145 "I am not so sure." "Are you talking, Jack, or is it the Coon Hollow?" "I am talking. LaVell may have been working a racket separate and distinct from the other." "You think" "It has been rumored that he was thick with Mrs. Morley. She might have told him of Morley's in- surance. They might have connived to kill Morley to secure the insurance. After that LaVell might have double-crossed Mrs. Morley. It's not improbable that he secured the insurance money and the two hundred thousand from the bank. It would be a neat trick." "But the attempt against our lives? There were two people who shot at us. If your theory is correct LaVell had a confederate." "He may have had." "Who was that?" "Search mel I don't know, as I said before. It's a Chinese puzzle. I'm at my wit's end. Instead of unraveling, the case gets worse." "Never mind, it will unravel. It is always darkest just before dawn," said Wilbur as he poured himself a short "snifter" and laughed. "Don't forget I have three shank buttons, shoe prints, two evidently iden- tical cartridges, but each charged with a different kind of powder—and a stuffed lady's glove. Say, Sherlock Homes used to solve tougher cases with less than that. Cheer up! That information is of some moment. Otherwise there wouldn't be this in- sistent demand for my demise." "So far everything seems silly." I46 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Granted! Everything is too silly. That's the point. It gives me a theory—a silly theory. Tomorrow morn- ing I'll know whether this is all a goofy mess or the pieces that make a crazy quilt. If my theory is proven right we have only started the case." "What's the theory, Lyman? Tell me. I'll not laugh at it." "No, I won't even give you a suggestion. It's too fanciful. If it proves out wrong I'd feel like a simp. And my deduction is absolutely childish." "Well, if you even have a childish idea of this whole affair you have me bested." "All of these so-called mysteries are simple. They are really not mysteries at all, once you get the hang of them. In every one all that is necessary is patience. You assemble your clues, look them over and pick upon the most promising one. In this you may err, for the one you think the most important may turn out worthless. But nevertheless that's the way you start your trip down the path of clues. One runs into another, some lead off to end blindly, and others circle to join themselves again. It's tedious. But if you keen going from one to another you'll find a path leading into a road. Following the road you'll finally enter a highway. One cannot travel all the paths, the road and the highway at once. Cutting across fields and woods may cause you to lose your course entirely. Now in this case at hand I have many clues, a number of motives and some suspects. In the end I will have one motive. I'll have one clue of the utmost importance, and the guilty." THE SHERIFF PAYS A CALL 147 "It all sounds beautiful. It seems simple. But I'm afraid I'd be going up and down the same road or be traveling in a circle. I'd invariably come back to where I started from. I'd get into a vicious circle." "You think so, Jack, but experience teaches you to separate chaff from the wheat." "Well, we'll see in the morning whether you're going to walk into the road or whether you're just on a detour." "A detour might be an easy way to a solution. That's not a blind road or a circling affair. According to the best authorities that's a long way around." The conversation went on and on into the night. Finally the soothing effect of the Coon Hollow and a tired feeling caused previous ideas of sleeplessness to dissipate. "I really think I could sleep now," said Jack. "Two hours ago I thought I never could." "It wouldn't be a bad idea," yawned Wilbur. "I feel inclined myself. I don't think we'll be molested here. We are four floors above the ground, there's no fire escapes and the doors bolt on the inside." "Well, sweet dreams," said Jack as he took a "nightcap" and went to the room occupied by Alice. CHAPTER X THE RUM RUNNER The night passed uneventfully. Early the next morning Wilbur was stirring before either Jack or Alice had awakened. A few hours of sleep refreshed him always even after he had lost nights of rest. He possessed one of those remarkable constitutions that seem to thrive on but little beaming from the son of Somnos. When a peculiar puzzling case engaged his attention he could not sleep beyond a restive period for bodily exertion. And then it seemed his recupera- tive powers were marvelous. He had hardly arisen when there was a knock upon the door of his room. He went to the door, unlocked it, unbolted it and opened it. Standing before the door was a big broad shouldered man of determined features, coarse in a way. The man wore a plain blue suit and a dark Fedora hat. "I'm Lieutenant Detective Loomis of the State Department of Safety," said he. "I presume you are Lyman K. Wilbur." "I am Mr. Wilbur," replied the criminologist as 148 THE RUM RUNNER 149 he extended a hand in greeting. "I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Loomis. Come right in." Mr. Loomis entered and Wilbur rebolted the door. "This is rather an early hour to be calling upon you," the state detective went on. "but whenever I am commissioned by a superior to see anyone at once I do so at the earliest possible moment—if that be in the middle of the night. The Attorney General sent me to you. He told me to assist you in any way that I might. From what little he told me I take it you have a hot case." "Well, it's not so hot," replied Wilbur as he finished lathering his face preparatory to shaving, a job he had started before Loomis's knock on the door. "It presents more cold trails than a fellow usually runs into on a coon hunt. I've a maze of clues, no accurate deductions and a host of theories." "Well, if I can't be of any benefit to you other than carrying out the order of my superior I shall be pleased to watch on, if you'll allow me that privi- lege," said Loomis in reply. "I'd really appreciate it. I've never set the world on fire as a sleuth and I might learn a great deal by watching a great de- tective work." "You're flattering, Mr. Loomis," replied Wilbur as he took a stroke at his softened beard with his razor. "I'm really quite an ordinary individual. You are at liberty to accompany me and you may be of great assistance to me. The case is quite out of the ordinary to my way of thinking, and intensely interesting. I believe you are in time to see and participate in 150 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE some startling revelations. I believe we will see things this morning and be going places. I wired the Gover- nor that I might secure a legal right to open a casket containing the body of a murdered man. He replied that he would secure the necessary authority. It was impossible to secure an autopsy in any other manner. Someone controls every justice of peace in the county." Continuing his shaving without the use of a mir- ror, Wilbur stepped to the connecting door of Jack's room and knocked. "My friend next door is a heavy sleeper," said he. Jack answered after a prolonged pounding upon the door. "Get up, you lazy fellow," Wilbur said. "It's time for all good detectives to go to work." "I'll be with you right away," Jack replied and the thud on the floor was distinct in Wilbur's room as Jack jumped out of bed. Half an hour later Wilbur, Haughton and Loomis left the Summitville House. It was scarcely six o'clock in the morning. A morning bracer of Coon Hollow called for an immediate breakfast so they sought a restaurant. In Summitville at that hour only one restaurant was functioning. That was an all night affair. As they entered it they noticed that the place was thronged with people. Those within the place were not laborers going to their daily toil, but night hawks who had not yet given themselves up to slumber. Several were maudlin. "Somebody blew up the cottage next door to Mor- THE RUM RUNNER »5I ley's last night," said a tall blonde boy who was waiting on an order of eight hamburgers to go out. "Yeah, and that's not all," said another who was playing a slot machine and getting lemons with reg- ularity. "The bridge over the Prairie River went up. It damn near sent me to Heaven. Me and the girl friend was hottin' it out to Home Brew Helen's. I just saw the layout in time to stop before playin' Muddy Waters. And don't let nobody tell you them Model A Fords ain't got brakes. I stopped that baby right on the brink of eternity." "Who done it?" asked the proprietor of the all night food emporium as he patted a raw hamburger into shape. "That's it," replied the boy at the slot machine who'd punched away five dollars. "No one knows. You could commit a murder in this county and get away with it. All you'd need to do would be to telephone the sheriff about it beforehand so he'd have time enough to be absent. He wouldn't come back until all the tracks were cold." "Old man Fallows runs the works," ejaculated the proprietor as he hopped a brace of hamburgers over on their back. "Whenever he wants something pulled he tells the sheriff to close his eyes. After the works happens he cautions him again by sayin', 'Don't go too far. You may not run for office next time.' It's a hot town. Per capita this burg has more gangsters than Chicago." "Where's all the booze comin' from?" asked the blonde boy who was waiting on the sandwiches. 152 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Santa Claus brings it," replied the owner of the restaurant. "Where do you suppose? This country is dry. What d'you want on the 'burgers—catsup or onion?" "Onion, you poor sap. Whoever heard of a ham- burger without onion," answered the blonde as he lurched and grasped at the counter for support. Wilbur, Haughton and Loomis sat down at a table. Wilbur called the boy who was rather deeply in- toxicated when he started to pick up his bag of sandwiches. "Beg your pardon, son," said he. "But could you tell me where I might get a little good liquor?" "You're whoopin' right I can't, mister," returned the blonde. "I'm no stool pigeon." "Atta boy!" said Jack, and the boy walked back to the counter. "You fool!" whispered Wilbur disgustedly. "He might have given up some valuable information." "And if he had you'd never have used the informa- tion. I know you. You don't like information you get that way any more than I do," replied Jack. "Pardon me," said Wilbur. "You're right. Too much Coon Hollow." "Coon Hollow!" exclaimed the blonde boy who caught the last of Wilbur's remark and returned to the table. "Say, I guess you fellows are regular after all. I'll take you out to the cottage with me so you can get a drink anyhow. It might be a good idea. We've got a party goin' on that looks like it's goin' into another day, an' it's a little shy on men. THE RUM RUNNER «53 Albertina Fallows and Lura Tully are out there with- out their steadies. And believe me there's two Janes that are screams." "Sure we'll go along," replied Wilbur, whose de- tective instinct followed the mention of the words Fallows and Tully. "Well, count me out," said Jack. "That'll be all right," answered Wilbur. "You go back and get your beauty nap. After a little break- fast we will go out with the boy." And it so happened that Wilbur and Loomis ac- companied the blonde boy to Dory Lake where quite a party was in progress. They arrived at the lake safely in spite of the boy's somewhat uncertain driv- ing and were ushered inside the cottage. Inside was one of those millions of orgies which have been commemorated to Volstead. A radio was blaring forth a hot piece from an orchestra and a few couples were attempting to dance to it. Upon the floor, on lounges, and those niches where dancers were unlikely to trod were those who had "passed out." As it hap- pened, the Fallows and Tully girls were in a fair state of sobriety. The blonde boy introduced Loomis and Wilbur as Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith. Wilbur was very much interested in Albertina Fallows. She was very attractive. In fact the boy had not lied when he had called both girls "screams." Albertina was devastating. She was unaccompanied only be- cause her suitor had been called away from Summit- ville suddenly. Wilbur perceived that Albertina was sufficiently under the influence of liquor to talk 154 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE freely. He found her easy to converse with and im- mediately began to make himself pleasing. "Would you care to dance, Miss Fallows?" he inquired as the radio flooded the cottage with the strains of another popular dance selection. "Gladly," she answered. "I've been a little wall flower almost all night." Wilbur stepped through the dance with Albertina in his arms and reflected as he did so that he wished he was on some other mission in Summitville. She danced divinely and made herself so lovely that he could imagine that he had known her always. While he was so engaged Loomis got along in a very satis- factory manner with Lura Tully. "That was wonderful," said Albertina when they had finished. "Would you like a little highball? There's some real good stuff in the kitchen. I'm sure I don't care for any of Blondie's hamburgers. Coon Hollow is better, I think. And you know my fiance says delightfully, 'The food's in the bottle.' That's me all over." "That's an idea," answered Wilbur. "Let's uncork some." "Oh boy, it's been uncorked some time. But don't take that or what you see too literally. The uncon- scious forms that you see were hit with the bar towel. I'm regular myself. And if I do say so, it takes numerous jolts to park me. And I never pass out." "I admire that. I take my hat off to a girl who can handle the stuff. They're rare." THE RUM RUNNER 155 "Oh, big boy, don't say that. There's quite a few in Summittville that can do it. Give a number of the girls an even start with you and I'll wager they'll be standing up when you're lying down." "Where is this liquor?" urged Wilbur. "In the kitchen. Come on." Albertina led the way. In the kitchen two couples were trying to divide a pint four ways. "Say!" cried Albertina. "What's the big idea? D'you think there's an embargo on? Loosen up!" "Shush!" said one of the men to the other. "The queen speaks. Diwy up." The gentleman with the bottle ceased trying to quarter it and gave both Albertina and Wilbur a generous drink. "Now let's dance again," said Wilbur. "I want to get to know you." "All right, big boy," replied the girl. "I believe we could get along." They entered the large living-room of the cottage again and returned to dancing. Loomis and the Tully girl were already on the floor. The two couples were getting along famously and Wilbur was at the point of securing important information from his partner when the door opened suddenly from the outside and a debonair looking gentleman stood re- vealed. Albertina left Wilbur abruptly and rushing to the doorway threw her arms around the newcomer. Loomis, the Tully girl and two other couples stopped dancing. The man who had just come paid little at- tention to Albertina's caress. His eyes narrowed THE RUM RUNNER 157 "Let me go! Let me go?" she cried furiously in between attempts to bite. "You lice! You dirty cop- pers!" "Miss Fallows," Wilbur gently tried to remon- strate. "Let me go! Let me go!" she cried furiously. "Take your dirty hands off me." There was a crash behind Wilbur. The gun which Loomis had held leveled at Finlay clattered to the floor. The man who had attempted to split the pint four ways in the kitchen had grabbed a metal cande- labrum and knocked the gun from the state detec- tive's hand. Finlay, who had seen the approach from the rear quickly reached for his gun again and with- drew it from the holster. "Now you dirty bums!" he cried, as he leveled the gun. But the gun never came on a level soon enough to catch Loomis. The detective, a football player of no mean repute in his high school days, tackled Finlay around the feet. The gun went off into the ceiling of the cottage and as Finlay hit the floor Loomis pinioned his gun arm. Wilbur threw Albertina on an unconscious form upon a couch nearby at the sound of the clattering gun. As Loomis tackled, he dived for the gun of the detective and secured it just before the hands of the candelabrum wielder reached it. He turned quickly on his knees and covered Finlay. Loomis secured Finlay's gun and then quietly slipped a pair of hand- cuffs on him. While he did this Wilbur turned his attention to the other men, the candelabrum wielder 158 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE and two others who seemed to sense trouble, if not sufficiently sober to cause any. "Take them off! Take them off!" cried Albertina Fallows frantically as she dashed to the prostrated Finlay and clawed at his manacles. "You can't do that in my father's cottage. You'll pay for this. I'll have your job, Loomis. My father will get it. You haven't anything on him. You came out here and made all this trouble. Everybody here will swear to it." "You know we will," said Lura Tully. "It's an outrage." "You'd better take them off, Loomis," suggested Wilbur. "We really" "You bet he'd better take them off," cried Alber- tina. "And you two better leave or I'll call some real officers." "Take them off, Loomis," said Wilbur. "We were a little out of place." "Take them off?" replied Loomis. "Not me! Not when they're on that boy for keeps." "But we were wrong," Wilbur tried to explain. "We can't hold him." "Oh, I can't, eh?" replied Loomis as he opened his right hand and revealed a diamond necklace. "Give me my necklace! That's mine," cried Alber- tina Fallows. "You thought it was, Madam," Loomis laughed. "The boy friend gave it to you, no doubt, but I'm afraid he didn't buy it. That necklace is a part of the Westervelt robbery loot. It's a necklace that THE RUM RUNNER 159 belonged to Mrs. Westervelt. I saw it fall when you were scuffling with Mr. Wilbur. I noticed it even be- fore that. The peculiar pendant attached to the neck- lace is the Westervelt Coat of Arms. I don't suppose you or Mr. Finlay even knew it was a Coat of Arms." "You'll have a sweet time proving your words," said Finlay, who had arisen. "Oh, I don't know," replied Loomis. "The last occasion of our meeting pretty near linked you with the Westervelt case. You'll have tall explaining to do to show how you came in possession of the neck- lace. And the theft is nothing. Old man Westervelt was killed cruelly with a sap stick." "Oh, you're accusing me of murder, eh?" replied Finlay sullenly. "That's a matter for someone else to decide. Your reputation should hold you instead. I'll admit you've been clever so far. For several years no one has been able to get a thing on you. A jury may acquit you." "Don't pay any attention to them," said Albertina. "Father will help you out. I'll have him bail you at once." "I don't believe you can give bail in a charge like this," replied Loomis. "I'd like to know why." "It will be murder." "No! No! It can't be murder." "All right! Come on, Wilbur," said Loomis. "You'll be wanting to get back to the autopsy. From what I know I don't believe he'll be put in this county jail either." l6o THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "I'm very sorry this has all happened, Miss Fal- lows," Wilbur said consolingly. "I was really not expecting it." "Oh, yeah!" replied Albertina. "Well, you don't need to apologize. That won't settle this affair. You'll pay for it." "Well, are we going to get a lift into town or will we have to call a car?" asked Loomis. "Take my car," said Finlay. "It's been used in Keystone comedies." "That's thoughtful," returned Loomis. "It looks like a very stunning car. But if it's all the same to you we'll go in Blondie's car. However, I will look your car over." Turning to the boy called Blondie, Loomis asked: "You'll run us in, won't you?" "I imagine I'll have to run you in," replied Blondie. "All right, crank up the flivver," answered Loomis as he grasped Finlay by the arm roughly and pushed him out of the cottage. Wilbur tried to pacify the Fallows girl further but his effect was all but tragic. A torrent of acri- monious words directed at him was the result. He passed out of the cottage to follow Loomis to the Finlay car. Loomis was inspecting it. "Swell boat, Mr. Finlay," Loomis said in actual admiration of the car as he tapped the body. "Steel body! Bullet proof glass!" He looked under the car. "And a smoke screen!" he added. "By Jove! You must do a lot of hazardous driving." THE RUM RUNNER l6l "Oh, can the comedy, Loomis," answered Finlay. "Let's get going. You know I'm a bootlegger." "Oh, I want to look at the interior. It's such an unusual car I must." Loomis opened the door on the left hand side and inspected the inside. "Hum!" said he as he inspected the interior care- fully. "Ingenious! Light controls from each seat! Well!" He pressed one of three buttons on the left side in the front seat. There was a report and a bullet ricocheted against the windshield. "Oh ho!" Loomis continued when he recovered from his surprise and examined the back of the driver's seat. "No wonder you offered your car so magnanimously. I see! You have a revolver set in behind each seat whose firing is electrically con- trolled. By pushing the right button you can fire from any seat and cause any one of the remaining three to be a death seat. By the driver's seat you have a master control which releases that seat when you enter the car. I take it you always set it when you leave the car. That is very clever—death controlled. When you are driving you can do away with a nocuous occupant very handily and if you happen to be taken for a ride you can do away with the driver or any other occupant. Had we used your car I don't doubt that both Mr. Wilbur and myself would have proved very nocuous in your presence." "Let's have a look at that," said Wilbur. "That is interesting." 162 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Go ahead! Press a button or two, Wilbur," sug- gested Loomis. Wilbur did so. He pressed a button on the left side in the rear seat. There was a report and a bullet whizzed from the back seat on the right side. "Hum! Damn!" said Wilbur in amazement. "I thought all of these clever ingenious things were the province of the big towns. Damn! That is a murder wrinkle. Hum!" "This boy Finlay is a one o'clock boy in a nine o'clock town," Loomis explained. "He's a big one just caught for the first time. It will probably be the last." "Say, are you guys going to town?" asked the blond boy whose Ford was barking nearby. "Sure!" answered Loomis, and turning to Finlay commanded him, "Step lively, big boy." The blond boy drove carefully into Summittville. He delivered them in front of the Summitville House. Loomis was just debating whether he would go with his prisoner to a neighboring county seat when a roving state police car passed. He hailed it and de- livered Finlay into the care of the two officers with instructions to take him on into the state capital for safekeeping. "That was luck!" said he to Wilbur. "This is my lucky day. I certainly hope it turns out the same for you." "Did I understand you to say that you expected to learn something from watching me?" countered CHAPTER XI A SURGICAL CASUALTY Wilbur and Loomis returned to Wilbur's hotel room to pick up Haughton. They briefly recounted their experience at Dory Lake. "All that I see that you accomplished is the fact that you have another suspect," said Jack after listening. "Of course Loomis has caught Finlay with the goods on him. That's worth while. But the Morley case seems to be just as inexplicable as ever." "So it seems," replied Wilbur. "But Finlay may talk. We may get a line on Morley's bootlegging business. I'd have questioned him at the Fallows' cottage but I knew it was useless at the moment. He knew I had seen him in Fallows' office too. He won't say anything as long as he relies on Fallows to help him out of his difficulties." "It's about time for the autopsy, isn't it?" asked Jack. "It all depends on the prosecutor. I imagine he will use a little haste, though, since the governor and the attorney general have prodded him up. Perhaps 164 A SURGICAL CASUALTY .65 we had better go over to LaVell's. Our presence might expedite things." All three left the hotel and went to the funeral parlors. LaVell admitted them. The expression upon his face showed that he was anything but enthusias- tic about their reception, however. "Meet Detective Lieutenant Loomis of the Depart- ment of Safety," said Wilbur. "Mr. Loomis was loaned to us by the State's Attorney's Department." Loomis grasped LaVell's small effeminate hand in his own huge one and squeezed unmercifully. LaVell winced and his knees sagged. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Loomis," replied La- Vell as he withdrew his hand and rubbed it with the other. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" "The prosecutor will be here directly, and I dare- say he intends to hold an autopsy upon both of the Morley bodies. The Attorney General wired me to the effect that he would," said Wilbur. "Yes, he will be here directly," replied LaVell. "He just called me a short time ago. I don't know who you will get to do Mr. Morley's body, though. That will be terrible." "Dr. LeClair and Dr. Carter of the State University Medical School will be here by the time the arrange- ments are completed. I have that information from the Attorney General also. Both are very capable men. Dr. LeClair has been on many cases where I have been in attendance. You have a morgue suit- able?" "Oh yes! You may use my morgue, gentlemen. 166 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE There's no use in moving the bodies. When Mr. Wil- bur was here yesterday I probably acted badly. You must understand one dislikes to have the dead of one's clients disturbed. It's a gruesome experience for relatives and not conducive to good business, even in a certain murder case, much less in an uncertain one. I'll run the bodies down there for your inspection and see that everything is in order. When the prosecutor and the doctors arrive you may come on down. The first door to the right leads into the morgue." "Thanks, LaVell," replied Wilbur as the under- taker entered another room. About fifteen minutes later the prosecutor entered. He greeted everyone cordially and amazed Haughton and Wilbur thereby. The difference in his behavior of the night before was pronounced. "I'm sorry if I've detained you gentlemen," said he. "Have the doctors arrived yet?" "Not as yet," replied Wilbur. "I'm very sorry that it was necessary to use such forceful measures to secure these autopsies," said he to Wilbur. "But really I had hardly any other alter- native since the county board of supervisors have sat on the cost of things generally. They have ruled that they will authorize the cost of autopsies only in cases where there is a deep suspicion of foul play. Of course when the Attorney General told me to go ahead and have them I could hardly jeopardize my position, even though I feel that both are unjustified. Now that we are going to have them let's hope that we find something of consequence." A SURGICAL CASUALTY 167 "I'll be very much disappointed if we don't find something of interest," replied Wilbur. "Well, of course that may happen. I took this matter up with a justice of the peace at the county seat and everything is in order for a proper pro- cedure." "Let's go down to the morgue then," suggested Wilbur. "LaVell took the bodies down there and pre- pared the place. The doctors will find us." "Very well." Wilbur led the way to the morgue, followed by the prosecutor, Loomis and Haughton. They reached it quickly. It was a cold, dank room made out of cement. In the center was a cooling board which sloped from all sides toward the middle. In the mid- line of it there was a hole where body fluids, blood and other liquids drained into a bucket which sat below the table. The casket containing the remains of Eugene Morley was wheeled close to the cooling board on one side and the one containing the remains of Mrs. Morley was on the other side. Both caskets rested on trucks. Alongside and underneath a window was a sink. Otherwise the room was empty. Wilbur, after observing these arrangements, raised the windows of the place. "I imagine fresh air will smell good when the lid comes off that one stiff basket," he remarked as he raised the windows. "If the person inside of that pine is as they say he is we'll want gas masks too." "Easy Wilbur, easy!" replied Loomis. "My break- 168 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE fast was light and remember, that Coon Hollow makes for an uplift movement." "Beg pardon!" Dr. LeClair and Dr. Carter came into the room. "This is a hell of a place," said Dr. LeClair. "Isn't there anyone around? I rang the doorbell until I almost developed palsy. Then I walked in. We had the devil's own time finding our way down here." "The undertaker is busy with his arrangements, I suppose," answered Wilbur as he shook the hands of LeClair and Carter and then introduced them around. "It's a rotten case, fellows. The one corpse was decomposed when found. It went into the box sans embalming, sans anything." "My kind of a case," answered LeClair. "It just requires goose pimples and guts. Shall we pry the lid?" "I really think this is a desecrating affair," said the prosecutor. "Don't you think we'd better let them rest in peace? When the lips are silent what good can we possibly do anyhow?" "The lips may be silent," answered Wilbur who was all but softhearted. "But when the top of that stiff case comes off I'll bet the body is plenty loud." "Ugh! I thought this affair was on that order. No respect! And the whole affair will turn out a fiasco." "Oh yeah!" returned Wilbur. "Just like the addi- tional description on that recorded deed. You told the sheriff to bring that over sure, didn't you?" "He'll be here by the time you've spent the county's money on this useless job." A SURGICAL CASUALTY 169 "Be that as it may, I think what we are about to do is going to help you a great deal in your next campaign." At this point Wilbur turned to LeClair. "Let's go, doctor," said he. Doctors LeClair and Carter took off their coats and vests, rolled up their sleeves and slipped into spotless gowns. They deftly donned rubber gloves and Dr. LeClair announced everything was in readi- ness. Wilbur pried the lid from the hermetically sealed casket. "Ugh!" exclaimed Loomis as he held his handker- chief over his nostrils. "It is juicy, isn't it?" laughed Wilbur. "Give me that spray, Carter," said LeClair. Dr. Carter handed LeClair the spray, and the doctor vigorously applied the deodorizer. "That bird is certainly dead," said LeClair as he sprayed. "There's no doubt of that. What I get is not the breath of life." With the spraying the terrible odor lessened some- what. Doctors LeClair and Carter took a look at the corpse along with Wilbur. "Hum! They never took his underwear off," said LeClair. "And there's lye in the coffin," observed Dr. Car- ter. "Lye!" exclaimed the prosecutor. "Sure there's lye in it," said Wilbur. "What did you expect the undertaker would use? Alcohol?" "I—I didn't expect" I70 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "That's all right," answered Wilbur, as his eye caught a sudden widening of the prosecutor's eyes at the mention of alcohol. "Alcohol is used sometimes to preserve specimens. Lye, however, destroys them." "Of course I was just asking for information." "And of course I was just informing you," Wilbur replied curtly. "Let's get him out of the casket and upon the cool- ing board," said LeClair. "All right, let's do," replied Wilbur. "Where's the undertaker? He ought to know how to get a decomposed corpse out of a casket. We can take it out all right but he ought to know an easy way." "That's right, he should," replied Wilbur. "He knew how to get one in and continue the decomposi- tion." Turning to Loomis Wilbur said, "Go get La- Vell, Loomis." Loomis went to do Wilbur's bidding. He was very glad to get out of the morgue a few moments. He was gone some time and then returned. "There isn't a soul in this house," said he. "I've searched from top to bottom, yelled till I'm almost hoarse and there's no one answered me, and I saw no one." "Maybe he just stepped out for the moment," sug- gested the prosecutor. "He might have received a call." "He received a call all right," answered Wilbur. "It was urgent. And if you ask me he'll be gone for A SURGICAL CASUALTY 171 more than a moment. I really don't believe he'll come back until someone goes after him." The prosecutor turned red and went to the window. "That stench is terrible," said he. "Which one?" asked Wilbur. The prosecutor did not reply to Wilbur's remark. "Well, let's get it out," said LeClair. "The skin may slip and the flesh cleave from the bone but ifs got to be done." "Let's turn the casket upside down over the board," suggested Carter. "Good idea!" said LeClair. They all took hold of the casket, lifted it above the cooling board and rolled the body out gently. Dr. LeClair sprayed the body furiously. The body of Eugene Morey was beyond any recog- nition. Time, decomposition and lye had got in their work. It might be hard to prove a suicide or a murder. While Dr. LeClare prepared to probe the two bullet wounds, Wilbur examined them. When Dr. Le Clair returned to the body with his instru- ments Wilbur spoke. "Doctor," said he, "I crave the privilege of extract- ing a couple of grains of powder that I see clinging to the entrance of that head wound." "Go ahead, old man. Certainly!" answered LeClair. "I saw them. That is black powder. What of it?" 'They're not grains of Ballistite powder?" asked Wilbur. "Oh, my nol There's too many powder marks. 172 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE You'd have to hunt for it if that were Ballistite powder." "I knew that, doctor. I just wanted your corrob- oration," replied Wilbur as he picked a few grains from the temple of the corpse. Securing his precious grains of powder Wilbur continued, "Go ahead, doctor." The doctor ran a probe into the track caused by the bullet. His probe came out at the other side of the head. "Through and through," said he. "No bullet to be retrieved there. That's too bad, for as I under- stand it you have the gun." "Too many guns," answered Wilbur. "Oh!" answered LeClair. "Well, let's hope there's one in the heart region." The probing in the heart region revealed a through and through wound also. "That's too bad. Honestly that's maddening," said LeClair. "There's no chance of ever finding those bullets, I suppose." "No matter, doctor," replied Wilbur. "I've got the powder. I think that will be sufficient. Proceed with the autopsy." Dr. LeClair secured his scalpels, rib-cutting shears and necessary instruments to do a complete post mortem. "Here goes," said he. "My sense of smell is gone. How's yours, Carter?" "I don't smell anything," replied Carter. "Liars," said Loomis. Both doctors laughed. A SURGICAL CASUALTY 173 "Let's cut the underwear off, Carter, and do a thorough job," said LeClair as he took a pair of shears and cut the underwear from the corpse. In the midline of the body above the umbilicus was the healed scar of an abdominal operation. "Did Morley have an abdominal operation at any time?" asked LeClair. "Yes, so they say," answered Wilbur as he too noted the scar barely discernible on account of the decomposition. "Well offhand I'd say this operation was recent but one cannot tell on account of the putrefaction," returned LeClair. "Anything you want to look at, Wilbur, before we mutilate these beautiful remains?" "Nothing! Post him!" "Here goes," said LeClair as he cut a long gash from Morley's neck to the symphasis pubes. It re- quired little effort. He inspected the interior of the abdomen. "This belly is full of pus!" exclaimed LeClair as he strained to look into the interior of Morley along with Carter. "This bird had a violent peritonitis when he died. You don't suppose he did commit suicide to end his suffering?" "Hum! Damn!" exclaimed Wilbur as he looked at Haughton while his face went crimson. The prose- cutor grinned. Loomis had turned away and was breathing heavily at the window. "What caused it?" asked Wilbur. "In a minute I'll tell you," said LeClair as he A SURGICAL CASUALTY 177 got a gun over at my house that hasn't been fired since the Civil War." “Bah!" snarled Wilbur. “Should I proceed any further, Mr. Wilbur?” asked LeClair. "There's nothing to be gained,” answered the criminologist in a crestfallen manner. “Sew him up." “Sew that body up?" questioned LeClair. “I'd like to see someone do it. The stitches wouldn't hold. Hold the casket and I'll tumble him back in.” Wilbur, Loomis, Carter and the prosecutor held the casket to the edge of the cooling board. LeClair rolled the remains back into the casket. poison! 179 "It's legal. It's the only thing to do," put in Carter. "After all, a body is a body. We're not hurting the soul." "Oh, very well!" replied the prosecutor. "Go ahead. You can't get my viewpoint and I can't get yours. You have the authority to proceed. But it does seem terrible to me that an outsider can come in here and stir such a thing up when our officers had already deduced the causes of the deaths. They may not be as smart as some city people but they get along." Loomis and Haughton had nothing to say. Both of them were sorry for Wilbur. It looked as if his investigation was a complete failure. They accom- panied the rest outside in silence and joined in the smoking. "I can see that you're terribly disappointed, Wil- bur," said LeCIair, as he inhaled deeply of a ciga- rette. "It's really too bad that we did not recover at least one of the bullets." "A thirty-two caliber bullet that had been fired from a Smith and Wesson revolver would have defi- nitely set the case down as one of murder," replied Wilbur. "But a thirty-two caliber bullet that had been fired from a Colt would have proved nothing. I had hoped to find the former so I'm disappointed naturally. The thing that knocks the props from under me is the peritonitis, and that Murphy button. How long might a button remain in a person?" "I really couldn't say. If you will consult any standard text book on surgery you might learn." l8o THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "I don't believe the evidence. How would a man get to a cottage on Ramona Lake as ill as Morley without help? Would anyone bring him there in such a condition and leave him? If someone did bring him there why are they silent?" "There's the wife." "And the uncle, of course! I haven't interviewed him at all. It was my intention to do that after the autopsy. And where has LaVell gone? Why did he go?" "I don't know, Wilbur. You're the detective," an- swered LeClair. "I'm only a doctor. All I know about the case is this: the findings of the autopsy do not point to murder. If murder has been done it is la- mentable that no proofs have been left behind." "You're quite right. A murder theory is out of order at present. Well, let's drop the Eugene Morley case and investigate the death of Mrs. Morley. Are you ready?" "Quite." Returning to the morgue, the body of Mrs. Morley was taken out of the casket and the doctors pro- ceeded to post it. The procedure was the same as in the case of the husband except for the fact that the entire viscera were taken from the body before any examination other than cursory was made. There was nothing to point to the direct seat of trouble as in the case of the husband. The usual tabulation of external appearances was taken down by Carter before the incision. After the excision of the viscera LeClair opened the stomach. POISON! 181 "Liquor in the stomach," LeClair pronounced at once. "Well defined odor." "That's something," murmured Wilbur in the faint hope that at least one of his suppositions would sur- vive. "Anything else?" "Yes," answered LeClair. "The stomach is red and inflamed as from an irritant poison." "Aha!" ejaculated Wilbur. LeClair poured the stomach contents into one of a number of sterilized jars and then examined the mucosa of the stomach. "Have you a glass, Wilbur?" he asked. "Right here," answered Wilbur as he pulled his magnifying glass, which he always carried, from a pocket. LeClair ran over the stomach with the glass. "Offhand I would say it was a case of arsenical poisoning. There is something that appears to be actual arsenic in the stomach. However that's up to the toxicologist." "You are certain, however, of an irritant poison?" said Wilbur. "Well, I've done about three thousand post mor- tems and I've found arsenic in bodies enough times to make me feel certain of my ground." "She must have committed suicide," said the prosecutor. "Or she was murdered," interjected Wilbur. "Oh piffle!" snapped the public officer. "You'd have everybody murdered." "I can't settle the argument, gentlemen," LeClair 182 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE smiled. "But you may be sure of one thing, she either committed suicide or was murdered." "Well, how are you going to prove which it was?" asked the prosecutor. "From the autopsy that is impossible," replied LeClair. "Hum! Then this affair turned out just as I said it would. You've done the autopsies and don't know any more than before you did them. It's poppycock! Piffle! I guess the commissioners were right. All I see that's been accomplished is the fact that the county owes another bill." "No, I think we know more than we did," replied LeClair. "And we're at least positive about what we do know. We know that Morley had a peritonitis and a Murphy button in him besides two bullet holes. We know that Mrs. Morley was killed by an irritant poison." "In other words—they're dead," laughed the prosecutor insipidly. "Murdered," said Wilbur almost viciously. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Wilbur's nemesis. "Tell me another of your famous exploits some other time. Well, I must be going. I do hope that everyone is satisfied however. I'm very glad to have made the acquaintance of all of you. It's been a charming morning. Good-by!" "Never mind, Wilbur," said Haughton, after the prosecutor was gone. "It isn't your fault. I shouldn't have called you on such a lousy case." POISON! 183 "It isn't a lousy case, Jack," Wilbur replied. "It's a great case. I'm not through. Not by a jugful." "I certainly admire your visceral fortitude, Mr. Wilbur," put in Loomis. "You're a sticker." "Sure I'm a sticker. I see what you see. It looks like there was no way under the heavens to make a murder charge stick. It fact it looks like there wasn't one murder, much less two." "It sure does," said Loomis. "Maybe so. If there hasn't been foul play why are so many people evasive? Why have some people at- tempted Haughton's life, his wife's and mine? Why did they not want to have an autopsy?" "The liquor racket, Lyman," suggested Jack. "Just as we figured. That might all have been the doings of your friend Finlay." "I don't think so." "He's a stubborn cuss. Give him credit," laughed LeClair as he and Carter bottled up the remainder of the organs essential to a toxicological examination. "Well, hurry up fellows," said Wilbur with a forced smile. "Let's get going." "We'll be right with you," replied LeClair. The doctors finished their work, donned their street clothes and the entire assemblage left the morgue. In the funeral parlor office the sheriff and the prosecutor awaited them. CHAPTER XIII BLACK LIGHT "I've been waiting for you to appear, Mr. Wilbur," said the sheriff when they had all entered the office. "I brought the record of that deed over as you suggested. The prosecutor has just been telling me about the results of the autopsies. I've also got a warrant for the arrest of your friend Mr. Haughton. It's not serious, understand. Just possession of intoxi- cating liquors. I just couldn't do no different finding that liquor on his premises. You understand. It's only a year and a thousand dollar fine." "Why you damned infernal fool!" yelled Jack. "That's good!" "I'll say it is," replied the sheriff. "Plenty of evi- dence and found on your property unless your great detective friend Wilbur can Houdini you out of your own signature." "Gentlemen," said Wilbur to Loomis and the two doctors, "This is another of the many unexplainable happenings which cause me to believe the Morley 184 BLACK LIGHT l85 deaths have something to do with a gigantic plot. Mr. Haughton's deed to his Ramona Lake property burned up in his cottage. He purchased the cottage of Morley. Morley and his wife are dead. Morley's cottage, the murder cottage, and its grounds joined Mr. Haughton's land. Since liquor was found in Morley's cottage, a description of that cottage and its grounds has been added to the original descrip- tion of Haughton's cottage and ground. I'm going to prove that it was added. I'd like to have all of you accompany me to a doctor's office." "Doctor's office!" exclaimed the sheriff. "What's a doctor's office got to do with it?" "Never mind, Mr. Sheriff I This is my trick." "Let him go," said the prosecutor. "It'll just be another autopsy." The entire party proceeded to Doctor Shaw's office, the place where Alice had received attention for the injury to her arm. Dr. Shaw was in. "This is sort of an imposition, Doctor," said Wilbur after he had introduced everyone to the doctor. "But I noticed you had an ultra-violet lamp when you gave Mrs. Haughton attention. I would like very much to use the lamp and will pay you well for the same." "Tut! Tut!" replied Dr. Shaw. "Go ahead and use the lamp." "Go back to the hotel, Jack," said Wilbur at this point, "and bring my alligator grip." Jack did as directed and soon returned with the 188 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Black light will detect the man who alters his books," replied Wilbur. "It will reveal the so-called invisible writing without changing the paper or ma- terial it is written upon. It will detect spurious paint- ings, diamonds and pearls. It has been used exten- sively to read the ancient sheepskin writings of monks. The more recent monks decided what was written upon the old sheepskins was worth nothing and they wrote over the original faded writing. Now today when we are in search of ancient ideas the old writings are of value. These sheepskins examined under black light reveal the older writings. That in a measure is what we see in this deed record." Wilbur turned to the sheriff and continued, "Now if you want to serve your warrant upon my friend Mr. Haughton go ahead and do so." "I'm going to tear it up," answered the sheriff. "There's no use pushing a case when you're beaten at the start. But I'd like to find out who altered that record." "That might not be hard to do," answered Wilbur. "Suppose you try." "I'll do that, Mr. Wilbur. Just keep this little matter quiet. I'll do a little nosing around." "Be careful that you don't bite the hand that's feeding you," Wilbur shot hastily. "I think we'd better be going, Sheriff," said the prosecutor. "I'm sorry you can't stay and see some other mar- velous uses of black light. It's really wonderful. It's one of the many new scientific methods to detect CHAPTER XIV THE LADY TAKES A HAND Everyone enjoyed his highball just as most every- one does anything which is obtained through a little lawlessness. The average mind is thrilled at the thought of forbidden fruit. In fact, the makeup of man seeks a thrill. It is lawless to steal a watermelon from a farmer's patch, yet who is there that denies the pleasure of a melon obtained in that manner? Stolen sweets are sweetest. Hence the failure of pro- hibition. Alice, a past master of mixing any and all kinds of alcoholic concoctions, did the serving after an introduction by Wilbur. "That's ripping," was LeClair's comment. "None better since I left Le Havre," said Carter. "Good Canadian," observed Loomis whose con- tact with the Canadian border qualified him as an expert. "It's Coon Hollow, isn't it?" asked Dr. Shaw as he inspected the bottle, and then added, "I thought so. It's about the only bonded we get around here." "It isn't bad," remarked Wilbur. "I'm interested 191 192 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE in it. I'd like to know how it happens to be here in quantity. Not that I want to put anybody in the toils for furnishing it! Far be it! Personally, I regard it as a business—an extremely hazardous one. But I would like to know about the particular traffic in this region because I think it would throw some light upon the Morley deaths." "You have a very strange case," said LeClair. "I'll be interested in following it. And if a murder has been done I wish you all the success possible. I can see where the liquor traffic might enter into it." "Well, gentlemen, I'm sorry I cannot remain with you longer," said Loomis. "I'm pleased to have met you all and hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again." Turning to Wilbur he addressed him directly, "There's nothing further that I can do for you, is there?" "Oh yes, Loomis," replied Wilbur. "I want you to do two things. First, I want you to question Finlay closely about his connection with Morley and Fal- lows. Try and wring something jut of him. I doubt if you'll get much. But try. Secondly, I want you to take up the chase of Pierre LaVell." "I'd better start on LaVell at once then." "If you will please. I can't see my way clear at the present." "Very well! I'll try and get some trace of him in town before I leave. After that I'll report in at head- quarters and question Finlay. Then I'll put all of my energies on LaVell. You think he's gone?" "I know he's gone. The quicklime in that coffin tells me that. It wasn't put there to destroy the odor THE LADY TAKES A HAND 193 of that corpse as a few people imagine.. There was some other reason. LaVell has flown." "Well, the quicker I get busy then the better." "Right you are," replied Wilbur, as he grasped the detective's hand. "Glad to have met you; glad you captured Finlay and hope you get a promotion." "I'm not caring for the promotion. There's a ten thousand dollar reward for the apprehension of the killer of old man Westervelt. I'm hoping I get that." "I'm betting on you." "Well, you'll hear from me the minute I get any definite trace of LaVell." "I must be going too," said Doctor Shaw. "It's my dinner time." "Yes, and we'll be going—Dr. LeClair and my- self," said Carter. "Just one more?" suggested Wilbur. "No thanks," replied Carter. "There's no use working a good horse to death," said LeClair. "One's enough for me," Dr. Shaw said, with up- raised hands. "My patients will all smell this one on my breath." And so Haughton, Wilbur and Alice were left alone. "Well, tell me about it," said Alice when the guests had departed. "What is it all about?" Briefly Wilbur told of everything that had trans- pired. "I've never in all my experience bumped into such a mess," said he when he finished. "Where is the money? Where is LaVell? Were the Morleys mur- THE LADY TAKES A HAND i95 "This thing is clever. It's been hatched in a master mind," Wilbur went on. "The thing has been cleverly thought out beforehand. All of the intricacies were methodically planned. What is false? The false seems true and the true appears false. It behooves us to weigh every move we make. There are pitfalls all about us. Now, getting back to the record alterations, or additions, to be more correct; if the idea was to throw the suspicion of murder upon us and I say us because I would have come in for my share, then we must have unearthed something which the real murderers consider more than warm. There must have been a murder or murders committed, using that theory as a premise. Now what have we discov- ered that points to the murder theory the strongest?" "I don't know," answered Jack. "And who knew that we had obatined this infor- mation?" Wilbur continued. "It wasn't the slippers or the gloves because we told no one of them. It wasn't the finding of the Smith and Wesson either, because no one knew of that until today. Was it the shank buttons with the blue serve covering? Was it the whiskey cache and the underground tunnel?" "I think it was the discovery of the buttons," said Alice. "I can't see where the liquor and tunnel would point toward a murder directly, that is, to arouse a deep suspicion that we knew there had been a mur- der. The buttons would—the proof of a desire to conceal something." "And that takes us to LaVell. His disappearance points the finger of guilt at him all the more. And 196 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE why did he object to the post mortems so strenuously when we actually found so little? If he were behind this whole affair and knew that the autopsies could reveal no more than they did, why did he object? Why did he disappear? It's hard for me to believe a man could be so astute to plan a flawless affair and not remain to see it through." "He's not alone," said Jack. Alice studied hard. "No, he's not alone in it," replied Wilbur. "But everything points to the fact that he was the most active." "The refusal of every officer in this county to order an autopsy proves there were plenty in it." "It seems to indicate that Fallows was on the 'in/ at least." "It's a mess. You named it right." "Well, let's get dinner. I'm about starved," sug- gested Wilbur. "After dinner I'm going to do a little shoe investigating. I can't get away from footprints; the mysterious glove that mates those of your wife, and the shank buttons." "Dinner sounds awfully good to me," said Alice. "You know I didn't have any breakfast." "So you didn't, honey," answered Jack. "We'll go at once." "And after dinner I'm going to do a little sleuth- ing," remarked Alice. "Good! Great! What's the idea?" asked Wilbur. "Never you mind," replied Alice. "It's just an idea." CHAPTER XV A SEARCH FOR A SURGEON After appeasing his gastronomic want, Wilbur de- cided to begin a process of elimination as he had done many times before on cases which stumped him. Accordingly he bade Jack and Alice good-by with the understanding that they would meet later at the hotel. Leaving them, he went directly to Smith's big shoe store. Mr. Smith, the proprietor of the store, greeted him cordially as Wilbur made known his name and busi- ness. "I am wondering if you might recall any of your customers who wear their shoes off in this manner," said Wilbur as he produced a pair of Alice's shoes which he had stuck in his pocket. "It's just a mere chance that you would." "Let me think. That's rather a large order and I don't believe I can fill it," said Mr. Smith as he examined the shoes. "I rarely if ever take any notice of just how shoes are worn down. You know most everyone wears his shoe soles and heels off to some extent. I'll confess, though, that this case is singular." 197 198 the secret of the morgue Mr. Smith thought for some time in silence. "I can only think of two women whose shoes I have ever noticed in this particular connection," Mr. Smith finally said. "And then I cannot say whether either one of them wore the heel and sole off as they are worn off in these shoes. I have simply noted the fact that they wore heels off in some manner—just a casual observance." "I understand. I didn't expect you to give me any definite information." "Well, Mrs. Morley wore her shoes off at the heels and soles constantly." "Is that so? That's illuminating." "The other lady is totally unconnected with the case you are unraveling, I am sure—Albertina Fal- lows, the daughter of Ambrose Fallows, the at- torney." "There are no others whom you recall?" "Oh, there are lots of women, of course, but these two are the only ones I recall where I have any vivid remembrance—extreme cases. I would imagine you could gain more substantial information at a cob- bler's. Women might have shoes which they liked well, repaired." "I was intending to do that. Where is most of the repair work done?" "Herman, the cobbler, has a place in the next block. I send all of my repair work to him. He does about all the repair work that is done in the city." "I thank you very much for the information you have given me and assure you that it will go no 200 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE Herman rummaged in his collection of shoes which had been brought in for repair. Wilbur waited anx- iously. “Hum! De shoes are gone,” said Herman when he had gone through the pile. “Dey vere here. And I know dat I did not repair dem.” “Go through them again please,” said Wilbur. “Maybe you overlooked them.” Herman again went through his pile of shoes. "No, dey are not here,” said he blankly as he scratched his head. “Whose shoes were they?” “De name was on de shoes. I don't remember but a lady brought dem in dat's living in a cottage on Ramona Lake.” “A Mrs. Haughton?” Wilbur suggested. “Dat's it. A Mrs. Haughton.” “Now they're gone and you're sure she did not get them?” “Oh no, she didn't get dem. She brought dem in sometime ago and said dere vas no hurry.” "Good!” exclaimed Wilbur. "Not so good,” replied Herman. “Suppose de lady comes for de shoes?” "She won't, Herman. I'll see to that,” replied Wil- bur. “And don't let this little call disturb you. I am a criminologist investigating the Morley deaths. What you have told me goes no further.” “Oh, the Morleys! They were my best customers. They were so saving. I repaired many shoes for both A SEARCH FOR A SURGEON 201 Mr. and Mrs. Morley. I do hope you find the mur- derers, if murder has been done." "I'll do what I can," replied Wilbur. Wilbur started out of the shop and then stopped short. "Oh, by the way," said he to the cobbler. "You don't think you could have given Mrs. Morley that pair of shoes by mistake?" "Oh my no! The shoes were not repaired." "That's right. Hum!" Wilbur stepped out of the cobbler's shop. A woman passed as he did so. She was strangely familiar. As Wilbur's eyes followed her figure they came to rest upon her shoes. Albertina Fallows! He followed her. He noted the heel of one shoe was run over slightly. He hastily looked at those in his hand. "Right!" he exclaimed to himself. Passing over to the left of the woman he noticed that the left foot seemed to scrape the sole as she walked. The shoes were relatively new and of course would show but little wear. Albertina Fallows entered the building which housed her father's office. "I'm mad! I'm crazy!" Wilbur said to himself. "All the women in the world don't wear their shoes off alike. I'm batty! It just shows how a detective's mind gets, in time. Here I am running around pur- suing women's shoes and already I have the same kind on Albertina Fallows, Mrs. Haughton, Mrs. Morley and someone else. I'd scream right now if I saw another woman's glove with a padded little finger. I'll have to get somewhere on this case soon 202 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE or I'll be a walking delegate for the booby hatch. Then there's the missing pair from Herman's shop. Who's wearing them? Oh God! I'm following every- thing and nothing. I'm just plain goofy. It's a good thing the Bankers' Indemnity don't know that I'm chasing enough ladies' shoes to start a store with or I'd be fired." Wilbur lit a cigarette. While searching for a match he felt the shank coat buttons in his pocket. "And coat buttons!" he exclaimed. "That's prob- ably another goofy idea. No wonder I got the laugh at the autopsies. It begins to look as if I'm a down- right ass—trying to make two murder cases with clues of shoe soles and coat buttons when in reality the cases prove to be suicides. I'm more than buggy." And so Wilbur ruminated on his way back to the hotel. It looked like a mess only explainable on a suicide hypothesis. If the Morley deaths were mur- ders it looked as if they were perfect crimes. Every- thing was a conjecture. The dynamited bridge, the exploded cottage and the peculiar construction of the Morley cottage were not even explained. The causes, the whys and the wherefores, were only guesses. What little was known definitely, as the autopsy re- sults, were at variance with what was suspected. It was no wonder that Wilbur was in an agitated mood when he met Jack and Alice at the hotel. "Suicides my eye!" said Jack while they all re- hashed the affair. "I don't believe it. The gun busi- ness is too much for me to swallow." "The powder you mean?" asked Wilbur. A SEARCH FOR A SURGEON 203 "Yes, that and the two guns." "And the peritonitis, the Murphy button—oh Hell, the damn thing has me. All we have are contradic- tions and coincidences." "I don't know what to do. I haven't even a sug- gestion," 'The aquaplane might take us somewhere. But no one saw it, we haven't the number and God knows where it may have come from. They fly long dis- tances. It might be possible to trace it, though, but it's a lot of work. After we did it we might find it had nothing to do with the case at hand in spite of the fact that it may have seemed to be linked with it" "I've an idea," said Alice. "I'm not much of a detective but if you figure on taking the time to check up on all the planes in the country I believe my idea is worth while, quick and positive." "Whafs the idea, Alice?" asked Wilbur. "Spring it I'm willing to grasp at a straw." "Morley had an operation some place. It took place in some hospital. It was done recently. It prob- ably wasn't done a thousand miles away. It ought to be very easy to check up on it and trace Morley," Alice suggested. "That's good. That's fine," replied Wilbur. "But supposing he used an assumed name." "All right, supposing he did," replied Alice proudly, "I told you I was going to do a little sleuth- ing myself. Well, I did. I went to Doctor Shaw's office and he gave me access to his medical library. 204 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE I read surgery all afternoon, more particularly ab- dominal surgery and I think I learned a great deal. Now get this! Murphy buttons are seldom used by surgeons any more. Most of them suture the intestine to the stomach when doing their gastroenterosto- mies. But there are a few surgeons who still cling to the button. It ought to be an easy matter to find the surgeons who do and check up on their operations. All operations have case records. Whenever you find a gastroenterostomy which has been done lately with a Murphy button, show a photograph of Morley to the surgeon and operating nurses. They'll recognize him. From my reading I gather these patients are under observation some time before they are oper- ated upon, having X-ray pictures and stomach tests done—long enough for the surgeons to become ac- quainted with their features. And Morley was a per- son not easily forgotten once he was seen." "Hum! Damn! That is an idea. Splendid!" "It may take considerable time to check all of the surgeons but I don't believe that will be necessary. The operation was undoubtedly done in some large institution where a surgeon of some reputation offici- ated. That sounds awkward perhaps when I have mentioned the fact that the use of the button is an almost obsolete procedure. Nevertheless there are a few reputable surgeons who still use them. I have learned, too, that the button is used at times by those surgeons who suture when the condition of the pa- tient gives the surgeon a limited time in which to perform the operation. But you may be almost sure A SEARCH FOR A SURGEON 205 that Morley would not pick out a surgeon of mean ability. I know I would want the best operator I could find if I found it necessary to undergo such a major operation." "Alice, you're marvelous," said Wilbur who had become intensely interested. "You're a born detec- tive. It will not take long to ascertain the informa- tion necessary. The United Medical Association publishes a book in which it lists the names of all surgeons and their specialties. With a list of all surgeons doing stomach surgery it ought to be quite easy to find the one who operated upon Morley. Damn it, I should have thought of that before. We'll be able to find out where Morley went when he left Summitville and we ought to be able to follow his movements afterward. Glad you made your inquiry, Alice." "Well, something must be done. The first thing we know we'll all be accused of the entire plot. It's a good thing some people do not know of the shoe prints and that accusing glove. With such circum- stantial evidence and a supposed ownership of the cottage it wouldn't be hard to build up a case." "Oh, but the ownership of the cottage is dis- proves" "Yes, thanks to black light. But if you hadn't thought of it and the authorities had found the tracks and the glove we'd be in a pretty pickle." "Undoubtedly." "Well, we don't know what else may crop up." "Never mind, Alice—murder will out." 206 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Well, I hope so before we are railroaded to the penitentiary. It would seem it hasn't been our fault that we are free. We've been lucky so far." "I shall set out on a tour of interrogation of sur- geons just as soon as I finish up with my work here. I want to learn the results of the interrogation of Finlay. I want to question the uncle of the Morleys and learn if there is any trace of LaVell. There's a wholesale drug house in Central City and they un- doubtedly have a copy of the United Medical Asso- ciation's book. We can begin there. The line of investigation holds promise." An interrogation of the Morleys' uncle amounted to nothing. The uncle was an old man in the eighties, incapable of even contemplating a criminal act. He was tottering and almost childish. A report from Loomis gave little promise that anything would be forthcoming from Finlay. He had shut up like a clam and would say nothing about anything. There wasn't a trace of LaVell. No one had seen him, he hadn't returned and his funeral parlors were closed. The uncle had sought the services of another undertaker and the bodies of the Morleys had been buried. With such a jigsaw puzzle upon his hands, Wilbur set forth on his trip of interrogation. It seemed the only course he could pursue. If that failed there remained the bare possibility that the plane ownership could be established and that it would lead to something. If a search for the plane failed there seemed to be nothing more that could be done. The Morley case would be either an unsolved crime or a suicide. CHAPTER XVI PELLETIERES' FUNERAL HOME In Chicago Wilbur sought out the foremost general surgeon and explained his mission. The surgeon culled Wilbur's list further. As a result when the surgeon was through, Wilbur had a rather small list which included only those surgeons who used the Murphy button at all times and those who used it occasionally as a matter of expediency. Thus armed, along with a late photograph of Eugene Mor- ley, Wilbur and Haughton set forth. It looked as though their procedure would bring results in a rela- tively short time. But there were unforeseen diffi- culties encountered at once and their calculations were upset. Instead of resolving into an easy task it became a hard one. The first three surgeons whom they sought to interview were out of town and would be for an indefinite period. Their assistants who re- mained in charge of their practice either knew noth- ing of the surgeons' previous work or were reluctant to impart any information. Another remembered per- forming several gastroenterostomies but could not 208 PELLETIERES' FUNERAL HOME 209 identify the photograph of Morley as that of any of the patients he had operated upon. One positively identified the photograph as that of a man that he had recently operated upon but the operation had been a kidney operation in place of a gastroenter- ostomy. Some were too busy to give Wilbur any time and others too self-important to condescend to talk. A few ethically inclined informed the investigator that they would not talk about their cases under any circumstances. A few days of such unproductive in- vestigation gave the task a hopeless aspect. "These surgeons give me a pain in the neck," Wilbur finally exploded after leaving the office of one of the ethical sort. "You'd think they were the most important people on earth. And their damn ethics! That has always made me sick. You'd think they were the most impeccable people in the world. And still about ninety percent of them are fee-split- ters, paying physicians incapable of operating a part of their operating fee for steering patients to them. The damned hypocrites! They won't advertise in a newspaper but they'll bribe a brother practitioner to send them cases to cut up. As a result a lot of the population give up normal appendices, normal thyroids, normal this and normal that. More purity!" "Why not try the hospitals?" suggested Jack. "That will be much better," said Wilbur. "We should have done that in the first place. They'll not be so damned independent." And so Wilbur and Haughton began their rounds of various hospitals in the hope that they would dis- 210 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE cover a record of Morley's operation. They came home exhausted that evening. The hospitals had been more easy of approach but the information obtained was of no value. "By the Gods," said Wilbur, "I never knew so many people lost their 'innards' before. Armour and Company have nothing on these hospitals. Boy, they slaughter 'em." "Yes, sir!" replied Jack. "There are more people lacking in anatomy than I ever dreamed of. If the slaughter is general, and I suppose it is, it isn't going to be long until the side shows will reverse their tac- tics. Instead of showing someone with three legs, one eye or two heads, they'll be charging admission to see a guy with all his God-given things intact. A bird with both tonsils will be able to make a living by simply opening his mouth and saying 'Ah.' A woman without a scar on her belly will command more attention than a tattooed lady." "The human race is decaying." "I believe it." The records of hospital after hospital were combed. The photograph of Morley was exhibited in the hope that someone would recognize it. No one did. The name Morley was not found on any of the registers. This might be expected, however, because he might have entered a hospital under an assumed name. Finally when Wilbur had almost decided that Mor- ley's surgery had not been done in Chicago a hospital furnished a clue. It was the private institution of a celebrated surgeon. The surgeon himself was not at PELLETIERES* FUNERAL HOME 211 hand but a surgical nurse, an assistant operator, gave the information. "Yes, Mr. Wilbur," said she. "We operated a man for a gastric ulcer some time ago—about the time you suggest. The reason I recall it is because it was the only gastroenterostomy we have done in some time. We do not specialize in them, although we usually do a number of them every month. It just so happens, however, that for some period we have done no gastric surgery except this one case. The doctor uses the oblong Murphy button exclusively. You see Dr. Murphy was one of his Gods." "Would you recognize a photograph of the pa- tient?" asked Wilbur as he produced Morley's picture. "I don't know that I could," replied the nurse as she looked at the photograph. "You see I only saw the patient in the operating room. The nurse who attended him undoubtedly would. I can find out who she was if you wish." "Do you know whether the patient wore dental plates?" "Yes, I remember that. I recall the fact because the anaesthetist failed to take them out before be- ginning the ether. The patient took the anaesthetic badly and nearly swallowed the plates." "Will your records show where this patient came from?" "Oh, yes. I'll give you all the details if you care to have them." "I wish you would," said Wilbur. "Your informa- PELLETIERES' FUNERAL HOME 215 "It looks like the shuffling-off process was a big business," said he. "It appears so," returned Jack. "A very comforting sight for the well, wouldn't you say?" "It makes me think. With such a number of corpses as they must have all the time, it occurs to me that it might be an easy matter to forget one now and then. You get my idea?" "Oh, that's hardly possible, I should think. Death certificates have to be signed, go through a certain form, burial permits issued, etc." "Oh yeah. There's more than one way to kill a cat, too. But let's step inside." The interior of Pelletieres' was furnished in ex- quisite taste—the rugs, hangings, flower pots and lighting. While waiting for an attendant Wilbur and Haughton admired the decorations, and reverently inspected the caskets which were on display. "Gruesome," said Jack, "shopping for caskets." Wilbur was inspecting one minutely. "Oh ho!" said he. "This is a duplicate of the coffin which contained the corpse of Morley." A moment later he exclaimed, "It is! Look at the label—the Summitville Casket Company." Haughton stooped and read the inscription, "Oh, well, that doesn't mean much," said he. "The Sum- mitville Casket Company is quite a large affair and is probably well known to undertakers. I imagine morticians buy from all companies at some time in their career." 2l6 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Maybe so." At that instant an attendant approached. "Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?" said he. He wore a large white chrysanthemum in the buttonhole of his black suit—an undertaker's habit. "I'd like to speak to Mr. Pelletiere," answered Wil- bur, "when he isn't busy." "Did you want to see any one of the brothers in particular?" smiled the attendant. "There are three of us. I am one." "Oh, I beg your pardon," returned Wilbur. "I didn't know there were three of you. Of course, you will do." "Step this way, gentlemen," Mr. Pelletiere said graciously. He led them into a private office in the back. Within the room he pointed to some very com- fortable chairs and remarked, "Be seated, gentle- men." He seated himself and then asked, "And now of what service can I be to you?" "Mr. Pelletiere, I am an investigator," Wilbur explained. "I am wondering if you have any recol- lection of burying a man by the name of Scott—Wil- liam Scott, of 1648 DeVon Place?" "Oh, I recall it very vividly. The Scotts are very prominent people. We are conducting a funeral for Mrs. Scott tomorrow. Her brother just passed away." "Then you actually buried Mr. Scott?" "We most certainly did." "Another bum hunch," said Jack. "Oh, I don't know," replied Wilbur quickly, and 218 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE taker's name," said Mr. Pelletiere upon his entrance. “The matter is really inconsequential, however, since we did the actual burying. The matter of the con- duction was just a whim of Mrs. Scott. You know some people are very sentimental.” "Very well,” said Wilbur. “Did I understand you to say that you were burying Mrs. Scott's brother to- morrow?" "Yes, sir. The poor woman seems to have had her troubles all at once.” "That is rather a load of grief," answered Wilbur. “What ailed the brother?” "Ptomaine poisoning. He suffered terribly, so they say." “Hum!” Wilbur grunted in bewilderment and then said, “Well, thanks for your information. We'll not trouble you further." "If I have been of any assistance to you I am very glad.” "You've probably helped to mess our affair up further, but it's not your fault.” After leaving the Pelletieres', Wilbur and Haugh- ton sought their hotel. There was nothing more that could be done. It would have been a desecration to have invaded the Scott home to investigate further while it housed the dead body of Mrs. Scott's brother. Besides it wouldn't be fair to question her in her hour of grief. "I can't see that we are getting any place,” Haugh- ton said when they were in their room. “It would appear that we're on a wild goose chase.” PELLETIERES' FUNERAL HOME 2IQ "It would but for one thing," replied Wilbur. "That is the conduction of the funeral. An out-of- town undertaker doesn't sound right to me. It may have been a whim. I know there are those senti- mental fools. But that's strange and unusual, and whenever I find anything strange and unusual I'm inquisitive. The date of the death of her husband almost corresponds with the date of the death of Morley. You'll say that's another coincidence, I know. But that's grounded in me so indelibly that I can't shake it off. I don't believe in them. Now! I intend watching the Scott house from now on until after the brother's funeral. If Mrs. Scott had an out- of-town undertaker conduct her husband's funeral for sentimental reasons, I wonder if he won't conduct the brother's. I wish I had asked Mr. Pelletiere whether that would be the case." "Your mind is on LaVell." "Sure it is. I think he was the undertaker. I don't know why except for the association of everything." "Well, if you want to know what I think, I think this little jaunt is going to end just like the other things terminated—the clues, the autopsies, etc." "I won't say that it won't, Jack," replied Wilbur. "But I have my own idea." "What is your idea?" "Morley might have been leading a dual life. He might have been Scott here in the city and Morley in Summitville." "That's possible." "That might explain the undertaker." CHAPTER XVI! A SCOTCH FUNERAL The Scott home on DeVon Place surprised Wilbur. It was in a highly restricted district, a dark brown structure of modern design set well back in grounds of magnitude. No other homes were near it. The grounds were excellently landscaped. In all, the place was pretentious. The undertaker had spoken the truth. The Scotts were somebody. From a vantage point Wilbur watched the place all afternoon and night. But no one came or went. Not even a messenger boy arrived. To all appear- ances the place was deserted and there was no one who even cared to inquire about the funeral or send a message of condolence. A strange, incongruous situation. "The strangest thing I ever saw or heard of," Wilbur said to himself. "No flowers delivered! No condolences! No callers! Nobody!" The vigil of the following morning proved as fruitless as that before. The undertakers didn't even appear on the scene. The flower spray upon the door 222 A SCOTCH FUNERAL 223 was the only sign that there was anything extraordi- nary about the place except its evident luxury. No one entered and no one left. At two o'clock in the afternoon a lone person appeared—a minister. He walked slowly into the house. Some little time after a motor hearse of Pelletieres' pulled into the drive, fol- lowed by a single cab. And then to Wilbur's complete consternation about twenty minutes later a casket was wheeled out of the house and two of the Pel- letieres placed it in the hearse. No pallbearers! An extremely simple funeral! Another whim of Mrs. Scott! The minister escorted a heavily black veiled and weeping lady to the lone cab and the funeral cortege was complete. The hearse moved off, the cab followed and Wilbur watched them disappear down the wide drive of DeVon Place. "Well, I'll be damned,” was all the criminologist could say. He wheeled about, walked a few blocks and hailed a passing cab. Later at the hotel he said to Haughton, “Damned uncommunicative, these Scotts. But they may have the nationality as well as the name.” “What's the trouble?" asked Haughton. “Their funerals are banal—a hearse and one car. No flowers; no one attended but the sky pilot and the widow. Her weeds prevented my getting a squint at her. There was no sign of LaVell.” "Hum!” exclaimed Jack. “Damned mysterious!" "It's a nutty business.” “It must have been a strictly private funeral.” "More than private-frugal if you ask me. That's 224 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE another thing I don't like besides coincidences— frugality with evidence of pomp." "Well, while you've been on your little funeral attendance I've done a little work. Sitting around here waiting on you became a bore. I went to the office of the Nivorsky agent." "Good!" "Hold everything! Not so good! It's a room and nothing more. The name is on the door, there's some dumb advertising that litters the floor along with cigarette butts, and a desk with a lot of rings on the top of it." "Which spells?" "I don't know." "Don't be dumb all of your life, Jack. It's a blind. It's a bootlegging office." "I believe you're right. That explains the ship. There's only one. It's riding the waves at the Atlas Yacht Club. I ran down there and took a look at it. It's equipped for night flying. I inquired about a bit and gathered the impression that it was a 'rummer.'" "It explains the wealth of Scott on that informa- tion. How large is the ship?" "Good sized, tri-motored with a large cabin." "It would carry a corpse?" "A couple and then some." "Did you learn any more?" "Not much." "Meaning which?" "I went to Pelletieres', found the fellow that drove A SCOTCH FUNERAL 225 the funeral car at Scott's funeral. They buried him at Rose Lawn.” "Not so good!” answered Wilbur. “Did you try the bell hop out?” “You bet! I did that." “Any luck?" "Plenty." “Good boy. How is the stuff?" “Try it." Haughton reached in his grip, brought forth a bottle and handed it to Wilbur. "Well, I'll be damned!” exclaimed Wilbur as he held it up. "Coon Hollow!" “Nothing else but. And guess where it came from.” "Search me!” “Pelletieres'!" "Holy Mackerel!” exploded Wilbur as he took a gulp. “What a sweet case this is." CHAPTER XVIII LITTLE GRAINS OF SAND The next day Wilbur and Haughton sought to in- terview the widow of the late William Scott. They found no one at home. The blinds were pulled, the doors were locked and there was no sign of life about. Evidently Mrs. Scott had packed up and left. The grief occasioned by her husband's death and that of the brother had overcome her. "Let's go in anyhow," said Wilbur as he fished a bunch of keys from his pocket. "This lock doesn't look tough and I think I have a key that will do the trick." "I'm with you if you want to try it," answered Jack. "The place is secluded and no one will know." "We'll have a peak anyhow," said Wilbur as he passed a likely looking key into the lock and opened the door at once. Looking up and down the street and seeing no one, both men entered the Scott home and closed the door after them. The interior of the home was tastefully decorated. They entered directly into a large living 226 LITTLE GRAINS OF SAND 227 room which extended entirely across the front of the house. Two photographs on the mantel immediately engaged Wilbur's attention. One, that of a man, was trimmed in black. It was not a photograph of Eugene Morley and was evidently a picture of William Scott. The other was a picture of a woman—probably Mrs. Scott. Wilbur scrutinized both photographs intently. After doing so he went hurriedly from room to room and scanned everything. He missed nothing with his practiced eye. In a bedroom he picked up a pair of earrings. He was just about to leave the room after doing that when he noted something else sticking out from under the bed. "Well, I'll be damned," said he as he stooped and picked up a pair of lady's shoes, whose right heel and left sole were worn off exactly as Alice Haugh- ton's were. And as he examined them closely he found Ramona Lake sand in front of the heel. "Hum! Damn!" Wilbur said over and over again as he examined the shoes. Finally he tossed them under the bed. Nothing more of consequence rewarded their search. They emerged from the house as they had entered. "Something's transpired," said Jack after they had left the house. "What's purring?" "Plenty," Wilbur answered. "I've almost got the heebie-jeebies. The solution is in my hand but it's so crazy I can't tell it. We're on the track though. The supposition that Morley led a double life is more evident. 228 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "I don't want you to laugh at me. There is noth- ing concrete. I almost doubt my own deductions. Just hold on. The non-essentials, the seeming inconse- quential things in this case, are beginning to tell." "You mean ladies' shoes, earrings, and what have you? God knows you have enough." "That's it exactly." "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to wait until Mrs. Scott returns. I think I'll be able to burst this case wide open." 230 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Who shall I say is calling?" asked the maid. "Mr. Rodney of the Nivorsky Company," an- swered Wilbur as he handed her a duplicate card of the president of the Nivorsky Company. "It's about the seaplane." The maid turned to take the card to her mistress. Both Wilbur and Clarke entered without waiting for an invitation to come in. In a few moments Mrs. Scott entered the living room. "Mr. Rodney?" said she as she advanced. "Mrs. Scott," answered Wilbur as he held forth his hand in greeting. Turning toward Clarke he went on, "Mrs. Scott, Mr. Clarke, our new Chicago rep- resentative." "I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Clarke," returned the elegant Mrs. Scott. Wilbur studied Mrs. Scott very intently. "Won't you sit down, gentlemen?" said she as she graciously pointed out some elegantly upholstered chairs. Wilbur and Clarke seated themselves, as did Mrs. Scott. "You'll pardon our calling right at the luncheon hour I'm sure," said Wilbur. "But my time is very precious; in fact I have remained in the city a longer time now than I expected, thinking you would return day after day." "I'm very sorry," said she pleasantly. "I was very much grieved to learn of your hus- band's death. I knew him very well, jolly sort. I A FATAL INTERVIEW 231 never dreamed that he ever suffered from any stom- ach disorder." "Oh yes. He had been bothered for years—just endured. You know how these high-strung energetic men are—they never give up until they have to. He endured until he could stand it no longer. The doc- tors assured him that his operation would be a suc- cess and of course he believed them. They operated. Well, the operation was a success I guess, but peri- tonitis set in. You know the rest. They seldom re- cover from it, so I'm told. You wanted to talk to me about the seaplane, I suppose? I'd like to dispose of it. A woman could hardly carry on and I do not care to take up flying." "Oh, there are many other hazardous occupa- tions," Wilbur replied somewhat pointedly. "Oh, I dare say flying is quite safe but I just have a natural timidity. I don't think I could ever scrape up the courage." "I would imagine that. You never flew with your husband?" "Oh dear no! I never had the slightest inclina- tion." "But you do have courage, Mrs. Morley," Wilbur said suddenly. "Mrs. Morley!" "You did not misunderstand me. I said Mrs. Mor- ley," replied Wilbur with a grin that was almost sardonic. "You are no more Mrs. Scott than I am Mr. Rodney of the Nivorsky Corporation. I am 232 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE Lyman K. Wilbur, an investigator for the Bankers' Indemnity Company." "Why—why—you're mistaken. The very imperti- nence! And in my own house. You'll hear from this. The very idea! The absurdity. I'll sue you." "I hardly think you will, Mrs. Morley. It is very rare that people start suits in the place you are soon going to be. Are these your earrings?" Wilbur reached in his pocket as he arose and with- drew a pair of earrings. He walked over to where the lady sat and handed them to her. He smiled curiously. "Why, ah—yes, of course," she stammered after she had taken them nervously, examined them and paled. "Very well," replied Wilbur as she gave back the earrings. "We'll let the matter of the earrings go for the moment. Is the picture of the lady upon the mantel yours, Mrs. Morley?" "That's my picture—but you are talking to Mrs. Scott, if you please." "You think the picture belongs to you. I was not asking about the ownership though. My question might have been a bit ambiguous. I meant to ask if it was supposed to be a likeness of yourself." "Say, what in the world is the matter with you? Of course it is. Anyone can see that it is." "I rather suspected the contrary," Wilbur replied cannily. "I would put it this way—you are a very good likeness of the picture." 234 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "And the earrings, if you will notice, Mrs. Morley, are not the clasp kind," said Wilbur as he juggled them together upon the palm of his hand. "They have been worn by a woman whose ears were pierced. Yours, I notice, have not been pierced." "Ugh!" cried Mrs. Morley with a feline expression upon her face, her hands upraised and claw-like. "I could scratch your eyes out." "I do not doubt your animosity. You have very good cause to have a burning hatred for me. But to go on, the shoes in Mrs. Scott's bedroom are peculiar. The heel of the right one is run over and the sole of the left one worn off. In front of the heel of each shoe there is a peculiar colored sand. It's Ramona Lake sand, Mrs. Morley." Slowly, easily, quietly the dining-room door which led into the living-room was opening. First a mere slit appeared, then a crack—the hinge creaked. Clarke whirled, jerked his police special from his shoulder holster and pointed it at the door. He was not a moment too quick. The blue barrel of an auto- matic pointed at him as the door suddenly swung wide open. Clarke fired. The blue barreled automatic fell as it discharged and the bullet went wild. Clarke's gun barked again. The man who had held the automatic clutched savagely at his breast, pitched forward on the floor and rolled over. "Oh, my God! Eugene! Eugene!" cried Mrs. Morley as she dashed past Wilbur to hold Eugene Morley's head in her arms for the last few moments she would ever do so. A FATAL INTERVIEW 235 Eugene Morley looked up into his wife's eyes piti- fully. “We might have known," he gasped. “May God have mercy on you. I should never have forced you into it. Good-by and God bless you.” After a few moments the hysterical, almost mani- acal Mrs. Morley was taken away by detective Clarke. Wilbur remained with the dead man. THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 237 informal chat with the police matron at this mo- ment." "Aw, Hell! Wilbur, you're kidding." "I'm not kidding. Get in your car and run up. See for yourself. Or I've a better idea. Hop over to Cen- tral City and take a plane. Bring Alice with you. How is she? Pardon my not asking sooner." "She's just fine. But honest, Lyman, what is the low-down?" "Just what I said. I'll tell you all about it when you arrive. Don't forget to bring plenty of your im- portant belongings." "I'll do that little thing and hop over as soon as it is humanly possible." In Summitville Jack and Alice were completely dumbfounded. They were tense with excitement. Wilbur's message was unbelievable. Both gave little credence to the truth of his assertions. It was prob- ably a prank; maybe just a ruse to have them come into the city for a party. But no matter. Incredible as it all seemed, they packed their bags and plenty of their most important belongings. In a short time they were on their way to Central City. At that city's airport they took an outgoing plane for Chicago. While Haughton and his wife were winging their way, Wilbur went to the central police station to interview Mrs. Morley. There were many things re- quiring an explanation. The police matron had succeeded in composing Mrs. Morley by the time Wilbur arrived at the station. More than that, Mrs. Morley was willing to 238 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE talk freely after Wilbur informed her that he would intercede in her behalf if she did. He had heard her husband's dying words and knew that her part in the whole ghastly affair was largely forced. He gath- ered his information. When he had done so the Morley case and the strange city of Summitville were an open book. Leaving her Wilbur said to himself, "What a whale of a story for Alice and Jack. Hum! Damn it all, it sounds like a fairy tale except that it's gruesome. And I thought all the crime was hatched in large cities." Haughton and his wife arrived in Chicago in a tri- motored Ford, and lost no time in getting from the airport to the hotel where Wilbur was stopping. They secured a room adjoining Wilbur's. Alice curled her- self upon the bed and Jack unpacked the grips. Jack brought forth their most important belongings. Wilbur fetched ginger ale from his own room and a little liquid nourishment was indulged in by all. Jack then sprawled across the foot of the bed and Wilbur took his position in a chair which was opposite. "Well, let's have the fairy tale," said Alice. "I'm dying to listen." "This is a story," Wilbur began. "It's a story of a man with brains. It's a story that might never have been told. Only the screwy nature of Fate gives me the pleasure of recounting the tale. It's not one of brilliant detection. It's not the brainy deduction one finds in the dick novels. It's really a happen-so." "Well, go on, Lyman," urged Alice as she shifted 240 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE brought up the past and found that they had both seen the light of day in the same little New England town. "'Why, you're not Eugene Morley?' said the sur- prised woman. 'I am Gene Morley/ he answered. 'Well, I'll tell you the truth. I am not Mrs. Brown. I am really Mrs. Scott. But my maiden name was Lucille Starrett.' 'Lucille Starrett!' exclaimed Morley. 'Well as I live and breathe.' They had been childhood sweethearts. You can imagine no doubt what hap- pened. It's an old story. Morley, who was having difficulties with his wife at the time, capitulated before her shrine. Two kindred spirits embarked on the ship of consolation which shipped to a clandes- tine port. Enough! The summer season closed at Ramona Lake. The woman returned to her husband as a great number of errant wives do and Morley 'made up' with his wife. The affair passed as a sum- mer's flirtation for the woman, but not as such for Morley. He had learned a great deal. The woman's husband was wealthy. He had made a fortune in the peculiar manner that many have been made in, in the last ten years. He acted as an agent for the Nivorsky Amphibian. That was a blind for his real occupation. Incidentally he liked flying. Eugene Morley, the introspective, the close observer, also saw that this woman strongly resembled his wife. That may have been the reason for his infatuation for her as a married woman and it may have been the reason for his childhood admiration of her. They say a man falls for a particular type. I cannot say. THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 241 That's beyond the realm of my occupation. But no matter. This woman, the woman to whom he was attracted, was the wife of a man named William Scott, the man with the wealth. Suddenly William Scott died from an operation—a gastroenterostomy. Mrs. Scott had not forgotten Morley. In her extrem- ity, in her grief, she sent the word of her husband's passing to Morley. The thing Morley had been wait- ing for had occurred. And thus did Fate deliver the incentive for Morle/s nefarious scheme. His mind worked rapidly after receiving this word from Mrs. Scott. He went to Central City and wired her that he was coming to her. She believed his sincerity. And now let me introduce Pierre LaVell. He was very close to Morley. In fact he was so very close that he was under deep obligations to Morley since the cashier had seen that he obtained large loans on • illegitimate paper. Morley explained his plan to LaVell. He told him that he would receive half of the money he expected to get out of his scheme if it was successful. LaVell fell for it. He virtually had to do as Morley told him. At this time Morley had embezzled some money from the Summitville bank. He had taken out his life insurance years before. He figured to take all there was in the bank. Whole hog or none for him. And he didn't intend to miss the insurance. After getting LaVell into the scheme he told his wife of his peculations, how she would secure the insurance money, how she would fit into his murderous scheme. She was frantic, wild, because she was madly in love with Eugene Morley. But THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 243 allow him the pleasure of looking after the details of the funeral. Trusting, a subservient soul, she be- lieved him. Gaining her trust, the first thing he did was to take her with him in a cab to Pelletieres'. There, in her presence, but far enough from her to be unheard, he told the Pelletieres that she desired LaVell to conduct the funeral. He told them that it was just a little matter of sentiment on her part. The Pelletieres readily consented. Who wouldn't under the circumstances? They had supplied the casket and the funeral cortege. In fact they were delighted to get away from those funeral details which require tact and tenderness. "With this accomplished, Morley took Mrs. Scott home. It was then that LaVell came upon the scene. He became the funeral director. This is sordid. But that night when the Scott household was asleep, LaVell and Morley removed the corpse of Scott from the casket and substituted weight for the body. The body was taken by them to the Atlas Yacht Club and loaded into Scott's own seaplane. Next day LaVell conducted a wonderful funeral over the empty casket; the minister eulogized; much weeping was indulged in and in the end one hundred and fifty pounds of sand was buried in the earth." "Well, I'll be damned!" exclaimed Jack as he gulped down what was left of his highball. "And now comes the part where we fell down," Wilbur continued. "Morley was an expert flier. He was in the air service during the war. It's strange we never thought of that possibility when thinking 244 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE of the aquaplane on Ramona Lake and it is stranger that no one ever told us about it. But that is all in the past. The next afternoon he asked Mrs. Scott for permission to fly the Scott plane. She granted him the permission. He and LaVell flew to Ramona Lake with the corpse of Scott safely hidden in the fuselage. Thev landed, hid the body in the tunnel which led from Bakers Landing to the Morley cottage and waited. Morley flew the plane back to Chicago, con- soled the widow as only he could and left her, after informing her that he would return as soon as pos- sible. You can see what happened." "Right now I've got a vivid mind picture of that blue serge shank button lying in the boat house," said Jack. "And as I anticipate the story you were correct about those coming and going footprints." "Granted! You're right," Wilbur smiled. "But Morley still had much to do. He proceeded to disap- pear. On his arrival in Summitville he saw to it that money loaned to other banks was called in. He waited until all the Summitville factory payrolls were in. At the opportune moment he went south with two hundred thousand dollars. He disappeared. Later when Scott's body was thoroughly decomposed he came back after night. He and LaVell went to the cottage to arrange the corpse that was to be taken for that of Morley. And then the blunder! Morley shot the corpse of Scott twice with his own gun. He realized this immediately after, but he knew nothing about ballistics and hadn't the faintest idea that his gun was loaded with black powder while 246 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE arranged signal she made known her arrival. It was then that Morley induced Mrs. Scott to take a night cap. The drink contained enough arsenic to kill a horse. She passed out quickly from a paralysis of her vital centers. Mrs. Morley entered the cottage after the murder. Morley took her ring from her finger and placed it on the dead woman's finger. He removed the plates from Mrs. Scott's mouth and substituted those of his wife. Then he dragged the inert form into the compartment between the floors, soaked the cot- tage in oil and departed through the tunnel. Mrs. Morley replaced the cement blocks in the tunnel entrance. Morley closed the end at Bakers Landing when he went out. She fired the cottage after fixing the cellar wall and then met her husband at the lake. They entered the plane and flew back to Chicago. The plot was clever, ingenious and bound for success but for one thing—Mrs. Scott's ears were pierced and Mrs. Morley's were not. I noted that when I made my inspection of the dead woman's body." "Damned clever, Wilbur," said Jack. "Nobody else would do that except you. Now I see why you were so interested in the earrings. A smart bit of detail, I'll say." "Never mind the compliments. I consider myself to have been very clumsy in this case. I'll take an- other short libation if you don't mind." Wilbur poured himself a small portion. "And you see, murder will out," Wilbur went on. "Back in Chicago the Morleys dreamed that they were well on their way to wealth. It seemed that THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 247 Morley's scheme was working to perfection. All that the Scotts owned was to be theirs, the money embez- zled from the bank and the collected insurance money. With a fortune so garnered they intended to disappear abroad. Mrs. Morley was to simulate Mrs. Scott and ostensibly marry Morley. He was to use an assumed name. There's where more ingenious work was done. Mrs. Morley was done over by a beauty surgeon. And I must say the surgeon did a remarkable job. He made an exact double of Mrs. Scott out of Mrs. Morley except in one slight par- ticular, a thing which might have escaped less keen observation than mine. There was a mole upon Mrs. Scott's neck which the surgeon either could not make or which he forgot. When you see Mrs. Morley you will not know her. I have a photograph of Mrs. Scott. You will be able to see how cleverly things are done by surgery." "Yes, I've seen some of the clever results of sur- gery," Jack put in. "That job with the Murphy button was terribly clever. The fellow that did that ought to take a postgraduate course in a plumbing school and learn how to swipe a joint." "How much were the Scotts worth?" inquired Alice. "Seven hundred and fifty thousand," replied Wilbur. "Whew! Morley wasn't expecting to make much of a haul, was he?" exclaimed Jack. "A million! By the Gods, I don't know but what I'd bump off a female for a million." 248 THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE "Jack!" exclaimed his wife. "Yes, Morley had a real clever idea but like all the rest of the clever crooks he missed some seem- ingly unimportant details. When I had him cornered he attempted two more murders. He tried to kill detective Clarke and me." "Lyman!" Alice screamed. "You don't tell!" said Jack. "He most certainly did. He had a bead upon me when Clarke shot the gun out of his hand. Morley's gun went off, but the bullet went wild. The second shot from Clarke's gun toppled Morley. That just about finishes the tale of the Morleys." "But you haven't explained the shoes yet—nor the glove," said Alice with a smile. "That's very easy. I never did mention the fact to you because you seemed worried about them, but I found out about the shoes before I left Summit- ville. You forgot about them, but you left a pair of your own at the cobbler's for repair. After you in- sisted that all of your shoes were accounted for I hated to tell you that you were mistaken for fear that you would gather the impression that I thought you knew something about the murder. And you were a little fidgety after the deed affair." "You're right, I was," replied Alice. "And I did leave a pair at the cobbler's. It was a pair of shoes I particularly liked. I'm sorry I forgot, Lyman, really I am." "Never mind, it wouldn't have made any differ- ence had you remembered. It might have made more THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 249 complications, that's all. Anyhow Morley saw those shoes in the cobbler's shop. They had a tag on them with your name on the tag. His astute mind worked fast. In view of the fact that his wife must come to the cottage the night he intended to murder Mrs. Scott, he reasoned that her footprints might give the affair away. He did not know that she wore her shoes off the same as you do. He knew you lived next door. Why not have it appear that you made the footprints of his wife? Should his plan fail and the murder he discovered, the footprints would direct suspicion against you. The shoes were just one of his cunning details the same as the glove. He noted in the bank that you had one finger missing and in some manner examined your glove when you laid it down inadvertently. He had one made to duplicate it, the one that was dropped purposely at Bakers Landing. He was a damned methodical cuss in a way and a sticker for details." "But the plates that identified Morley?" "Simple! Those in Scott's mouth were removed and Morley's substituted. Morley secured some new ones pronto." "Hum!" exclaimed Jack. "It's almost unbeliev- able. But tell me! What about the liquor racket?" "Oh yes," replied Wilbur with a laugh. "That's a good one too. I'd almost forgotten. Morley, Webb Tully and Fallows owned a distillery. It's located in the casket factory. Federal men are already on the way to take that over. Morley's cottage was used as a cache early in the game. But when the affair 25O THE SECRET OF THE MORGUE grew to proportions, this practice was abandoned. It has been a big business the last few years. They have shipped the stuff directly from the casket fac- tory in caskets. And here's the laugh—Pelletieres' were the distributing agents in Chicago. Scott was the Big Shot, controlling all of Chicago's North Side. Federal agents probably have the Pelletieres by now." "Well, I'll be a dumb onion!" said Jack in con- sternation as he held up his half filled glass of liquor. "Then this stuff isn't bonded." "No," laughed Wilbur. "It isn't bonded. It's the old racket—pretty bottles and fake labels." "But it tastes like the old McCoy." "Sure it does. That outfit went after the liquor business with the same attention to detail that Mor- ley used in his mad search of a million. They aged their stuff. Let's have some." And with true prohibition spirit they took another "snifter" of the stuff that has made the name of Volstead famous. "That explains the dynamiting, the attempt on our lives, the blowing up of the cottage, the altered court house record and everything," Jack remarked after a gulp. "Precisely," returned Wilbur. "Those fellows in Summitville were afraid that our interest in the Morley case would cause us to discover their little game. It was too precious to give up. They tried to put us out of the way. If they had not done that I wouldn't have been at all anxious to inform the Fed- THE END OF AN ALMOST PERFECT CRIME 251 eral authorities, for all things considered, the Coon Hollow has been a godsend. Now, does that clear up everything?" "No, sir." "What else?" "What became of Pierre LaVell and what was his connection?" "I fancied you'd get around to that. Well, eight weeks ago, as you know, the supposed Mrs, Scott buried her brother." "Oh, I seel" exclaimed Jack in horror. "Another murder." "Yes. The supposed brother was Pierre LaVell. Tomorrow two graves will be opened in the Rose Lawn Cemetery. In one I expect to find a casket which is filled with sacks of sand. In the other I expect to find a casket containing the body of Pierre LaVell. You see, Morley didn't want to give LaVell his cut." "Greedy devils, these Morleys." "Yes, and they firmly believed the age old motto: 'Dead Men Tell No Tales.'" "But one dead man did—William Scott." "As I have said before, the most carefully laid plans of crooks miscarry." "But how did Morley get a burial certificate for Pierre LaVell-? Surely his death was investigated." "A dumb doctor probably made a case of ptomaine poisoning out of an arsenic highball." "Well, that was taking an awful chance. Suppose the doctor really knew?" -