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828
B7274
1933











THE BANK VAULT
MYSTERY





KREKERERERSERKERERERERERE
THE
BANK VAULT
MYSTERY
By
LOUIS F. BOOTH
GROSSET & DUN LAP
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
ERRRRRRRRRER EKSEKERK***


COPYRIGHT, 1933,
By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, INC.
All rights reserved-no part of this book may be
reproduced in any form without permission in
writing from the publisher.
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.


848
B747 kr
1933
То
х. Р. В.


lluns auf
la 17.36
FOREWORD
“THAT BANK VAULT CASE," as Maxwell Fenner
usually referred to it, was a strange and involved
affair, and made no less so for me by the fact that
all my ingenuity (and assiduous nagging besides)
was required to worm the details a bit at a time
from Fenner's reluctant lips. He is ordinarily not
close-mouthed with me, but after I had extracted the
whole tale I readily understood his reticence. How-
ever, by altering names and places and a few of the
relationships involved, I have concocted a record
which, though it quite closely adheres to the facts,
I was able to secure Mr. Fenner's permission to pre-
sent to the public.
The chronicle includes a brief span of ten days—
from a spring Thursday morning to the end of the
following week—and the principal actors in the
drama were introduced to Fenner from time to time
during the early part of that period. To give the
reader at the outset the advantage of a background
against which, as the story unfolds, the successive
events may be seen in their proper perspective, I
have preceded the narrative itself with a brief Pro-
logue introducing the more important characters on
the morning of that fateful Thursday.
L. F. B.





CALENDAR
vii
FOREWORD . . . .
CHARACTERS . . .
PROLOGUE . . . .
I THURSDAY, MARCH 31ST .
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·
CHAPTER
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II
FRIDAY, APRIL IST.
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III SATURDAY, APRIL 2ND
IV MONDAY, APRIL 4TH .
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139
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149
V TUESDAY, APRIL 5TH .
VI WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH.
VII THURSDAY, APRIL 7TH .
VIII FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH . .
IX SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH .
EPILOGUE . . . .
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199
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CHARACTERS
T. JEROME HANLEY.........Vice President and General
Manager, Consolidated
American Bank and Trust
Company
JEREMY DONEGAN, SR. ......Vault Custodian
JEREMY DONEGAN, JR. ... ... Assistant Cashier
CHRISTOPHER DICKSON......Chief Engineer, United Con-
struction Co.
PHILIP BORDEN ............Dickson's Assistant
JAMES QUINN .............Construction Superintendent
RANDOLPH MORTON ........Consulting Engineer
STEPHEN COLES............Morton's Assistant
Elsa KNOECKLER...........Morton's Secretary
ADOLPH KNOECKLER.......Instrument Shop Proprietor
SCHMIDT ..................Newsdealer
DETECTIVE INSPECTOR BRYCE.. New York Police
BURKE
MCFADDEN
...... Of Bryce's Staff
QUADE
MURPHY
Dr. POLLARD.
...... Coroner
MAXWELL FENNER


PROLOGUE
те
It is the beginning of a day, a Thursday—the lasť
Thursday in March, to be precise-in the Year of
our Lord, nineteen hundred and thirty. A chart of
the progressing life lines of a number of individuals
reveals an interesting tendency to converge. An all-
wise graphologist, anticipating this convergence and
plotting it in his ledger of fate, would draw, how-
ever, no neat intersections, no points of amiable
tangency. Rather, his lines would meet in a jumble,
a knotty snarl from which some emerge wavering
and which some cut straight through, a shambles
from which some emerge not at all.
Let us cut a quick cross section through these lines,
lay the chart open at a moment on this Thursday
morning and for a brief flash examine the lives so
exposed:
Detective Inspector Bryce sits before his desk in
a dingy, ill-lighted room at Police Headquarters in
lower Manhattan. He has pushed his chair a little
back and sits straight up; with conscious delibera-
tion he is lighting a heavy black cigar. The eerie
glow of the green-shaded desk lamp softens the
outline of his face but the quick flare of the match
behind his cupped palms catches and brings out an
aggressive hardness in the features.
He has just arrived and is assembling his


THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
thoughts. He wonders how long he will have to be
in court during the morning and whether or not the
new Assistant District Attorney, of whom he has no
high opinion, will muff the case he has built up
against a small-time gambler and racketeer-
Some twenty odd miles north-by-northeast, as the
crow flies, Maxwell Fenner is finishing his simple
breakfast. As he munches toast with marmalade
and sips his coffee, his glance wanders through the
casement window out over his garden and the adjoin-
ing gardens. There is a fresh greenness bursting
upon the lawns and the heavy languor of early
spring lies over the whole landscape. Fenner is
thinking that it would be splendid if he could stay
away from the City altogether today and decides, as
the next best alternative, to arrange his day so that
at least his afternoon will be free
Back in Manhattan Mr. T. Jerome Hanley, Vice
President and General Manager of the Consoli-
dated American Bank and Trust Company, is being
whisked to his office in a comfortable limousine.
Weary of looking at the back of his chauffeur's head,
he turns to watch the familiar streets flash by.
Down Park Avenue, then down Lafayette Street,
the same route he traverses six mornings out of
seven, eleven months out of twelve. He must speak
to Oscar about it. There must be some other way,
He forgets the scenery, for unpleasantly it occurs
to him that if the market has another sinking spell
today he will be in a fair way to be closed out. He


PROLOGUE
will not supply any more collateral-simply can not;
and he has a shrewd suspicion from the display of
weakness yesterday that there will be further break-
ing. If only a temporary rally would set in! He
could get out then without a total loss, and (believe
Mr. Hanley!) he'd have brains enough to wait a
long time before he got back in again. Well, the
worst they can do is to close out his account. He will
still be V.P. and G.M. of the Consolidated, which
isn't half bad at forty-five; and his income from that
source will be undiminished. He sinks back into
the cushions, not sure that it wouldn't be a relief to
be sold out and have the uncertainty over with-
On a Subway Express the Jeremy Donegans,
Senior and Junior, form part of a packed mass of
swaying humanity being rushed through the East
River Tubes from Brooklyn to the towers of Down-
town New York. Donegan, Sr., is seated half doz-
ing. Donegan, Jr., stands or, rather, is suspended
before him. With one hand he clings to a swinging
strap, with the other he holds a skillfully folded
newspaper. He reads that the Yankee pitching
staff is to be supplemented this season by somebody-
or-other formerly with the Cardinals. With three
quarters of his mind he is wondering what the girl
or woman behind him looks like, whose soft, unwill-
ing body he can feel pressed so tightly against his
own-
Somewhere between Hanover Square and Canal
Street a jolting, rattling Second Avenue Elevated


4. THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
train snakes its tortuous way downtown, "_less
crowded and it gets you there quickly, too,” as their
advertising points out. In the third car, carefully
separated by a few inches from an Italian laborer
on one side and a homeward-bound charwoman on
the other, sits Randolph Morton. His ankles are
crossed; a brown leather briefcase rests upon his
knees; in one hand he holds a pair of immaculate
tan pigskin gloves with which from time to time he
absently flicks imaginary specks of dust from the
portfolio.
Business has been rotten. In the last six months
he hasn't made expenses. At Chatham Square he
is thinking, gratefully, that his commission for de-
signing and supervising the foundations for the new
Consolidated American Building will pull him out
of the hole. That job is certainly proving a life
saver. Still-it is almost completed. If nothing
new comes in, he might yet have to dispense with
Steve Coles, his only remaining assistant. The firm
has surely fallen upon evil times! He glances about.
At Fulton Street he is pondering his home life, or
lack of it. He is marveling that a woman could
change in a few years to the extent that his wife has
changed. He thinks of his children away at school,
but suddenly it is Hanover Square and he has to
get off-
In lower Fulton Street old Adolph Knoeckler
steps out of his shop and glances up and down the
street. The morning sun, burning away the faint
haze, falls kindly upon his bald skull. He hobbles


PROLOGUE
several doors up the street and into the stationery
shop of his friend and countryman, Schmidt, for his
morning paper. He is puzzling over an unwonted
abstraction which he fancies he has observed in his
daughter of late. He folds the paper across, scarce
seeing it at all, caught in a sudden nostalgic surge
of recollection.
Back in Germany in his youth Knoeckler had been
a fine lens maker. He had met reverses and had
come to New York, almost a middle-aged man, and
had married and set up an instrument repair busi-
ness in lower Fulton Street. His wife had died
when Elsa was born. Adolph sometimes wonders
if things might not have been different with his
daughter if her mother had lived. Adolph had been
both father and mother to Elsa during her child-
hood. He remembers her dandled on his knee lis-
tening to stories in his broken dialect; he remem-
bers how he used to take her places on Sundays, to
see the animals at the zoo, to the harbor to watch
the ships; how he used to buy her pretty little frilly
dresses; how he himself braided up her pigtails.
The recollection saddens him. As she had grown
up they had grown apart; as she had found outside
friends and amusements Adolph had quietly with-
drawn into himself. There had been steadily less
in common, less to talk of, until now she has almost
slipped from him completely
At this moment it is not alone Adolph Knoeckler
who is worrying over Elsa. On that same Subway
Express which brings the Donegans to work, and


PROLOGUE
cell, Consulting Engineers. She finds the place dusty
and hot with the stuffy quiet that offices acquire sim-
ply by staying shut up over night. The sun stream-
ing beneath the half drawn shades pours in two
oblique shafts of light and draws into emphatic
relief the same thin film of dust Elsa has carefully
removed from Mr. Morton's desk morning after
morning for the past ten months.
A little wearily she crosses the office to raise the
shades and throw the windows open. She stands
before one, slowly peeling off her gloves, and looks
out. There is stolid resignation in the almost im-
perceptible droop of her lips, scarce belied by the
frown gathering between her eyes. Across the nar-
row canyon she can see in another building tier on
crowded tier of offices with different names and
varying occupants but somehow of an essential
sameness. Mechanically she notes faint stirrings
here and there signaling the beginning of another
bustling day. Elsa is weary of bustling days.
Though of late there hasn't been so much work,
there is always the deadening pressure of office
routine, and in her life generally a poisoning monot-
ony of hopeless and pointless repetition. Several
times—long ago they seem to her now—she had
fancied she saw avenues of escape but always they
had failed to materialize. There was Henry, first,
whom she had “gone with” for more than a year,
but somehow he had drifted away; that was four
years ago—then Lawrence with whom she could not
have gotten along anyway—then Marty with whom


PROLOGUE
A mile and a half southwest of the tip of Manhat-
tan in the smoking cabin of a Staten Island Ferry,
New York bound, Christopher Dickson sucks upon
a consoling pipe. He is late, for him an unusual
circumstance. By now he should be at his office far
uptown. It had been necessary to wait at St. George
for his bank to open so that he could procure from
his safe deposit box a number of Liberty Bonds.
Nervously his hand touches his breast. Yes; the
bonds are still there, reposing in a long fat envelope
in an inner coat pocket. Reluctantly he will post
the bonds at his brokers to protect his dwindling
margins. Three months ago the wiseacres and quid-
nuncs had proclaimed, “The bottom has been
reached !” Three months ago he had read in rep-
utable journals, “Now is the time to lay the founda-
tions of a fortune!" The wiseacres had been wrong;
so had the quidnuncs.
Dickson is thinking: "If Myra ever finds out
about the bonds— Still, there is no reason why she
should, and what women don't know won't hurt
them.” Irritably he raps his pipe out against the
edge of the bench and walks out to the front deck-
In an ultra-modern office building uptown Philip
Borden is being raised from the first to the twenty-
eighth floor in a high-speed, micro-drive elevator.
The uniformed operator says, “Mornin', sir."
The lone passenger replies, “Morning, Doc.
Take the boss up yet?”
“Nope; Mistah Dickson ain't been in yet.”.
The reply barely registers. Borden is thinking


10 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
that his mother ought to see a doctor about that
peculiar pain between her shoulder blades. It
might be something serious which shouldn't be neg-
lected. He'll have to be more insistent-
“Twenty-eight, sir.”
The car stops
But now we have seen enough. Let us close up
the chart and get on with our story.


CHAPTER I
Thursday
March 3151
THE JEREMY DONEGANS, father and son, halted at
the entrance of the Consolidated American Bank
and Trust Company Building. Old Jeremy had
worked for the “Consolidated" for thirty years, his
son for five. Without thinking much about it, both
felt that they had become parts of the huge banking
institution.
It was a rare morning, even for the sunny end of
March; much too fine a morning for old Jeremy or
young Jerry to go inside until the last possible mo-
ment. Jeremy glanced up the street to where
Trinity Church loomed at the end of it, purpling in
the morning sun. The golden hands on the tower
indicated a quarter before nine o'clock.
"Let's take a look at the new building job. We've
got ten minutes yet,” he suggested. Across the street
the Consolidated American Company was starting
the erection of its new sixty-story home.
Young Jerry nodded and they sauntered across
and leaned against the railing of a truck-loading
platform overlooking the building site. Through
the spaces in the cross-lot bracing they could see
away down beneath them in the bottom of the ex-
cavation swarms of laborers, their figures from that


12 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
· height foreshortened grotesquely, picking away and
shoveling, loading up dirt buckets and stone skips.
Periodically the heaped buckets were hoisted by der-
rick out of the hole and, with a great creaking of
booms and rattle of cable, swung in a swift, high,
wide arc to trucks waiting in the street where they
were noisily dumped, then sent back for more.
"Some job, huh!” Young Jerry's eyes sparkled
appreciatively. “Some hole in the ground I”
The new building would occupy most of the block
and was to have four basement levels below the
street floor. The excavation had been carried fifty
feet below the street and was progressing in solid
rock.
“Yeah, some job! Some different from the old
days. Puts me in mind of when they built this.”
With his thumb Old Jeremy indicated the Consoli-
dated Building in which they then worked. "I was
a brickie then; three dollars a day was big money.
Everything was donkey engines and horses; none of
these electric hoists and trucks. Took us three years
to finish it. They say this'll be done in a year and
it's five times as high.” He stroked his chin thought-
fully. “That was—let's see-thirty years ago.”
“Look," Jerry interrupted. "They're going to
shoot.” He pointed to one side of the hole where a
large mat of woven cable and logs was being let into
place to cover the blast.
One of the foremen scrambled up on the bottom
layer of bracing and bellowed a warning to the men
working near by. Dropping their tools they scurried
from the spot in all directions, seeking shelter be-


14 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
set to work, by hand and with pick and shovel, load-
ing the newly shattered rock into buckets and skips
to take it away.
"Gosh! That was some blast, wasn't it?" Jerry
exclaimed. “You could feel this platform tremble,
all right.”
"That was a damn good shot,” Old Jeremy ex-
plained. “You see, those deep shots that you feel
but don't hear so much are the ones that do the
work. When you get one of those roarin' kind that
you hear all over town you generally won't feel 'em
at all; an' you can be pretty sure most of the force
went out the drill holes.”
"Yeah? Well, you could feel that one all right.
I'll bet they felt it in the bank, too. Did you know
a lot of plaster fell down up on the fifth floor yes-
terday? And right up over my desk a couple of
big cracks are opening up in the wall. Maybe the
building'll fall down. Only if it's going to I hope
it waits until the new one's built.”
"Don't worry about that old building ever falling
down," Jeremy answered. “It's wall-bearing, but
it's solid and'll be there till they tear it down. I
guess it's settling, though, or shifting a little. The
last couple of days I can hardly get my vault door
open or shut, it binds so "
He was interrupted by the sudden notes from
Trinity starting its mellow preamble to the stroke
of nine.
"Come on. We'd better get over to work,” he
urged. Reluctantly Jerry assented and they went
into the building.


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
Old Jeremy was Custodian of the Central Vault.
He had entered the employ of the Consolidated
American Bank as a guard thirty years before when
they moved into their then new building. Jeremy
had been a bricklayer during its construction but he
had gladly exchanged the uncertainties and vagaries
of building work for the steadiness and security of a
job with the “Big Bank.” Within a few years he
had become captain of the guards, and, as the bank
grew and the force expanded, he had developed and
disciplined his little army until it had become an
example for the rest of the financial district. As
he had grown older his health had failed until finally
he had retired, but after a short time he had found
the retirement so irksome that he had returned and
taken a post as Custodian of the Central Vault.
Young Jeremy Jerry, they called him-had
started in the bank as a clerk and had gradually
moved along until after five years he had become
an assistant cashier-one of many. Most of the
time Jerry liked the bank and was contented work-
ing there. He lived with his father but expected,
as soon as he had saved enough money, to marry a
girl to whom he had been engaged for a little more
than a year. His future lay before him, well de-
fined: a small raise each year, a house in the suburbs,
a mortgage, babies at (he hoped) infrequent inter-
vals. If he was lucky and tended to business he
might get a larger raise some years; if he was un-
usually lucky he might some day even become an
officer in the bank, but the chances in that direction
were distinctly limited.


16 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
and to left. ny along, glancine, and himself in a
out all of thends and that parallel on to right
Sometimes when Jerry was moody and looked
ahead he pictured his life as a smooth groove stretch-
ing away down into the future without turn or devia-
tion as far as the eye could see, and himself in it
sliding solemnly along, glancing furtively to right
and to left. There were other parallel grooves in
which slid his friends and the people he worked
with, but all of the grooves converged in a point
on the horizon.
Sometimes, especially in the spring, the metal lat-
tice of the cage in which he worked seemed to shrink
and close in about him until it left an impress in his
flesh, and he could hardly wait until the end of the
day brought liberation. But these moods were in-
frequent, usually accompanying slack spells and
passing when he became busy again. Most of the
time Jerry was quite content with his lot.
On this particular late March morning Jerry's
duties were pretty well caught up. He went to his
desk complacent in the knowledge that he had plenty
of time. As he sat down he noticed with a start that
the small irregular crack in the plaster that he had
from day to day watched extend itself from the
floor up through the wall to the ceiling cornice, had
overnight opened up to a jagged, yawning crevice
wide enough to thrust a pencil into and extending
out over the ceiling half way across the room.
Even as he sat there, astonished, he felt a quick
tremor and heard the dull boom of another blast
across the street. A thin sprinkle of plaster dust
filtered out of the crack and settled swiftly to the
floor. The luster of the mahogany desk top was


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
17
dimmed with an even gray film; the papers on the
desk were gritty with it.
For a minute Jerry was alarmed in spite of his
father's opinion of a few moments before. Perhaps
the building was "solid and'll be there till they tear
it down,” but just the same the plaster over his head
looked suspiciously loose to Jerry. He telephoned
the vault and told Old Jeremy about it.
“Oh, well; a little plaster shaken down won't do
anyone no harm," came the reassuring answer.
“When they get through shooting they'll patch it all
up. But my door here is worse than ever this morn-
ing. I've got to have T. J. see about it and I'll tell
him about the cracks too." "T. J.” (T. Jerome)
Hanley was the bank's manager. A short time later
he came into Jerry's cage. He looked at the cracked
wall thoughtfully.
"It's gotten quite a little worse over night, hasn't
it, Donegan ?” he asked.
“Yes, sir; I believe it has. Yesterday the crack
was much narrower and didn't run into the ceiling
at all.”
"Hmm- There are some new ones upstairs, too.
Well, the engineers are coming over this morning to
have a look at the vault doors. We'll get them to
examine this at the same time. Some sort of settle-
ment, I presume; or maybe it's on account of the
vibration from their blasting. I'm told they're al-
most through with that work now, so it won't get
much worse. I suppose there's nothing to worry
about, anyway." With this dubious reassurance
Hanley left and Jerry turned to his work.


18 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
First there was a cash shipment for an uptown
branch to be prepared, an unusual sum and in large
denominations. Jerry assembled the amounts and
packed the currency into one of the small canvas
sacks the bank used for this purpose. He filled out
and initialed the metal-rimmed fiber tag with the
destination, amount, time, etc., and attached it to
the sack. After packing up a number of smaller
consignments, he rang for a boy to remove the sacks
to the vault to await the afternoon armored-car
pickup. Presently a boy trundled to a stop at Jerry's
cage a low platform truck similar to those used in
freight stations and warehouses, except that it was
smaller, neater, and rolled quietly on pneumatic
tires. It was stacked three feet high with canvas
bags similar to those Jerry had just packed, some
containing securities, others currency. Jerry stacked
his consignments on one end of the truck and handed
the boy a copy of his check list. The boy glanced
at it absently, slipped it into a clamp with a sheaf
of others, and trundled his load away toward the
vault.
Jerry watched the truck roll to the door, idly
musing.
"Probably three or four million dollars' worth of
bonds and stocks and cold cash in the bags,” he re-
flected, "yet they cart them about like so many sacks
of potatoes, or bolts and nuts, and think nothing
of it. Of course it was all checked and tallied at
every corner and turn, but even so It was more
money than most people ever saw in a lifetime.
Why, probably any one of the bags contained enough


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st 19
to enable a man to live comfortably for years—and
not in cages, either.”
His speculations were cut short when the truck
rounding the door corner bowled into a party of
men entering the room. Mr. Hanley, leading the
group, stepped nimbly aside but the three men fol-
lowing were not so quick and the truck collided with
one of them none too gently.
“Take it easy, son,” Hanley admonished curtly.
"You'll get there sooner if you're more careful.”
The boy stammered an apology and backed the
truck out of the way to allow the group to pass.
The three men came in behind Hanley. All exam-
ined the cracks in the wall and ceiling, discussed
them from various angles, and asked Donegan ques-
tions as to when he had first noticed them and how
fast they had developed. Then they launched into
a technical discussion as to whether the cracks were
the result of vibration or settlement and were still
debating the point when they departed to go down,
Jerry gathered from their talk, and inspect the vault
door.
2
The doorman at the entrance to the Central Vault
swung open the barred grille so the truck could roll
in unimpeded.
"Here's some business for ye, Jeremy,” he called
to the old man within.
"Bring 'er on, Pat. The more, the merrier!" Old
Jeremy replied. He turned to the boy who had
brought in the truck. "Take this empty out of my
way, sonny," he said, indicating a truck he had un-


20
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
loaded a short time before.
With a cheerful “O. K., Pop!" the boy handed
the check lists to Jeremy and maneuvered the empty
truck out of the vault. Jeremy glanced over the
lists quickly and noted with mild satisfaction that
most of the bags were for the afternoon delivery
and could be simply checked off the lists and left on
the truck until the various armored-car crews picked
up their consignments after lunch. A few bags were
for temporary storage and would have to be racked.
The bank had very much outgrown its vault space
and Jeremy welcomed no additional crowding. He
had started picking out the packets which were to
remain in the vault when he was interrupted by the
doorman's buzzer.
“Mr. Hanley and some gentlemen,” the man an-
nounced.
Jeremy pushed the truck into a corner out of the
way and went to the grille.
"These gentlemen have come about the door,
Jeremy,” Hanley said. Jeremy admitted the group.
The manager turned toward the men behind him.
“This is our vault superintendent, Mr. Donegan,
gentlemen," he said, and to Jeremy, “Mr. Morton,
Mr. Dickson, and Mr.-uh-".
"Borden, sir.” The last of the group, a younger
man, supplied the forgotten name. Jeremy acknowl-
edged the introductions and the men glanced around
briefly. Borden placed on the floor a rectangular
mahogany box and leaned a heavy tripod against
the wall.
Mr. Morton was the consulting engineer for the


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
foundation work in connection with the bank's new
building; Mr. Dickson was chief engineer of the
construction firm erecting it, and Borden was his
assistant. They had come at Hanley's request to
examine the vault and determine the cause for the
difficulty of operating the door, which had been
troubling Jeremy, and to discuss means of prevent-
ing further settlement or damage.
“Let's try the door, Donegan,” Hanley suggested.
“Then we can all see how bad the thing really is."
Jeremy and the doorman removed the small ap-
proach platform which sloped up from the outside to
the higher vault floor level. They grasped the mas-
sive door and with very obvious effort started it
slowly swinging. Once past the midpoint of its
swing it required just as much effort to prevent it
from slamming.
“You see; she's not balanced,” Jeremy explained,
panting a little. "She ought to stand still in any
position and be as easy to swing one way as the
other."
"It looks as if the frame, or maybe the whole
vault, has tilted back, doesn't it?" Morton sug-
gested. “Is there any way of checking up on that?"
“We could try the floor for level,” Dickson re-
plied. “That would tell us if the whole vault had
moved-assuming, of course, that it was level be-
fore.” He turned to his assistant. "Set up your
level. We'll try the four corners of the floor," he
instructed
Borden kneeled down and, opening the wooden
box, carefully lifted out the parts of his level; a


22 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
small telescope and a bracket arrangement to sup-
port it. He assembled the instrument and screwed
it to the tripod, then set it up in the corner of the
vault farthest removed from the door.
"This instrument won't focus at very short
range," he remarked, “but I guess I can make it
from here.” He rolled the dispatch truck a little
to one side so that he could get behind his level.
“That truck in your way?" Jeremy asked, starting
over to move it.
“Not at all, now," Borden replied. “I just needed
room to get back here."
He leveled up his machine and read a rule held by
Dickson at each of the four corners. The results
indicated that the floor was lower at the back by a
half inch or so.
"Well; that's that! Small wonder that your
door won't swing," Dickson exclaimed to Hanley.
“Odd that the back part of the vault should have
settled when the enormous weight of the door and
its frame is all concentrated at the front," inter-
jected Morton dryly. "How do you account for
that?”
Dickson hesitated, puzzled for a moment. “I
don't know, of course; but I rather imagine that
when they built this building they figured on that
vault door and put a good heavy foundation under
it, but probably less under the rest of the vault.
Now with the vibration from the blasting the less-
supported part goes down a little and the vault tips
back. If I'm not mistaken, that cracking and set-


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st 23
all se
own to
tlement we noticed upstairs is just about over the
rear portion of this vault.”
"That's possible-quite possible,” Morton
agreed.
"Assuming you're right,” Hanley broke in, “the
question is: What are we going to do about it?
Aside from being hard to swing, the door binds a
little when it's closed. If the condition gets much
worse it might not shut at all. Then there'd be
hell to pay!"
"It won't be a difficult thing to correct," Dickson
assured him. “We can go under the back edge of
the vault from the outside-dig out a small section
at a time—and jack cylinders down to rock; then
jack the vault up until it's level again."
Hanley nodded understandingly.
"How long would that take?'' he asked.
“Two or three weeks at the outside," Dickson
replied.
Morton cut in: "I certainly wouldn't recommend
attempting any shoring here while that shooting is
going on. If you lost a little ground under the
vault it would get worse with every blast.”
"Oh, no; of course not,” Dickson agreed, "but
the blasting will be all finished in a few days." He
turned to his assistant. “Borden, how much rock
is left to come out of that cellar?”
Borden was back in the corner tugging at his in-
strument bracket in an effort to disengage it from
the tripod. He looked up, then thought for a mo-
ment.
underea level


24 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“I should say about four feet, on the average,
over the lot, sir.”
“That'll take four or five days," Dickson esti-
mated. “We've been shooting there for two
months; another week isn't likely to make things
much worse."
"I suppose not,” Hanley agreed a little doubt-
fully. “I hope not, anyway."
With the aid of pocket flashlights Morton and
Dickson now began minutely inspecting the vault
walls for cracks or other evidences of settlement.
Borden had finally succeeded in getting his instru-
ment dismantled and was packing it in the mahogany
case.
"I hope Mr. Dickson's right about that,” Old
Jeremy whispered in an anxious aside to Hanley.
“It's funny, though, that it should have got so much
worse the last couple of days.”
"Well, I guess they know what they're talking
about, Jeremy."
Morton, who had been examining the lower part
of the wall over in the far corner by Borden,
straightened up and called to Dickson.
“There are quite a few cracks along here that
appear to be new. Take a look at them, will you?"
Dickson and Hanley went over to look and
Jeremy stepped quickly across and rolled the truck
out of their way. While they were thus engaged
there came a sudden, well-defined tremor and then
the deep, dull roar of a blast going off.
"I'm glad they fired a charge while you were all
here,” Hanley said. "Now you can feel for your-


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st 25
selves the shaking up this place is getting.”
"Oh, I admit it's getting a little shaking," Dick-
son agreed; "but I don't see how we can be expected
to excavate four stories of solid rock without jarring
things a trifle—and the damage so far is slight and
easily repaired.”
Thus the discussion went on about the cracks
and the settlement, the feasibility of cutting down
the strength of the charges, the method of under-
pinning the vault, and so forth until Morton, glanc-
ing at his wrist, discovered that it was almost noon.
He called attention to the time.
"We've done about all that can be done now,"
he suggested. “I suppose we all agree that the best
course is to let well enough alone until the blasting
is finished.” He looked around the group and,
finding no dissent, continued: “I'm going to leave
now. I've got to get my lunch and make a one
o'clock train from Grand Central. Have to go to
Detroit until Monday.” He added the last almost
apologetically.
The party filed out of the vault and through the
basement to an employees' exit where they paused.
Borden stopped to collapse the telescopic legs of his
tripod so that it would be less cumbersome to carry
through the crowded streets. He said to Dickson:
"The threads on this tripod head are so badly
stripped it's almost impossible to get the level apart
or together. I think I'll take it around to Knoeck-
ler's and get it put in shape."
“Good idea," Dickson agreed.
Morton glanced up.


26 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“Knoeckler's ? Is that in Fulton Street ?" he
asked.
“Yes; east of William Street."
“Oh, I guess I've seen the sign. We need some
work of that sort done once in a while. What sort
of a fellow is this Knoeckler?”
"He does good work, if that's what you mean,"
Borden replied. “He's a queer duck, though."
"In what way?"
"Oh, not in any particular way. He's one of
those old-school instrument men,-an old German.
I don't see how he pays his rent with the little busi-
ness he gets, but somehow he seems to.”
"He does, huh?” Morton led on.
"Yes. But he's an awfully stubborn old coot.
Refuses to believe that anything's different from
what it was twenty years ago—sort of always resist-
ing the changes of time. He's far from dumb,
though. I like to get him started talking once in a
while when I'm in there,"
They were interrupted at this point as Hanley
and Dickson shook hands, the latter preparing to
leave.
"We'll do nothing, then, until the blasting's fin-
ished,” he was saying to Hanley; "and if any ma-
terial change occurs in the condition of the vault, you
can get in touch with me."
Hanley agreed. Morton also shook hands with
him and, together with Dickson and Borden, went
out. Outside, he declined Dickson's invitation to
lunch and the group broke up.


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
27
In silence Jeremy had watched the party file out
of his vault. With a hollow clang the barred grille
had swung closed in their wake. For some time he
sat quite still, staring at it, lost in thought. Then
he remembered he was hungry and phoned for his
lunch. It was his custom to have a tray sent in each
noon from the employees' restaurant upstairs.
He glanced at the money truck speculatively.
After lunch there would be time enough to take care
of it, he decided, and relaxed to wait for his meal.
Soon it arrived, a savory tray. The doorman swung
open the gate so the porter could bring the tray di-
rectly to Jeremy's desk. Sometimes Jeremy asked
Pat to step in and pass the time of day with him
while he ate. On this particular noon, however, he
did not. When he had finished his meal he ran
through the morning paper for a few minutes. The
waiter found him so engaged when he returned for
the tray and soiled dishes.
It was a little after one o'clock when Jeremy re-
sumed his work upon the money truck, first racking
up the packets to be stored, then checking off the
sacks for the afternoon delivery. He checked them
twice; then a third time, very carefully. Then he
went over the bags he had racked up for storage.
A little nervously he telephoned his son.
“Are ye preety sure of the list ye sent in this
marnin', lad?”
"Sure? Why, sure I'm sure,” Jerry replied cheer-
ily.


28 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
-
- -
-
"Well, check it over again; then come down here,
will ye."
Jerry was instantly alarmed. His father's voice
had sounded somewhat unsteady over the phone;
but, more significant, he had dropped into the old
vernacular, a certain sign of some sort of mental
stress,
Jerry picked out his carbons of the lists covering
the consignments of the morning, glanced hastily
about, locked his cage and went to the vault. His
father was awaiting him, seated at his desk. He
shoved toward Jerry a list with checks and double
checks after all of the items except one. 94t stood
out in the column like a soldier out of step.
"There's nothing like this on the wagon, Jerry,"
said Old Jeremy gravely. He indicated with a
pudgy forefinger the unchecked item in the column.
One look at the list told Jerry that the item in
question was the unusually large consignment he had
packed that morning.
"Why, it must be there! Good Lord! I spent a
third of the morning getting it together. Are you
sure? Have you gone over it again ?"
“I'm sure, all right, Jerry. I went over every-
thing three times—and what's more, not a shipment
has left this vault since that truck came in. There
can't be any mistake that way."
"Something must be wrong," Jerry said weakly.
“Anyway, it went on the truck. I put it on with my
own hands."
“That's all I wanted to be sure of,” Old Jeremy
replied enigmatically. He picked up the telephone


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
29
and asked for Mr. Hanley. His voice was firmer
now.
“Can you step down a minute, sir ? Right away?
It's important."
In a moment Hanley appeared. He glanced from
Jeremy to Jerry inquisitively.
"There's something wrong, sir,” Jeremy said
nervously. He handed Hanley the list. “There's a
bag missing."
Hanley's eye running swiftly down the column
stopped short at the unchecked item. “A hundred
and eighty thousand!” He whistled his dismay.
From the initialing he noted that the consignment
had come from Jerry, and looked toward the
younger man, though without suspicion or accusa-
tion. There was only bewilderment written on
Jerry's open countenance.
"It went on the truck, sir. That's all I can say.
I loaded it with my own hands." He looked up
and added quickly, “In fact, it was the very truck
that almost bumped you when you came in with
those men this morning."
Hanley nodded. "I believe you, Jerry,” he said
simply. “Why wasn't the truck checked as soon as
it came in, Jeremy?” he asked the older man sharply.
"I had just started on it when you brought the en-
gineers about the door, sir.”
"Oh; it was that truck you shoved over into the
corner, eh?” Hanley recalled. A sudden quick sus-
picion seemed to form in his mind. The same
thought apparently occurred to Old Jeremy.
Hanley reached for the telephone.


30 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"You're both absolutely sure there's no mistake?”
he urged. “We don't want to make fools of our-
selves over this."
In unison Jerry and Jeremy desperately assured
him that there could be no mistake. Hanley called
a number and asked for Mr. Fenner. In a low voice
he asked him to come to the bank immediately, giv-
ing no details but only urging haste. “You had
better bring along a police detective, too. We shall
possibly need the police. Of course it's all strictly
on the quiet until we find out more about it."
He hung up the receiver and turned to the Done-
gans.
“You boys had better wait right here," he said.
"I'll be down again when Mr. Fenner gets over.”
Father and son simply stared at each other.
4
Maxwell Fenner met Inspector Bryce at the en-
trance to the bank. They shook hands warmly.
Bryce and Fenner had been associated with each
other on a number of important cases and together
had shared a gratifying average of successes. Of
late they had not been thrown into contact, so each
welcomed the sight of the other.
Bryce and Fenner were as different in tempera-
ment and method as two individuals following the
same calling could very well be, but this fact never
hampered them when they were engaged together
on cases; rather, the methods and tactics of each
supplemented those of the other to perfection.
Bryce was a detective inspector with a long record


THURSDAY, MARCH 315 31
of police service, thoroughly steeped in the police
method and imbued with the police point of view.
“Action !" was his motto; and, given something to
start from, he pursued his course with a relentless-
ness and vigor that left no stone unturned until he
either arrived at an answer or reached an impasse
that balked further inquiry. More often the former
was the case.
Fenner, on the other hand, had a languid, easy-
going way about him, sometimes partly assumed but
more often genuine, which, though it irritated Bryce,
usually deceived their quarry and was almost in-
variably effective. “Give them time,” he sometimes
said, “and they all make the breaks that hang them.
The odds are so overwhelmingly on our side it
shouldn't be necessary to do more than to be sure
that we miss no tricks." His idea was to sit back
with his finger tips alertly on all the aspects of a
case, to prod gently here and there when things be-
came too quiet, and to wait for the opening that
experience had convinced him would inevitably
occur.
Aside from possessing a trained, reasoning brain
in a strictly intellectual sense, Fenner was blessed
with a deep insight into the mental and psychological
processes of his fellow men, and it was more often
by the application of this insight to specific situa-
tions than by any marvels of deductive reasoning
that he produced the remarkable solutions for which
he was known.
Fenner had served his apprenticeship with the
New York City Police years before, but the driving


32
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
pressure one moment alternating with political
hampering the next had irked him until he had re-
signed to initiate a practice of his own. His success
and reputation (among a limited circle permitted
to know of his exploits) had grown slowly and
steadily until, after twenty leisurely years, he was
regarded by some as a leader in his particular field.
Fenner specialized in larceny work and confidence
cases, and was retained by several of the larger in-
surance companies and bonding houses. In his ex-
perience, however, he had also been called upon from
time to time to investigate murders and other crimes
of violence, and was an ardent student of criminol-
ogy in all its phases.
Fenner was acquainted with the manager of the
Consolidated American Bank though he did not
know Hanley intimately. The Consolidated was so
managed that services of the type he offered were
not often in demand.
After a quick exchange of greetings Fenner and
Bryce turned into the bank. Bryce compared his
watch with the clock in the lobby. It was half past
two when they entered the eleyator.
“What's the story?" he asked with his customary
impatience.
“I only know what I told you on the phone. Han-
ley wants us posthaste," Fenner replied. He pic-
tured Bryce as a great, penned stallion, chafing at
his bit, pawing the turf, anxious to charge ahead.
Bryce's appearance lent itself well to this char-
acterization. He was a powerful man, heavily fea-
tured, his head set aggressively forward on a thick


34 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
They're blasting across the street and the vault has
been settling. The vault custodian, who, by the
way, is the father of the cashier who packed the
shipment, delayed checking up the truck until he'd
eaten his lunch. He discovered the sack missing and
called his son. Then they called me."
Bryce started to say something but changed his
mind and looked toward Fenner for his cue. The
latter extracted from his pocket a small gold pencil
which he twirled idly between his thumb and fore-
finger for a moment.
"Inside job ?” he asked rather than suggested,
quite casually.
Hanley shook his head slowly.
"Of course anything is possible," he admitted,
"but if you mean the Donegans—that is, the cus-
todian or the boy~I'm inclined to feel they're both
above suspicion.”
“Who were the men you took into the vault with
you?” Fenner asked.
“There were Mr. Morton, Mr. Dickson, and a
helper of his—I forget the name. I suppose they
would seem above suspicion—at least the first two.
Morton is consulting engineer for the foundation
work across the street; quite an eminent man. Dick-
son is chief engineer of the construction company
doing the building, and also pretty well known. Of
course the other fellow I know nothing about."
"Let's get them down here—the quicker, the bet-
ter,” Bryce suggested, fidgeting in his chair.
“Where are your Donegans now?" Fenner asked.
“They're in the vault waiting for us,” Hanley


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st 35
answered. “We'll go down and you can get the
whole layout direct.”
“But let's round up the others first,” Bryce in-
sisted. “These fellows of yours will keep.”
Fenner nodded agreement. Hanley turned to the
telephone.
"I'm afraid we might not get Mr. Morton," he
said as he jiggled the receiver rest. "He was in a
hurry to leave this noon. I believe he said he was
catching a train for Detroit. I'll try his office,
though.”
At first he was informed by Morton's assistant
there that Mr. Morton was out of the City and
would be back Monday.
"This is Mr. Hanley at the Consolidated Bank.
It's very important that I get in touch with Mr.
Morton immediately. Do you have any Detroit
address where he usually stays. There must be a
way of getting hold of him. What train did he
take? Who is this speaking ?” Hanley rattled off
the questions impatiently.
Presently he hung up and said to Fenner and
Bryce: “Chap named Coles there; has no idea where
Morton would stop-he doesn't go there often.
Coles says he spoke of a one o'clock train from
Grand Central that he intended making."
"A one o'clock train, eh?” Bryce repeated, biting
off his words. “Tell me what he looks like and, if
you can, what he wore. We'll get him!"
“But you can't arrest a man of his position simply
on suspicion,” Hanley protested.
"Of course not; but this is only Thursday. We


36
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
can pick him up and tail him between now and Mon-
day," Bryce explained impatiently. He went on:
“Let me tell you one thing: In a case of this kind
no one is above suspicion. Everybody has got his
price and damn' few of them are above a hundred
and eighty grand. You've got to assume that right
from the start. Now what's he look like?”
Hanley gave him a brief description of Morton.
Bryce jotted down notes on a slip of paper which
he tucked into his vest pocket. “Now, how about
the other two ?”
Without replying Hanley again picked up the
telephone, this time calling the construction com-
pany's offices. When he asked for Dickson, Borden
replied. The latter was unable to say where Dick-
son could be located. When he, Borden, had come
into the office early in the afternoon he had found a
note saying that Dickson would be back late in the
day. Borden had no idea where his chief had gone
but if it was important Borden would be glad to
canvass the Company's various building operations
by telephone and endeavor to locate him.
Hanley told him to do that and to have Dickson
come to the bank and then to come down himself as
quickly as possible. Then he settled back into his
chair with a sigh.
"Have you got a phone not connected through
the switchboard?” Bryce asked when Hanley had
finished.
The bank manager indicated a second instrument
on the desk but, observing a slight hesitation on the
inspector's part, told him that there was also an.


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
37
other in the adjoining room. Bryce excused himself
and closed the door behind him, and in a moment
they heard the steady rapid rumble of his voice as
he issued instructions over the wire. Hanley looked
curiously at Fenner, as did also Mr. Mortimer from
his chair at the end of the desk.
"He's just setting a few of the wheels in mo-
tion," Fenner explained at the unasked question in
their look.
After a short wait Bryce returned, pausing to
light a cigar as he joined the group. There was a
certain grim satisfaction in his manner.
Hanley got to his feet, suggesting: "Shall we go
downstairs now?”
Fenner rose but the elderly bank executive re-
mained in his chair. He had not uttered a syllable
except when Fenner and Bryce had been introduced.
Now he said shortly: "I'll not go down. Keep me
posted, Hanley."
5
When they got to the vault they found Jeremy
Donegan seated at his little desk staring silently into
space. His son, half sitting on a corner of the desk,
smoked nervously. He straightened up when Han-
ley brought in Fenner and Bryce, and dropped a
cigarette butt to the floor, grinding it out with his
sole. A half dozen others littered about the usually
spotless linoleum, each in its tiny whorl of ash dust
and carbon, bore mute testimony to Jerry's disturbed
state of mind. His father seemed serene by contrast.
Hanley spoke first, presenting Fenner and Bryce,
and concluding with: “They're going to help us.


38
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
First we want to get your stories direct."
Bryce rolled his cigar around in his mouth, blew
a thin cloud of smoke up toward the ceiling and
watched it, caught by the suction, swirl into the ven-
tilation register. He dropped his eyes now and
again to Jerry and Jeremy with a hint of glare they
could not fail to observe.
Jerry made as if to speak but Fenner stopped
him, saying kindly: "What we want you to do is to
think carefully and tell us just what happened today.
Try to remember every little detail. Something that
may not appear important to you may be very signifi-
cant when taken with everything else.”
In appearance as in method Fenner differed
radically from Bryce. He was tall and rather spare
of figure, invariably immaculately turned out, and
carried his fifty odd years lightly enough. There
was a certain aquiline keenness about his features
but his ruddy complexion and his shock of prema-
turely snow-white hair softened this. His eyes,
gently blue, genial, invited confidence.
“We had better have your story here," he went
on, nodding toward Jeremy. “We'll have yours
later in your own office.” The last to Jerry.
Jeremy thought for a moment, then launched into
as complete a description of the events of the morn-
ing as he could remember. He had started check-
ing up the truck immediately upon its arrival but had
scarcely commenced when Mr. Hanley had brought
in the engineers about the door. He had shoved
the truck into the corner and had attended their
questions. He'd showed them how the door was


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
39
binding and they'd talked about it a while. Then
they'd tried the level of the floor with a machine
and then had talked some more. Then they'd looked
over the walls for cracks. They had all gone out
about noon—maybe a few minutes before. He'd de-
cided to eat before unloading the truck, and had
ordered his lunch. Then he'd read a newspaper till
one o'clock. Soon after he had resumed work he'd
found that one bag on the check list was not on the
truck, and had called his son down to the vault.
They'd checked it all over and had then reported to
Mr. Hanley. That was all.
Hanley nodded from time to time, corrobora-
tively. Fenner watched Jeremy while he talked,
pigeon-holing the facts in his orderly mind. Bryce
jotted down notes in a small pocket notebook. They
examined the truck which still stood where Jeremy
had unloaded it.
"You say they had to shift the truck a little in
order to set up this instrument?” Fenner asked when
Jeremy had finished.
“Yeah; they moved it out a little to get into the
corner behind it.”
"Was that after you and the doorman had stepped
out to try the door?"
“Yes; we had tried it and had come back inside.”
"They found the door unbalanced and that's what
led them to want to try the level of the floor,” Han-
ley explained.
“Then later Morton found the cracks over there
and they all crowded over to look at them. Is that
right?"


40 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Jeremy and Hanley nodded.
“Can you show us the cracks and put the truck
about where it was at that time?".
Hanley pointed out several small, irregular cracks
in the rear wall of the vault near the floor. They
were very fine and only noticeable from fairly close
by. Jeremy studied a minute, then shifted the truck
to a point a yard or so from the corner and looked
to Hanley for confirmation.
"That's about right," the manager agreed.
"Say, how big was this sack ?" Bryce asked
abruptly.
No one answered until Hanley turned to Jerry.
"Why, it was about eight inches long and four
inches wide and six or seven inches deep," the latter
said after a second of hesitation, indicating the size
with a spread of his hands. "It was large denomi-
nations, sir." The last explanation was directed to
Hanley.
"How were all of these men dressed?" Fenner
next asked.
Hanley volunteered the answer to that question.
"Let's see; Morton had on a topcoat and Dick.
son carried one over his arm, or a light overcoat.
The other fellow had no overcoat at all; just a suit
coat." He finished: "Now that I think of it, Mr.
Morton carried a briefcase-pretty sizable one,
too.”
Bryce audibly grunted.
Hanley said: “We may get more from the en-
trance checker. I've questioned him already and he
noticed nothing suspicious; but the party entered


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st 41
and left by the employees' door which he watches.
We'll see him directly."
By the way,” Fenner asked Jeremy, “you say you
had your lunch here? Then you really haven't left
the vault at all since this happened?"
“Haven't had my foot out of the door since ten
o'clock this morning."
“Always have your lunch here?”
“Almost always."
“Usually alone?"
"Sometimes Pat comes in." He indicated the
doorman on duty outside the barred grille.
“But today?”
"Nope; alone today."
There were a few minutes more of discussion and
repetition; then the party, without Jeremy, went up
to Jerry's cage. The tellers and clerks looked curi-
ously at the group when they came in, but at a gen-
eral glance from Hanley went on with their work.
Jerry told his story a little nervously, beginning
at the point where Hanley had come in to look at
the crack in the wall. He spread out his check lists
on the desk, though none of the party bothered to
examine them closely.
Fenner was interested in the method of packing
and handling the currency. He asked to see one of
the dispatch bags. Jerry showed him one and also
explained how the packets were identified with metal-
rimmed fiber tags wired through eyelets in the top of
the bag. Fenner pocketed a blank tag.
Next they called the truck boy who had taken
the load to the vault. He came in, obviously badly


42 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
frightened. Fenner quickly reassured him and plied
him with questions about the particular trip. Ap-
parently nothing unusual had occurred except for the
slight near-collision at the door. The stop at Jerry's
cage had been the last one on that round and the
truck had gone from there directly to the vault.
Hanley enlarged a little on the incident at the
door. He had side-stepped the truck but it had
gently bumped at least two of the men following
him, he explained.
Bryce grunted with disgust: “You could have
hauled that bag through Wall Street at noon time
on a kiddie car and not have had it much more ex-
posed, all in all, than it was.”
Fenner said nothing, nor had Hanley any reply.
As they were about to leave Fenner inquired cas-
ually of Jerry: “Do you have lunch in the building
like your dad?”
"Sometimes I eat at the employees' restaurant, but
more often I go outside,” Jerry answered.
“Would you mind telling us what time you went
out this noon and where you went."
Jerry hesitated perceptibly, flushing a little.
"I went out a few minutes one way or the other
of noon,” he said. "I had lunch at the new Automat
around the corner in Pearl Street. Then I walked
down around the Battery for a while. When I got
back it was quarter after one. I had only been back
a few minutes when Pop called up."
"I see. Ah-thank you." Fenner seemed sat-
isfied.
Having exhausted the possibilities of this location,


44
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
his bag from one hand to the other when he shook
hands with Mr. Hanley. It looked heavy but no
more so than before. The man with the glasses had
his topcoat over his arm instead of wearing it. The
other one was just the same."
Fenner nodded approvingly. “There's the kind
of a person I like to ask a question of. Shows what
a trained observer will take in.” To Bryce in an
aside he commented: “_and he admits he didn't
pay 'special attention'!".
"Do you know the Donegans?” Fenner asked the
checker.
The latter nodded that he did.
"Can you tell me if either of them went out this
noon, and when ?”
“Not Old Jeremy. He never goes out at noon.
Jerry was out to lunch, though. Let's see—I don't
remember him going out but I remember him com-
ing back a little after one, picking his teeth. We
talked for a minute."
“Can you recall what he said ?"
"Nothing much. Just a remark or two about get-
ting spring fever.”
Hanley wondered mildly at Fenner's odd line of
questioning but said nothing. It was a little after
three o'clock when they adjourned to his office.
6
Hanley drew up chairs for Bryce and Fenner and
then sat down himself. He waited for one of the
others to speak.
"Not much to get hold of so far. I want to


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
45
browse around a bit between your working floor and
the vault,” Fenner began.
"Have you really an idea this is an inside job?"
Hanley asked.
“I haven't any ideas at all at present. I refuse
to formulate any theories or conclusions until we've
talked to Morton and Dickson and Borden." ..
"You don't expect their versions of what hap-
pened in the bank to differ much from what we've.
been told, do you ?” Bryce asked.
"Certainly not; but there were five people there
and we've heard only two." Fenner inclined his
head toward the bank manager. “Without any re-
flection at all on Mr. Hanley here, or Donegan
either, for that matter, I have no doubt that there
are details which they have failed to notice but
which might be remembered by one of the others.
Possibly nothing of any significance, but that remains
to be seen.”
“If this should be an inside job though I can't
refrain from expressing my firm conviction that it's
not-would you be inclined to suspect Jeremy or
young Jerry or both ?” Hanley persisted in his line
of inquiry.
"It's hard to say,” Fenner answered shortly, "but
until it's all cleared up every move either of them
makes, in the bank or out of it, ought to be ob-
served.” He glanced at Bryce and continued: "If
either of them or the pair together have anything to
do with this they'll soon give themselves away. If
it was the vault custodian alone, the stuff's not out
of the bank yet. If it was he and the boy, or the


46 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
young man alone, he probably cached it somewhere
this noon and will have to go back for it soon." He
paused. “Then, too,” he went on, “don't forget that
you're not limited to the vault. The bag was loaded
on the truck about ten-thirty in Donegan's cage-
that is, presumably it was. Its loss was discovered
after one o'clock in the vault. The truck had to
travel from the cage to the vault.”
“Yes, but Jerry's cage was the last stop. The
truck went straight to the vault. That lad's pretty
dependable and the way is all guarded, anyway. No
office space to go through or anything of that sort-
just the corridor behind the cages and the elevator
to the vault anteroom. No loopholes en route, I can
pretty well assure you."
Fenner only raised his eyebrows.
The discussion was interrupted by the jangling of
the phone. Hanley answered it and, with a “For
you," handed it to Bryce. The latter acknowledged
himself and listened. Fenner and Hanley waiting
curiously watched a slow frown darken his face.
Presently he hung up and said to them: “There's no
Detroit train leaving any New York station within
forty-five minutes, one way or the other, of one
o'dock. Mr. Randolph Morton hasn't been at his
apartment since morning, nor at his club all day, nor
at his office since he came here this morning. Looks
bad. I'd like to bet that when we find him we'll be
pretty near to the bottom of this. We'll find him,
too. There's a lot of good men out looking for him
right at this minute."
“Let's not jump too quickly to conclusions,”


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
Fenner cautioned, and at an impatient gesture from
Bryce amended amiably: “I mean by that, let's not
forget the others."
"Don't worry! We're forgetting no one!" He
paused but continued: “Wouldn't it help now to give
something to the newspapers ?”.
Hanley looked uncertainly at Fenner and said:
“I know that they would prefer upstairs--the Board
Room—to do without the publicity, but if it will
help at all, why, of course we can't yield to their
feelings."
"I think a little well worded publicity might be of
service," Fenner said thoughtfully. “It is entirely
possible that Mr. Morton has absented himself for
perfectly legitimate reasons of his own. In that case
he would immediately come forward; and if, as you
seem to feel, it's not an inside job, why the story's
got to come out sooner or later anyway."
Hanley had no answer. Bryce shrugged his shoul-
ders, and said: “We'll see, anyway. Let me give out
this story and I'll mention no names. I have a few
reporters who are a real help sometimes and I like
to pay them back with these little scoops. Back in
a moment.” He went into the adjoining room to
use the outside telephone.
· While he was gone an office boy glided in and
spoke to Hanley in a low tone. The banker straight-
ened up in his chair.
"Bring him right in here," he told the boy, and
to Fenner explained: “It's Borden."
A moment later Philip Borden was ushered in.
He was a clean-cut, youngish looking man with an


48
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
almost military erectness of carriage, whom Fenner
judged to be in his late twenties. He came directly
to the desk, looking from one to the other with po-
litely restrained curiosity, and nodded to Hanley
whom alone he knew.
"Sit down a moment,” the bank manager said.
“We've a few questions to ask you when the in-
spector gets back. Oh, by the way, did you find Mr.
Dickson ?"
"No; I'm sorry but I couldn't locate him. I left
a note for him, though. I have no doubt he'll be
back at the office in time to stop down here."
"I hope so. Uh, this is Mr. Fenner."
Fenner pushed a chair toward Borden as Bryce
returned from the other room. Hanley opened the
inquiry.
“There has been discovered since this forenoon a
shortage in our central vault. You understand, of
course, that you are being in no way accused." He
looked at Fenner who smiled reassuringly at Borden
and took up the talk.
“We would like you to tell us in as much detail
as you can just exactly what happened during the
time you were in the bank this morning. There may
be something that happened or that you noticed
which may afford us a clew."
Borden told his story, a little haltingly at first but
more Auently as he warmed up. It differed in no
important detail from the stories told by Jeremy and
Hanley. Fenner prompted him now and then and
tried to draw him out with leading questions, but no
information as to the visits to Jerry's cage or the


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
51
be back in half an hour or thereabouts. If Mr.
Dickson turns up, would you mind amusing him
until I get back ?”.
Hanley was somewhat taken aback but Bryce only
nodded and smiled wryly.
“It just means he's got a little brain wave when
he gets sarcastic like that,” he told Hanley. .
Fenner had been gone only a few minutes when
Christopher Dickson was ushered in, a little flustered
but apparently enormously curious. He was a pudgy
little man with a full, round face and a sort of foxy-
grandpa air about him at first impression. He
peered at them through thick-lensed, gold-rimmed
spectacles.
Hanley, apologizing first, told him in a few words
what had happened and introduced Bryce. Dick-
son thought a moment and then started to tell his
story but Bryce stopped him.
“Might as well save yourself going over it twice,"
he said. “Mr. Fenner will want it first hand, so
we'd better wait a few minutes until he gets back.”
Dickson with a shrug of indifference settled back
into his chair, though a momentary shadow of im-
patience crossed his face when he drew out his watch
and perceived that it was well after four o'clock.
Bryce went over to the window, seated himself on
the sill, relit his cigar, and looked thoughtfully out.
Dickson and Hanley fell into a desultory discussion
of the new building which they carried on until
Fenner returned.
The latter did not come in until shortly before
five. He spread several afternoon papers out on


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st
53
as
job or what, but it's just possible that something you
may have seen or noticed will help us in some way.”
Dickson described at some length what had hap-
pened during the morning, but could add nothing
material to the facts they had already accumulated.
When he had finished Fenner asked: “Mr. Morton
didn't by any chance leave with you, did he?"
“Why, no; that is, we left about the same time
but not together. It seems to me I remember him
starting up William Street with Borden. He was in
a bit of a hurry—had to make a train for Detroit, I
believe he said."
"Ah; well, then of course you'd have no idea as
to where he could be found now?"
Dickson shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid
not.” He looked up suddenly. "Certainly you
haven't an idea he's connected in any way with this !"
he exclaimed, incredulous.
“Not necessarily,” Fenner was quick to reply.
"Nonsense! It's absurd! The whole business is
ridiculous. Now all you've told me is that a short-
age in the vault was discovered today, but I should
think that in a bank the size of this, with all the
people and red tape you have here, there must be
plenty of more likely explanations of a shortage than
to assume that your money was hauled out in broad
daylight by a reputable engineer. Bah! It's pre-
posterous !"
"Not too fast, Mr. Dickson,” Fenner interrupted
placatingly. "In all fairness I confess a little more
explanation is due you. This money, packed tightly
in a small canvas sack, was removed from a hand


54 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
truck in the vault some time between ten-thirty this
morning and one P.M. Your inspection of the vault
consumed a sizable portion of the two and a half
hours elapsed. Now you must admit that everyone
who went into that vault during that time is natu-
rally tied into this inquiry by what you might call
pure coincidence, if by nothing else.”
Dickson thought this over for a minute. "That
of course, includes me,” he said somewhat testily,
"though I wish you had been a little more explicit
to begin with. I remember the hand truck you speak
of. It ploughed into me, hell bent, at the door of
that office we looked at first. I've got two Charley
horses yet.” He rubbed his thighs. “However,
that's neither here nor there. Well, fire away. If
there's any more I can tell you I'll be glad to do it.”
He made his air of resignation very obvious.
"Do you mind telling us where you went from here
this noon?"
"I went around to the India House for a bite to
eat. After that I went to the office and looked over
a few papers."
“What time did you get to your office?"
"A few minutes after one, I think.”
“And then?”
"I went to my brokers, Halstead and Rice, and
stayed there until the market closed. Then I went
back to the office. When I found Borden's note of
course I came down here."
"Oh; I say, how was the market today?" Fenner
asked the question with such bright irrelevance that
a tiny bond of common understanding was instantly


THURSDAY, MARCH 3157 55
established.
"Pretty rotten! Everything was off badly—a
flock of new lows for the year.”
"Ah, well; it's got to end somewhere, and it cer-
tainly ought to be soon,” Fenner consoled.
“I hope you're right," Dickson said fervently.
Fenner got up and extended his hand, terminating
the interview. "Sorry to have put you to so much
trouble. I'm sure we're grateful for the time you've
given us. If anything turns up I presume we can
get in touch with you at your office ?".
“Certainly; and don't hesitate to do so if I can
be of any further help.”
"Thanks. Oh, now; one more thing. How long
have you known Borden ?"
“About five years, I guess. He's worked for me
three years and I knew him for two years before
that."
“I see. Always quite satisfactory?"
"Oh, yes, indeed; a fine lad in every way. Thor-
ough. Dependable” Again Dickson looked in-
credulous. “Why, he's no more connected with this
business than I am," he assured Fenner when he .
realized the implications of the question.
"Probably not,” Fenner agreed.
When Dickson had gone Bryce grunted, “Not
much help from that fellow! Morton's the only one
left now, and that makes it begin to look just too
bad for him. What'd you find out?” The last was
to Fenner.
"I saw the manager of the Mercantile Bank.
Morton drew a substantial portion of his checking


56 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
balance this noon. Also he visited his safe deposit
box. He took it to a booth, so they have no idea
whether he had removed or added anything. I also
went around to Fulton Street and saw Mr. Adolph
Knoeckler. He bears out Borden's story in every
detail.” He waited a moment, then suggested: “We
seem to have reached somewhat of an impasse until
Mr. Morton turns up—or is turned up. Any ideas
before we adjourn for the day?"
Hanley replied first. “Our auditors and Depart-
ment heads are going over everything with fine-
toothed combs. By midnight I think I'll have a
pretty definite idea as to the possibility of this being
an inside job involving anyone but young Donegan;
though I may as well say that I don't expect to find
anything. As for Jerry, I simply can't reconcile his
character or conduct since the loss with the idea of
his being involved."
Fenner made no comment but looked toward
Bryce.
"If Mr. Hanley doesn't uncover anything, my
hunch would be to concentrate on Morton," he said
tersely. "But, in any case, Borden and Dickson and
old man Donegan and the boy won't be lost sight of
for a split second until this thing is cleared up, if
it takes six months. Same way with Morton, as soon
as we do get hold of him.”
"That's right,” Fenner said, “but I hope your
boys tread softly. The whole purpose is defeated
the moment they even suspect they are being
watched.” He paused. "Perhaps we'll know more
tomorrow. I shouldn't be surprised if Morton


THURSDAY, MARCH 31st 57
turned up.”
All three got to their feet.
“We'll meet here in the morning to compare
notes,” Bryce suggested.
"I'll be able to tell you more then, as far as the
bank's concerned,” Hanley promised.
Fenner and the inspector went out. It was late
March but the warm sun declining in a faint haze
indicated the end of one of those premature May
days that are sometimes sprinkled among the last
days of the calendar winter and the first days of
spring.
Fenner sniffed the air. “Glorious weather!"
“Weather be damned!" Bryce countered. “What
do you make of this case?”
"Ah, yes." Fenner reluctantly brought himself
back. “We have to watch our step. As things now
point it would be easy to go off half-cocked.”
"As things now point?”
“Of course. Young Donegan, you know. He
told us he ate his lunch right after twelve o'clock and
wandered around the Battery for an hour. Accord-
ing to that super-observant doorman he came in
'picking his teeth' at quarter after one. And then
there's that gloomy, stuffy place he's cooped up in
for eight hours a day in weather like this. Motive,
what? Put yourself in his shoes, man!"
Bryce thought over this angle. “But this fellow,
Morton, who seems to have disappeared ?"
“That's why I say we have to go carefully. For
that matter, Mr. Dickson, too, was using his words
to conceal his thoughts this afternoon. Does it


58
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
strike you as odd that he should have at once recog-
nized that the truck we spoke of as in the vault was
the same one which bumped him at the door of
Jerry's cage? Not only that, but consider the testi-
mony of that same efficient doorman to the effect
that Mr. Dickson went into the bank wearing his
topcoat, but came out with it draped over his arm.
Nothing criminal in that, yet”.
Bryce was in a brown study.
Fenner went on:“Well, you've got them all under
your eye now—all but Morton. We'll mull things
over and watch these fellows and see what turns up.
Whoever turned this trick must give himself away
sooner or later. We'll simply have to be there when
it happens. I only hope he doesn't keep us waiting
too damned long!"


CHAPTER II
Friday
April 1st
BRIGHT and early the next morning Bryce waited
for Fenner opposite the employees' entrance to the
bank building in almost the identical spot where Old
Jeremy and his son had stood the day before.
The creaking of derricks, the rattle of buckets
and cable, the hammering and shouting of the men
below in the excavation for the new Consolidated
Building, all fell on deaf ears as far as Bryce was
concerned. The morning crowds were streaming to
work; fresh, eager faces; worn, tired ones—some-
thing written on all of them; youth, age, fear, hope.
To Bryce on this Friday morning they were just
people.
His glance fell upon the Donegans rounding the
corner and he faced about and gazed into the excava-
tion; turning around only after out of the corner
of his eye he had seen them disappear into the en-
trance of the bank. With grim satisfaction he
watched a workman who had come along a half
block behind them but had increased his pace to
close up the distance. The man glanced into the
entrance after the Donegans, then sauntered over
to where Bryce stood. He asked for a match and,
receiving a pack, lit a cigarette, mumbling the while,
59


60 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“Nothing special, chief. It's all written out." He
handed back the matches and a small folded slip of
paper. Bryce thrust both into his pocket as the
man went on.
Presently Maxwell Fenner came along, gay, de-
donair, immaculate even to pearl gray spats, a prim
carnation and a walking stick.
“Well, old man, what's new?” he greeted Bryce.
“Nothing startling. No sign of Morton. Shall
we go inside ?”
“Might as well,” Fenner agreed cheerily. “May-
be Hanley's got everything worked out and we can
go play golf today."
Bryce only grunted. Golf was not one of his ac-
complishments.
They found Hanley at his desk, his face care-
worn, his eyes bloodshot, his whole bearing reflect-
ing dejection. He looked up at them a little hope-
fully. From his dispirited air and drawn appearance
they gathered that he had been there all night.
When they had sat down Fenner looked at him
curiously and said: “You found nothing; right?
But you didn't expect to, so I don't know why you
should be so forlorn."
Hanley looked up quickly. “Oh, yes; we found
something. We found everything in gratifying
order. To anybody bred in a bank that's immensely
satisfying." There was no mistaking a certain pride
in his voice. He went on: "I am satisfied of one
thing: that the money, bag and all, is no longer
within this bank. I'm quite convinced of another:
that old Jeremy Donegan had no hand in this; and


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
61
I'm almost as sure of his boy."
Fenner and Bryce exchanged glances. "If what
you say were true, though I don't necessarily sub-
scribe to it," the former remarked, “our field would
be limited to three people. I had hoped Morton
would turn up, but if he is going to I suppose we
should have heard from him by this time." He
looked at his watch and then at Bryce. "I've some
people to see and also some looking around to do
here,” he remarked suggestively.
Bryce flipped open the small notebook. "All
right; I'll make it snappy.” He settled into his seat
and started: "Plenty of details but no nourishment
in any of them. First, Morton: No sign of him nor
word from him at his office, his apartment, or his
club. His wife, from whom he is separated, has not
heard from him for two weeks but is not disturbed
because she says that she sometimes does not hear
from him for a month at a time. In other words
he dropped out of sight yesterday at noon.”
“Or rather, yesterday at half past twelve,” Fen-
ner supplied. “Don't forget his stop at the Mer-
cantile."
"Twelve-thirty, then," corrected Bryce, and went
on: “Now Dickson: Went home from here—Staten
Island by ferry, then by train- lives near Stapleton.
Had dinner home; not out of the house all evening.
About eight-thirty his next-door neighbor came in;
left at ten-thirty. Lights out shortly before eleven.
No telephone calls either way. Left house about
seven-forty-five this morning and went to his office.
"Now Borden: Went to his office from here late


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
er re
vestigating. They agreed to meet for lunch.
Fenner reached the appointed place a little early.
He secured a table and sat down to wait, turning
over in his mind the various aspects of the case. It
was all very baffling. He could not recall a larceny
case in his experience in which so many and such
a variety of people were in a position to have ac-
complished the theft. To make matters worse, his
morning's investigations had yielded the fact that
any one of them might be considered to possess suf-
ficient financial motive.
If it was an inside job, he meditated, the perpe-
trator had received the screening benefit of an al-
most unbelievable chain of outside circumstances.
Certainly neither Jeremy nor Jerry Donegan knew
until the event that the vault was to be visited by
the party of engineers. Fenner was almost per-
suaded that such a theory put too great a strain upon
the possibility of coincidence, but he tried to keep
his mind open on the subject.
And yet if the inside job theory were rejected it
meant that the theft had been accomplished on the
spur of the moment and without preparation of any
sort, for neither Morton nor Dickson nor Borden
had known a half hour before they went to the bank
that they were going to be called there at all. The
job required a “cool customer” and an opportunist
to a high degree. Could Dickson or Borden answer
to that description? Fenner had his doubts.
As to Morton, from what he had been able to
learn of him and from what he knew of him by repu-
tation, he intuitively found it difficult to reconcile


64 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
him with thievery, even to the tune of $180,000,
though of course there was no denying that his ill-
timed disappearance justified Bryce's suspicions, and
then some!
His reflections were interrupted by the arrival of
Bryce for lunch. Fenner instantly perceived that
his colleague had something to report. When the
waiter had taken their order and moved out of hear-
ing Bryce said: “We got a line on Morton's car.
Didn't find it but we found the garage where he
keeps it. Packard sedan. Morton left word on
Wednesday to have it completely serviced, gassed
up and oiled. He came for it around one-forty-five
yesterday afternoon and hasn't been back since.
What do you think of that?"
“You say he left word on Wednesday to have it
serviced? Do you know whether he indicated that
he contemplated a trip?”.
“That's exactly the question I asked the garage
man. He couldn't recall that Morton said that he
was going anywhere, but the fellow says that some-
how he got that impression."
"Well, it looks as if Morton's away on the quiet,
all right. But it must be for some reason of his own
not connected with this business at all. You see,
in the first place, he had no way of knowing there'd
be any loose money lying around that vault, and, in
the second, he didn't know until he reached his Office
on Thursday morning that he'd be going there at all.
Another thing: I talked to his assistant this morn-
ing,—a fellow named Coles. Morton told him be-
fore he left on Thursday morning that he was going


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
65
to Detroit and had even mentioned the possibility
on Wednesday.”
Bryce's jaw dropped a little as he digested these
facts but he countered: "Still, if it wasn't an inside
job it's more likely to have been Morton than either
of the other two. He was carrying the briefcase,
which would make it easier for him, and if he in-
tended going away for some other reason, why, he
wouldn't have to worry about a getaway. He was
all set !”
Fenner was silent for a long moment, then mused:
"I never met the fellow in my life, but by reputa-
tion in engineering and building circles he's highly
conservative. For instance, if soil is good for five
tons per square foot he designs his foundations so
that the load is only four; if an eight-inch brace is
apparently required he specifies a ten or twelve.
He's not a type that takes chances; he always wants
to be sure. Now this theft, if it's not an inside job,
was born of a quick impulse. It's not the sort of a
thing a fellow like Morton would be apt to tackle."
Bryce was not quite convinced but he knew from
experience that Fenner's intuition in these matters
seldom led him astray, so he changed the subject.
"By the way," he said, “I worked one of my men
into the job-office at the new building. A clever chap
by the name of Quade. Got him put on as an as-
sistani timekeeper. He'll keep an eye on Dickson
and Morton and Borden on the job for us. Drop in
on him sometime and then let me know what you
think of him. He's been doing vice squad work but
wanted to get out of it.”


66 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Fenner promised to do as Bryce asked. They ate
the rest of their meal in silence broken only by occa-
sional comment on the food and service. At its con-
clusion Bryce lit his cigar and Fenner's cigarette and
settled back comfortably. He glanced from the end
of his cigar to his companion.
"Max," he presently ruminated, "what about our
friend, Mr. Hanley ?”
Fenner returned his look without surprise and
said: “I expected that question sooner or later. One
canvasses all of the possibilities. Hanley has been
badly burned in the market. He had a lot of stuff
on margin at the first break and has been covering
all the way down. However, that fact alone doesn't
mean a thing! I found out that about half of the
officers of the bank are in the same boat. I believe
that has something to do with the anxiety to have
this conclusively proved to be an outside job. There
are so many people in the bank with what you might
call 'known motive that if the thing isn't cleared up
fairly speedily the situation there will be very un-
comfortable.”
"Well, if one of these other birds doesn't make
a misstep soon I'll begin to believe myself that it
was an inside job,” Bryce said. He dragged heavily
on the cigar and went on thoughtfully: “You know
more about the bank end of it than I do. Tell me
something: Hanley was pretty positive this morning
when he said they'd found everything in such apple-
pie order. Now with all the red tape and rigma-
role they have in a place like that, how can he be
so sure so quickly? There are a lot of employees


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
67
besides the Donegans. How about some of those
guards, or almost anyone on the inside ?”
“As a matter of fact, he can't be. They have a
pretty thorough system of checking up from minute
to minute but of course it isn't one hundred percent
foolproof. I think Hanley is to a certain extent
guided by his instincts in the matter; but on the other
hand, the instincts of a fellow with his experience
and position are likely to be pretty accurate.”
“Maybe his wishes are father to his instincts,"
Bryce suggested.
"Anything is possible.” This was Fenner's stock
reply in lieu of no answer at all.
“Who was that other bird with him at first yes-
terday? Mortimer?”
“'That other bird' as you call him, Mortimer, is
the power behind the throne in the Consolidated
American Company, and also in a lot of other outfits
around here. I've heard of him often but never en-
countered him face to face before."
"Didn't have much to say, did he?".
“He never does. I think that's half his secret.
It builds up an aura of mystery about him that awes
people who don't understand the psychology of it. I
guess he's got something on the ball, though, and
money no end !”
“Funny that I should never have heard of him.”
“Not at all. Few people have. He keeps off
directorates and out of the papers. That's more
of his secret."
They smoked for a few moments in silence.
"Morton's a little crowded, too, financially,"


68 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Fenner resumed. “The foundations for the new
Consolidated Building are about all he has on his
drawing boards right now. He was caught in the
market, too, but not quite so drastically. Strangest
of all, though, is Dickson. I suppose you gathered
from his talk yesterday afternoon that he is anxious ?
Well, he's in to his ears, with the margin clerks
pestering him from dawn to sunset. Rather sur-
prising, too, because until a year ago he wouldn't
touch the market with a ten-foot pole. Had all of
his investments in high grade bonds and real estate."
"In other words," the inspector concluded for
Fenner, "they all needed the dough !”
"Exactly."
The talk lagged until Bryce pushed back his chair
and said: "I'll go back to headquarters now. I
have hopes of that car of Morton's being turned up
somewhere pretty quick.”
“Good. Well, I'll be at the bank in case you
want to get hold of me.”
Fenner sat for a few moments after Bryce left.
He was pondering, not for the first time, Mr. Han-
ley. That gentleman, he reflected, had motive
enough and as much opportunity as any of the others
to commit the theft and, furthermore, he was the
only one on the inside who could have anticipated
the vault inspection by the engineers and arranged
to take advantage of it. Yet with a little shrug
Fenner dismissed Hanley from his list of possibili-
ties, or, perhaps better, relegated him to his list of
“improbables.” His reason for this was one he
would have been too modest to explain to Bryce,


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
69
namely: that though he had solved only several
simple cases for the Consolidated Bank it was com-
mon knowledge in inner bonding and banking circles
that he had brought to successful conclusions a num-
ber of involved and difficult ones which had bid fair
to defy solution; and Fenner did not believe Hanley
would have had the temerity to call him in had the
bank manager himself been involved.
After several minutes of musing along these lines
Fenner, too, left the restaurant and went back to
the bank.
Fenner found Hanley about to leave. His face
had a gray pallor, his eyes a heaviness that bespoke
complete exhaustion.
"I feel I could go home and sleep for a solid
week," the manager mourned. “Anything new?"
"Nothing much. Bryce has got a line on Mor-
ton's car they're working on. It might net some-
thing."
“Yesterday I would have sworn that would be
the last direction in which to look. Today it seems
to be about the only hope we have left,” Hanley
sighed.
Covertly Fenner searched Hanley's face but could
detect no trace of purposiveness behind the remark.
"Not at all,” he replied. “Quite frankly, I'm
not especially hopeful on that score. To watch and
to wait—that's our program now. Eventually it'll
bear fruit."
"I wish I could share your optimism," was Han-
ley's gloomy rejoinder.


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
71
In the meantime we can look around."
They turned into the shop, Bryce repeating: “As
I say, I'm not sure this isn't a pure accident. There's
nothing offhand to indicate anything different, but I
just had a hunch—”.
Inside the shop Fenner saw a policeman in uni-
form, a man very patently a plain-clothes detective,
and a third, older man, the last distraught and
nervous, leaning on and clinging to the counter.
“That's the man who found him," Bryce ex-
plained, inclining his head toward the last of the
trio. “We'll take a look downstairs and then come
up and talk to him.”
“As you say."
The entrance to the cellar was in the extreme rear
of the shop. Bryce opened the door at the head of
the stairs and snapped on the light. It was a poor
light but by its feeble glow Fenner could see a dim
form sprawled on the cement floor at the foot of
the stairs. Bryce preceded him down the stairs and
they stepped gingerly around the body.
Fenner glanced around and saw in the far end a
heating plant and a small pile of coal. Other than
to house these, the cellar apparently served only as
a repository for the accumulation of a miscellany of
junk. He walked to the furnace and opened the
door. The firebed was black and quite extinct, but
it radiated a faint residual warmth that indicated it
had been out for only a few hours.
He came back and looked at the body thought-
fully. He had talked to Adolph Knoeckler less than
twenty-four hours before. Now the man lay on


72 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
his face, quite lifeless; his arms stretched out before
him, his face smudged in a small dark pool of his
own congealed blood.
Fenner bent down and felt the dead man's cheek;
it was quite cold. He lifted a frail forearm and
found it rigid.
“Last night some time,” he said briefly.
"Yeah.”
"Let's go up."
Even to Bryce, a hardened veteran in matters of
crime and violence and death, it was a relief to get
up out of the dank cellar into the fresh daylight of
the shop.
"You had better tell Mr. Fenner what you told
the officer and me, Schmidt,” Bryce said to the old
man.
“Yah-yess,” the man agreed nervously. He was
a German of about Knoeckler's age and conducted
a newsstand and stationery store two doors from
Knoeckler's shop. He went ahead with his story,
using good English except when he became excited,
at which time he dropped into the German accent.
He had known Adolph for ten years, he told them
-ever since he had opened his little magazine shop.
Of late he had been taking his dinner with him quite
often at a German restaurant a few blocks away.
The old man's daughter was out a great deal of the
time lately. Last night he'd sort of expected the
old man but when he hadn't showed up Schmidt had
thought nothing about it because they had no definite
arrangement. “Then this morning he didn't come
in for his paper-first time in months except when


74
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
hours. Which would you say was nearer?"
The coroner stooped over the body again. "It's
hard to be sure— Hmm-rigor-mortis pretty well
advanced-muscles pretty well contracted. Prob-
ably twenty-one hours is closer than either, though
it might have been as little as eighteen.”
"That would put it around five-thirty yesterday
afternoon but possibly as late as eight-thirty in the
evening—say, between five and nine?"
“That's a safe assumption, all right,” Dr. Pol-
lard agreed.
“I know he couldn't have taken his tumble much
before then, because I was in here talking to him a
little after four. He wasn't exactly a healthy look-
ing specimen but he certainly didn't look ready to
keel over, either. Well, let's see—" Fenner bent
down and picked up each of Knoeckler's hands, turn-
ing them palms up to examine them. “Anything
strike you as odd about them?”.
Bryce and the coroner looked at them. Bryce
leaned down and drew his palm across the cement
floor, then looked at it, grayed with dirt and ashes.
He looked again at Knoeckler's upturned palms.
“Pretty clean, ain't they—for a man that's fallen
forward from the top of those stairs ?"
Fenner did not reply.
Bryce called his photographer down and in-
structed him to take the customary pictures. Then
they went upstairs to get Schmidt's testimony for
the coroner's records.
The newsdealer repeated his story substantially
as he had told it first to Bryce and later to Fenner.


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
75
When he had finished Fenner asked: “Knoeckler
lived in the rooms upstairs, did he?"
“Yes.” Schmidt nodded.
“Anybody else?”
"Oh, yes; Elsa, his daughter. She sort of keeps
house for him."
"Where is she; do you know?”
"She works somewhere near here in an office.
She's a secretary.” He made the announcement
with a certain deference. He shook his head a little
sadly and went on: "She's gone now, though. She
went away last night."
“Yes? Where to ?”
Schmidt shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know.
She's hard to keep up to, lately. She went away
with a man in a car. She had a suitcase."
"When?” Fenner smothered his impatience.
"Last night. I just came back from supper a
little before. It must have been seven o'clock."
"Tell us more about it. How did you happen to
notice it?" Fenner urged.
"From about four o'clock on I stay out by my
stand—the afternoon papers-people going home
then,” Schmidt explained. “Usually I stay out about
a half an hour after supper. People buy magazines
then. Not long after I came back from supper a
car pulled up and stopped about halfway between my
place and here. I saw Elsa get out and run inside.
It struck me kind of funny they hadn't pulled right
up to Adolph's instead of stopping almost next
door. There was a man driving the car. As soon
as Elsa went inside he got out and walked around


76 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
the car, kicking the tires and sort of looking it over.
Then he went inside too. In about fifteen minutes
they both came out. Maybe it was a little longer-
twenty minutes or so. I'd gone in my shop a couple
of times, it seems to me, to wait on customers. He
had her suitcase. They got in and drove off. Pretty
soon after that I shut up for the night.”.
“What kind of a car was it?"
“Why, it was a big expensive looking, closed car."
“Would you know it again if you saw it?" Bryce
put in.
Schmidt scratched his head. "I'm not sure if I
would or not.”
“Would you know the man?”
“Maybe; but it was pretty dark then."
"Where'd you say the girl worked ?"
"I don't know; except it's around here somewhere.
She walked back and forth and sometimes came
home at noon.”
"When did you last see Knoeckler alive?" Fenner
cut in abruptly.
Schmidt thought a minute, then replied: "He
came in about four o'clock yesterday afternoon. I.
gave him a late paper and we talked a few minutes.
Then he went on back. It wasn't long after that
when you were here.” Schmidt addressed the last
remark to Fenner alone.
Fenner was somewhat startled but concealed his
surprise. "Yes; I didn't get here until about four-
fifteen.” He paused. "You're observant, aren't
you?” The comment was in a cutting tone but he
took the edge off by adding: "It's always a pleasure


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
77
and usually a help to have someone around who sees
things. Now maybe you can tell us if there were any
other visitors or customers in the afternoon or eve-
ning—say, after I left?”.
Again old Schmidt stopped to think. “There was
two I know of," he started slowly. “There was one
fellow, a young fellow. He came a little after five
and stayed for ten or fifteen minutes. Seemed to
know Adolph. When he came out he was laughing
and yelled something back through the door to him.
He stopped and bought a paper off me and then
went on up toward William Street.” Schmidt
stopped and shook his head a little wearily as if the
effort of recollecting these events strained his mind.
Fenner looked quickly at Bryce, inquiringly. The
latter pulled out his notebook. “That must've been
Borden, all right. Five-ten to five-twenty-five.
Shall we get hold of him? I think he's at the bank
job right now.”
"I think we'd better—and also that man you've
got on him; Murphy, isn't it?" Fenner replied.
“We'll get Borden. Murphy'll come along.
Don't worry about that,” Bryce assured him. He
picked up Knoeckler's telephone and called the job
office. Borden, it seemed, was somewhere down in
the excavation and Bryce had to wait ten minutes
while he was found and summoned to the telephone.
When Bryce asked him to come around to Knoeck-
ler's, he seemed surprised and curious but promised
to come at once.
Fenner turned back to Schmidt. “You said there
were two. Now what about the other fellow ?"
U
.


80 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
But—but Sharply, stare covered quick
tripod head. Not serious, of course—the bank's
paying for it anyway. No-he seemed all right to
me. When I went out I called him a robber and he
laughed at me." Borden glanced around the semi-
circle of faces. “Why? What's happened to him?"
"He's either had an accident or been murdered
-We hope the former," Fenner replied.
Borden winced at the word but recovered quickly.
He drew in his breath sharply, stammering in aston-
ishment: “But—but what-but who—who would
want to kill old Adolph?”
"That's precisely what we're most interested in
finding out.” There was a steely hardness beneath
Fenner's tone and in the sharp way his words were
clipped off. If Borden noticed he did not give any
sign but simply waited for Fenner or Bryce to say
more.
"Do you know anything about the man-his
private life or anything of that sort ?”
"I never saw Mr. Knoeckler except in this store
and then only when business brought me here," Bor-
den replied. He had quite regained his composure.
At this point Bryce excused himself, remarking
that he would return within a few minutes. Borden
looked at his watch and fidgeted impatiently. "Is
there anything else you'd like to ask me, sir? If
not, I'd better get back to the job.”
“Better wait just a minute. Bryce might have
something in his mind,” Fenner suggested amiably.
Borden waited, glancing around the shop.
“There's our level," he said, pointing to an instru.
ment on Knoeckler's work bench in a rear corner of


FRIDAY, APRIL 1ST
the shop. Beside it stood the open mahogany case;
around it lay a miscellaneous assortment of tools.
Borden went over to look at the machine. He
looked around the bench, then at the old-fashioned
roll-top desk which stood beside it.
"Don't touch anything," Fenner admonished
sharply. “Finger prints, you know," he explained
more coolly.
Borden stepped back quickly. “Oh, of course.
I didn't think,” he apologized. Just then Bryce
returned.
“Anything you want to ask Mr. Borden?” Fenner
inquired.
Bryce shook his head. "No— Nope. I guess
not."
· Borden picked up his hat from the counter. "I'll
be going along, then ?” he asked rather than stated,
and at Fenner's permission he hurried out.
• When he had gone Bryce said a little disappoint-
edly: "I was outside talking to Murphy. He con-
firms what Borden and Schmidt told us to a 'T.'
All the details about the time and about Borden
calling back and about him buying the paper, he con-
firms exactly.” Murphy was the aide of Bryce's
who had been shadowing Borden on the previous
afternoon.
The coroner had been standing by in growing
mystification. At his obvious curiosity Bryce ex-
plained, "There are some angles to this that we'll
have to go over with you afterward, Dr. Pollard.
We'd better look around here now and see what we
can turn up."


82 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
There was little semblance of order about
Knoeckler's establishment. The counters and show-
cases were scantily stocked with a varied assort-
ment of tapes, rods, drawing instruments, and other
surveying and drafting paraphernalia. The rear
portion, which had apparently served for his repair
work, contained several work benches and in one
corner the old roll-top desk. The benches were
littered with tools, parts and odds and ends of in-
struments, and several instruments in process of re-
pair.
The desk was covered with a jumble of papers,
mostly bills and receipts. There were a few letters,
a German newspaper, and on top of the pile-star-
ing Fenner and Bryce in the face a day-old copy of
the tabloid newspaper opened to the article on the
Consolidated American Bank theft.
Fenner and Bryce stared at the paper for a long
time. “Must be the paper Schmidt gave him yes-
terday afternoon,” Bryce finally suggested.
Fenner agreed absently; he seemed suddenly lost
in thought. "Bryce," he announced abruptly, "that
paper was spread out just like that, open to just that
article, when I came in yesterday afternoon to ques-
tion Knoeckler about Borden-only then it was over
on the counter. Knoeckler was so absorbed reading
it that he didn't even hear me until I was almost on
top of him. I wonder—" He stopped as abruptly
as he had started. For a moment more he was
thoughtful, glancing around and resolving the ar-
rangement of things in his mind. Then he was off
on a new tack. “The next thing is to locate the


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
83
e foot of it and anand the ci
girl. Let's see what we can find upstairs."
They went up, Fenner leading the way. In the
small sitting-room they found nothing of interest or
significance; nor in the kitchen-dining room combi-
nation at the rear. Elsa's bedroom they found
mildly disordered. “She packed in a hurry," Fenner
commented. The bed had not been slept in but on
the counterpane they could see the rectangular im-
print left by her small suitcase where she had placed
it on the bed to pack it. One of the dresser drawers
was partly pulled out and the closet door stood open.
Several dresses and an empty hanger had been tossed
at the foot of the bed.
Bryce rummaged hurriedly but skillfully through
the dresser drawers. "Not a thing," he grumbled;
“not so much as a single scrap of paper of any kind.
Funny damned thing, when you think of it,"
Last they went into Adolph's room. They found
it neat and clean and in surprising order, considering
the habits of carelessness which the disordered con-
dition of the shop would have indicated Adolph
Knoeckler had possessed. On the dresser, weighted
down with a hairbrush, they found a hastily scribbled
note. Fenner scanned it rapidly, glanced at the re-
verse side and handed it to Bryce. The note was
written in lead pencil on plain paper and read:
FATHER-
I had a chance to go up to the country over the
week-end so I got off from work and am going. I
expect to be back Sunday night or Monday morning.
I brought some things in. You will find them in
the ice-box.
ует
ELSA.


84 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Bryce read it slowly and looked up at Fenner.
“Do you make anything of it?" he asked.
"There are a lot of things you can make of it.
For one thing, it looks as if Miss Knoeckler had pur-
posely avoided meeting her father. They parked
the car next door instead of out front. She came
for her things at a time when she must have known
he would be likely to be out for dinner. That may
have been just a coincidence, of course. Her obvious
haste in packing may have arisen from a desire to
get away before he returned, though she might have
been in a hurry for some other reason. The note
indicates that she certainly expects to be back by
Monday morning.” Fenner rubbed his chin medi-
tatively and went on slowly, thinking aloud, “It's go-
ing to be interesting to talk to the chap she went
off with—if we ever see him. I suppose there's
no way of getting a line on him until we find Miss
Knoeckler."
“Pretty hard," the inspector agreed.
"I wonder why they stopped the car next door.
I wonder why she went in alone first. There may be
perfectly simple explanations for these and a lot of
other things, but I'm very much afraid we're going
to have to wait until Monday to learn what they
are. As for the old gentleman,"
"The autopsy might show something,” Bryce re-
minded.
"It might." But Fenner was obviously skeptical.
After a further cursory, and quite fruitless, search
of Adolph's room, they went back downstairs. The
morgue wagon had arrived and the coroner was


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
85
awaiting word from Bryce before removing the
body.
“Find anything ?” he inquired.
"Not to speak of," Bryce replied. “The girl's
gone away for the week-end.” He handed him
Elsa's note.
The coroner perused it quickly. "Your men
through in the cellar?”
“We're all done, Chief." The photographer
spoke up without waiting for Bryce to inquire.
"You don't think of anything ?” Bryce asked
Fenner, and at the latter's negative reply he said
to Pollard: “You may as well get ahead with it,
then. Let me know the results of your autopsy as
soon as you can, will you? Also what you find out
from Dr.-Kellar, wasn't it?”
The coroner agreed to hasten things as much as
he could and, summoning the ambulance attendants,
directed the removal of Knoeckler's body. Bryce
posted a detective in the shop and with Fenner went
back to the bank, from there to his own headquarters
at the police station.
Fenner resumed his browsing in Donegan's rec-
ords just where he had been interrupted scarce two
hours earlier. Before he left the bank late in the
afternoon he telephoned the inspector. He learned
that no trace of Morton's car had yet been found.
He learned also that a preliminary examination of
Knoeckler's body indicated without question that he
had died of a fractured skull. The coroner had re-


86 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
ported, according to Bryce, that the fracture could
have been caused by a fall from the first floor to
the basement where the body was found. Last, Dr.
Pollard reported that he had been in communication
with Dr. Kellar who had informed him that old
Knoeckler's ailment was such that a sudden seizure
was not at all unlikely, and that, furthermore, in
the event of such a seizure the man might have lost
consciousness so abruptly as to have been incapable
of breaking his fall with his hands. A more com-
plete report would be forthcoming within a day or
two, Bryce told Fenner.
Fenner grunted. “I suppose it's barely possible
that Adolph Knoeckler's demise was accidental,” he
said when Bryce had finished, but his tone lacked
conviction. He made a mental note to interview Dr.
Kellar himself. “It looks, though, as if events were
conspiring to compel me to play golf tomorrow and
Sunday. We seem to be at somewhat of a standstill
until Monday, or at least until Morton shows up."
"Assuming that nobody else makes a break,"
Bryce supplemented.
"Of course; but I think it's a little early yet for
that. Don't you? But I suppose we had better go
over things again in the morning, anyway.”
Bryce assented and Fenner disconnected, anxious
to go home for the day. His appearance and man-
ner of a dilettante bachelor to the contrary, Fenner
was a family man; more than that, he was a man
who consciously enjoyed his family. When he left
his office, or wherever his cases happened to take


FRIDAY, APRIL 1st
87
him, he tried to forget his work as completely as
he could. On most of his ordinary cases he was
able to do this with slight effort, but when he was
dealing with the more puzzling ones he found it
harder to clear his brain. Various aspects of the
questions confronting him had a way of suddenly
poking their heads up into his consciousness, regard-
less of where he was or what he was doing. Fenner
usually revolved the ideas for a moment, examining
them from different sides, then thrust them down
again for more processing by his subconscious mind.
On his way home on this Friday afternoon the
picture that kept recurring to him was that of old
Knoeckler as he had found him on the previous day
when he had gone there to check up Borden's story
of his stop to leave the level. Adolph Knoeckler had
been leaning on the counter, absorbed in the perusal
of the tabloid spread before him. He had seemed
almost reluctant to tear himself away from the paper
and had been barely civil. When Fenner had told
him the purpose of his call, the old man had seemed
to unbend a little. At the same time Fenner fancied
he had detected a masked keenness in the man which
belied the initial vagueness of his answers.
He had generally confirmed Borden's story, how-
ever, so Fenner had dismissed the incident from his
mind. But today when he had recognized the paper
spread on Knoeckler's desk and had realized the
subject of the article in which the old man had been
so absorbed the day before, the incident had lost its
insignificance. What new significance it would take


CHAPTER III
Saturday
April 2nd
re
ON SATURDAY morning Fenner and Bryce and Han-
ley were again gathered in the bank manager's of-
fice. Hanley looked distinctly better than when the
others had left him the day before. He was re-
freshed with sleep and clean shaven, but he wore a
sober air that bespoke discouragement at the prog-
ress they had made toward the solution of the theft.
Fenner was attired in knickers and wore a gay
sweater beneath his jacket. Obviously he intended
holding to his threat or promise to get in a week-
end of golf. Bryce leaned forward with his elbows
and forearms on the desk, mouthing an unlit cigar,
his appearance quite unchanged; a good night's rest
or a sleepless vigil-either affected him not in the
least. He was always the same-stolid, grim, re-
lentless.
Hanley looked from one to the other. "Anything
happen?” He asked the question glumly as if a
negative answer was a foregone conclusion.
"Not much, I'm afraid,” Fenner replied. “Bryce
has the chronicle."
The detective thumbed through his little black
book and read off concise but complete accounts of
the actions of Jeremy Donegan, his son, Mr. Dick-


90 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
son, and Borden since the previous morning. There
was not an unusual or suspicious act or event in the
entire account. Nor was there any word of Ran-
dolph Morton or any trace of his car.
"You say Borden went to Knoeckler's yesterday
afternoon at your summons ? What was that for?”
Hanley inquired when the inspector had concluded.
"Knoeckler fell downstairs Thursday evening and
killed himself. Borden had been there during the
afternoon. We thought he might possibly be able
to shed some light on it.”
“Killed, eh? You don't say! And you suspect it
may not have been accidental ?” Hanley ventured
shrewdly.
“Well, we're not at all sure of anything; we're
just trying to find out,” Bryce evaded. He described
without detail the discovery of Knoeckler's body.
Hanley listened attentively. “You don't suppose
there's any connection between the-er-accident
and our affair here, do you ?” he asked when Bryce
had finished.
"There's no evidence that Knoeckler's death was
anything but accidental,” Fenner put in quickly.
“The coroner will have out his final report tomor-
row. I rather imagine he'll ascribe the man's death
to a fall from the first floor to the cellar, possibly
preceded by a stroke of some sort and presumably
quite accidental. As a matter of fact, I made it my
business last evening to telephone Dr. Kellar, who
has been attending Mr. Knoeckler. From what he
told me, Knoeckler had been in pretty rotten shape
for some time. He'd had some sort of a partial


SATURDAY, APRIL 2ND
91
stroke several weeks ago, though of course Dr.
Kellar didn't let the old man know that, and was in
precarious condition any way you look at it.”
"That's good,” Hanley replied. “Things are bad
enough the way they are without getting a murder
messed up with them. It would be spread over every
scandal sheet in the country.”
"Quite," Fenner agreed.
"Nothing more on the inside job theory, I pre-
sume,” Hanley presently suggested.
“No; I think not,” Fenner reassured him.
“Young Donegan's records are in first-class order.
He seems to be a careful, methodical, thorough-
going sort of a fellow. Jeremy Donegan the same.”
Hanley only grunted. It was too soon to say:
“I told you so.”
After only a few minutes of futile discussion the
talk ended and Fenner and the inspector went out
together. They were silent until they reached the
street, when Bryce said reproachfully: "I suppose
you have your own reasons for not wanting Hanley
to connect Knoeckler's death with the theft down
here."
“No special reason," Fenner countered. “Just
general policy. The fewer people there are who
know what you're thinking about or working toward,
the less likely you are to be checked."
“That's right, but you might have said something
to me. Suppose I had spilled the beans?".
Fenner looked at him and smiled. “I knew it
wasn't necessary. Unless I'm much mistaken, you've
got space for Mr. T. Jerome Hanley in your little


92 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
book right now.”
Bryce was not surprised. “As a matter of fact,
I have,” he confessed, "though I have to admit that
he's been quite above reproach during the short time
we've been keeping an eye on him. I am going on
nothing but a hunch—not an awfully strong hunch,
either. In some way he just doesn't seem quite all
out in the open.”
"I'm afraid he hasn't been, but I think it's more
from habit than from intent. I had a talk with their
personnel director when I went back to the bank yes-
terday. I learned quite by chance that the boy who
handled that money truck is a nephew of Hanley's.
A minor, irrelevant matter, yet when we talked to
the boy on Thursday Hanley didn't mention the re-
lationship. Probably an oversight on his part, yet it
instantly raises suspicion. However, all good bank-
ers are notoriously close-mouthed.”
They had crossed the narrow street to the truck-
loading platform which overlooked the excavation
for the foundations of the new building. Suddenly
Fenner grasped Bryce's arm. “Look! There are
two of your customers now."
Below them and out toward the center of the lot
Bryce saw Dickson and Borden. They were stand-
ing on the top layer of cross-lot bracing about half-
way down from the street level to the bottom of the
pit. Borden had a blueprint, half unrolled, from
which he seemed to be explaining something to
Dickson. Occasionally he stopped talking and
pointed around the lot. Dickson took the print from
him to study it more closely.


SATURDAY, APRIL 2ND
93
ven
Suddenly overhead, even as Fenner and Bryce
watched, there was a dull metallic clang and a slow
rumble. A stone skip which had been hoisted high
and started on its swing toward the hopper rocked
crazily. One of the four chains which suspended it
from each corner had snapped, and with each lurch
the skip spilled out a half dozen bowlders and a
slither of rock fragments.
From where they stood it looked to Fenner and
Bryce as if Dickson and Borden were directly be-
neath the arc through which the pan would swing
to reach the truck hopper. Apparently Dickson
thought so, too. With one glance at the skip swing-
ing high and toward them, he dropped the blueprint
and started running along the bracing, but after a
few steps he stopped, hesitated, stepped back,
clutched at Borden for a frightened moment, then
ran the other way, hunched over like a scared rabbit.
When Borden heard the warning snap and looked
up and perceived their peril, he seemed scarcely
moved. He leaned over the rail to shout a quick,
shrill "Heads up!" to the men in the hole below,
then turned and watched the huge metal pan sway-
ing toward him, the broken chain dangling and yank-
ing, large and small stones and fragments spewing
down with each lurch of the skip. He watched it
for a long moment, gaging its speed and swing; then,
when it was almost above him, he coolly sidestepped
the descending slither of muck and bowlders. The
skip had no more than passed him when he recovered
the blueprint from where Dickson had dropped it
and waited, undisturbed, for the latter to return and


THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
I guess "morry much "but no
resume their work.
Fenner and Bryce watched the enactment of the
near-tragedy with bated breaths. "Phew! Close
call!” Bryce, exclaimed when the danger was over.
Fenner did not reply at once. With his fingers he
tapped the handrail upon which they leaned, drum-
ming out a gentle tattoo. He watched the two men
below with thoughtful interest.
Bryce, puzzled at his absorption, hesitated before
speaking again.
"Dickson sort of lost his head, didn't he?” he
ventured presently.
“Quite,” Fenner agreed; "but not the other fel.
low. He didn't worry much at all.”
"No. I guess he's around this kind of work so
much that he gets used to it.”
"Thoughtful of him to warn the men down in
the bottom, wasn't it?”
They looked into the lot a short time more.
Then Fenner suddenly straightened up, clapped his
companion on the shoulder and exclaimed: "I'm go-
ing to be off. Where can I call you this evening?”
Bryce gave him a telephone number and added a
little enviously: “You're a lucky devil! I wish I
could shed my cares the way you do."
"I don't always shed them—that's one of my
troubles. They go right along with me. But I am
getting better at it," Fenner added hopefully. His
tone became serious. "I hope you have some word
on Mr. Morton, but I'll be surprised if you do. On
the other hand, I'll be a hell of a lot more surprised
if he doesn't show back Monday. I have an idea


SATURDAY, APRIL 2ND
95
for bringing things to a head that we'll go over Mon-
day, after we've seen Morton or if he doesn't return.
I'll telephone you tonight from the house."
They parted, Bryce heading for the station,
Fenner for the country. The latter told himself
ruefully that if his golf game was anything but pretty
rotten on this Saturday afternoon, it would certainly
be pure luck. He knew there would be no such thing
as concentration.
The rest of Saturday passed without incident. In
the evening Fenner telephoned Bryce, finally locat-
ing him, despite the hour, still at his desk at head-
quarters. There had been no developments of con-
sequence. Knoeckler's daughter was still away.
They had been able to discover nothing as to the
identity or whereabouts of her or her companion,
or that other visitor to Knoeckler's shop on that
eventful Thursday evening. Hanley, the Donegans,
Dickson, Borden—all were going about their busi-
ness. As Fenner had predicted, no word had come
from Morton. Nor had a quiet but thorough search
yet uncovered any trace of his car.
However, Fenner was not discouraged on that
score. He was confident that Morton would put in
his appearance in his own good time and with a
plausible explanation of his absence. Fenner tried
to keep an open mind as to Morton's probable guilt
or innocence as far as the Consolidated Bank theft
was concerned. What he had learned of the man
by diligent inquiry had convinced him that, while
Morton might have had ample financial motive for


96. THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
attempting such a coup at this time, and while he
might have been without scruples as to means or
methods for accomplishing that end, yet he was not
a man apt to act quickly or except upon a carefully
conceived plan. Last of all, he was not a man who
would plan a flight. To a man with his professional
and business connections it would not be worth
while. Fenner repeated to Bryce, that as far as
Morton was concerned he was quite content to await
his return.
Sunday was equally uneventful. Fenner spent the
morning again on the golf course. His game, sel-
dom better than fair, was not much worse than
usual. A little absently he trod the course, a little
indifferently he played his shots, a little half-heart-
edly he entered into the repartee of the other mem-
bers of the threesome. He drove slowly home from
his club along winding back roads, avoiding the
throngs of Sunday motorists.
His wife observed his preoccupation and wisely
left him to his own devices. In the afternoon he
lounged about the garden, now picking up a current
magazine to read a few paragraphs without sensing
their meaning and tossing it aside in disgust, now
getting up to putter in the flower beds, now going
into the kitchen to mix himself a drink. Finally he
settled into a comfortable deck chair and fell into a
light sleep, though Sunday afternoon siestas were
decidedly not one of his habits.
When he awoke it was close to five o'clock and
the sun had dropped behind the trees, leaving him
in the shade and chilly. He glanced about the


SATURDAY, APRIL 2ND
97
garden a moment, blinking; then brought his mind
back to the time and the place. He felt greatly re-
freshed.
Suddenly he realized that the disorderly maze of
questions, ideas, suspicions, which had cluttered up
his mind when he dropped to sleep had magically re-
solved themselves into a neat series of workable
hypotheses, even arranged for him in order of prob-
ability. It was true, of course, that numerous open
links and unanswered questions marred the com-
pleteness and symmetry of each pattern, but Fenner
had a quick gratifying conviction that time would
inevitably if slowly weave in these bare spots and
make the design whole.
It was also true that what Morton might reveal
or do when he reappeared-or Knoeckler's daugh-
ter either, for that matter--might completely alter
the complexion of everything. Fenner did not dis-
pute with himself these possibilities, but he could not
help discounting their likelihood.
He went into the house to telephone Bryce. The
inspector had nothing new to report. Both the
Donegans, it seemed, and Dickson and Borden and
Hanley were behaving with disgusting normality.
Fenner smiled at Bryce's persistent inclusion of Han-
ley but said nothing. There had been no word from
Morton, nor from Knoeckler's daughter or her com-
panion. Bryce made no effort to disguise his grow-
ing impatience. It seemed inconceivable, he told
Fenner, that a man like Morton and a Packard sedan
could both drop so completely out of sight and for
three days elude such a search as he was having con-


98. THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
ducted.
"He probably isn't consciously eluding you, old
man,” Fenner consoled, “and that's what makes him
so deuced hard to turn up. If he were really hiding
you'd probably have him by now. Wait till to-
morrow; I venture he'll come sidling in like a truant
schoolboy."
"Maybe you're right. I hope he does. But, even
so, he's going to have plenty to explain.”
Agreeing to meet in the morning—not too early,
Fenner stipulated—they disconnected. Now Fenner
found himself able to forget the case and to turn
himself to lighter occupations.


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
101
“Tell us more about it."
"I'd not been feeling well and came home from
the office. Father was in the back of the shop
working. I only said a few words and went up-
stairs. I worked a little while, dusting and straight-
ening things up. I'd decided to go away for a few
days with a friend, so I went out to get in some
groceries and things. Father once in a while got
himself-got his own meals if he was alone and
didn't feel like going out. When I got back Father
wasn't there. I guess he was out for his lunch, be-
cause the shop was locked. I had a date and was in
a hurry, so I only stayed to change my clothes and
then went uptown.” Again she stopped
“Go ahead,” Fenner put in gently.
“That's all. I didn't see him at all after that. I
was only home again for a few minutes around
dinner time-long enough to throw a few clothes in
a bag. Father hadn't come back yet when I had
to go, so I left a note for him. I went away and
came back this morning."
"Do you have any idea where your father could
have been at that time?"
"I guess he was at dinner. It was around his meal
time."
"I see.” Bryce paused, looking to Fenner.
Both were impressed by the girl's sober frankness
as she outlined these facts. However, when Bryce
began to question her about herself, Elsa became a
more reluctant witness. It was necessary almost to
drag the bare facts from her. She had lived alone
with her father all her life. They had few acquaint-


102 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
ances or friends. She and her father had disagreed
mildly about some of them. At present she was in
the employ of Marten, Morton & Purcell, a firm
of engineers,"
At the mention of Morton's name Fenner in-
stantly perceived the whole situation. “Where is
Mr. Morton now?" he quickly asked.
“At the office," she innocently answered.
"You're sure?"
“Why, yes; 1—” She flushed uncomfortably.
“That is, I suppose he is.”
“When did you see him last?"
Elsa thought a long time over that, Fenner ob-
served. She finally stammered, “Why—why do you
want to know that?”
Fenner answered with a friendly smile and in as
kindly a tone as he could muster: “My dear girl,
your father is dead. Nothing we can do now will
alter that fact. But circumstances indicate that he
may not have died naturally, or even accidentally.
Murder is a serious thing. We are not particularly
interested in where you have been since Thursday;
we want to spare your feelings in every way we can.
But you must understand that considerations of that
sort can not be permitted to interfere with our ef.
forts to get to the bottom of the thing. There are
one or two more questions I must ask you now; we
can talk things over at greater length when you've
had a chance to rest and compose yourself.”
Elsa started weeping anew but soon dried her
tears and awaited his further questions.
"When you went to your home Thursday evening


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
103
for your things was the door locked ?"
“No; it was unlocked. Father only goes a few
steps around the corner and sometimes leaves it
unlocked.”
“When you went out did you lock it?”
“I don't remember. I don't suppose so. I was
in a hurry and thought Father would be right back.”
“Oh. Now one other thing. When you came
downstairs after packing, you found your friend
Mr. Morton in the store. Is that right?"
“Yes."
“Did you expect to find him there?”
Elsa hesitated. “Not exactly," she admitted. “I
came in the store alone.”
“Why do you suppose he decided to follow you
in ?"
Elsa scarce found her voice to reply: "He wanted
to see my father-about me. He wanted to talk to
him. He thought perhaps Father'd come back be-
fore we left."
“But he didn't?”
"No." Again Elsa broke into tears.
“What was Mr. Morton doing when you came
downstairs ?"
“He was just standing thereby the desk; just
standing there; that's all.”
At this point an officer interrupted them with word
that Mr. Hanley was on the telephone. Bryce took
the call and Hanley very excitedly informed him
that Randolph Morton had returned and was on his
way to the bank. The inspector grunted an ac-
knowledgment and promised to be on hand. He


104 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
motioned Fenner a few steps to one side and told
him of Hanley's message. “Miss Knoeckler can stay
here and we'll finish our talk when we get back.”
"By all means."
So Elsa was left to the tender mercies of a police
matron while Fenner and the inspector hied them-
selves to the Consolidated Bank to participate in
the reception of Randolph Morton.
2
On that same Monday morning a very unhappy
Mr. Stephen Coles, slightly to his surprise and con-
siderably to his annoyance, found that it was neces-
sary for him to unlock the offices of Martėn, Morton
& Purcell. Usually Miss Knoeckler arrived ahead
of him-sufficiently ahead of him to have the place
unlocked and aired out by the time he got there.
Not so, however, this morning.
Coles tried bravely to pretend to himself that the
annoyance arose from the necessity for fingering
through his keys to unlock the office door, and for
raising four shades and opening four windows. This
harmless deception occupied his mind but fooled him
not at all. The real source of his trouble-it was
rapidly becoming too acute to be termed merely an-
noyance-or rather, the source of the particular ac-
cession of it on this Monday morning, was that Miss
Knoeckler's casual tardiness afforded the last tiny
increment to a ghastly, torturing suspicion which had
been forming in his mind since last Thursday fore-
noon. Elsa and old Morton! The idea, when he
permitted himself actually to formulate it, drove him


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
105
almost mad; and the recurring waves of increasing,
jealous suspicion had intermittently flooded his mind
for the past three days.
During saner moments between times, he rejected
his suspicions angrily. During one or two rare mo-
ments of exceptional lucidity, he even admitted that
it was none of his business. But the rational mo-
ments were all too few and brief. That Elsa had
from the beginning firmly rejected his own atten-
tions, Coles could not deny; it had been a bitter and
disappointing pill to assimilate. But that she should
then lavish herself on Randolph Morton, a married
man old enough to be her father, was infinitely
harder for Coles to bear. That she had, Coles could
not be sure, but each mounting surge of envy left him
less doubtful.
When he had opened the windows he flopped dis-
couragedly into his chair, buried his face in his
hands, and for the first time gave way to his despair.
If only he could forget her-put her out of his mind
and heart! Then there would be emptiness but
peace. But there could be no forgetting while her
distracting person worked diagonally across a small
room from him the better part of six days each week.
He would have it out with her today; then he would
quit.
But perhaps he was mistaken. He laughed bit-
terly at the thought. He'd been simply blind for
months. A score of little incidents, unnoticed at
the time, returned to torture him with new signifi-
cance. Morton leaning over Elsa to amend a letter
yet in her typewriter-Elsa and Morton repeatedly
vas


106 16
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
happening to work late the same evenings-Elsa and
Morton laughing together, an alien, exclusive laugh-
ter that somehow died when Coles came into the
room.
On only Thursday last he'd thought nothing of it
that Morton had told Elsa to take the few days off
while he was to be away. She'd not been looking
well and needed a rest. At the time he'd wondered
why the boss could not have told him also to take
at least the Saturday off. Then the queer business
at the Consolidated Bank had come up. When it
developed that Morton's supposed business trip to
Detroit was a blind to cover an absence of another
sort, Coles had not been slow to suspect its nature.
The torturing truth had been mercilessly quick to
dawn upon him. Then Thursday evening he hadn't
found her at home.
The ardent and repeated efforts of Mr. Hanley
and a number of men who seemed suspiciously like
police to locate Mr. Morton had proved an inade-
quate distraction to Coles' tormented soul. He had
read with what interest he could muster the few ac-
counts of the Consolidated Bank theft he found in
the newspapers, but there was little real information
in any of them. He hoped, maliciously, that
· Morton's return would be marked by a warm recep-
tion. It had not occurred to him actually to connect
his employer with the theft, though on account of
the disturbed state of his emotions he hadn't given
that aspect much thought. He suddenly wondered
if Morton had chanced upon a paper or had in any
way heard of the affair, but suspected not.


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
107
· Coles straightened up in his chair and made an
effort to pull himself together. There was work to
be done-detail, detail, detail! The detail mostly
fell upon Stephen Coles, for Marten, Morton &
Purcell consisted only of Randolph Morton. Marten
had retired several years before and Purcell was as
many years dead. Coles thought of the days when
he had first been hired. There had been a staff of
half a dozen draftsmen, designers and several typ-
ists. Times had changed; the bottom had fallen out
of the market; all industry was in the throes of de-
pression; in men's minds hope had been displaced by
fear. Little building or construction was being
planned, and the business of Marten, Morton &
Purcell had dwindled to an insignificant proportion
of its former volume. The office force had dwindled
with it until now it consisted of Morton himself,
Coles, and Elsa Knoeckler. Even the field inspec-
tors had been let go, and Morton went out on the
job, or sent Coles.
Today, Coles suddenly remembered, there would
be plenty to do over at the Consolidated foundations.
He'd better get caught up and ready. He stepped
to the washbasin in the corner, splashed cold water
over his face and wrists, slicked back his hair and in-
stantly felt better. One way to forget Elsa was to
keep thoroughly busy.
He had barely finished slitting open the mail and
putting Morton's jumbled desk in order when that
gentleman walked in fully a half hour ahead of his
customary time. He gave Coles a cheery "Good
morning !" and crossed over to his desk, leaning over


108 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
it without sitting down and shuffling rapidly through
the small pile of papers. “Anything new?” he asked
absently.
"Nothing, sir, except that Mr. Hanley is anxious
to get in touch with you. He's phoned a half dozen
times since you left Thursday.” Coles watched
for his employer's reaction but was disappointed;
Morton did not even look up.
“What's he want?"
“He hasn't said, though I'm pretty sure I know
what it is.” Coles volunteered the last with an air
of hesitancy.
"Yes? What's that?"
Instead of replying Coles handed Morton a news-
paper with an article circled in red. “I was afraid
you might not run across this so I saved it.”
Morton read the article through carefully and
then glanced up at the date of the paper. Coles
could see a slow flush creep up the back of his neck.
"Well, I'm damned !” he exclaimed in a moment.
“There have been several other men to see you,
but none would leave any names or messages. I pre-
sume they were here in connection with the same
business."
“Get Hanley on the phone for me, will you,"
Morton ordered abruptly.
The bank manager, it developed, had not yet ar.
rived. Coles left word for him to call Mr. Morton.
Morton peeled off his gloves and sat down at his
desk. He attacked the pile of papers, penciling
notes on the margins of some and placing them to
one side, crunching others into small wads which he


110 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
concluded by asking, somewhat awkwardly, if
Morton could tell them anything that would shed
any light on the matter.
Morton perceptibly bristled. “You're not by any
chance accusing me of being connected with your
shortage?” he demanded indignantly. “Why, I
never heard of such—"
Fenner broke in placatingly: “Not at all, Mr.
Morton; not at all. But upon reflection I think you
can see for yourself that under the circumstances we
are justified in questioning the members of that in-
spection party. However, we don't pretend to stand
upon any of our particular rights in this matter.
We're simply trying to get, in as much detail as we
can, exactly what happened in the vault on Thurs-
day morning. There were five men in the vault-
including Mr. Hanley and the custodian, Donegan.
Of the five, each might have observed some little
detail that escaped the notice of the others. Some
little detail you may have observed might prove very
helpful taken in connection with everything else.”
He hesitated. “I'm sorry we weren't able to go
over this with you earlier while the thing was fresh
in your memory." Fenner watched Morton's face
closely as he made the last remark.
Morton looked away a moment, then said more
agreeably: "I'll tell you everything I can. I don't
know how much it'll help you. We went to the
vault—that is, Hanley and Dickson and young
Borden and myself—some time around half past ten,
it must have been. We tried the door a couple of
times and looked at a few cracks in the wall and


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
111
talked, mostly talked. Oh, yes, and Borden took
some level shots on the floor in the four corners.
We found the vault structure had tipped back bod-
ily and discussed shoring it up. That's about all I'
remember." He shrugged his shoulders and looked
at them as if to say: "I don't see how it will help
you much.”
“Do you remember a hand truck full of money
being in the vault at the time?” Fenner asked.
Morton thought for a moment. “Yes; there was
one—that is, a truck full of little sacks and bundles.
I suppose it was money."
“Do you recall the position of the truck in the
vault?""
"I can't say that I do. I just remember seeing
it there. I believe we moved it or something."
“That's right; you did.”
“Not me. I didn't touch it.” Morton was em-
phatic.
"Do you remember who did ?”
"I'm not sure. It seems to me the guard moved it
- or maybe it was Borden when he set up his level.”
"You see, your memory's better than you realized.
Your recollection agrees in almost every particular
with the stories of the others the same day it hap-
pened.”
Morton looked somewhat relieved and consider-
ably less ruffled.
"Do you remember what time you left the bank ?”
Fenner pursued the inquiry.
“About noon, I think.”
“Where did you go from there?"


112 Tur
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"I went— Look here! What has that got to do
with your shortage? I'll tell you this: I was tend-
ing strictly to my own business.” Again Morton
was becoming indignant.
"I'll tell you where you went,” Bryce broke in,
chewing his unlit cigar savagely. “You went to the
Mercantile Bank and visited your safe deposit box,
and from there you ”.
“Wait a minute,” Fenner stopped Bryce sooth-
ingly and turned to Morton. “We want to be fair
with you, Mr. Morton. There are a lot of angles
to this affair of which you're not yet aware. I think
you have unwittingly placed yourself in a very un-
fortunate position. Now I am going to tell you one
or two things frankly, and in return I expect com-
plete candor from you. Nothing you say need pass
the four walls of this room. Indeed, as far as that's
concerned, I think Mr. Hanley would excuse us."
Hanley had been sitting by observing with grow-
ing astonishment and no little curiosity the turn
which the inquiry was taking. With ill-concealed
reluctance he got to his feet. "Why, if you gentle-
men think you'll be able to talk more freely without
me I'll certainly be glad to withdraw.”
It was Morton's turn to interrupt. "Not so fast,"
he said quickly. “What is all this about, anyway?
Sit down, Hanley. I've known you quite a while; I
don't know either of these other chaps from Adam.
Now, Mr. Fenner, go on with what you were say.
ing."
Fenner looked at Bryce, then replied: "Well, the
first thing is that I talked to your er-secretary a


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
113
little while ago.” He stopped and waited.
Morton was silent for a long moment. He looked
at the faces of his interrogators, then away out of
the window. They waited for him to speak and saw
his face slowly tauten. Presently his clenched fist
came down on the table, startling them.
“So that's the way it is," he muttered. “All
right; I'll tell you this: I've done nothing of which
I'm ashamed.” His tone was low but it was even
and carried conviction. “If you've talked to her,
though, I don't see why it's necessary to question
me; and, furthermore, I don't see what it's got to
do with"
"Possibly nothing at all, but before we get
through you will quite well understand the reasons
for this interrogation,” Fenner assured him. "Now
will you be good enough to go ahead from where
you left off? You needn't mention any names.”
Morton hesitated and looked toward Hanley.
Obviously he regretted his impulse of the moment
before. However, he shrugged his shoulders and
began to talk: "As you remarked”--there was the
faintest suspicion of sarcasm in his nod toward Bryce
-"I went to the Mercantile Bank where I visited
my box and deposited some stock certificates I had
recently acquired.” He reached into his pocket
for a keyring from which he detached a key and
placed it on Hanley's desk. "You're welcome to
examine the box all you please. I also cashed a
sizable check as my pocket money was running low
and I had reason to believe I might need some over
the week-end.
for this intertod enough to ention any ng Hanley.


114 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"From the bank I went to the Grand Central
Station where I had an engagement. I met a very
dear friend of mine there and have been in her com-
pany ever since. Now, there you have it. Surely
there isn't anything more you can want to know.”
He smiled a little wanly.
“I'm sorry, but there is,” Fenner replied. “What
did you do after you left the Grand Central Ter-
minal ?"
“We had lunch-my friend and I-at the Bilt-
more. We made some plans and I left her there to
wait for me while I went to a garage in East 44th
Street for my car. I called back for her and we
drove up into the country—up Westchester way—
for most of the afternoon. We came back in time
for an early dinner. Then we went to my friend's
home-she needed some clothing and things. After
that we drove out to a small summer cabin in Jersey
-on a little lake near Morristown. We drove back
to town this morning," Morton finished simply.
"When you stopped for your friend's things on
Thursday, did you go inside or did you wait in your
car?” Fenner asked thoughtfully.
Morton hesitated, apparently puzzled at the na-
ture of the question. “Well, I was going to wait
outside. We had decided it would be better not to
meet anybody there. But after Miss-that is, after
my friend had gone in, I began to think things over
and concluded it would be as well to go on in and
perhaps get a lot of unpleasant arranging over with
-clean slate to begin with, you know—so I went
inside. I stood around in the store-that is, down-


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
115
stairs—until my friend came down with her bag.
I carried it out to the car and we left."
“Did you see anyone while you were waiting
downstairs ?” Fenner asked.
“No; not a soul.”
“Now, think carefully, did you leave the front
door unlocked when you left?”
"I'm afraid I can't answer that. We just went
out and let the door slam. I don't know whether
it was locked or not. But what the devil has this
got to do with ?”
"I'll tell you what,” Fenner cut him off quickly.
“Mr. Adolph Knoeckler was killed in his store, ac-
cidentally or otherwise, late Thursday afternoon or
early Thursday evening." Fenner watched the en-
gineer as he hurled this information at him. The
latter started up, then sank into his chair, his face
ashen; he could not find his voice. The man was
either genuinely surprised, Fenner decided, or an
unconscionably clever actor. Fenner turned in time
to see that Hanley, whose countenance to now had
been a picture of bewilderment, was also watching
Morton intently.
When Morton found his voice he gasped: "Poor
Elsa! This is terrible!” The thought evidently
set his faculties working again, for he asked quickly:
“Where is she? What have you done with her?”
"She's all right," Fenner assured him. “All
things considered, she's bearing up remarkably well.
She's being temporarily detained at the station
house, but you need not be concerned about her.
She's in excellent hands."


116 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“I must see her! I must see her at once!" Mor-
ton started to rise. "Tell me more about it, please,
and then you'll have to excuse me."
“There isn't much to tell," Fenner answered.
"Mr. Knoeckler was found early Friday afternoon
stretched out at the foot of the cellar steps, dead
of a fractured skull. The coroner puts the time of
his death at between five and nine o'clock Thursday
evening. He believes that the injury could have
been caused by a fall from the first floor, but he
hasn't yet officially reported. We have also ascer.
tained from Knoeckler's physician that his health
was in a precarious state and that he was likely at
any time to suffer a stroke that might carry him off
or leave him paralyzed. Mr. Knoeckler's death
may be purely accidental; I hope it was. But there
have been just enough odd little inexplicable factors
to arouse suspicion. That's about all I can tell you
now."
Morton got up to leave. “Well, what's the next
step?"
"I believe the coroner will report an accidental
death," Fenner answered, “but if he decides that
circumstances warrant it he will turn over what facts
he has to the District Attorney's Office. That will
mean further investigation, possibly more difficult
to 'gag. That's what I meant before when I said
you had put yourself into an unfortunate position.
Perhaps I am prematurely alarming you; it may
come to nothing. For your sake and Miss Knoeck-
ler's, I hope so." Fenner, too, got up, indicating
that so far as he was concerned the interview was
Perhaps nothing. Forenner, too,


MONDAY, APRIL 4th 117
over.
Bryce sat silent. All the questions he had enter-
tained concerning Morton had been summarily dis-
posed of. Most disarming had been the casual offer
of his deposit box key by Morton. However, the
inspector had so confidently built in his mind upon
the apparent mass of facts pointing toward Morton
that he was reluctant to see his case crumble. He
clutched at one last straw. "Would you mind tell-
ing me,” he asked, "where the briefcase now is
which you carried on Thursday?"
Morton answered readily enough: "It's in the
back of my car, or was an hour ago, in a parking
space under the Elevated station at Hanover Square.
I intended taking it back to the office this morning
but forgot to.” He turned wearily to Fenner.
“Now, if you don't mind, I should like to be taken
to Miss Knoeckler. She must be frightfully upset."
Bryce stepped to the door and called in a man who
had been stationed outside. “Show Mr. Morton
to the station. I'll call the captain while you're
going over," he explained to Morton.
He closed the door after them and returned to
the desk where Fenner and Hanley were still seated.
The latter seemed frankly dejected but Fenner ap-
peared composed and not unsatisfied.
"We're just about back where we started from, it
seems to me," the manager complained.
"Not quite so bad as that,” Fenner denied. “The
facts are filling in. Now the next step is to arrest
young Donegan.”
Both Hanley and Bryce showed their surprise.


118 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
-
-
“But you haven't a ghost of a case against him," the
former protested.
“That's all the more reason why it'll do him no
permanent harm, and I believe it will stir things up
a little. At least, we can try it."
“O. K. with me.” Bryce with his own pet theory
just demolished was in no frame of mind for ques-
tioning his colleague.
Hanley was not so easily convinced. "It's sort of
rough on the boy, isn't it?” he argued.
"Rough for a few days, perhaps, but if he's pub-
licly cleared in the end there'll be no permanent
damage; and it may make all the difference between
clearing this up in a week and taking six months, or
even a year.”
“I suppose you know what you're about,” Hanley
conceded, "though I don't mind admitting I'd like
to see the thing avoided. When do you want to
tend to it?"
"Not me; you and Bryce-right now," Fenner
replied, grinning. He instantly sobered. “You
must be sure to make it seem genuine. I can see
right now”—he was addressing Hanley—“your in-
clination will be to drop him a hint that the arrest
is with an ulterior motive and in that way to spare
his feelings. You must be very careful to do noth-
ing of the sort." Fenner was very emphatic on
the point.
Hanley and Bryce exchanged glances.
“The sooner, the better,” Fenner hinted.
Hanley looked sheepish, Bryce grim, as they left
upon their unpleasant errand.


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
: 119
Fenner settled into an easy chair in Hanley's
office, lit a cigarette and allowed his gaze to wander
idly out of the window. His mind kept harking
back to Elsa Knoeckler. She was a comely creature,
he reflected, somewhat inarticulate but a restful per-
son and fascinating in an indefinable way. He pitied
Elsa; for Morton he felt a dim envy.
His thoughts traveled back to his talk with her
that morning. Morton had let her out of his car
a half block from the shop at the corner and she
had walked from there home, he had learned. The
poor girl must have been frightened and surprised
when she entered the store and found the plain-
clothes officer lounging against the counter instead
of her father. She had been brought to the station
house where Bryce and a matron had informed her
of her father's death. The news had certainly com-
pletely overcome her. Fenner was glad he had been
able to get over to headquarters before she was
questioned. First impressions were always im-
portant.
As a matter of fact Elsa had been able to add
very little to what they already knew, except, of
course, the fact of her relations with Morton. Her
father, she was sure, had had no enemies. He had
had few friends, either, or acquaintances of any
kind. He had been a poor man barely able to eke
a meager subsistence out of his dwindling business.
She could think of no reason why anyone should wish
him harm.
Fenner mulled over the details of their conversa-
tion as he could remember them. The girl had


120 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
certainly done her best to give Morton a clean bill
of health. He wondered if Morton appreciated her
loyalty. According to Elsa, Morton had gone into
the shop on the off chance of seeing old Knoeckler
about her. According to Morton's own words he'd
gone "to get a lot of unpleasant arranging over
with !" Precisely what the devil did he mean by
that? Odd way to put it, at best. Well, the neces-
sity for that sort of unpleasant arranging was for
good and all obviated now. Fenner wondered what,
exactly, Morton's feelings for the girl amounted to.
From his reception of the news of her father's death
it would appear that his affection was deeply enough
rooted. But you never could tell-
From pondering on Morton and Elsa, Fenner's
thoughts veered round, and with no little chagrin, to
an aspect of the case which had annoyed him in the
few free moments he had had since learning of the
relationship of Morton and Elsa Knoeckler. It
was that he could have been so stupid as to have
omitted asking Coles about the other employees in
Morton's office. The mere mention of Miss
Knoeckler's name, her address, the fact that she
also had been away from Thursday on, must have
inevitably put them on the right track. It would
have saved Bryce a great deal of mental strain, Fen-
ner thought, smiling, if he had been aware earlier
of the real motive for Morton's absence. Fenner's
musing was cut short by the return of Bryce and
Hanley to the bank manager's office.
“Well?” Fenner asked.
“The dirty work's all done,” Bryce informed him.
wa


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
121
"Took it like a man, too,” Hanley supplemented.
"He'll get over it," Fénner said. “Let's only
hope it bears fruit quickly."
Fenner and the inspector left to return to the
station house to finish their talk with Elsa Knoeck-
ler. “Their stories tallied pretty well, didn't they?"
Fenner said when they got outside.
“Morton's and the girl's, you mean? Yeah; they
did.”
“Too well, maybe.”
"What do you mean? They didn't have any
chance to compare notes," Bryce argued.
“No; except all week-end.”
Bryce looked at Fenner incredulously. "You
mean they agreed on a story? They knew about the
old man? Impossible!"
“Oh, I agree with you; though I can't refrain
from moralizing that nothing's impossible in this
racket. I only wanted to be sure our reactions tal-
lied. You're satisfied the girl was surprised this
morning?"
“Yeah; sure.”
"Well, I'm quite satisfied it was news to Morton
when we sprung it on him a while ago. If it wasn't,
the man has certainly missed his calling. He be-
longs on the stage."
4
Sharing the limited view from the high, barred
window, Randolph Morton and Elsa Knoeckler hov-
ered close together in the cheerless anteroom of the
police station. Morton was talking to her in a low
tone, earnestly, while Elsa stared vacantly out into


122 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
the gray courtyard. Morton became silent and they
drew quickly apart when Fenner and Bryce entered
the room. The engineer greeted the two coldly and
waited for them to open any conversation.
“We should like to ask Miss Knoeckler a few
more questions about her father, if you will be good
enough to excuse us,” Fenner said to Morton.
“Certainly—of course.” Morton drew out his
watch and added: “I've got to be getting back to my
office anyway." He looked at Elsa. “You will
come over?” It was more a suggestion than a ques-
tion.
Elsa nodded without speaking and Morton left.
Fenner knew not what Morton had told Elsa but
he decided that, whatever it was, it had certainly
produced a remarkable change in her. She was
serious—sad, still—but not in the forlorn aban-
doned way in which he had found her earlier in the
day. When he talked with her he found her quite
composed. He drew up a chair for her and another
for himself and sat down with his back to the win-
dow. Bryce, too, sat down, but somewhat in the
background.
"I'm glad to see you feeling better. You've had a
terrible shock," he opened sympathetically. "I re-
gret disturbing you with questions at a time like this,'
but we're compelled to do our utmost to get to the
root of these matters. Tell me, did your father
have any money over and above the returns from
his business there?"
"Not that I know of. He was pretty hard up-
especially the last year or so. I helped him with


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
123
the rent and food as much as I could.”
"Was he ever engaged in any other ventures ex-
cept the store and shop in Fulton Street?”
"No; I'm pretty sure he wasn't. You see, he
didn't mix with people very much. He always pre-
ferred to stay to himself.”
“Do you know the newsdealer, Schmidt?” Fen-
ner next asked.
“Why, yes; I know him. Not well, though; not
nearly so well as Father did.”
"He and your father were very friendly ?"
"Oh, yes. They argued about a lot of things; oh,
you know, German politics and things like that, but
never seriously. Father used to eat with him when
I was out."
"What do you know of your father's health ?"
“It hadn't been very good. He'd been complain-
ing a lot and finally I made him go to a doctor. He
had a sort of weakness in his left side. It had be-
come a lot worse the last few months.”
Fenner nodded understandingly. He thought a
moment, then launched a different line of question-
ing. "How long have you been in the employ of
Mr. Morton ?"
Elsa fidgeted uncomfortably at this turn of the
inquiry. “About a year; perhaps a little longer,"
she replied.
“Did Mr. Morton in that time ever have occasion
to meet your father?”
"No."
“Did he ever meet him in a business way?”
"No. At least, I'm pretty sure he didn't."


124 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"Did your father know of your friendship with
Mr. Morton ?"
“I don't believe so. Mr. Morton had never been
to my home.”
“Until last Thursday evening, you mean?"
“Yes."
“This morning you said Mr. Morton came into
the store because he wanted to see your father about
you. Is that right?"
“Yes.” Elsa's eyes were cast toward the floor.
“Did he see him?"
"No; Father hadn't come back from supper when
we left."
"How do you know?”.
Elsa looked up sharply at the last question. She
caught her breath when she realized its implications
but refused to recognize them and answered evenly:
“Mr. Morton or I would have seen him.”
“When you came down with your bag Mr. Mor-
ton was standing by the desk, you told me this morn-
•
ing?"
Elsa nodded.
"According to old Schmidt,” Fenner went on,
“Mr. Morton was in the store ten or fifteen min-
utes before you both came out. Could your father
not have come in during the time you were upstairs
packing, without your hearing him ?”
“No; he couldn't have."
Fenner started to speak but Elsa broke out wear-
ily: "Oh, I see what you're driving at! I don't know
how you can think such a thing."
“We have to think of everything."


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
125
"I tell you,” Elsa gasped, “I never saw my
father after Thursday morning; and Ran- Mr.
Morton never saw him at all.” The girl started
weeping quietly, twisting and untwisting her hand-
kerchief, biting her lips, and controlling herself as
best she could.
Fenner waited a moment, then said: “Now, just
one more matter; then you may leave. The fellow,
Schmidt, tells us that only a short time before you
stopped for your things on Thursday evening a man
loitered about and finally went into the store. He
describes him as a fairly young man and says he has
a faint recollection of having seen him there be-
fore. Can you tell me who that's most likely to
have been ?"
Elsa raised her head wearily, stared vacantly
about while she racked her brain. Finally she said:
“I can't think of anyone. You see, my friends never
came to the store. Father didn't like me to go out
with men.”
Though its content disappointed Fenner, the sim-
plicity of the reply touched his heart. The few
words and their tone spoke volumes and gave him
a complete and vivid picture of a lonely girl, grow-
ing into starved womanhood, denied the normal
friendships and companionships of youth, living her
whole life under the roof that had sheltered her
birth and, withal, homeless!
He looked away, then turned back. “Think care-
fully. Didn't you know any of your father's
friends ?"
Elsa waited a long moment. "No; I'm afraid
sim-


126 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
not. He did business with a lot of youngish men,
though-selling them instruments and making re-
pairs. You could look at his books and get a lot of
names."
"We thought of that but hoped you might save
us the necessity.” After a moment Fenner got to
his feet and Bryce did likewise. "You're at liberty
to go where you please," he said gently to Elsa-
looking at Bryce for confirmation—"but I think it
would be best if you kept Inspector Bryce posted as
to your whereabouts. We shall soon have the coro-
ner's report-perhaps yet today. If I can then be
of any help in connection with the funeral arrange-
ments or anything of that sort I shall certainly be
at your service.”
Elsa thanked him and told them that she would
go home first and then to Morton's office. She went
out.
It was noon. Fenner said to Bryce: “Come on
I'll buy you a lunch. We can talk."
"O. K., but let's see Dr. Pollard on our way out.
Maybe he'll have something new for us." They
stopped at the coroner's office. They did not expect
much, so were not disappointed. He had completed
his work, but the only thing he could tell them which
they did not already know was that Adolph had
eaten nothing after the noon of the day of his death.
At lunch they went over the morning's yield.
Fenner was optimistic.
“Things seem to be opening up a little," he said.


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
127
Bryce was not so sure. “They may be, but I'm
damned if I can see any light yet.” He had attached
a great deal of importance to Morton's abnormal
conduct and suspicious disappearance, and when that
gentleman reappeared according to schedule and dis-
armed these suspicions with a plausible account of
his actions, and with decidedly human if not strictly
moral motives, Bryce was confronted with the ne-
cessity of starting all over again from scratch.
Similarly, he had pinned considerable hope on
what Knoeckler's daughter and her companion could
reveal when they were apprehended, and now it ap-
peared that they could reveal nothing whatever.
"It looks as if Knoeckler didn't go out to supper
after all,” Fenner continued, ignoring Bryce's last
remark; "or at least if he did, he didn't eat any-
thing.”
Bryce halted, a forkful of food poised halfway
to his mouth. “You mean he was dead before Mor-
ton and the girl got there?”
"Not necessarily, but he was a man of regular
habits. I think Miss Knoeckler counted on that
when she went for her things at the time she did.
It is not likely he would have delayed his supper
much past his usual hour. It's not likely, either,
that he could have gone out and come back with-
out Schmidt seeing him, even though Schmidt says
he was not out in front of his stationery shop con-
tinuously. The probability, then, is that he didn't
go out at all.”
"I suppose there's no question about Schmidt,
eh ?" Bryce suggested.


128 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"There's no reason for doubting him. We've
found nothing to connect him with the affair at all."
"Except that he found the body and seems to
know so confounded much about what went on
Thursday evening. Sometimes when a bird sees too
much and knows too much it's not accidental.”
Bryce was born a skeptic.
“It isn't impossible; but somehow Schmidt doesn't
fit into the picture. He'd no motive, in the first
place; and would probably have let someone else
discover Knoeckler and call the police if he had been
himself involved."
"Maybe so," Bryce admitted.
“The last we really know of Knoeckler is that Bor-
den left him in the shop a little after five," Fenner
went on. "He had a caller; or at least Schmidt saw
someone, whom he vaguely recalls having seen there
before, go into the store a little before seven. A
little after seven Morton and Elsa Knoeckler were
there for a quarter of an hour and say they saw
nothing of him. That's the layout. What hap-
pened between five and seven and who was the
caller ? That may be the key. I'd hoped the girl
could help us there, but now I'm afraid not. We'll
have to go through his desk and see if we can pick
up a few leads. We'd better get after Schmidt
again, too.” He paused ruminatively.
"Here's another thing," Bryce cut in. "How do
you suppose a fellow like Morton could've gone
from Thursday noon to Monday morning without
seeing a newspaper ? Seems damned odd to me!"
Fenner shrugged his shoulders. “I think he


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
129
could have, all right. His mind hasn't been bothered
with current events the past few days. But all the
same, Morton's in a spot any way you look at it-
perhaps not a dangerous one, but with possibilities
for enormous embarrassment. Suppose Dr. Pollard
turned in a report which cast any doubt on Knoeck-
ler's tumble and then we told what we know of
Thursday evening. I believe the district attorney
would hold the pair, or at least Morton, on sus-
picion. Adolph Knoeckler could have come in while
Morton was waiting downstairs. He'd probably be
pretty mad at a man who was endeavoring to take
his daughter away; especially a married man in
Morton's circumstances. He wasn't dumb, and it
wouldn't be surprising if he was more aware of
what was in the wind than Miss Knoeckler thought.
They might have had an argument that led to blows.
If Morton had killed him, even accidentally, he'd
have had time to carry him to the foot of the stairs.
He might have simply opened the door and shoved
him through. The cellar light was off; remember
that.
"It could all have happened without the girl hav-
ing heard anything if her bedroom door had been
shut. I don't say it did; it's just a physical possi-
bility. I wager the district attorney would figure it
enough to hold them on. A good stiff grilling might
bring out something, too, that we don't know,
though I'm not very sanguine about that."
Bryce shook his head. “I wouldn't be, either.
I'd swear that girl doesn't know anything. She was
genuinely surprised this morning and nothing'll make


130 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Ve
me believe she wasn't; and if Morton had anything
to do with it, it's a cinch she doesn't suspect it."
"If Morton had anything to do with it,” Fenner
rejoined, "he's such a consummately clever actor
that Miss Knoeckler might not suspect it, and that
in spite of having spent the intervening time with
him.” He fell to thinking.
Bryce broke into his speculations. “We mustn't
forget that maybe Knoeckler did have a stroke and
fall down on his head. In fact, I'd be willing to
concede that and forget that angle of the business
if somebody would give me a new track on the bank
robbery.”
"A new track! We've got plenty of tracks now,
only they don't lead anywhere. If only they'd round
some curves or do something interesting! Which
reminds me- How about all of our clients? Any-
thing develop the last twenty-four hours?"
“Nothing much. Hanley gave us the run around
for a while last night, but I guess he didn't mean
anything. I meant to tell you earlier this morning,
but this Knoeckler business drove it out of my head.
Hanley started out about six-thirty last evening in
his car, chauffeur driving, of course. They went
through the Holland Tunnel and later turned off
down the Belleville Turnpike. They were looping
right along, and, with the homeward bound Sunday
traffic to contend with, the boys had quite a job keep-
ing them in sight, but they managed all right until
they got a bad break at the Passaic River draw.
The bridge opened between them, and that ended it.
They picked him up at this end of the tunnel.com-


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
131
ing back about eleyen-thirty, and he went straight
home. You can pump Hanley about it when you
see him this afternoon."
Fenner had listened attentively. "Six-thirty to
eleyen-thirty. Five hours' running time. They
could cover quite a little ground in that time. Well,
we'll see. Anything more? Anything on the
others ?”
“Not a blessed thing !" Bryce reached into his
pocket for the little book but Fenner stopped him.
“Never mind. I'll take your word for it. I sup-
pose now you've started a page for Randolph Mor-
ton, too?"
Bryce admitted he had.
“And Elsa Knoeckler ?”
“Yeah; sure."
Fenner smiled. "I should think one page would
pretty well do for the two of them."
“I suppose they'll be sticking pretty close, at
that.” The inspector grumbled on, "We seem to be
tied up again waiting for something else to break.
Young Donegan's pinched and we haven't got a
shadow of a case against him and don't even really
suspect him. Progress! What!” His own sum-
mation seemed to make Bryce more disgusted and
dejected than he had been before. .
Fenner was exasperatingly cheerful. "We're just
temporarily delayed, that's all. We have to be con-
tent with waiting. We're all set up with our fingers
on all the strings. The other fellow is bound to
make a break. I've seen a lot of cases where every-
thing seemed at an impasse, and just when they
-
Tennel S
cu


132 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
seemed quietest something popped and it was all
over but the shouting.”
Bryce smiled doubtfully, a little encouraged by
Fenner's optimism but far from convinced. "I only
hope you're right.”
Te rights, but fully, aj
When Fenner got to the bank he found that Han-
ley was engaged in a meeting that might last for
some time. He settled into an easy chair in the
manager's office, welcoming the opportunity for un-
disturbed reflection. The rattle and clank of der-
ricks, the chugging of dirt trucks across the street,
the whir of electric hoists, all mingled with the
screeching of brakes, taxi sirens, police whistles, and
the other street noises of downtown New York, com-
bined to form a subdued, throbbing roar that at-
tacked his mind the moment he started to relax.
Spring was in the air; Fenner had lunched heart-
ily; he felt an increasing lassitude but he forced his
problem before his mind, examining it, revolving it,
ever probing. The cacophonous din floating up
through the open windows seemed to fall away; Fen-
ner's drowsiness gradually fled. From the pigeon-
holes of his brain he drew forth the characters of
his play, ticking off on his finger tips the salient facts
he'd learned about each of them. Jeremy, Young
Jerry, Dickson, Borden, Morton-all paraded across
the stage of his consciousness, even Hanley and Elsa
Knoeckler bringing up the rear.
He reviewed the scenes as he had learned of them
from others, as he had seen them with his own eyes:
The party examining the vault, talking, measuring,


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
133
swarming about its tiny confines and around a hand
truck laden with a dozen fortunes. The discovery
of the theft, father and son eying each other askance,
awaiting the arrival of the law to wreak punish-
ment upon whom they knew not, or feared to sus-
pect. The inquisitions of Jerry, the old man, Bor-
den, Dickson, and then today of Morton and Elsa
Knoeckler. In his mind's eye he saw Morton and
Elsa driving into the Jersey countryside in the cool
of the evening while old Adolph sprawled lifeless in
the inky cellar, his bald skull flattened against the
concrete, a clammy, ghastly center to a slowly widen-
ing dark pool. He saw old Schmidt seated before
his store watching with unrealizing eyes the dis-
jointed steps of a drama enacted before him. He
saw Dickson, haunted by margin clerks, fleeing
swinging stone skips; Borden, laughing, calling old
Knoeckler a robber; Hanley, disheveled, sleepless ·
on Friday morning and neat and businesslike today.
He saw Morton, indignant, clapping a deposit box
key on Hanley's desk, Morton defiant, a slow flush
creeping over him at the exposé of his affair with
Elsa.
Carefully, thoughtfully, Fenner assembled the
various components—assorting, rearranging, shift-
ing, sifting, searching for the thread of purpose
which must pervade the whole; and, as he pondered,
his brain clarified. Illogicalities stood out; he
lopped them off. Then in an illuminated moment
he suddenly found one answer—a possible answer.
He tested it from various angles and found it at
least within the limits of physical possibility. De-


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH
135
There are some things puzzling me that I might
get a line on in that way.”
“But there won't be any startling dénouements.”
"I'd like to be able to promise something like
that but I'm afraid I can't. In fact, I can guarantee
against it.”
“They'll all be disappointed,” Hanley chided.
Fenner ignored the vein of levity. “Another
thing I want you to do is to let them know about
young Donegan. Don't make a point of it, of
course, but just casually mention that you believe
the theft has been solved, or something of the sort.
You can say we've found enough evidence to satisfy
us as to his guilt but haven't assembled our case yet.
Be sure to tell them he's under arrest, though.”
“All right; I'll see what I can do,” Hanley agreed
cheerfully. He telephoned Morton and asked him
to come to the bank in the morning, explaining that
he thought it advisable to have the vault looked
over again. Morton fell in with the plan, not only
agreeing that it would be well to examine the vault
but suggesting also that it would now be apropos to
discuss ways and means of restoring it to its original
level. Hanley had some difficulty in locating Dickson
but when he did and extended the same, invitation,
Dickson, too, thought the idea a good one and prom-
ised to be on hand with Borden the next morning.
Observing that the arrangements were completed,
Fenner got up, well satisfied with what he hoped
would turn out to be the beginning of the end. He
was about to leave when, after a gentle tap, the door
was pushed open and Jeremy Donegan stepped in.


136 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
The old man was still in his uniform, though it was
late enough for him to have changed to his street
clothing. He looked at Hanley bitterly, unable to
keep tears back from his eyes.
“I understand ye've arrested the boy, Mr. Han-
ley," he choked, and at the manager's mute nod
went on: “You're all wrong. God knows how
wrong you are! I'll swear my boy had nothing to
do with that shortage. Why, man! Ye know it as
well as I.”
"I don't know anything of the sort.” It was with
an effort that Hanley was able to instill the coolness
in his retort.
“Ye've known the boy—years. He's as honest as
they make 'em. Ye've got nothing on him and ar-
rest him just the same like a common crook just
to arrest somebody!”
Fenner cut in: “You're at liberty to see your son.
Tell him this: that when he tells me the truth about
what he did during his lunch hour last Thursday,
and also tells me why he lied about it in the first
place, I'll be more inclined to believe whatever else
he tells me."
Old Jeremy blanched as if struck an unexpected
blow. Hanley, pitying him, said gently: “Jeremy,
the truth will come out. If Jerry's in this, God help
him! If he's not, he'll be cleared and no harm'll
come of it. I'll see that he gets an even show, you
know you can depend on that.” He turned back to
his desk.
Jeremy nodded dumbly, accepting the dismissal,
and shuffled dazedly out. Fenner watched him go.


MONDAY, APRIL 4TH 137
“Tougher on him than on the boy,” he com-
mented.
“Yes; Jerry has simply shut up like a clam. He's
not excited and not alarmed, though his feelings.
are damned well hurt."
"So Bryce was telling me. Well, it'll all come out
in the wash!” With this trite comment Fenner left
Hanley and returned to his own office to finish his
day's work.
That operation consisted of participating in three
very brief, cryptically worded, telephone conversa-
tions. One was with Bryce from whom he learned
that Elsa Knoeckler had been established with a
spinster sister of Randolph Morton's in an apart-
ment in the Columbus Circle section of the city, also
that Jerry Donegan was so far thriving upon prison
fare. The second was with a semi-agent of his own
who informed him that Mr. Christopher Dickson
had posted no further collateral against his broker-
age loans since the deposit of certain Liberty Bonds
on Thursday last. And the third was with another
agent who told him, among other things, that during
the course of the day Mr. T. Jerome Hanley had
arranged for the deposit of $30,000 in cash to bol-
ster his by then practically extinct margins.
The last bit of information bid fair to leave Max-
well Fenner completely flabbergasted. It set him off
upon a tack he had once already abandoned. If
Hanley was involved in the shortage, Fenner had
once concluded, the bank manager would not have
called him into the case. But perhaps Hanley was
thinking one step ahead and expected Fenner to fol-
On


CHAPTER V
Tuesday
April 5th
MORTON came in a few minutes ahead of the others
the next morning. Hanley was busy at his desk but.
he stopped long enough to indicate a chair for the
engineer, then excused himself and turned back to
his papers. If Morton thought it unusual, there
was nothing he could say, so he simply sat figura-
tively twirling his thumbs and gazing around the
office. Soon, however, to his relief, Dickson and
Borden were ushered in. Hanley glanced at his
watch, shoved his work aside and got to his feet.
“I don't want to take too much of your time, gen-
tlemen," he began. “I asked you in this morning
to look over our vault again and see if it's any worse
than last week. Then we'll try to decide on some-
thing in the way of fixing it up. I understand that.
the bulk of the blasting across the street is over
now." He looked toward Dickson and Borden.
“That's right," Dickson said. “Of course there
will be smaller shots for a week or two yet, while
the column footings are being excavated; but they
won't compare in strength or frequency with the
charges required for the general rock removal.”
"Would they affect anything we might try in the
way of shoring up the vault?”
139


140 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Dickson seemed uncertain. “It's hard to say.
They might possibly, but I rather think not."
Morton broke in: “Shoring that vault is going
to be a ticklish operation at best. In my opinion it
would be very inadvisable to monkey with it before
the blasting is completely done and over with. It's
true that nothing might happen, but it's also true
that you might get enough additional settlement to
prevent the door from operating. Then you'd be
put to all sorts of trouble. Why take the chance?
You're not in any particular hurry, are you?” The
last was to Hanley.
“No, but we don't want to let it go too long.
The door is very difficult to operate, you know "
He broke off. “Well, let's go down.” He led the
way out of the office but paused outside the door.
“By the way, I suppose you'll be interested in hear-
ing that we've got a line on the shortage that was
troubling us last week.” The remark was addressed
to the group in general.
All seemed to gather closer, interested.
"You don't say! I'm glad to hear that," Dickson
spoke up. "It's none of my business but I'm curi-
ous to know who was involved.”
“Why, we believe Jerry Done- Well, one of our
assistant cashiers is behind it. He denies every-
thing, of course, but he's very vague in his state-
ments and can't account for himself during the noon
hour of the day it happened. He's under arrest
and I think he'll come clean presently."
"Didn't take you long to dig it out," Dickson com-
mented.


142
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
chance to look the situation over.
Borden spread the legs of his tripod and set it
up in one of the rear corners and attached his level.
Dickson opened a folding rule and held it in turn
in the four corners of the vault for Borden to read.
The results indicated that the vault had tipped no
farther.
Fenner sat beside Jeremy's desk gazing around
vacantly, idly drumming the desk top with his nails
or twirling his gold-capped pocket pencil. His wan-
dering gaze missed not the smallest detail. Morton
moved around the walls.
“I can't see any difference in any of the cracks,"
he finally conceded to Dickson. “None of them
seem to have opened up. I think we may safely as-
sume that the settlement has stopped. Just the same
I think we would do well to postpone any under-
pinning for another ten days.”
The remark precipitated a brief discussion be-
tween Hanley and Dickson and himself as to ways
and means of shoring the vault. Fenner got up and
moved over to Borden.
“Quite an instrument you have there," he re-
marked. "How does it work?”.
"Why, it's just a telescope with cross hairs in it
and a spirit level attached. When you get the bub-
ble in the middle the line of sight of the telescope
is exactly level. That's all. You read a rule
through it-in two corners there, say. You find one
reading shorter by a half inch than the other, which
means that it's a half inch higher. That's what we
did the other day, and now today we find the same


TUESDAY, APRIL 5TH
143
difference, which means the vault hasn't moved.”
"Pretty delicate machine, I suppose?"
“Yes, they get out of whack easily; but not if
you're reasonably careful with them. They get out
of adjustment more from the knocks they get being
lugged around than they do from actual use. The
cases are pretty well padded, though.”
The talk between Morton and Dickson and Han-
ley terminated abruptly. At a sign from Dickson,
Borden dismantled his instrument and collapsed the
tripod.
“Why, this looks like the machine you had over
at Knoeckler's. It isn't the same one, is it?" Fenner
suddenly asked Borden.
"No; same model, though,” Borden answered.
“I suppose we won't be able to get the other back
for a few days. There'll be formalities, I pre-
sume?" He looked at Fenner as if he would like
to ask him more but thought it unmannerly.
"Well, I shouldn't think it would be long. The
coroner's verdict will be returned in a day or two.
Knoeckler's physician, it seems, reported that the
old chap was a victim of ailments that would make a
fatal stroke a likelihood at any time.”
“Poor devil! Well, he's just about as well off.
I think his business had pretty nearly gone to pot.
But I notice by the papers that he had a daughter.
I didn't know he had any family at all. Sort of had
a notion he was all alone.” Borden strapped up his
level box as he spoke. The others started out and
Borden had to hurry after them before Fenner had
a chance to reply.


144 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
When Fenner felt sure they would all have had
ample time to leave the bank he came up from the
vault. To his faint surprise he found Morton and
Dickson still in the entrance lobby. In a rapid, even
voice, scarce above a whisper, Morton was address-
ing his companion. The latter, apparently much ex-
asperated but not quite beyond control, seemed con-
tinually about to break into violent protest, but Mor-
ton gave him no chance to interrupt. Catching sight
of Fenner's approach, Morton stopped speaking in-
stantly. Dickson, turning to ascertain the cause of
Morton's abrupt silence, unexpectedly encountered
the detective's gaze and crimsoned deeply. Neither
Morton nor Dickson spoke and Fenner merely nod-
ded and passed on up into the bank. The pair
watched him out of sight but the interrupted discus-
sion was not resumed. Instead, with a shrug of his
shoulders and not a word of farewell, Dickson
turned and went out into the street. Morton made
his way up to Hanley's office.
"I want a little legal advice,” Morton began
when Hanley had admitted him. "Perhaps you or
one of the bank's legal staff can give me a few point-
ers. As you no doubt gathered from yesterday's—
er-discussion, my secretary is the late Mr. Adolph
Knoeckler's daughter. His death, coming as it did,
has been frightfully trying for her. I'm sort of look-
ing out for her, and among other things I want to
relieve her of all the troublesome details connected
with winding up her father's affairs and settling his
estate; though I'm afraid it may develop that the
estate is a negative rather than a positive quantity."


TUESDAY, APRIL 5TH
145
He smiled a little ruefully but went on, “Now first
I want to find out the proper legal steps for taking
over her father's affairs or her affairs, or however
you want to put it. For reasons of my own I'd
rather not have my firm's attorneys handle this.”
Hanley pondered a moment. “I think the proper
step is to apply to the Probate Court to have your-
self appointed executor of Knoeckler's estate," he
answered. “I'm not sure, and I'm not familiar with
the legal and technical details. I'll tell you what
I'll do; I'll put you in touch with a firm of very
good lawyers who will be glad to take care of the
whole thing for you. They are excellent, reason-
able, and-er-discreet. Don't you think that
would be the best way to handle it?”.
Morton did, so Hanley wrote down a name and
address on the back of one of his business cards and
handed it to him. Morton pocketed it and went out.
As Morton left Hanley's office, Fenner, entering,
met him at the door. He stood aside to allow the
engineer to pass. Inside he tarried only a moment.
Hanley could not conceal his curiosity as to the re-
sults of the morning's experiment, but Fenner would
offer him no satisfaction. Instead, he questioned
the banker shortly regarding Morton's visit. When
Hanley had briefly outlined Morton's request, Fen-
ner only grunted.
From the bank he went to Police Headquarters
where he closeted himself with Bryce.
"Do you suppose that Morton or Dickson or


146 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Borden have any idea they are being watched as
closely as they are?” he asked the inspector.
“I don't have any notion Morton suspects any-
thing-unless he would just naturally expect it and
think nothing of it. He's given no sign he's aware
of anything, but we've only been tailing him since
yesterday noon, you know. I wouldn't be surprised
if Dickson and Borden are wise, though. The boys
say both of them are getting a little self-conscious
lately. Murphy caught Dickson looking at him
rather queerly yesterday.”
"That's too bad. It defeats the whole object of
watching them.”
"I suppose so," Bryce agreed discouragedly, "but
it's not an easy thing to shadow a man who suspects
he's being watched without having him wise up, at
least, after a short time. I could put some new men
on. That's not so good, though, because these fel-
lows have become accustomed to their habits and
are quick to sense a deviation from them.”
“But you think Morton is all right yet?"
"I think so; yes."
"Well, how would it be to keep right on with him
as you're doing, and with Dickson and Borden you
could simply switch your two pairs about?"
"I'll try that,” Bryce agreed.
“Now, one other thing. Do you still have a man
in Knoeckler's shop?”
“No; we took him off when the girl came back,
but the place has been locked up tight since then
and the man on the beat keeps an eye on it.”
“Miss Knoeckler's not staying there, of course ?"


148
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
the while.
"You've got something up your sleeve now. I
can tell," he said. “I know you wouldn't spill it till
you got ready so I won't even ask, but if you should
need any help let me know. The police might come
in handy. We do cover a lot of ground, you know.".
He swung his chair around as if to get back to work.
Fenner felt the mild reproach in his attitude. He
said: “I've got a hunch almost strong enough to
make a pinch on, but hunches aren't of much use in
court. There are too many gaps in my theory to
act upon it yet, and the most important missing link
is the little canvas sack full of Uncle Sam's promises.
It wouldn't do to be too precipitate and lose that."
"Hardly!”
"To sit tight a while that's still our ticket; and
to keep track of everybody every minute." He
broke off. “Now, 'home and so to bed,' as Samuel
would say. I still have great faith in the efficacy of
sleeping on all of these puzzling little matters.
Things are dormant now—suspiciously so. The lull
before the storm, you know. Watch out !" With
this cryptic if theatrical admonition the investigator
took his departure, homeward bound.
Bryce was as much encouraged as puzzled. He
knew from experience that this unwonted volubility
betokened a discovery or development that put them
many steps ahead. He knew, too, that in plenty of
time he would learn what it was all about.


CHAPTER VI
Wednesday
April 6th
FENNER was awakened later than usual the next
morning, Wednesday, by the bright sunlight stream-
ing through the open windows. He bathed and, still
sleepy, went downstairs to breakfast.
He had gone to bed with a brain full of queries;
his rest had been troubled and fitful; now his waking
was haunted by the same puzzling questions, gaps
in his theory that required spanning. Yesterday's
visit to Knoeckler's shop had been fruitful enough,
but there still remained wide openings to be bridged,
whys and hows that demanded their answers.
And then there was the major distraction of
T. Jerome Hanley. There had not been what Fenner
considered an opportune occasion to draw the bank
manager out upon either the subject of Sunday eve-
ning traffic on the Belleville Turnpike, or the quaint
un-American custom of covering brokerage margins
with unexpected cash. It would require all his
finesse, Fenner mused, but he would have to get it
over with today.
At Police Headquarters he went straight to
Bryce's office and reviewed the latest additions to
Bryce's cumulative biographies of the principals in
their case. The inspector had little to tell him but
149


150 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Fenner was not surprised. He settled down on the
edge of Bryce's desk and lighted a cigarette.
"I switched the men about on Dickson and Bor-
den last night,” Bryce presently said. “I think
they'll be all right now. These are some of my best
boys. Neither Hanley nor Morton have given any
sign they're wise. As for old Donegan-he's too
broken up about his boy to notice anything."
“How'd Knoeckler's funeral go off ?" Fenner
asked.
“All right. Miss Knoeckler and Morton were the
only mourners. It was all very brief and to the
point. By the way, you were right about the key to
Knoeckler's. Morton phoned about it already this
morning. He's going to be co-executor, along with
the girl, of the old man's estate—if there is any
such thing."
“Hanley said that Morton was planning some-
thing of the sort.”
"I bet his wife would be tickled to hear that,"
Bryce remarked grimly.
"Have you met her?"
"No; but I talked over the telephone with her
last Thursday, you know, when we were looking
for Morton—and if she's as bad as she sounded, I'm
not sure I blame the man for taking the air."
Fenner only smiled. Marital difficulties were
things of which he had only indirect acquaintance.
"That may be part of the reason," he said.
“Miss Knoeckler is a damned attractive girl; at
least, to my way of thinking, she is.”
“I think so, too; but if Mrs. Morton is as much


152 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
It had been a strange conversation, Morton speak-
ing quite impersonally of Elsa as if there was noth-
ing whatever between himself and the girl, Coles
wondering if he was actually expected to believe this
or if Morton simply chose to put that face on the
matter as the least embarrassing way for both of
them. Certainly the latter, Coles had concluded,
inwardly boiling; and had thought to himself furi-
ously: “If the son of a really thinks I'm that
dumb he'd have fired me long ago!"
On Tuesday Elsa had not come to the office at
all, nor on Wednesday until now-almost noon. If
the shock of her father's death had affected her
much, it was not reflected in her appearance. To
Coles she seemed more desirable than ever.
"Hello, Steve," she said simply upon entering
the office.
"Hello, Elsa! How are you?" Coles got slowly
to his feet. He wondered, incredibly, if she too
would take the line that nothing had happened. He
hurried on: “The boss told me about your father.
I was awfully sorry to hear it.”.
"Thanks!” Elsa made no other reply, but looked
away. She was half sitting on the edge of her desk
peeling off her gloves. Coles could not take his eyes
off her. He thought of Morton and his smoldering
anger flared up.
"You were away, weren't you?" The question
was natural enough, but there was a bitterness in
the tone she could not miss.
Elsa ignored the query. She asked casually:
"When do you expect Mr. Morton back ?"


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
155
slid back onto her desk and started searching in
her handbag for a compact. Thus Morton found
them when he opened the door.
He beamed at the girl, apologizing. "Sorry to
have kept you. Been here long?"
“Only a moment."
Morton addressed Coles: "There'll be a lot of
pier holes ready to inspect at the Consolidated job
this afternoon. Are we pretty well cleaned up
here?”
“I think so."
“Meet me at the job, then-say, at two-thirty."
"Two-thirty. Right.”
Morton held the door for Elsa and they went
out. Coles watching them half rose from his chair,
gripped the arms of it, white-knuckled, rigid-
pulled himself down again. As he relaxed, a great
wave of self-pity rose from within him, blinding,
suffocating, engulfing his reason. For a long mo-
ment his dull eyes stared at the closed door; then
mechanically he resumed his tasks.
wa
At the Consolidated Bank, as had seemed to hap-
pen often lately, Fenner found that Hanley was
not in his office. A secretary informed him that
the manager had gone across the street to conduct
several members of the bank's directorate through
the site for the new building. He was expected
back momentarily so Fenner decided to wait.
He perched himself on a window sill and lit a
cigarette. From where he rested Fenner could
CT


156 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
look almost straight down into the excavation for
the new building. From that height-Hanley's office
was on the ninth floor—the narrow street separating
the new site from the old building seemed narrower
than ever.
The crosslot bracing divided the lot into neat lit-
tle squares. The men working in the bottom were
out of Fenner's view but there were a few whose
duties kept them up on the bracing or on the edge
of the excavation. Fenner watched the tiny figures
interestedly. Most of them were signalmen who
guided the dirt and stone buckets as they were
hoisted or lowered
The job noises blended with the street noises to
form a low, variable clamor. Fenner had been
seated at the window a short time and his ears had
begun to accustom themselves to the din when above
the racket a human voice was raised in a shrill cry.
Other voices joined the first and a minor tumult
swelled, but as quickly dwindled to the former steady
hum. Curious as to the cause of the disturbance,
Fenner flicked the ashes off his cigarette and leaned
out of the window better to see down into the lot.
The men had flocked across the timbers to a point
near one corner of the job where they fringed the
opening through the bracing, leaning over each other
in their endeavors to see into the bottom. Presently
a man—a foreman or superintendent of some sort,
Fenner concluded—appeared at the head of a ladder
leading up from the bottom. With effective gestures
and, Fenner imagined, appropriate language, he dis-
persed the group, then disappeared into the green


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH 157
shanty which housed the job office. A few moments
later he came out, shouted some commands to one
of the derrick signalmen and disappeared down the
ladder.
Fenner was about to decide that the whole dis-
turbance was a false alarm when he saw one of the
empty stone skips being swung around and let
slowly down through the opening around which the
crowd had been congregated. He decided that
someone had been hurt and his conclusion was veri-
fied only a few minutes later when the hollow clang
of an ambulance bell floated up clearly above the
other noises. He saw the machine pull up at a
ramp on the far side of the lot. Two white-coated
attendants hopped out and a gateman waiting for
them spoke a moment and pointed into the cellar.
The attendants scrambled down stairways and lad-
ders in the direction indicated and disappeared be-
neath the bracing.
After a seemingly interminable wait, for Fenner's
curiosity was mounting rapidly, one of the attend-
ants reappeared. When he reached the bracing
level he glanced back hastily, then hurried up to his
ambulance. At the same time the stone skip came
again into view, rising slowly, carefully, up from be-
tween the rows of timber bracing. Fenner saw that
it was freighted with a human cargo. The ambu-
lance attendant and the foreman he had noticed
before were squatted in either end of the skip; be-
tween them lay an inert figure, the head swathed in
bandages, the clothing disheveled.
Fenner's eyes followed the skip as it swung up


158 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
and out with its triple burden until it came to rest
at the ramp where the ambulance waited. In a
twinkling the figure was bundled into the car and
with a peremptory shriek of the siren whisked away.
A crowd of passers-by which had collected around
the waiting ambulance melted swiftly; the foreman
turned back to the job; the incident was closed.
Fenner turned from the window vaguely dis-
turbed. Another small item in the cost of these
mammoth structures, he reflected—a human item,
difficult to evaluate. He wondered for a moment
how much of this sort of intangible cost was ever re-
corded upon a builder's books. The reflections were
cut short when the office door swung open and Han-
ley burst in, white and trembling.
“There's been an accident,” he said weakly.
“Randolph Morton's been hurt-maybe killed."
Fenner started up with surprise. “What! Was
he the man they just took away? Good Lord!"
He seized Hanley's arm. “Tell me more quickly.”
Already questions were seething in Fenner's brain,
doubts.
Hanley sank into a chair. “There's little to tell,"
he said. "A chunk of iron fell on his head-brained
him. The ambulance surgeon has little hope. They
took him to the Broad Street Hospital.”
Fenner seized the telephone and put a call
through to Bryce. He told him in a few moments
what had happened and asked him to come to the
job. He turned back to Hanley.
"Tell me what you know," he demanded. "I'm
going to meet Bryce downstairs in a few minutes."


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH 159
Hanley had regained most of his composure.
"'Why Bryce ?” he asked, and then at Fenner's in-
sistence went on: "I was down in the bottom show-
ing Mr. Spencer and Mr. Whitehead—they're direc-
tors and both big stockholders—through the job.
We came across Morton and Dickson and Borden
and the superintendent. They were having some
sort of a discussion-or rather, had been, for it
looked as if they had about finished. We had seen
all we wished, so I took my guests up to the street
gate and parted with them there. Then I went back
down as far as the top of the bracing, thinking I'd
wait for Morton to come up, as I wanted to talk to
him. I'd only waited a moment when I heard a
lot of yelling and the men all came running over.
I gathered that someone had been hurt but I didn't
know it was Morton until the superintendent came
up to call the ambulance. When he told me who
it was I went back down into the cellar again.”
“What did you say happened to him?"
“An iron bar, a sort of sawed-off crowbar, fell
from somewhere and caught him on the head. A
glancing blow, it must have been, or it surely would
have killed him outright."
"Where did it fall from?"
"Nobody knows. The superintendent suggested
it had probably been left on one of the upper layers
of bracing and either rolled off or got knocked off.
No one seems to have seen it happen. One of the
laborers working near by heard a noise and turned
around and saw Morton stretched out on the
ground.”


160 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“Who was down there when you got back to the
bottom again ?"
"Four or five laborers and foremen and Mr. Dick-
son and—well, quite a crowd. Borden came along,
too, right after I did. Morton was unconscious and
to me he looked about gone. The superintendent
had put something on his head to stop the bleeding.
The ambulance men dressed it before they took him
away.”
Fenner got down to the street just in time to see
Bryce round the corner toward the job entrance.
He ran a few steps to overtake him and together
they went to the office shanty. Bryce inquired for
the superintendent, and a plan boy went down into
the job to find him. While Fenner and Bryce were
waiting Dickson walked into the shanty. He seemed
little surprised to see them and remarked: “It cer-
tainly doesn't take you fellows long to get around
when there's any trouble."
"Trouble?” Fenner looked at the engineer for a
long, searching moment. It struck him as odd that
Dickson should so readily take their presence for
granted.
"Mr. Morton, I mean. Of course you've heard?"
“Oh, yes; we heard,” Fenner replied. “But you
flatter us as to the speed. I was right across the
street in Mr. Hanley's office when he came in with
the news, so we stepped over. What happened to
Morton, anyway?"
"A bull point fell on him. That's all we can find
out,” Dickson replied tersely.
“Anybody see it happen?”


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH 161
“I guess not. One of the rockmen working a few
feet away says he heard a noise and turned around
and saw Morton lying there. He'd seen him stand-
ing looking around a few seconds before. Why, I
had been talking to him myself not five minutes be-
fore.”
“Did Morton usually spend much time down here
on the job?” Fenner asked after a moment.
"Quite a little, lately. He likes to inspect all of
the pier bottoms before they're concreted.”
"Was that what brought him down to the job
today?"
“Yes. There are several pier holes in which the
rock strata slope sharply. Morton had been quite
insistent that we level them off, so we had him down
to look them over before we poured them.”
"I see.” Fenner hesitated, then went on almost
apologetically. "We'd like to have a look around.
Could you show us the way down there?".
“Certainly; no trouble at all.” Dickson was sur-
prisingly agreeable.
He led the way outside and down a series of lad-
ders to the bottom of the excavation. Fenner and
Bryce, unaccustomed to climbing, followed him gin-
gerly. To Fenner the scene at the bottom of the
huge hole presented a thrilling and interesting spec-
tacle. The raw rock floor and sides, rough and
rugged as the blasters and drillers had left them,
reminded him of a deep stone quarry into which he
had once made a trip. Through the openings in the
network of heavy timber bracing overhead he could
see, four stories above him, the painted fence he


162 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
knew to be at street level; down in the bottom the
timber posts supporting the bracing stretched away
in even rows like tree trunks in an open forest. Lit.
tle streams, channels in the rough bottom, led the
ground water which seeped up through the fissures
in the rock, rippling away to a sump pit. Absorbed
by the interesting closeup of the bowels of the earth,
Fenner for a moment almost forgot his gruesome
errand, but Dickson brought him rudely back to
the time and the place.
“Right here's where we found him," he an-
nounced, pointing to a location a few feet from sev-
eral small, rectangular depressions in the rock. Fen-
ner could see a telltale discoloration of the glisten-
ing mica schist where Morton's head had rested.
Dickson pointed to the depressions. “Those are the
pier bottoms we had been discussing. Morton
wanted them leveled off a little more, so we put a
man on them. You can see they slope away a little.
I suppose Morton thought he'd hang around and
see that they were done the way he wanted them."
There was a trace of scarce concealed impatience in
his voice that led Fenner to conclude that the dis-
cussion of the pier bottoms might not have been
a wholly amiable one.
"How long after your talk here ended did Mr.
Morton get hurt?”
“Not more than five minutes," Dickson answered
positively. "I had started up to the office shanty
to use the telephone and hadn't even reached it."
"Who else was down here with you and Mr.
Morton ?"


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH 163
“Why, Borden and Quinn, the foundation outfit's
superintendent. Oh, yes; and Steve Coles. That's
Morton's assistant."
“Did they leave him when you did ?".
“Quinn left a few minutes before. We had de-
cided about the piers, and he is a busy man—always
in a hurry. Coles stayed with him. Borden left
at the same time I did. He had a lot of his routine
data to collect. Here he comes now."
They saw Borden picking his way through the
cluttered lot toward them. The younger man only
paused to exchange a word or two with Dickson and
then started for the ladder.
"Did you want to talk to him?" Dickson asked
Fenner as Borden moved away.
Fenner looked mildly surprised at the question.
“I hardly think it's necessary. I should like to talk
to this chap, Quinn, though, if he's around—and
also to Coles.”
"He's around, all right," Dickson assured them.
"Find Coles and Quinn and send them down here,
will you, Borden," he commanded.
A few moments later the foundation superintend.
ent joined them. He acknowledged the introduc-
tions of Fenner and Bryce pleasantly enough but
seemed to turn a shade cooler when he learned that
the latter was connected with the police and was
inquiring into Morton's accident.
Accidents on foundation construction were as in-
evitable as the law of averages, and Quinn had
been dealt his share of them, but this was the first
one in his experience that the police had investigated


164 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
with anything except casual formality. Of course
in this case the victim was not some obscure laborer,
which made the prompt inquiry a little less surpris-
ing, but Quinn knew nothing of Morton's possible
connection with the recent bank robbery.
“What's your idea about the affair?" Fenner
asked him abruptly.
"I don't know what you mean. Mr. Morton was
hit by a bull point. From the position in which
he was found it seems likely the bar fell off one of
the upper layers of bracing of that row." He
pointed to a range of timbers the edge of which came
approximately over the spot where Morton had
been hurt. “Of course I haven't any idea how a bull
point could have got up there on the bracing. We're
very careful to leave nothing lying around on the
timbers, just to avoid this very kind of accident.
And I haven't any idea what could dislodge it. One
of these Guineas probably kicked it off and is scared
to open his trap."
“What is a bull point used for?"
"Mostly wedging out rock and getting out loose
bowlders. Loosening the hardpan," Quinn ex-
plained.
“There'd be no use for one up there?"
"No. Some lazy ba—d probably left it lying
there. Too lazy to take it back to the tool room.
The men walk around on the bracing a great deal.”
“Where's the bull point now?"
"Up in the office. I kept it in case the insurance
inspector should want to see it."
"I'll look at it when we go up. Thanks very


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
165
much,” Fenner concluded. He turned to Bryce.
“I think we had better go now. I'm anxious to get
over to the hospital. But wait! Where's Coles ?”
Quinn interrupted: "He left as soon as Morton
was put in the ambulance. I imagine you'll get him
at the hospital or at his office or maybe here, later.
He's coming back to inspect these pier holes. I'm
going to concrete them on the early night shift, and
ordinarily he or Morton would have to see them
before they're poured.”
They started up to the street.
"I suppose you've notified Morton's office and
family," Fenner suggested casually.
"I called our own main office. They're taking
care of it."
In the job office Quinn handed Bryce the bull
point. It was simply an iron bar about two feet
long and an inch and a half thick, pointed at one
end. Bryce took it in his handkerchief. Fenner
smiled and pointed out: “It's been handled by a
dozen people, I'll venture.”
"Perhaps, but this is a good habit,” Bryce coun-
tered. He balanced the bar in his hand, estimating
its weight. “This wouldn't have to fall far to kill
a man if it caught him right. I'd hate to have it
come down on my cranium from even a foot or
two." He passed the bar to Fenner who examined
it briefly and handed it back to Quinn.
As they left the job to go to the hospital the in-
spector felt someone at his elbow. It was his man,
Quade, whom he had placed on the job as assistant
timekeeper. When they had put a long block be-


166 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
tween themselves and the job, Bryce motioned for
Quade to overtake them.
“What's up?"
“Maybe it's nothing, Chief. About a half hour
before he was hurt, Mr. Morton was having some
kind of a row with Borden. I couldn't get what it
was about, but they seemed pretty hot. Dickson
and Quinn came along and joined in."
"You know Coles? How about him?" Fenner in-
terjected hastily.
"He came along later. He hung around the
others but didn't get in it."
"Where were you when Morton was hurt?” Bryce
asked.
“In the shanty. As soon as I heard the yelling
I ran out, but by the time I got down to the bottom
everybody on the job was hanging around. I
couldn't find out much.”
"All right, Quade; see what you can pick up be-
tween now and evening and let me know."
At the hospital Fenner and Bryce, without dis-
closing their identity, secured Morton's room num-
ber from the desk nurse. As they made their way
through the cool, white corridors, the heavy scent
of ether and lysol assailed their nostrils. The par-
ticular odor had always been a sickening one to Fen-
ner, and in some way disconcerting. He caught
himself wondering, heavy hearted, if they would find
Morton alive; if the man would ever again open his
eyes and look upon the light of day. The thought


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
167
unnerved him.
For a brief moment there flashed through Fen-
ner's mind the things he had learned about the man
in the short few days he had been working on the
case. In spite of an innate conservatism Morton
had been a hard liver in his day. There was no
doubt about that, but he had also been a hard
worker, a hard player and withal a gentleman with
his share of gentlemanly attributes. Fenner could
not help feeling a grudging admiration for the man.
Suddenly he wondered about Elsa Knoeckler. What
would become of her if Morton died—if he was
already dead? Had she heard? It would probably
be for her the final, crushing blow. Then he
thought a little wearily that he would be glad when
the case drew to its conclusion, for he realized, dis-
concertingly, that he was on the point of allowing his
feelings to color what should be purely intellectual,
cold-blooded processes of reasoning.
Their scarce audible footsteps echoed softly
down the long corridor. Bryce, who was more or
less familiar with the layout of the hospital, led
the way.
"They've certainly done the best they could for
him," he whispered to Fenner. “This is the most
expensive wing of the place—private rooms and
private nurses.” He was scanning the room num-
bers. "Ah! Here we are."
The door stood partly open and they glanced in.
There was an anteroom between the hall and the
patient's room. A rather dapper-appearing indi-
vidual, in a semi-reclining position suggestive of the


168 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
ultimate of solid ease and comfort, lounged in one
of the armchairs with which the room was furnished.
He looked up when they entered and, upon seeing
Bryce, sprang to his feet.
"Oh, hello, Chief,” he said and waited.
"Anything?”
The man shook his head. He appeared to be a
person of few words.
“This is Mr. Burke, Max-Mr. Fenner," Bryce
said.
"I've heard of you. Glad to meet you, sir," the
younger man acknowledged. Burke, Fenner in-
ferred, was one of Morton's stalkers. Taking ad-
vantage of the incapacitation of his quarry, he bra-
zenly lolled there at his ease instead of hovering
discreetly around some corner.
“What's the latest on Morton ?" Bryce asked.
Burke nodded toward the door. "Two doctors
and a nurse in there now. He was still unconscious
when the nurse was out here a few minutes ago."
"Anyone been here?" Fenner asked.
“Not a soul.”
“Morton's been here less than an hour," Bryce
reminded him.
“I rather expected to find Coles here," Fenner
mused.
Just then the door to the sickroom opened. A
white-gowned elderly surgeon stepped through and
closed it carefully behind him. He looked at the
men inquiringly.
"What's the word on Mr. Morton, Doctor ?”
“Whom do you represent?” the physician coun-


170 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
uncertainly.
"Here, Bryce," he said; and to the girl: “Whose
clothing have you there?”
“Why, the patient's, of course." She was puzzled
by the question the answer to which must be so
obvious.
"And the articles on the tray_where did you get
them?”
“From the pockets of the suit, naturally.” She
had recovered from her surprise and the answer
came a little tartly.
“What are you going to do with them?”.
"It's customary to lock those things up in the
hospital office," the doctor explained. His gaze
fell on Bryce. The detective was standing beside
the nurse, his eyes riveted upon the contents of the
tray she held, stupefaction written plainly upon his
face. His eyes followed the inspector's to the tray,
as did those of the other people in the room, except
Fenner who when she first came in had observed
the small object which held Bryce's fascinated gaze.
The tray contained a leather wallet, a fountain pen
and a small gold pencil, a watch and chain, a ciga-
rette case and a small jeweled lighter, some loose
change, a soiled handkerchief, a spectacles case, and
upon the top of the pile in naïve innocence a small,
metal-rimmed, fiber tag with a tiny hole in one end.
Bryce picked it up gingerly. The blank lines were
all filled in. He read:
DATE................March 30%
........March 30, 1931
CONSIGNEE....... Park Avenue Branch


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
171
AMOUNT .................$180,000.00
CHECKLIST .
...ML2-6202
PACKED BY................J. Donegan
“Put the tray down for a moment. I want to
ask you one or two questions.” Fenner's tone was
more conciliatory now that he had had time to re-
cover from his initial surprise at the sight of the
tag. Even so, the girl seemed about to protest but
the doctor spoke up.
“Do as they say, Miss Farrell," he instructed.
“It's all right. These men are from the police.”
"Did you, yourself, remove these articles from
the patient's suit?” Fenner first asked her.
“Yes; just now."
“Can you recall from which pocket each article
was removed?"
The nurse hesitated, then said uncertainly: "Why,
just about, I think.”
“Will you please tell me?”.
Obviously mystified the girl complied with his re-,
quest. “The pocketbook and pencil and pen were
in his inside coat pocket. The lighter and cigarette
case and his watch were in the vest. The handker-
chief and the change were in his trousers.” She
stopped.
“And the little tag—?”.
"Oh, that was in his side coat pocket—that and
the case for his glasses."
“You're sure?”
“Yes; I remember them distinctly."
“Very good. That's all. I'm going to take this


172 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
OLC
ve o'ch
with
loved
tag." He suited his action to his words. “The
other things you may put away as you intended.
Now one thing more: You will save yourself and
others a lot of trouble if you mention this to no
one. Do you understand?"
The girl nodded meekly. Fenner looked at the
doctor. “The same applies to you, sir, if you don't
mind.”
"Of course not."
The doctor went back to his patient, Burke re-
sumed his armchair and Fenner and Bryce went out.
It was somewhat after five o'clock and the sidewalks
were crowded with office workers going home.
Bryce moved to the curb, bit the end off his cigar,
and spat meditatively.
"A good thing we happened to be there when the
nurse walked out with that tag,” he observed.
"Looks like the answer, doesn't it?"
"Perhaps; but we needn't be precipitate. There's
no danger of Morton running away. It's odd that
-but never mind. We'll have to dig up Coles now.
We may as well try Morton's office first. It's only
a few blocks from here."
They went there only to find the door locked, the
place in darkness, and received no answer to their
knock.
"At the new building job, I guess,” Bryce com-
mented. He looked at his watch. “Maybe we can
catch him there before he gets away. Otherwise we
can talk to him in the morning."
"I'd much rather see him now." A puzzled frown
darkened Fenner's countenance.


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
173
ere
A few moments later they approached the build-
ing excavation. It had become quite dark by then
and the flood lights which illuminated the site for
the night work were blazing in all their glory. In
spite of their glare the lot abounded with dark spots
and shadowy corners and presented altogether an
eerie spectacle. In the street a concrete truck, its
rotating barrel-like body tipped sharply, was spout-
ing its load of concrete into a hopper whence it was
led away in chutes to the piers and walls that were
being poured. A number of similar trucks lined up
along the curb awaited their turn. Fenner and
Bryce watched for a moment, then turned into the
gate.
They paused in the doorway of the job office.
Quinn was changing into his street clothing. Dickson
and Borden were still there, too, leaning over a plan
table in session with the night-shift superintendent.
Quinn looked up from tying a shoelace, nodded
curtly and asked: "How's Morton? The hospital
won't tell us much.”
Dickson and Borden also looked up, waiting for
the answer.
"Not so good. Small, fighting chance, maybe,”
Bryce answered shortly. "Seen his man around?
Coles?"
"He was here a little before five and O.K.'d the
piers and walls we're now concreting. I haven't seen
him since, though he may be around the job some-
where. Wait a minute; I'll let the timekeeper look
around for him.” He stepped to an adjoining
smaller shanty, spoke to its occupant, and came


174 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
back.
Dickson straightened up from the plan table,
lighted his pipe and joined them. Fenner stood in
the doorway looking about the lot.
“Seems to be a lot of activity," he commented.
“Does the work keep going like this every night?”
“Oh, yes," Dickson volunteered the answer.
“Twenty-four hours a day. Not always this busy
at night, though. Just happens we've got some un-
usually large concrete pours to make this evening."
There was a moment of silence, Dickson hover-
ing at Fenner's elbow. He seemed about to ask him
something but not quite able to make up his mind.
"I shouldn't think your men would be able to see
what they're doing in that uneven light,” Fenner
remarked.
“They get used to it. Where it's too dark they
rig up more lights; that's all.”
"Excuse me." Borden mumbled the apology as
he and the foreman squeezed past the group in the
doorway and went down into the cellar.
Fenner watched them walk out on the bracing.
"Many accidents at night?” he asked.
"No more than by daylight. Maybe not so
many," Quinn grunted. Just then the timekeeper
came back and reported to Quinn: “He's not around,
Boss. Guess he's gone home.”
Quinn turned to Fenner with a little shrug. "I
guess Coles has gone for the day—or night, rather.
You might find him here some time tomorrow."
“Much obliged, anyway. It's not important.
We'll see him at Morton's office in the morning."


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
175
They bade their host good-evening and left.
“Very enlightening, wasn't it?-Not!” Fenner
moaned when they were once more in the street.
"Well, how about something to eat? I want to hop
around to the hospital again, but not so soon.
There's this tag thing to go over. Come along!"
They went into the India House but neither spoke
until the waiter had taken their orders and gone
away to fill them.
“Now then, what do you think of it?" Fenner
asked.
"It looks to me like my original hunch on Mor-
ton wasn't so wet after all.”
"Perhaps—and then again, perhaps not,” Fenner
said enigmatically. “But if you're right, maybe you
can answer two questions that have fretted me for
the past hour. One, assuming that Morton robbed
the bank, why the devil would he still be carting
that telltale tag around with him? And two, as-
suming he had some reason for carrying it, why
wouldn't he slip it into that ample wallet of his in-
stead of carrying it loose in his side coat pocket?
Also, you might tell me how he disposed of the
loot and when.”
"I don't know about the tag. Carelessness
maybe. But he certainly had the whole week-end in
which to cache the money. He had more oppor-
tunity than any of the others for that. And good
Lord! What more proof could we want?”
The answer convinced Fenner not at all, but for
the moment he refrained from reiterating his dis-
agreement.


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
177
lion! I'm not quite ready to believe my luck is that
good. Why, I'd quit this business and play the
market. No, sir! Somewhere there's an Ethiopian
among the kindling! The whole thing strikes me
as an inspired piece of business."
Bryce's jaw dropped, but he was not prepared to
alter his program and said as much.
“Oh, no; of course not,” Fenner agreed. "It's
the only thing you can do. You'd be failing in your
duty if you did any less. But at the same time I'd
not be too sanguine. Above all, the thing is to not
let up on the others for an instant; double up on
them, if anything. The more I sniff at it, the more
this 'accident' assumes the bouquet of a great big
wide red herring."
“You mean it's not an accident? Is that what
you're saying?”
"I mean it might not be; that's as far as my think-
ing has taken me; but I'll tell you one thing: if there
was a prodigious amount of 'coincidence' in old
Adolph Knoeckler's timely demise, there's twice as
much here!” He stopped and looked away, lost
for a moment in a maze of ideas.
Bryce pondered this new slant of Fenner's, his
cumbersome thinking processes feeling at and around
it, slowly, methodically, where Fenner's, rapierlike,
were darting to the core. At first it seemed wildly
fantastic, but upon more thoughtful analysis it
seemed no more illogical than his own hasty assump-
tion. But who—?
“You know," Fenner went on, “the 'accident' it-
self wasn't so bad. I think I'd have swallowed that


THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
in a little while if nothing else had turned up to the
contrary, but this tag business is spreading it a bit
too thick. Unless—" He stopped a second. “Un-
less the accident was an accident and somebody sim-
ply took advantage of it to plant the tag on Morton.
But that's not so good either. That would be
granting our culprit almost as much pure luck as
we are unwilling to assume ourselves to possess.
Oh, Lord! Still, there's a chance—".
For a moment Bryce felt almost resentful that
Fenner had implanted the seed of doubt in his mind.
He would search Morton's possessions and affairs
—that would have to be done but he knew there
would not be the zest he would have put into it
had he been definitely convinced of a fruitful out-
come. Inwardly he heaved a sigh. It would be a
relief, when this case was solved (he had not yet
begun to doubt that eventuality), to get back again
to something straightforward and tangible.
“Well, then, what's the answer?” Bryce put the
question a shade impatiently.
“The answer's not far to seek. It's the same:
watch and wait, especially watch. Our clientele is
unchanged. Any of them could have planted the
tag, especially when they were getting Morton up
to the ambulance, except the Donegans. Rather,
except Jerry, for old Jeremy might have put it on
Morton yesterday morning at the bank. I think you
can leave that out, though, because Morton would
have doubtless found the tag between then and now
and dropped it like a hot potato. The rest are as
eligible as ever, though."


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
179
In due course they finished their supper. Bryce
went to Headquarters to attend the technical formal-
ities which would permit him to conduct his search
of Morton's affairs. Fenner went back to the hos-
pital.
In the little waiting room he found Burke and
Elsa Knoeckler. Burke had retired to a corner of
the room and was apparently absorbed in a news-
paper. Miss Knoeckler sat quietly, wrapped in her
own thoughts. Her eyes were heavy and her face
drawn but in spite of her tired pallor she retained a
surprising charm and attractiveness. The emotional
experiences which had been crammed into the pre-
ceding few days had left an undeniable impress upon
her countenance, but the effect was not detrimental;
rather, it brought into relief certain qualities of
courage and stoicism. Anew Fenner thought he
understood and appreciated Morton's feeling for
the girl. Out of deference to her feelings he called
Burke out into the hall.
“Any change?" he asked.
“No, sir."
“When did the girl come in?”.
"About half an hour after you and the chief left."
"She come alone ?"
“I believe so."
"What is she waiting for?"
"The doctor, I think. Both doctors went out be-
fore she got here. The girl talked to the nurse a
minute and from what I could overhear one of the
I thinke
rtained to the


180 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
doctors is expected back later in the evening."
"I see. Thanks. You're going to stay here, are
you?”
Burke nodded.
“And keep Bryce posted if there's any change in
Morton's condition ?”.
“That's right.”
They went back into the anteroom. The girl was
sitting exactly as she had been before. Fenner
leaned over Elsa's chair and addressed her in a low
tone.
"I'm glad to see you again but I'm sorry it's under
such trying circumstances,” he said. Elsa looked
up at him but did not reply and Fenner continued:
"Mr. Morton is only an acquaintance as far as I'm
concerned; I know that to you he is a very dear
friend. That's what prompts me to speak to you
about him. The doctor told me this morning that
he had a fighting chance. I have a feeling that he
has that and more, but it might be a long pull.
There's little you or I can do to help him now. But
when he gets well he's going to have another battle
to fight. In that connection it may be that you can
be of use."
The girl had returned his gaze steadily through-
out this long introduction. Bewilderment was regis-
tered in the deepening frown wrinkling her face.
Fenner drew a chair close to her, sat down, and
hurried on before she could ask the questions on her
lips. “This may be a waste of your time and mine.
In that case little will be lost. On the other hand,
you may be able to tell me things which, taken with


WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6TH
183
“If anything occurs to you, come to me."
Fenner got up and picked up his hat.
"I suppose I need hardly tell you to say nothing
of this."
Again she only nodded. Fenner saw that she
could not trust herself to speak. He bent over her
and murmured: “These things have a way of
straightening themselves out. Keep a stiff upper
lip."
Elsa Knoeckler, he reflected, had yet a bitter cup
to quaff.


CHAPTER VII
Thursday
April 7th
A CLEAR, serene sky, pure molten turquoise, flaw-
less, greeted the rising populace in general and our
principals in particular as Thursday dawned upon
greater New York. The air was fragrant, soothing,
mild.
The flawless sky held no meaning for Elsa
Knoeckler when, the brilliant sun already three
hours high, she came suddenly awake from tossing,
fretful slumber and with but a glance at her unac-
customed surroundings reached anxiously for the
bedside telephone. Nor held it meaning for Ran-
dolph Morton, who still slept on. Stephen Coles'
eyes were open but he did not see the sky.
Jeremy Donegan might have seen it, but his
haunted eyes were nowadays continually cast down.
Jerry sensed the brilliance of it and sniffed the
morning air, but his barred window opened on a gray
stone court wall. T. Jerome Hanley noticed it as
he stepped into his limousine and thought, strangely
enough, of a South Sea Island and peace.
Philip Borden, on the upper deck of an Erie Rail-
road ferry, bared his head to the fresh breeze and
with keen appreciation watched the nearing skyline
block out the translucent blue. Christopher Dick-
ro
184


THURSDAY, APRIL 7TH
185
son, in the slaty atmosphere of the smoking cabin on
a Staten Island ferry several miles down the bay,
had real need of fresh air and blue sky, and morose
desire for neither.
Inspector Bryce glanced at it perfunctorily for a
key to the weather and found it eminently satisfac-
tory. Maxwell Fenner, who would have altogether
failed to notice it under no conceivable circumstance,
gave it a scantily appreciative glance with but half a
thoughtful eye.
It was shortly after nine when he knocked at the
locked doors of Marten, Morton & Purcell, and as
on the previous evening elicited no response. He
went downstairs to the building lobby and tele-
phoned Quinn from whom he learned that Coles
was not at the job. Fenner went out of the build-
ing and turned toward the Consolidated Bank with
a half-formed idea that he would spend an hour talk-
ing with Hanley and later try Morton's office again,
but before he had walked two blocks he faced about,
impelled by an urge he could not have defined, and
went back to seek Coles again. The place was still
locked and quiet as a morgue.
Fenner had given no particular thought to Stephen
Coles and at first sought him hoping only to learn
more of the details of Morton's affairs, but this per-
sistent, inexplicable absence whetted Fenner's nat-
ural curiosity and set his mind to working in strange
channels: Morton and Coles—partners in crime.
Impossible? Elsa Knoeckler, too, might be in-
volved. Preposterous! Still, could anything be
considered unbelievable in this fantastic case? That


186 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
brief visit to Knoeckler's shop on Thursday evening
might not have been only for Elsa's clothes. What
more innocent than to give Elsa a package to keep
for him? And what more obscure, secure place than
Knoeckler's little shop to leave it temporarily? And
what more plausible explanation of Morton's solic-
itous assumption of the burden of the old man's
affairs? And what more hideous, mortifying finale
than that Coles had taken advantage of Morton's
accident to run out with the loot-had even ar-
ranged the 'accident'? And what more likely than
that Stephen Coles was at the very moment lulled
by the click-clack of rails rapidly putting miles be-
tween them, or standing in a stern somewhere watch-
ing a churning wake reflect the morning's flawless
sky and steadily add widening miles of water be-
hind him while Fenner pondered before the locked
door of Marten, Morton & Purcell?
The fabric of theory, born during the impatient
moment of waiting, crystallized in a twinkling and
galvanized Fenner into action. He sprang into the
hallway and pushed the elevator button. In the
lobby below he telephoned Bryce.
“Coles hasn't showed up yet," he told the in-
spector curtly. "I'm worried about him. He's not
at the job, either; I talked to Quinn.” Over the
wire Fenner heard Bryce's perplexed grunt and went
on: “Why don't you hop over here to Morton's
office? The building superintendent will admit us.
Maybe we can dig up something. In the meantime
I'll try to get the girl down here."
Bryce agreed.


THURSDAY, APRIL 7TH
187
No sooner had he hung up the receiver than
doubts sprang into Fenner's mind. The idea of
Morton's having committed the theft ran so directly
counter to Fenner's conception of the man's psy-
chological makeup that he still found it hard to ac-
cept. Equally, his other theory, while far from
complete, so logically fitted the human equations
involved that he was reluctant to abandon it. Never-
theless, Coles' mysterious flight at this particular
time certainly could not be overlooked, and, taken
together with the discovery of Morton's possession
of the tag, might properly be considered conclusive
circumstantial evidence against the pair.
For several thoughtful moments Fenner stood in
the telephone booth weighing these pros and cons.
Absently he dialed the number of Morton's sister's
uptown apartment. Elsa was just about to leave
for her vigil at the hospital when Fenner's call came
in. Puzzled and vaguely worried she agreed to go
to Morton's office instead.
Arriving there she found, in addition to Fenner
whom she expected, Inspector Bryce whom she did
not; and her uncertain doubts increased. Fenner
had outlined his idea to the inspector while they
waited, and, inasmuch as it once again fell in with
his preconceived notion of Morton's guilt, Bryce
found it easy to accept.
"Good morning. We're looking for Stephen
Coles," Fenner opened abruptly when Elsa came in.
“Thought you might be able to give us some help.”
“Why, isn't he here?" It was then ten o'clock.
Fenner glanced about the room and replied good-


188 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
humoredly: "It seems that he isn't.”
“He should be. That is, he's usually in by this
time. Did you call his house ?”
"His name's not listed. I've been fishing through
his desk looking for an address but haven't yet run
across one."
"He has a room in the Bronx." Elsa went to her
own desk, took a small address book from one of the
side drawers, leafed through it for a moment, and
read off Coles' address and telephone number.
Fenner called the number and asked for him. He
learned from the proprietress of the boarding house
that Coles had not been there at all during the
previous night. It was very unusual of him. She
was surprised and mildly grieved. Had he con-
templated going away? No; not that she knew of,
and he usually advised her. There was nothing
secretive about Coles. He was one of her steadiest
boarders. Who was calling? Oh, Mr. Coles' em-
ployer. But wasn't he at work? Well, she was
sorry but she didn't know where he was nor where
he was likely to be found. Presently Fenner discon-
nected and turned to Bryce with a shrug.
“Gone," was all he said.
Elsa had listened, first with interest, then with
bewilderment, then with quick, cold dismay. Her
last conversation with Stephen Coles, which in the
excitement of subsequent events she had almost for-
gotten, came quickly to mind. Steve's mood, his
jealous, impotent rage, his thoughtless threats, as-
sumed a new and hideous significance.
"Did you want Steve-Mr. Coles—about Mr.


THURSDAY, APRIL 7TH 189
Morton, or what?” She gasped the question. "Is
anything wrong about-him?"
They could not fail to observe her agitation, and
Fenner particularly was puzzled. He was not yet
convinced of any guilt on her part.
“ 'Wrong about him,' Miss Knoeckler," he led
her gently. "I'm not quite sure just what you
mean.”
“Are you looking for Mr. Coles because you think
he had something to do with Mr. Morton's injury?”
she asked frankly.
"I'm sorry. I can't give you a direct answer to
that. We naturally want to find out what he knows.
Also, it's an odd time for him to disappear."
"There's something I haven't told you.” She
was addressing Fenner haltingly now, feeling her
way along. “Believe me, I had simply forgotten
about it. It didn't seem important at the time and
it didn't occur to me until just now.” She stopped.
"Well, what is it?" Bryce snapped.
Fenner waited patiently.
"It's about Steve and Mr. Morton. Oh, I don't
quite know how to put it. You see, Steve thought
he was in love with me. When he found out about
us~Mr. Morton and me he was-well, quite up-
set."
"And so ?!Fenner suggested.
-"That's all. But I thought I ought to tell you."
“Coles made threats against Mr. Morton ?" Fen-
ner suggested shrewdly.
"I don't think he meant what he said, but he
seemed to feel pretty strongly about it," Elsa ad-


190
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
mitted.
“When did you last see Coles?" Bryce put in.
“Yesterday, just before noon—here in this office.”
"Is that when he made the threats?"
"They weren't exactly threats," Elsa demurred.
“Can't you recall exactly what he did say—his
words?” Bryce insisted.
Elsa hesitated. "I'm afraid not. You see, he
raved on so—”
Bryce waved an impatient hand. Fenner cut in
sharply: “Tell me this, Miss Knoeckler: Do you
yourself think it likely that Coles had anything to
do with the accident which befell Mr. Morton ?"
“Why, no. I can't say that I do; unless "
“Unless what?"
“Why, unless he went crazy."
“But you do think it's possible or you wouldn't
have told us anything," Fenner finished.
Bryce got to his feet and announced savagely:
“We'll go after him!” The black book opened in
his hand as if by magic. “This is as good a place
to begin as any. Let me have that address again,
will you ?" To Fenner he said: "I'll send a couple
of men out to that room. Maybe we can pick up a
picture.” Bryce relit his cigar and the man-hunt
was on.
Elsa excused herself to go to the hospital. No
sooner had the door closed behind her than Bryce
started, a drawer at a time, methodically going
through the contents of Coles' desk. Fenner
watched for a second, then proceeded in the same
manner to go through Randolph Morton's. Pri-


192 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
finally hung around down there himself because he
was afraid they might not do things the way he
wanted.”
"Find out any more about Coles ?" Bryce had
telephoned Quade as soon as he had learned from
Fenner that Coles was missing.
"He was last seen by the night timekeeper a few
minutes after eight last evening. It seems he came
back after dinner to have a last look around. Quinn
saw him, too. He told him that you and Mr. Fenner
had been looking for him. Coles made some wise-
crack answer about tomorrow being another day.
Quinn says Coles might have been a little the worse
for having had his dinner in one of those speakies
in Pearl Street."
“Drunk ?"
“Oh, not badly.”
"You've seen nothing of him today, of course ?”
Fenner put in.
"Nope."
"Well, keep your eyes peeled.” Bryce's gruff
parting admonition was more from force of habit
than from intent.
"He seems to have beat it, all right," the in-
spector meditated aloud as they reached the street.
"I wonder where he got the guts to brain Morton.
I'd never have put him down as the violent type."
"He isn't. He's anything but, if my judgment,
based on two brief interviews, means anything. But
a person crazed with jealousy steps beyond his type
characteristics."
They trudged to the Police Station where Bryce


THURSDAY, APRIL 7TH
193
assembled the last reports of his various aides and
read them off for Fenner's benefit. Randolph Mor-
ton had spent the largest part of the previous
(Wednesday) forenoon in Knoeckler's shop in Ful-
ton Street. In the afternoon he had gone to the
job where later he had been hurt. He still hovered
at the brink of eternity, but today the doctors held
forth a faint ray of hope. Elsa Knoeckler was
spending most of her wakeful hours at the hospital.
Dickson and Borden were going about their daily
tasks in quite the usual prosaic way, both being at
the Consolidated job a great deal of the time. Han-
ley had been to the theater last evening. Jeremy,
together with a young lady, presumably Jerry's
fiancée, had visited Jerry at the jail. It had been
the usual session of mutual condolences and reas-
surances, with Jerry showing most courage of the
three. Nothing had been learned from it. There
was the whole story.
“A lot of chaff but not an ounce of grain in it any-
where,” Bryce concluded; then added hopefully:
“When Morton wakes up maybe we'll get some-
thing."
“When Morton wakes up ?”.
"Well, I'm still thinking that tag is going to be
hard for him to explain.”
“Suppose he simply looks at it and tells you he's
never seen it before?".
Bryce had no ready answer.
"Have you uncovered anything more in connec-
tion with Morton's affairs ?"
“Not so far. We went through his apartment


194
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
last night. Two of the boys are out at that camp
of his in Jersey today but I haven't heard from them
yet.” They were silent for a moment.
"I've been wondering,” Bryce presently resumed,
"why couldn't everything we supposed this morning
about Coles and Morton be true and this “jealousy
slant be just additional reason for Coles giving Mor-
ton the works ?"
Fenner did not reply at once. His instincts had
from the start apprised him of some intangible
fallacy in the whole idea. Now that he had found
another explanation for Coles' disappearance he
was glad to drop the other. Presently he sug-
gested: “If that was the case I don't think Coles
would have taken a chance on getting drunk last
evening—even slightly. Neither do I think he'd
have come back to the job at all. He'd have cleared
out, pronto!"
"Maybe so.”
The day wore on. . About midafternoon Bryce
went to the hospital. Morton had taken a turn for
the better.
Fenner made his way to the Consolidated Bank.
There were still one or two matters which he felt
duty-bound to discuss with T. Jerome Hanley.
Curiously, he was vaguely relieved to find the man-
ager gone for the day.
With hardly conscious guidance, Fenner's steps
carried him across the street to the truck platform
overlooking the new building excavation. For no
reason he could define, the job attracted him like a


200 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
on but the couraging. He's still morning ?"
crossed Morton and took the money or because he
brained him in a fit of jealousy over the girl?”
"He's gone. What difference does it make ?"
Fenner shrugged his shoulders. Next he asked:
"What's the word from the hospital this morning ?".
"A little more encouraging. He's still in a critical
condition but the doctor says that, having come
through the night, his chances are now definitely
good.”
"Has he become conscious ?"
"He came out of the coma late last night but
they put him to sleep again. The doctor says it'll
be about a week before we can talk to him."
"By that time we may tell him more than he tells
us," Fenner commented hopefully.
“Yeah? I wish I could share your optimism."
“Let's get down to cases. Anything out of order
yet in our 'little daily stories'?”.
Bryce opened his book. “I see from this report
that Miss Knoeckler spent a pleasant quarter of an
hour in Morton's office with us yesterday. I suppose
that might be considered compromising. That's
about all.” He turned serious. "Were you able
to get anything out of her at the hospital the other
evening?"
"I'm afraid not,” Fenner replied. “Morton
hasn't taken her into his confidence much. She
knows less of his financial affairs than we do. She
did tell me he's planning a divorce so he can marry
her. I flashed the tag on her and told her where it
came from. Thought I'd frighten something out
of her, but no such thing! She insists it's either a


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
201
mistake or Morton can explain it. When this is
all over I'm going to congratulate the man upon his
selection of mistresses. She's loyal if ever a girl
has been."
“I imagine he'd be delighted to hear you refer to
her in those terms,” Bryce said dryly.
“I didn't use the word disparagingly," Fenner
objected. “The more I see of Miss Knoeckler, the
higher my opinion of her becomes. She's taken a
lot of hard knocks these last few days, with scarce
a whimper. As for her affair, it's just that her
own affair."
Bryce regarded Fenner curiously. “If I had
never met Mrs. Fenner I'd be inclined to suspect you
of falling a little for the girl yourself.”
Fenner laughed. “Nonsense! But I never pro-
fessed to complete insusceptibility. That's a state
I reserve for older age than I hope to attain. But
let's get back to business. What next?”
Bryce turned back to his notes. “From Morton's
office she went to the hospital and was there until
dinner time. Had dinner uptown at a tea-shop near
where she's staying and then went in. Not out yet
this morning.
"Now, here's the Donegans: Jerry in fair spirits
and apparently resigned to waiting for something
to happen. Sticks to his original story and told me
yesterday that inasmuch as he was innocent he wasn't
worrying because certainly no one could prove him
guilty. Sounded fairly convincing. His father went
to see him again last evening. Their talk was very
restrained. I believed they suspected they were


202 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
being listened to. Sometimes I have a feeling there's
something fishy about the old gent, but I can't quite
pin it down. But anyway, he's followed his routine
so regularly that you could almost set a watch by
his movements. Then, of course, his record is so
long"
Fenner waved his hand as if to discard the entire
suggestion. “To my way of thinking he's out. If
I'm mistaken, then this is simply going to settle into
one hell of a protracted wait. He can wait forever.
Go on.”
“Now Dickson and Borden: Both of them stayed
on the job until late in the afternoon. Dickson
called up the hospital several times during the day
and Borden also called once or twice. They both
seem concerned about him, though I suppose it's
natural. Dickson went to his main office about half
past four. He went home by the usual route and
wasn't out of the house all evening. He left home
at the usual hour this morning. Here's something
that gave me a start for a minute: When Borden
left the job yesterday he went around the corner to
a pay-phone booth and talked for five or six minutes.
That was about ten minutes before six. McFadden
--he's one of the men on him-got the number from
the operator but it turned out to be only his house
phone. Borden went home, had dinner, went to the
“Y” for his Thursday class, then home as usual.
He left the house at the usual time this morning and
is on the job now."
Bryce closed the book and settled back into his
chair, folding his hands across his ample girth re-


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
203
signedly. “That's all except Hanley. The morn-
ing dope on him hasn't come in yet, but if there was
to be anything special I'd have heard by now." He
sighed his disgust and pushed the book away from
him, concluding wearily: “If you can find anything
in any of that you've got a better nose than I have.”
Fenner got up and walked to the window. The
sky had been heavily overcast since dawn; now a
steady drizzle was falling. He stared into the
gloomy murk speculatively. “You know," he said
slowly, “that bit about the pay phone intrigues me.
Let me have the time and the telephone number of
the booth, will you ?”
Bryce leafed through the notes and read off the
phone number. "At five-fifty P.M.,” he added as
Fenner jotted it down.
"Perhaps we can make something of it. Any-
way, 'No stone unturned, you know.” Fenner
folded the slip of paper and tucked it into his vest
pocket. He picked up his hat and umbrella and
went out into the rain.
Bryce turned to his desk after Fenner had de-
parted and began going through the small daily
quota of routine work that accompanied his position.
After a brief, desultory attack, however, he thrust
the sheaf of papers aside, unable to focus his atten-
tion upon them and unable to expel from his
thoughts the perplexities of the Consolidated Bank
case.
Inactivity had always irked him. Fenner's the-


206 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
was being framed. Yet if Fenner suspected Hanley
of any duplicity, he would not put the man on his
guard by failing to report a find which Hanley, if
involved, would certainly know had been made.
Quite the contrary, he would have immediately
rushed to him and disarmed any suspicion by telling
him all about it and probably would have discussed
the find and its implications at as much length as
Hanley desired. On the other hand, if Fenner was
sure of Hanley, why had he not reported the inci-
dent as would have been the natural thing to do?
Bryce found no answer, and with a mental note to
quiz Fenner he turned back to his papers.
Thus the morning limped on—a long morning,
boring, endless, with Bryce conscious of the passage
of every minute of the time. Noon approached and
he was becoming more and more impatient for some
word from Fenner when the phone bell at his elbow
jangled. He picked up the receiver, nervous, a
vague premonition assailing him that something at
long last had happened. It had. The voice at the
other end of the wire was that of his aid, McFadden.
“Say, chief,” he reported, "we ain't sure yet, but
it looks like Borden might've give us the slip."
“Given you the slip? When? Where? What
do you mean?” Bryce bit the words off savagely.
"Well, you see,” his lieutenant explained, "it's
rainin' like hell down here-has been all morning.
All these fellows have got on yellow oilskin slickers
and hats. From ten feet away or from behind you
can't tell one from the next-laborers, bosses, every-
body. Borden was hangin' around the office shanty


208 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
only a limited measure of comfort. The system was
good, he knew, but to the wary fugitive a thousand
loopholes offered. At least, Borden hadn't had
much of a start. Coles had had a whole night,
which made a great deal of difference. Still, if
Borden was staging a planned getaway, their chances
were not better than average, but Bryce was not
convinced that this was the case. McFadden and
Quade were not infallible. Borden could have very
well quite unconsciously walked out of their ken.
In that case he might shortly just as innocently walk
back in again.
Bryce found McFadden waiting across the street
from the job gate. He had no more than arrived
when Quade also put in an appearance, sauntering
up the ramp and across the street to join them. With
the noonday throngs reduced by the weather to a
hurrying minimum, and the clamor stilled that ordi-
narily rose up from the new building site, the street
assumed an unaccustomed holiday quiet. Bryce and
his two aides huddled in the shelter of a building
entrance. In a low voice and in scarcely more de-
tail McFadden repeated what he had told his chief
over the telephone. Quade could add little to the
account. Borden, he said, had stayed in the office
shanty most of the morning, passing the time of day
with the superintendent and doing a little figuring
over the plans but mostly watching the rain pour
down. It had been decided to "knock off" the job
for the day if the rain did not subside by eleven
o'clock. A quarter of an hour before that time
Borden had donned one of the company issue of


210 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
McFadden already back.
“No luck, Chief,” the latter reported soberly.
“Bert is still there, though, and it's not twelve-thirty
yet. There's still a chance." Bryce stepped back
into the booth and called Fenner's office but found
that there was still no word from him either. Some-
what at a loss as to where to turn next, he started
back to headquarters, but as he passed the Con-
solidated Bank entrance he remembered that he
ought to notify Hanley that Borden might call him
up.
The bank manager welcomed the inspector
warmly, almost excitedly. He was, he said, “hun-
gry for news." He'd not seen Fenner since the
afternoon of Morton's accident, and then only for
a minute or two. Mr. Morton, he understood, was
thought to have a good chance now. He'd tried
several times during the morning to get Fenner on
the telephone but had been unable to. Were they
getting anywhere? Was anything new? There was
to be a Board meeting during the afternoon. He'd
like to report some sort of progress if such a thing
was possible.
Bryce acknowledged both statements and ques-
tions with only slow nods and thoughtful rolling
around of his unlit cigar between his lips. When
Hanley seemed to have finished, he said with cheer-
ful irrelevance: “Young Borden may call you up.
We lost track of him this morning. I left word with
Dickson to have him call you or me. I can't say I
expect him to call but I wouldn't be surprised if he
did. On the other hand, if he doesn't show up soon


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
211
I'll begin to suspect something fishy.” Bryce
watched the bank manager's face as he made these
remarks but detected nothing untoward in the lat-
ter's reception of them or in his bearing.
“But what the devil shall I tell him?" Hanley
naturally wanted to know.
Bryce ignored the query for a moment. A little
thing like that ought to be easy for a bank manager.
But presently he replied: “Oh, tell him you want
to see him about the vault. Tell him anything. If
he calls at all, that lets him out, which will mean it
won't make any difference what you tell him. If
he doesn't call or show up, it won't be very long
before we pick him up."
Hanley whistled between his teeth, mildly
amazed. “So that's it! Well, this is something.
And have you given over your suspicions of Mr.
Morton ?"
Bryce looked at the banker sideways, wondering
if the question was as innocent as it sounded. The
tag! Who could tell ?
"Why, we haven't exactly given over suspecting
anybody," he replied cautiously. “This is one of
those damned cases where everybody is guilty until
proven innocent, you know.”
Hanley's only reply to that was a grunt. He
looked at his watch.
“Will you come upstairs with me and have
lunch?” he suggested. “We have quite a dining
room. It would be better than to go out in this
rain."
Bryce looked out at the gray streets and troubled


212 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
skies. The rain, which had somewhat abated before
he came in, had renewed its violence and was coming
down in great swirling sheets that he could hardly
see through. The thought of a comfortable lunch
tempted him but, more intriguing, there was the re-
mote possibility that his host might become care-
lessly expansive. He would certainly be one up on
Fenner if anything of that sort could be brought to
pass. “Why, I suppose I can, if you like," he as-
sented to Hanley's invitation.
Before they went up he telephoned his headquar-
ters. He found, though with no surprise, that the
wide net had so far yielded up nothing.
Throughout an unusually hearty and protracted
lunch, Hanley, much to Bryce's disappointment and
disgust, kept the conversation strictly upon politics,
prohibition, the weather and musical comedies. At
the conclusion of the meal they returned together
to the manager's office.
Hanley opened the door for Bryce, but the in-
spector did not enter. Instead he stood rooted to
the threshold, frozen in astonishment. Hanley
glanced over his shoulder and saw within, seated
in his most comfortable leather guest chair, Max-
well Fenner. The dapper investigator presented a
picture of solid comfort. His knees were crossed,
one leg swinging idly; his cigarette drooped at just
the proper nonchalant angle; his whole attitude re-
flected the acme of indolence.
Before him on one end of Hanley's desk was


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
213
placed a small tan suitcase, unopened. At the win-
dow, gazing meditatively out, sat Philip Borden.
A uniformed policeman standing by in one corner
of the room lent an air of grim reality to the scene.
Fenner nodded to Bryce and Hanley
"You've both met Mr. Borden," he said amiably,
exaggerating the courtesy. Hanley and Bryce, taken
aback at the unexpected amenity and not sure of the
irony, both managed nods. Borden returned their
bows gravely.
“Mr. Borden and I have been having a very in-
teresting discussion of the matter of the trifling
shortage that came up last week,” Fenner explained.
"A little one-sided to be called a discussion," he
amended, “because Mr. Borden very modestly pre-
fers to let me have the floor."
"Oh, yeah?” from Bryce.
"It isn't always that we have the chance to review
intelligently our theories and earmark our mistakes
for future profit,” Fenner went on.
Hanley's eyes were on the suitcase; he hardly
heard the remark.
Observing this Fenner said: "I haven't opened
that yet. Mr. Borden will supply you with a key, I
believe. I think it would be poetic justice to have
old Jeremy and young Donegan check it over, though
I haven't the slightest doubt you'll find your con-
signment quite intact.”
Borden shook his head. “I'm sorry I can't help
you," he said. "I have a knife, though, that will
make a monkey of that grip if you care to use it."
He drew a heavy clasp knife from his pocket, opened


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
215
The younger man broke his silence.
“Not me," he said laconically. "I knew nothing
about it. A parcel check was handed to me Wednes-
day morning by Mr. Morton. He asked me as a
personal favor to get a bag he had left there, to
keep it for him for a couple of days, and to keep
my mouth shut. At first I thought it was liquor
he'd got while he was in Detroit, but for my trouble
he promised me a month's pay if a deal he was trying
to put across went through, so I knew it couldn't be
that. I never saw that bag until this morning. I
had no idea what it contained when I went for it,
though I did begin to suspect it when you brought
me here." He paused and then went on: “I sup-
pose even if Mr. Morton recovers I'll have a hard
time making anyone believe my word against his."
"Why do you so quickly assume Morton will
deny your story?” Fenner asked quickly.
“Why not? Do you think I can't see I've been
taken for a ride? I'm the sap! To think I was
going to take care of all of that loot for him for
four hundred dollars. I suppose he was afraid to
offer me more—I'd get too curious." He broke
off. "I'm talking too much.” He said it almost
apologetically.
“Yes, you are," Fenner agreed. "It's a pretty
plausible story, though; but I should be very sur-
prised if you got by with it, even if Morton never
wakes up to talk.” He looked Borden over ap-
praisingly and said icily: "You have a remarkably
quick head in emergencies. It's a shame your talent
was diverted out of honest channels. You might
ney


216 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
have made your mark in the world. Since the mo-
ment I tapped your shoulder at the Hudson
Terminal this noon you've been deliberating your
chances. You were caught with the goods and
knew it. You might have made a break but decided
that the odds would be too much against you. You
had to shift the blame and there was Morton all
stretched out to receive it. You're taking a chance
on his passing out, but not such a bad chance at that,
because it would still be your word against his if he
recovers. But that's not all.” Fenner's tone was
low but incisive. “You banked on one more cir-
cumstance this." He drew from his pocket the
fiber tag and tossed it clattering on the desk. “You
knew Morton had it on him when he was taken
away."
Hanley started up out of his chair at the sight of
the tag but settled back again. Borden looked at it
with mild curiosity, then turned away uninterestedly.
Fenner could not help admiring the man's control.
He resumed his remarks with slow, firm delibera-
tion, directing them all at the impassive Borden as
if to hammer down his reserve. "You hope that
Morton dies so there will be no one to deny your
clever cock-and-bull story. You had better pray that
he lives. Murder is a damned sight more serious
than larceny.” He hesitated. “Suppose I were to
tell you I had an eye-witness who saw you drop
that bull point on Randolph Morton's head?
Would you want him to get better then?" :
It was a shot in the dark and utterly failed of its
mark.


220 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
time, with a reasonable allowance for lunch, that
was your object.
“You went into a store—there are a number along
Nassau Street where a valise like that can be had-
and bought that grip. Hastily you transferred the
sack to the grip and packed the level and bracket
properly. Then you went around to Knoeckler's
and left the instrument for repairs. A general over-
hauling, you asked him to give it, because the specific
condition you complained of to Dickson probably
would not have even warranted the repairs. Then
you took your little grip and walked over to the
Hudson Terminal and checked it. You had lunch
at the Exchange Buffet there-I imagine you put
it away in quite a hurry—and went on up to your
office where you very innocently put in an appearance
at just about the time you should have.
"But even then you were not safe. You could not
leave the grip at the parcel room indefinitely. You
did not even fell like keeping the check about you,
so you mailed it with a plausible note to your friend,
a Mr. Arthur Lowman, from whom you obtained it
this morning. Then you sat back to wait.
“You didn't have to wait long. In a few minutes
Hanley called you downtown. You came along,
anxious to do everything you could for us, and with
a plausible, reasonable account of your actions since
leaving the bank. Since that time you've hardly
been out of our sight, but you've known it all along
and acted with corresponding circumspection.”
Fenner stopped again. The room was so tensely
quiet that even breathing seemed to have ceased.
O


222 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Incidentally, you can thank me at least partly for
that call of his. I'll tell you why. When you trans-
ferred the sack from the box to the suitcase you
were in a hurry. The tag got caught in one of the
brackets in the box and you yanked the sack out and
left the tag there. It probably wasn't wired very
securely. Old Adolph found the tag and thought
nothing of it. A little while later he read in the
afternoon tabloid of the robbery of $180,000 from
the Consolidated Bank's vault, and that some en-
gineers were being questioned. He might not have
thought much of that either, but when in a few min-
utes I came in and quizzed him about your stop
there, the time, and whatever else I could find out,
he put two and two together. He was poor, in ill
health, and tired. He saw a chance to fix himself
for life, so he called you up.
“As I say, I can't even guess how much he wanted;
but however much or little it was, you realized that
your secret was no longer your own. I don't know
whether you bashed him in the head and carried
him down cellar or shoved him down first and then
bashed him. The result was all the same. You
should have left the cellar light on, though. It
would have looked much more natural if he had
been found with the light on-as if he'd started
down for something. Still, I suppose one instinc-
tively leaves a job of that sort in darkness, and you
weren't thinking very clearly just then.
"When you started out of the store you were
probably really panicky. But you saw the flatfoot
loitering across the street and came to your senses.


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
223
You walked a few steps, then turned back and
opened the shop door and called something back,
presumably to someone within and came out chuck-
ling. It was an excellent bit of play acting and
fooled Murphy completely-fooled us all for a
while. It was late in the afternoon and the back of
the store was dark. With that sort of a business
there would probably be no more customers that
day. There was a good chance that nothing would
be discovered until it was too late to tie you directly
to it; but, even so, I imagine you had a bad night.
After all, old Adolph was rather a feeble old gentle-
man, and murder wasn't exactly a part of your
everyday routine-even the murder of a pathetic old
amateur blackmailer. But once you start this busi-
ness, one thing follows another and it's hard to
know just where to draw the line.”
Fenner paused upon this observation and glanced
around at his listeners. Borden returned his glance
impassively when their eyes met but mostly he stared
out of the windows or around the blank walls.
Hanley, whose rapt attention had been centered
upon Fenner throughout the long discourse, relaxed
a little and allowed his glance to sweep furtively
over Borden. The uniformed policeman who from
the background had listened avidly to the dénoue-
ment of a larceny mystery such as he was not likely
to encounter again in many a year, shifted his weight
and settled himself into a more restful position
against the wall. Bryce, who had listened to his
colleague with ungrudging admiration, now ad-
dressed Borden:


224 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“What have you got to say, young man?” he
urged. His notebook was open on his knee.
Borden regarded him with ill-concealed disgust.
"I have only this to say—that I don't know what
you're talking about,” he replied. “It's obvious
enough that some sort of a frameup is being put
over and that I'm to be the goat. I've got nothing
to say until you get Morton down here or take me
to him so I can face him. Aside from that I guess
I'd better get a lawyer to do my 'saying for me.
I know my limitations and they don't include debat-
ing with a bunch of clever sharks and getting myself
locked up or worse for something I know nothing
about.”
"Well said! Damned well said !" Fenner ap-
plauded. “You belong in the 'Talkies, but you're
not kidding me.” He resumed his serious tone.
“Furthermore you won't be able to kid the judge
or a jury. Your 'or worse' is the more likely.
"Now I'm going ahead from where I left off.
Correct me from time to time if anything occurs to
you. Last Thursday night and Friday you went
about your business in quite the normal way. Friday
afternoon I asked you to come to Knoeckler's. The
old man had been found dead. Now here was your
first bad slip. Aside from leaving the tag in the
level box, of course. Do you remember our inter-
view? Probably not in detail. Well, the point is
that you came in and went out of that shop without
once demonstrating any normal curiosity as to where
or how Mr. Knoeckler had met his end. You acted
properly shocked and surprised when we told you


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
225
he'd met it, but you didn't bother to ask how or
where. At the time I attributed this omission on
your part simply to excitement, but I've since ob-
served that you're not the excitable sort. The ob-
vious explanation was that you felt no curiosity about
the details of Knoeckler's death because you al-
ready knew all about it. As I say, that was your
first bad break. Also, I observed you looking over
that bench and desk in the shop with a great deal
more than ordinary curiosity. Whether you were
seeking anything in particular or just checking over
to see that you had made no omissions or left any-
thing incriminating in your wake on the previous
evening, I do not know.
“Ever since the theft, but especially since Friday
afternoon you have been a watched man, but you
guessed that everyone who had been in the vault
would be watched, so you weren't much disturbed.
For five or six days you have gone about your busi-
ness. Our little gesture of arresting Donegan was
a quite futile sham so far as you were concerned.
It didn't fool you for a second. How long you
would have continued simply to go about your busi-
ness I do not know. I had nothing but conjecture
to go on and would have had to wait however long
you decided to make it.
“Wednesday morning you learned that Mr. Mor-
ton had in some way become suspicious of you.
That altered everything. You had to act and act
quickly. You were too closely watched to salvage
your loot and make a getaway. There was only one
alternative. Morton met with an 'accident.' Then


226 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
you conceived the brilliant idea of laying the ghost
forever by planting the tag on him. When it was
found, he would be beyond reach of our questions.
The mystery would be forever sealed. The first
indication that your scheme had miscarried came
when Morton was taken away in an ambulance in-
stead of a morgue wagon. Your iron bar had
struck him only a glancing blow, but, even so, al.
most sufficient to do away with him. Since Wednes-
day you have been keeping posted almost hourly as
to his condition.
“Late yesterday the indications were that he had
a chance to pull through. You made preparations
for a quick exit by telephoning your friend, Low-
man, to bring the parcel check with him to the city
today so you could get it. To be sure you were not
on a tapped wire, you used a pay phone. Then you
covered your tracks by making a call to your house.
The ruse fooled McFadden. That was the number
they gave him when he traced the call. It might
have fooled me, too, if you had picked a booth
farther from the job and had made the thing look
more like an afterthought—something you'd for-
gotten. But to go right around the corner from
your own job telephone—that's a little too pointed.
"That small piece of bad judgment was probably
the factor that spelled the difference between success
and failure for your escape, for you were in the clear
when you visited Lowman's place this morning. I
had traced the call and was on my way to see him,
but perfectly innocent of any pursuit of you, when
you barged in. I don't know how you managed to


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
227
give McFadden the slip, but you did. The rain was
in your favor, and with practically every man on the
job decked out in a yellow slicker it shouldn't have
been so terribly difficult. I was in the lobby of the
building where Lowman works when you came in.
It was pure luck I glimpsed you before you saw me.
I went to the street and found neither McFadden
nor his partner in sight, so I knew something was
wrong and decided my little talk with Lowman had
better be postponed. When you came down I fol.
lowed you to the Hudson Terminal. When you
went to the parcel room the whole situation dawned
on me.
“As soon as you're safely incarcerated I'm going
back to see Lowman. I expect him to confirm cer-
tain details that will make the case a little more air-
tight. I believe he will, too. His wife was fairly
communicative over the telephone while I was trac-
ing up your call this morning.”
With a little nod, almost a bow, Fenner got up,
indicating that insofar as he was concerned the
meeting was adjourned.
"Inspector, I'll turn this lad over to you. Be-
tween you and the district attorney he ought to get
transportation up the river-with a one-way ticket.
Too bad !”
Next he turned to Hanley.
"As for this stuff,” Fenner indicated the grip,
"I'd like to see old Jeremy when you tell him to
check it up, and Jerry too, if we can get him over
by that time.”
Hanley pushed a button on his desk.


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
229
Mr. Hanley himself was by Morton's side before
I reached him after the accident occurred and stayed
with him until after he was taken away. I believe
he will in ordinary fairness admit Mr. Fenner's claim
is quite impossible. Even if I had been so minded
and had possessed a tag, there was never a second
when Mr. Morton was not observed by at least two
or three people.” He looked to Hanley appeal-
ingly.
The bank manager hesitated, apparently recall-
ing the details of the previous afternoon. Finally
he said with an air of reluctance: “I can't say.
There may be something in that, Fenner. I re-
member, now, that Dickson and Quinn and myself
were down by Morton before Borden showed up;
and after that-well, I don't see how he could have
done it without someone noticing."
Fenner shrugged his shoulders. “That's only
one item in a long, long chain," he pointed out. “I
can't pretend to reconstruct every detail. On that
particular item we may as well wait for Mr. Morton
to recover. In the meantime—" He waited sug-
gestively.
"In the meantime you're under arrest,” Bryce
finished. He seized Borden's elbow. The police-
man moved over to Borden's other side and they
proceeded out. Going out they saw Old Jeremy
coming down the corridor toward Hanley's office.
The old gentleman, glum as had been his wont of
late, little realized the pleasant surprise in store for
him.
When he entered the office Hanley crossed the


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
233
ployed, and up to his office. A boy at the door
obligingly pointed out Lowman to him. Borden's
friend, like a dozen others in the large room, was
busy over a drafting board. Fenner crossed the
room and stood by the table until the man looked up,
a celluloid triangle in one hand, a pencil poised in
the other.
“Mr. Lowman, I believe?” Fenner smiled.
“That's right. What can I do for you?" The
question was put abruptly. Lowman obviously had
no time for insurance agents or anything of the sort.
"You can tell me if you recall the number on the
parcel check you returned to your friend, Philip
Borden, just before noon today."
The triangle dropped from Lowman's hand, clat-
tering to the table. The pencil he laid down slowly.
"Parcel check? What do you mean?”
"Just what I say—parcel check. Borden came
up here and got it just before noon.” Fenner was
coolly insistent.
“Why, I- See here; who are you, anyway?
What's the idea of coming in here this way and—”
"I'm from the police,” Fenner interrupted.
“Would you rather answer one or two simple ques-
tions here or come down to the station and answer
under oath?”
Several of the other men working at the adjoining
tables were beginning to notice the altercation.
Lowman glanced around; he whitened a little, taken
aback at Fenner's invitation
"I'll answer anything I can," he said in a moment;
"but what's it all about?”


234 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"You'll find out in plenty of time. Now about
the check-?"
"I've never seen any check or anything of the
sort,” Lowman responded promptly.
“What was Borden's errand here this morning ?”
Lowman looked away and rubbed his hand over
his mouth thoughtfully.
“Why, we just talked about our plans for the
week-end.”
"With the telephone systems perfected the way
they are, Borden came four blocks through a drench-
ing rain just to talk about your plans for the week-
end? Remember; he only stayed about thirty sec-
onds. Come again, only a little more plausible this
time, please.”
Lowman countered with a question.
“Where is Borden? Why don't you see him?"
"Borden is in jail without bail and likely to be
there for some time. Nothing you can say or fail to
say will alter that fact. The best way for you to
stay out of trouble is to be perfectly frank with me.
The truth always comes out eventually. Might as
well have it now. What do you say?"
"I say I've never seen such a thing as the parcel
check you speak of,” Lowman replied doggedly.
"Then why was Borden here this morning ?".
Lowman hesitated a long moment; finally he
cleared his throat and spoke:
"I gave him back a sealed envelope I'd been keep-
ing for him; that's all. I don't know what it con-
tained except it was bulky, like about a four or five
page letter folded up."


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
235
“Where did you get it and when?"
“Borden mailed it to me a week or so ago."
“And you've no idea what it contained ?”
“No; Borden said there were several papers
which would be embarrassing if found on him but
which he valued highly. He asked me to keep the
whole business under my hat. I told him I wouldn't
say anything to anybody."
“Don't censure yourself. You're acting wisely.
You might have become an accessory after the fact
without realizing it. That's about all I want to
know for now. I may ask you to confirm what I've
told you at a later date. When I do, I'll get in
touch with you.” Fenner went out leaving Lowman
half mystified, half astonished, and with a guilty
suspicion that, in spite of himself, he had talked too
much.
Highly gratified that his surmises had been so
accurate, Fenner thought of going to see Borden
again. Perhaps when he told him the results of his
interview with Lowman, Borden would realize the
hopelessness of his situation and throw himself upon
the mercy of the law. But Borden could not afford
to do that, Fenner decided quickly. The theft was
bad, but the murder charges Borden could never
own up to. If Morton died there would be two of
them. No; Borden would simply have to brazen
it through to whatever end was in store.
Fenner knew that when the district attorney re-
ceived the facts as he had outlined them in Hanley's
office, he would begin building his case at once.
He knew, too, that Bryce was already probably turn-


236 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
wa
ing over the scanty facts he had and digging for
more. The whole ground would have to be gone
over more thoroughly. He, Fenner, would be called
upon first to help in the arrangement of the case,
later to testify. It would all be very drawn out
and infinitely boring.
He reviewed the afternoon briefly. One fact
caught his mind and held it: it was that Borden had
taken the pains to deny the one particular accusation
in the chain which Fenner felt least sure of the
planting of the tag on Morton. Fenner wondered
if he could safely infer from this that in the other
particulars he was correct. He knew, of course, that
he was right in a general way, but there were many
details and loose ends to be explained.
But if he was right in everything else and wrong
about the tag, then where did the tag come from?
Rather, how did Morton acquire it? Borden per-
petrated the theft. Where did Morton's trail cross
Borden's after that event? At Knoeckler's shop
first, Fenner remembered. In the excitement of
having killed Knoeckler, Borden must have failed
to get the tag back. Of course, and Morton could
have found it there, either on that fatal evening a
week past when he waited for Elsa, or since then
while he was going about the business of straighten-
ing out the old man's affairs. That would account
for Morton's suspicions of Borden, too. Only why
had he not come directly to the police with his in-
formation? Odd thing! Also, where would Mor.
ton's missing assistant fit into that picture? Fenner
decided that here were some angles worth a few


238 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"Oh, not to speak of." Bryce pushed a button,
issued a curt order to the officer who responded,
and in a few minutes Borden was brought in. He
was pale and visibly less assured than when he had
left the bank, but there were no visible marks of
violence upon him.
"Well, my boy, the inspector tells me you've de-
cided to come clean. I think you're wise."
Borden stiffened and for a moment it appeared
that an angry retort was framed upon his lips, but
as suddenly he slumped into his chair and dropped
his gaze to the floor. There was a moment of tense
silence.
: “Well, how about it?” Fenner urged kindly.
“I suppose I may as well," Borden agreed in a
low voice. “There isn't much that you don't already
know about the money. I took it just about as you
figured out; but as for the rest—I know nothing
about it. Knoeckler and Mr. Morton, I mean."
“Then why did you go to Knoeckler's shop that
afternoon ?"
"He phoned me. I'd dropped the tag there. He
read the papers and doped it out as you said. He
wanted half."
"Well—" Fenner's gold pencil appeared in his
hand and he twirled it meditatively.
"I saw I was in a hole and there was nothing I
could do about it," Borden continued. "I dickered
with him and we settled on fifty thousand. I told
him he'd have to wait a month or two, and he said
he'd keep the tag."
"Sounds fishy to me,” Bryce put in coldly.
SV


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
239
“How did you leave Knoeckler? Did he seem
much disturbed?” Fenner asked, ignoring his col-
league's comment.
"I left him sitting at his desk. He seemed-well,
no more excited than you'd expect under the circum-
stances. I swear to God I never touched him! I
don't remember about the next day, Mr. Fenner.
When I came in the store and you sprung it on me
he was dead, it sort of took my breath away. At
first I was glad and relieved. Then I thought of
the tag and that he must have left it about the place
somewhere. I didn't know what to do. I looked
around as well as I could and didn't see it, so I de-
cided I'd have to take a chance and let things ride.
That's all I know."
“What were you and Mr. Morton arguing about
on Wednesday afternoon a short time before he was
hurt?” Fenner asked after a moment's thought.
“About leveling the pier bottoms. Morton was
too particular and it was slowing up the job.”
“That all ?”
“That's a lot of boloney, Max," Bryce cut in
gruffly. “From what Quade told me, they were
having it hot and heavy, and they wouldn't get that
way over pier bottoms."
Borden said shortly: "That's all we discussed.”
"How do you suppose Morton got that tag?"
Fenner next inquired.
"I don't know. He must've found it in the shop.
He was the old man's executor."
“How did you know that?” Fenner snapped.
"Coles told me," Borden replied evenly.


240 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“Where's Coles now?”
"I don't know."
“When did you see him last?"
Borden rubbed his chin. “Wednesday afternoon
about five or five-thirty, I think.”
"Do you know Coles well? Did he tell you any-
thing else about himself or Morton ?"
"I didn't know him so very well. We used”
He stopped for Fenner's gold pencil had clattered
to the floor. The detective, leaning over to recover
it, grunted: “Go on."
"We used to talk once in a while on the job.
Wednesday afternoon while we were waiting for
Morton to show up, Coles seemed to feel like un-
loading his chest. He told me that Knoeckler's
daughter worked at their place and that Morton
was making a play for her. I guess Coles had a yen
on her himself. Anyway he was pretty sore. Spoke
of him as a 'dirty buzzard' and talked of quitting his
job."
Fenner thrust the pencil into his pocket. Bryce
chewed his dead cigar. Borden glanced furtively
from one to the other.
"Now will you be good enough to tell us just why
you decided to clear out when you did?" Fenner re-
sumed.
Borden hesitated only a moment. “Well, when
I found out Morton was interested in Knoeckler's
affairs, I got worried about the tag. I knew that if
he found it he'd wise up the same as old Adolph had.
So when it began to look as if he'd soon be out and
around, I thought I'd better go.”


FRIDAY, APRIL 8TH
241
that will be all frrow morning and this down in
Fenner got up. “We'll get all of this down in
black and white tomorrow morning and you can sign
it. That will be all for this evening."
A guard took Borden's arm and conducted him
out of the office.
“What do you think of it now?” the inspector
asked warily.
“Not a bad yarn if he can stick to it. That re-
mains to be seen. Now let's do a little summing up:
If what he says is true, then Borden committed the
theft, Knoeckler reasoned it out and attempted to
blackmail him, to which Borden agreed to submit.
Knoeckler later, presumably from the intense ex-
citement, had a stroke and fell downstairs. That
ends it as far as Borden is concerned. Morton either
had a genuine accident or Stephen Coles dropped
the bar on him and cleared out. Fits together pretty
well at that. The only thing that could really upset
it would be for Coles to come back. This Borden
is as clever as they come !"
"Or for Morton to give us something new,"
Bryce amended.
"Yes; that might happen.” Fenner looked at his
watch and found that it was after seven o'clock.
“There's one thing more; then I'll run along. Look
in your notes, Inspector, and tell me when Borden
left the job on Wednesday evening."
Bryce looked and in a few seconds announced:
“About quarter after eight. He went out with
Dickson."
"And it must have been about six-thirty when we
left, wasn't it?"


242 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
“Something like that.”
“Coles wasn't there then but he must have come
back. Quade told us that the night timekeeper had
last seen him about eight o'clock, slightly inebriated.
Borden says he didn't see him after 'five or five-
thirty.' Funny, isn't it? Then so far as we know
he was last seen by the timekeeper. I'd better talk
to that chap right now. He'd be there at this hour,
wouldn't he?” He reached for his hat but did not
get up.
Bryce made no immediate reply and Fenner fell
into a brown study from which he emerged only
when the inspector remarked: “Maybe we'll get a
break and turn up Coles in a day or two. Then
we'd be finished and, believe me, there'd be no re-
grets."
“I'd not count on learning anything from Stephen
Coles. Not unless you've got a couple of good spirit
mediums on your staff.”
Bryce sat up. “What do you mean?"
“I don't know how it was done or where he is, but
ever since he's been gone I've had a strong hunch
poor Coles is quite beyond our 'turning him up.'”
"You think he's done in, too?” Bryce gasped.
"I think he might be. If Borden is telling the
truth, he doesn't even know that Coles is missing.
Yet a few minutes ago when I asked him about Coles
he replied: 'I didn't know him very well.'”.
“What of it?”
“Wouldn't the natural answer have been: 'I don't
know him so very well’?”.
“But when could he? How could he? Remem-


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
245
Spinelli at one end, Giuseppi at the other; the
wrecking bars thrust behind an edge, a quick wrench,
and off the planks flew. There was an easy rhythm
to the men's movements; the boards clattered to the
growing pile with mechanical regularity.
Abruptly the rhythm ceased. Joe had pried his
end free but the loosened board did not fall off.
He looked up and saw his brother, rigid, spellbound,
staring at the wall exposed by the removal of the
last board. He moved over to Giuseppi, then
stopped, frozen in his tracks. The outline of a
human hand, palm out, fingers spread, like a fearful
grisly warning, faced them from the surface of
the concrete wall. Timidly Giuseppi reached out
with his bar and touched the palm. It was soft,
pudgy, yielding before the iron and allowing several
small bits of concrete to flake off from the edge of
the pattern.
"Mother of God!" His teeth chattered and he
crossed himself.
“Tony! Benito! Here; look!" Joe came to his
senses and called to the others. They gathered
around, awestruck, gesticulating. Finally one,
cooler than the others, ran to the ladder and up.
Soon he returned with a labor foreman and the
superintendent. Quinn examined the find briefly
and said: "Here; chop out a little concrete around
it and let's see what we've got."
All the men hung back. Quinn looked up im-
patiently. “Don't stand there like a God-damned
bunch of dummies. Here! Gimme that bar!"
Suiting his actions to his words he seized a bar from


246 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
the man nearest him and with a few deft strokes
broke out enough concrete to reveal a man's hand and
wrist. He looked for only a moment, then stepped
back and, gaging from the position of the hand and
wrist, started cautiously cutting into the concrete at
a point several feet away. The concrete, still com-
paratively green, broke away without great diffi-
culty. After a quarter of an hour of cautious ex-
ploration an unusually large chunk pried out
revealed, about a half foot back from the wall
surface, a small section of matted hair. Five min-
utes more of feverish activity and a facem-mis-
shapen, stone gray like the fresh concrete, one
glazed eye open, the other hidiously mutilated—was
exposed. Quinn recognized the mortal remains of
Stephen Coles.
He straightened up and issued crisp instructions:
“Go on with the forms, boys. Martin,” this to the
foreman who had come down with him, “get a
couple of air drills down here. He'll have to be
cut out. Better rig up a frame and hang a couple
of tarpaulins on each side, or the whole damned
job will be demoralized. You better get some level
heads on those drills, too. We want him out in one
piece. You'll have to figure on taking out about two
feet of concrete all around. Snap out of it, now!"
Quinn went up to the office shanty and asked
Quade to notify the police. This was about half
past nine. Inspector Bryce at the time was in his
office, together with Murphy, McFadden, a stenog-
rapher and Philip Borden. The stenographer had
just prepared a transcription of Borden's detailed


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
247
confession. The latter, haggard and worn from a
long night of questioning, slumped in his chair at
one end of the desk. His story as he had related it
the previous evening to Fenner and Bryce remained
unchanged. Ten hours of sustained, intense grill-
ing had not shaken him from it, and Bryce had
reached the reluctant conclusion that his colleague's
doubts had been ill founded.
When the phone buzzed Bryce picked it up, ac-
knowledged himself, and listened while Quade told
him what had happened at the job. He eyed Bor-
den's dejected figure grimly as he hung up the re-
ceiver and said: “You'd better not sign that thing
just yet. There will be a few additions. Believe
it or not, Stephen Coles has come back!”
He called to the guards: “Take him away, boys.
I've got to go out.”.
:
Two hours later the clay that had been Stephen
Coles was transferred from its snug, torrid grave
to a refrigerated slab in the city morgue. The head
had been bashed in; otherwise the cadaver seemed
intact.
Fenner and Bryce came to headquarters together.
Fenner had come to the station late that morning
and had overtaken the inspector just as he reached
the job. It had been a gruesome two hours. The
removal of Coles' body from the wall had been a
grisly, nauseating task. It had been there less than
three days, but the heat generated by the concrete
as it hardened had stimulated the processes of
putrefaction, and the men operating the chipping


250 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"What happened, Clancy?" Bryce asked.
Clancy hung his head.
"Go ahead; spill it !”
"Well, I was bringing him up like you said when
all of a sudden I felt a yank and he had a rod in
my ribs. He told me to keep my trap shut and
lead him out of the place or get plugged. I steered
him into the ante-room where some of the boys was
waitin' to go out on their beats. They wised up
but he got the drop on 'em. He started to back
out and then, somehow, the shooting commenced.”
"Your gun he had, Clancy?"
The guard looked up soberly. "Yeah. Yes, sir."
"Let's see it."
Clancy indicated his trousers and holster belt
draped over a chair. Bryce drew the gun from its
holster and broke open the chamber. “Was it fully
loaded, Clancy?"
“Yes, sir."
Bryce held it up and remarked to Fenner: "It's
a damned lucky thing Borden wasn't handy with one
of these. He got off six shots before they stopped
him."
There was a shuffling in the hall and two men
came in bearing Borden on a stretcher. They lifted
him to a table and the same surgeon went to work
over him. Presently he straightened up and sig-
naled to Bryce. “I think he's coming out of it now
but he won't last long." As he spoke Borden's eyes
fluttered open. Bryce and Fenner moved to the
side of the table.
Borden made a limp motion with his hand and


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
251
wrist, smiled feebly, and muttered something ter-
minating in "—bungled it up!" He sighed and re-
laxed. The surgeon pressed a glass of stimulant
to his lips and he opened his eyes again. They met
Fenner's. He whispered hoarsely: “Guess I'm done.
-Listen II didn't brain Morton but I stuck the
tag in his pocket when we found him. Tell him I
owned up. Tell him to keep an eye on my mother.”
He looked at Fenner pleadingly, then his eyes
drooped shut and his head fell back. Again the
surgeon forced the liquid between his lips but this
time could obtain no reaction. He put his ear to
Borden's breast, raised up and shook his head, mur-
muring: "He's washed up!"
Fenner and Bryce went back to the inspector's
sanctum.
3
Fenner drew a handkerchief from his breast
pocket and blotted beads of perspiration from his
forehead. Bryce sat down heavily, mechanically
drew a match from the desk stand and struck it, held
it poised six inches from his dead cigar while he
stared vacantly into space. Roused when the flame
reached his finger tips he cursed softly, struck an-
other match and lighted the cigar.
"A swift, clean-cut finish,” Fenner observed
meditatively. “That's as it should be."
"Yeah; clean-cut for Borden but not for us. Too
bad he couldn't have talked more. There's plenty
we're in the dark about yet."
"Details, but little else. His suicide for it was
certainly no less than that I regard as tantamount


252 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
to a confession. He certainly knew before he made
his break that he had about one chance in a thousand
of getting away with it. But what puzzles me is:
what prompted him to try it just then? It's almost
as if he knew we'd found Coles.”
Bryce looked up quickly. “Oh! But of course
he knew it. He was sitting right where you are
when Quade telephoned this morning. Borden was
getting ready to sign his statement. I told him not
to bother, that we'd have some additions for it, that
Coles had come back. That was before I went over
to the job. Thought I'd give him something to
think about.”
“Ah, well that, of course, explains it.” There was
a note of reproach in Fenner's voice. "It appears
he thought about it quite seriously—and perceived
that he had come to the end of his evil way." Bryce
did not reply and Fenner went on: “Borden was an
unusual criminal type. We-or I, rather-grossly
underestimated his subtlety, his keenness, and most
of all his utter ruthlessness. I realized from the
start that we were matched against a quick, acute
brain, but I hardly expected such a cold-blooded
devil and least of all such a mentally agile one. He
has twice hopped from one setup to another, a step
ahead of us and outguessing us each time. At first
we had Morton brained and the tag planted to direct
suspicion to him and away from the others, includ-
ing Mr. Borden. But Borden guessed that we would
reason just that way so he took the next step and
supplied a potential criminal, Coles.
"If Morton appeared to be the victim of a frameup


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
253
and Coles was missing, we could be depended upon
to make the desired deductions. With only Morton
found accidentally killed but in possession of the
tag, any suspicion which Borden might share with
the others would be lulled, but without the money
returned it would never quite die. However, with
Morton patently framed and Coles missing, sus-
picion would be so strongly focused upon him that
Borden would certainly be relieved of it, even if
neither the money nor Coles were ever seen again.
At first we reasoned just about as Borden planned.
Our reactions on Thursday when it became apparent
that Coles was gone were exactly what Borden
counted upon. But I had previously developed such
a strong theory presuming Borden's guilt that, even
in the face of the new evidence, I couldn't quite
abandon it. Then, too, the jealousy motive confused
the issue.” Fenner paused for breath.
"He sure stuck to his story overnight,” Bryce
interposed. “The boys were after him pretty
strong, too."
Fenner suppressed a shudder. He had visions of
a brutal third degree, and he knew that third degrees
are never quite so vicious as when they promise from
the outset to be futile. No sympathy, however, was
due Borden. He replied: "He could well afford to.
It was a good story. When I first nabbed him yes-
terday, if you remember, he was innocent as hell and
his feelings were deeply injured. But the goods
were on him and he was 'in a spot.' His first play
was to pass the buck to Morton on the long chance
that Morton might not recover. When he learned
terday, if you reme deeply injured.
His first pla


254 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
I was going to get in touch with Lowman, he real-
ized the game was absolutely up as far as the theft
was concerned, so last night he figured he'd take as
short a rap as he could get and deny the more seri.
ous charges. There's no real proof of Knoeckler's
murder and Borden knew it. We won't know about
Morton until we can talk to him, but the chances are
he never knew what hit him, so Borden figured that
even if he recovered to talk there would still be
nothing but conjecture against him; and of course
there'd also be the highly diverting fact that Coles,
who also had a motive, was missing.
"Borden alone knew where Coles was and counted
upon him never to appear and upset the story. That
wall was five feet thick. It was only by the purest,
fortuitous chance that Coles landed with one hand
against the forms. That hand needed only to have
been an inch back from the surface and that Wop
would never have had the chance to snatch Coles
back from the limbo. Yes; all in all Borden had
a pretty good story.
“But once Coles is found the yarn collapses like a
house of cards. An accidental fall into a body of
soft concrete wouldn't damage a person much. The
most superficial autopsy must disclose the head in-
jury and the fact that Coles had suffocated. Borden
saw he was licked. He knew his goose was cooked
and he preferred the end he met to burning in the
chair. And of course there was always that thin
glimmer of hope that by some colossal fortune he
might win free.” Fenner stopped and looked away,
traced odd designs on the desk top with the gold


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
261
ment is to be believed, that I was right only about
the last half of it." Fenner concluded his long ex-
planation with a sigh of relief. He stretched him-
self and got up.
"And Coles ?” Bryce suggested.
“Coles was an afterthought when it occurred to
Borden that the planting of the tag on Morton
would be seen through. He encountered him, half-
drunk, on the bracing there, brained him, and
dropped him into the wall they were pouring. In
the dark it should have been relatively easy."
Bryce who had listened patiently now spoke up
sharply: "You conducted your 'reënactment' on
Tuesday morning. You got the key from me and
went to the shop and confirmed your findings in the
afternoon. You must have been morally sure on
Tuesday evening that Borden was the chap we were
looking for. Why didn't you pinch him then? It
would have saved Coles' life.”
“Not too fast," Fenner protested. “There was
certainly nothing upon which Borden could be con-
victed. My conclusions were based altogether upon
circumstantial evidence. The length of wire was
the only really tangible thing I'd found, and, since
both Morton and Borden had been to the shop, it
didn't prove anything conclusive against either.
More important, I had no idea until yesterday as
to how Borden disposed of the money. If we
pinched him, we stood a chance of losing it, for if
he had cached it in such a way that it could lie for
a long period unattended, he might figuratively
thumb his nose at us, even if we got a conviction


262
THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
of sorts. Not literally, of course. He would nat-
urally stick to a story of innocence and bide kis
time.”
“I suppose that is true," Bryce agreed, “and the
way things have turned out the state is saved the
cost of prosecuting him, and—”
“And I,” Fenner concluded happily for him, "am
released for a much-needed tour of some Canadian
countryside."
Bryce had no answer for that except an unintel-
ligible grumble.
4
It was with a definite sense of relief that Fenner
left Police Headquarters and headed for his own
office. In the back of his mind he had a vague notion
that he would clear up whatever odds and ends
awaited him there and get away before anything
new could turn up, although anything of that sort
need hardly have been feared on a spring Saturday
afternoon. He hailed a cab, though the distance
was only a half dozen short blocks, and settled into
the cushions lazily while the cab rolled through the
quiet streets of the deserted financial district.
He wondered if Bryce was satisfied and would
regard the Consolidated Bank case as a closed
volume. Of course Morton's possession of the tag
had not been satisfactorily explained, despite Bor-
den's dying testimony. The more Fenner thought
of it the more he realized that the assumption that
Borden had placed it on Morton could not be rea-
sonably made. In the first place, according to Bor-
den's earlier claim, which was substantiated by Han-
ney


264 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Morton found it there, it must have been on that
fatal Thursday evening when he waited for Elsa
Knoeckler; for if Adolph had threatened Borden by
means of it, and had gotten himself killed on the
spot, there certainly would have been no opportunity
for him to secrete it anywhere, and if it had been
lying in the open the police or he himself would have
found it after Knoeckler's death.
By the same reasoning, Fenner suddenly per-
ceived, Morton idling about the place could not have
failed to find it. Furthermore, Morton with an
idle quarter of an hour to wait for Elsa, could not
have failed to read the tabloid article spread in-
vitingly on the counter as Adolph had left it. Mor-
ton would have remembered that Borden intended
coming to the shop from the bank. It was even
simpler for him to put two and two together than it
had been for Knoeckler.
Why had not Morton come forward with his find?
But that was not all. Fenner suddenly realized that
Morton, knowing himself to be wanted, or at least
strongly suspecting it, for the newspaper article left
little doubt, had deliberately absented himself until
the following Monday. The question occupied Fen-
ner for but a second; the answer was not far to seek.
Elsa! She would be the answer. Morton had
anticipated this trip with her; his heart was set
upon it and he would naturally be reluctant to change
his plans. Well, that was not a difficult thing to
understand.
Then with time to dwell upon the particular chain
of circumstances which had thrown into his lap the


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
265
opportunity to share in Borden's ill-got fortune, he
must have succumbed to the temptation to recoup
his recent losses. He must have decided, quite un-
consciously, to steal a leaf from Adolph Knoeckler's
book. There was no doubt Morton needed the
money. Fenner wondered if Morton, knowing Bor-
den to be a thief, suspected him also of being the
murderer of Adolph Knoeckler. He suspected not,
for Morton might then have thought twice before
attempting his blackmail scheme-might even have
dropped it and turned over the tag, for it would
have been simple to say that he had found it among
Knoeckler's effects.
But if Morton had attempted blackmail, Fenner
realized, then Borden's last statement must have
been altogether false. This would not be a hard
supposition to make; there had been an inspired air
about it, anyway. Fenner recalled the words: “I
didn't brain Morton but I stuck the tag in his pocket
when we found him. Tell him I owned up. Tell
him to keep an eye on my mother.” Garbled and
meaningless in any ordinary interpretation, but once
assume that Morton blackmailed Borden, and the
words become filled with significance. The tag had
been found on Morton, embarrassing at best. This
confession of Borden's would let him out! But
what object? “Tell him to keep an eye on my
mother." Obvious! Fenner recalled that Borden
had lived alone with his mother. He twirled his
pencil in silent amazement at the only reasonable in-
ference. Throughout the case Borden had consist-
ently lied to serve his own ends, Now he had sim-


268 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
"How is Mr. Morton ?” Fenner changed the
subject.
“He's getting better all the time. The doctor
says I can probably talk to him a minute on Mon-
day.” Elsa smiled a little wanly.
Fenner saw her eyes light up softly as she spoke.
The mere thought of talking to Morton seemed to
warm and animate her. He pictured Morton and
wondered with a twinge he recognized as envy what
there was about the man that could stir a girl to
such devotion. Randolph Morton, a potential black-
mailer! What could he bring her except ultimate
unhappiness? Still—there was a chance. The ex-
periences of the past few days might prove chasten-
ing. Fenner resolved to do what he could toward
giving her that chance. It occurred to him that her
visit at just this time was opportune. He said: “I'm
glad you came. There is something you can do
better than anybody else. You will possibly talk to
Mr. Morton before anyone does except the doctors
and nurses. Make it a point to do that. Then give
him this message from me; tell him this: that he has
never seen the fiber tag I showed you the other day;
that he knows nothing of such a tag; and that if he is
ever confronted with it he is to view it with natural
curiosity ‘for the first time in his life.' You see, Mr.
Morton may have unwittingly made himself an 'ac-
cessory after the fact.' We may as well spare him
embarrassment. I haven't the slightest doubt that
a certain ponderously efficient friend of mine will
sooner or later-probably sooner-make it his busi-
ness to interview Mr. Morton about the tag in ques-


SATURDAY, APRIL 9TH
269
tion. Is that all clear?”
"It's not at all clear, but I understand what you
want me to do," Elsa answered.
"Perhaps Mr. Morton will sometime make it
clearer.” Fenner turned away, an almost curt dis-
missal in the gesture.
Elsa rose and waited awkwardly. Fenner, too,
got to his feet. He held out his hand. “I wish you
every happiness."
Elsa accepted it timidly. “Thank you—uh-
Good-by.”
“Wait a moment; there's something else." It had
suddenly occurred to him that Randolph Morton
might suffer a change of heart. Fenner decided
grimly that he would obviate that possibility. “Tell
Mr. Morton that on the day he leaves the hospital
he will hear from me."
Elsa nodded bewilderedly. Mystified but some-
how reassured she left the office.
Fenner seated himself again before his desk. He
drew a blank white card before him and poised his
pen over it for a moment, formulating his message;
then he wrote rapidly, nearly filling the card. From
his pocket he drew the fiber tag and enclosed it with
the card in an envelope which he sealed and ad-
dressed to Randolph Morton.
He rang for his secretary and when she appeared
held out the envelope and said: “Now listen care-
fully. This is the only important thing you'll have
to do while I'm away. First, put this envelope in
the safe; then every morning before you do another
thing call up the hospital and inquire about Mr.


270 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
Morton. On the day when he is to leave there take
this envelope and deliver it to him personally. De-
liver it to him alone. Clear?”
The girl nodded.
Fenner's tone lightened. “All right, then. Now
bring on that other stuff you waved at me when I
came in. I want to get out of here."


EPILOGUE
A WEEK rolled by; a leisurely, unforgettable week
for Fenner who had driven past the blue waters of
the St. Lawrence and wandered up into the Old
World of Quebec, passing old landmarks, viewing
with sleepy interest the scenes of romantic legend.
For Bryce in the city it had been just another
week; a week crammed with a little more than its
share of bustle and activity; a week in which he be-
grudged himself even the solitary hour he had
wasted in going to the hospital and interrogating,
quite futilely, Randolph Morton.
For Elsa Knoeckler it had been a lagging week
but blessed in that each day brought a steady better-
ment in the condition of the man she had, from
blended admiration, pity, and her own need, learned
to love.
And for Randolph Morton it had been a pecul.
iarly enlightening week, for he had discovered how
lonely and unhappy and restless he could be by him-
self, and how secure and calm and contented he
could be by simply having Elsa near him. More
and more his convalescent days divided themselves
into the happy, living periods of Elsa's visits and
the shadowy periods of only anticipation or re-
membrance.
On this, his last day, he struggled into his cloth-
ing. For several days he had been sitting up; the
TE
271


272 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
ul.
day before he had walked the corridors; today he
was to be discharged. The surgeons assured him
that with a few weeks of rest he would be quite him-
self again.
Morton was glad to get out. In his heart he
knew that he was lucky to be out-out and a free
man. Fenner had perceived the truth about the tag.
Morton wondered how, but much more he wondered
why the investigator, through Elsa, had warned
him. It was a warning well taken, he reflected, for
Bryce had been curiously insistent with his questions.
Even yet Morton dared not feel absolutely sure that
the inspector was wholly satisfied. But why? What
had he ever done for Maxwell Fenner? For the
hundredth time he put the perplexing question from
his mind, unanswered. He would see Fenner at the
first chance and try to find out. That was all he
could do.
They had refused to disturb his mind with de-
tails, but he had learned that Borden, arrested for
the bank theft, had been killed in an attempt to
escape. That was all he knew and he was not un-
naturally consumed with a tremendous curiosity for
more details.
There was a warning tap on the door and it was
pushed cautiously open. A girl, a stranger to Mor-
ton, thrust her head through the opening and, see-
ing him alone, asked: "Is this Mr. Randolph Mor.
ton?”
“Yes,” Morton affirmed, curious.
She crossed the room and held out an envelope.
"Mr. Maxwell Fenner instructed me to hand you


274 THE BANK VAULT MYSTERY
smiled. He smiled to think that Fenner, with all
his astuteness, had believed the message necessary.
He tore the card into tiny bits which he dropped
into the waste basket. When Elsa came to see him
a short time later she found him standing before the
window gazing serenely out.
THE END


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