A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY


BY JACKSON GREGORY
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOT
THE HOUSE OF THE OPAL
EMERALD TRAILS
CAPTAIN CAVALIER
THE DESERT THOROUGHBRED
THE MAID OF THE MOUNTAIN
TIMBER-WOLF
THE EVERLASTING WHISPER
DESERT VALLEY
MAN TO MAN
LADYFINGERS
THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN
JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS


A Case for
Mr. Paul Savoy
By
JACKSON GREGORY
Author of
The House of the Opal
Being the first case of Mr. Paul Savoy

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1933


Copyright, 1933, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
AU rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced in any form without
the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons
A


TO
LOTUS
My dear Critic on the Hearth and co-worker
upon this book, who has joined hands with me
in so many Delectable Enterprises of which the
Major One was launched Twenty-Two Years
ago today.
December 20, 1932.





A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY





2 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
they lay glimmering in long glories across the dark
water; jewelled lights, reds and greens and yellows.
"San Francisco! Ah!"
Like a lovely, seductive and most alluringly mysteri-
ous lady, maintained Laufer-Hirth. Look at her enwrap-
ping herself in the white veilings of her misty cloak,
provocatively assuming her little fleecy mask, her laugh-
ing bright eyes shining through, her gems gleaming
softly. Barbaric she was yet splendid, adorned with
emeralds and diamonds and rubies and topazes, alter-
nately revealing herself and hiding, enigmatic and silent
or whispering secret things. The Lady of Adventure,
of Romance, of Mystery he called her, vowing that in
all things she was like a beautiful woman at the most
interesting and appealing age, young enough to promise
all that her sex connotes, old enough to wear a Mona
Lisa smile.
Paul Savoy laughed lightly at his friend's rhapso-
dizings.
"The Siren of the West, eh, Amos? So be it. But
those flashes of warm colors are not from the jewels
she wears, though you in your trade could make noth-
ing else of them! Your Siren is merely making ready
the banquet table for the unwary guests who are for-
ever coming, and you see the reflected hues from the
vintages she sets out in crystal glasses, the green of
creme de menthes, the red of sparkling burgundies, the
yellow of chartreuse and apricot brandies, the white
glitter of frothing champagne."
Laufer-Hirth laughed too.
"Even you can't deny her domino and her eyes laugh-
ing through the mask, nor yet her seduction and lure
and promise; certainly not her mystery."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
3
2
The Embarcadero extended like a broad moat be-
tween the wharves and the line of shops which re-
mained reminiscent of those vanished saloons wherein
sailor men of another day quaffed their tall schooners
of steam beer. Already the incoming white fog in-
vaded it, eddying about housetops like swirls of smoke,
here and there taking on a milky, opalescent sheen
where the street lights shone through. Accompanying
the two friends were their two secretaries taking care
of the several bags, while the four awaited the ap-
proach of the big car already coming to meet them.
From among the shadows on the pier behind them
a figure moved unostentatiously toward them, that of
a short, stocky man with the collar of a gray raglan
coat pulled up about his ears and with a gray slouch
hat drawn forward so as to hide most of his face. He
advanced within a dozen paces of them, glanced in
their direction, swerved abruptly and went on his way
toward the line of taxicabs in front of the Ferry Build-
ing. For only an instant the diffused light had re-
vealed something of his face.
"It's Gateway!" exclaimed one of the four, a thin,
wiry, dark man, Paul Savoy's secretary.
He spoke sharply as though startled by something
unpleasant, and the others turned to stare after the
departing figure until it was lost in the crowd just now
hurrying ashore from an Oakland boat. Andregg, the
man who had spoken, kept on staring even after the
individual who had startled him was swallowed up in
the throng. Savoy looked at his secretary curiously,
and said as he groped with blurred memory:


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
5
"Breathe deep, man!" he exclaimed, and filled his
own lungs with a long breath. "Ah, that's good!
We've sniffed tropical islands and ocean spume, but
there's nothing like the whiffs you get along the water-
front here. With my eyes shut I'd know where I was.
There's only one San Francisco, my boy—and you can
plank your last dollar down on the bet that until the
world's end there'll never be another to hold a candle
to her!"
"Have I taken a snake to my bosom?" grinned
Savoy. "Here I thought myself safe with a friend,
the very prince of jewel-merchants, and he emits
sounds like a California real estate agent! And besides,
you haven't told me what you mean by a coincidence."
"Shut up!" rumbled Laufer-Hirth good-humoredly.
"Listen and you'll hear the voice of the city. Look how
the fog curls in and sweeps along Market Street; look
at the lights reflected on the wet sidewalks. Do you
happen to realize that one of the most wonderful sights
in the world is the shimmer of wet sidewalks in a city
at night? Here we swing into the traffic— Man
alive, I even love the taxis in this town!"
"A greater love hath no man than that," chuckled
Savoy.
3
Upon the topmost of the marble steps of one of
those old four-story "mansions" which gave Nob Hill
its vaunted exclusiveness of the late '6o's and '70's,
Laufer-Hirth jerked off his hat and made Paul Savoy
one of his funny fat little bows, as he exclaimed
heartily:
"It is here, my boy, on the doorstep of my home,
that I want to thank you for two things: For having


6 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
permitted me to be your guest during some of the hap-
piest months of my life; now for allowing me to play
host. Our roles change as we step across the threshold.
That is fine! It was right that you should lead me
among pleasant places in the South Seas; it is also
right that I should be the one to present you to our
San Francisco."
The old home occupying so commanding a position
on the hilltop had been built by Amos Laufer-Hirth's
father, a gold and silversmith from Alsace-Lorraine
who had been drawn westward by tall tales of gold in
1853, who had amassed a fortune and had expressed
himself extravagantly here on Nob Hill. Here the
present Laufer-Hirth was born, and here, because of a
rich vein of sentiment in him, he had dwelt on through
changing times and had left things as they were.
Stoutly intrenched in his strategic position of a bach-
elor at sixty-five, he occupied the big house alone save
for his Chinese cook, his two Chinese house-boys and
his American chauffeur.
"Here an atmosphere of other days makes its last
stand," he sighed as the door opened to them. "It is as
good as a little island itself, Paul. And now we are
at home."
Savoy had glimpsed in the small yard an enormous
fountain and an oversized antlered deer that might
have been either bronze or cast iron and which looked
wet and shiny-black and cheerlessly philosophical. Now,
with the door open, he passed into a large hall softly
lighted and saw a truly noble old staircase with darkly
glistening handrail and newel posts of carved mahog-
any winding upward. Doors on the ground floor stood
closed on both sides of the hall; the brightest light


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
7
came from above and was gaily invitational. Laufer-
Hirth slipped his hand through his friend's arm, waved
his crumpled hat genially at a grinning Chinese boy,
sang out to him: "Hello, Taune! Home again!" and
led the way up the broad stairway. Only then he re-
membered the two secretaries who had followed at his
heels, and called down genially to them: "Come ahead,
boys. Will, you don't need to be told you're at home
again; Andregg, old fellow, put yourself into Will
Little's hands and make your wants known."
The stairs brought them to a second spacious hall-
way, thickly carpeted in rich green, and to still another
winding staircase leading upward. It was at the top
of the house that its owner was at home to his most
intimate friends. Far below, on the ground floor, was
a dark and somewhat stuffy drawing-room where he at
times permitted himself to be bored by acquaintances.
He lived above and it was there that he was making
haste, puffing with the climb, to bring his friend of
friends.
The rooms were large with wide doors connecting
them; the lights were very gay, the furniture, though
prone to massiveness, was no less inviting to comfort-
able usage. Carrying his portly bulk lightly on small,
shapely feet Laufer-Hirth hurried to a large plate-
glass window and let the shade go up like an explo-
sion.
"Out there, the bay—Taune!" he called over his
shoulder. "Turn all but one of the lights out—and
down below us, Paul, a good three hundred feet be-
neath the soles of your shoes, lies Chinatown sprawling
over a dozen blocks with its temples and pagodas and
what-not; a dozen blocks above ground and the Lord


8
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
knows how many underground," he added with a
chuckle. "Oh, the old mole-runs of before the Earth-
quake are still there, and there are new ones, too."
Savoy peered forth as directed but saw only a white
ocean of fog ever thickening, with little blurry dim
specks of light shining wanly through it.
Somewhere nearby a telephone rang. Will Little
hastened to answer it. Neither Savoy nor Laufer-
Hirth, busy getting out of their coats, paid either tele-
phone or Little any attention.
"Speaking of coincidence—" said Savoy thought-
fully, and Laufer-Hirth cried, "Avast there! I know
you and your speculations. And I'm not going to be
switched off to Detective Gateway on a home-coming
night. We're going to have a Scotch all 'round
and"
Will Little, trying to look unconcerned, came back
from the telephone and Laufer-Hirth broke off short,
saying, "Well? Whoever it is can't you tend to
him?"
"I tried," said the secretary. "But"
"Gateway?" exclaimed Savoy.
Little nodded.
"He's down at the corner cigar-store. He wanted to
know if he could drop in for a minute. He asked par-
ticularly for you, Mr. Savoy."
Savoy brooded; his remarkably brilliant blue eyes
dropped to the equally blue star sapphire which he
always wore on the ring finger of his left hand, and
during a brief silence which fell heavy in the big room
he appeared unconscious of the other men who were
watching him curiously. Not a man of them all had
any very pleasant memories of Gateway.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 9
Suddenly Savoy jerked up his head and looked at his
secretary, Andregg, and at last a queer smile flitted
across his dark face.
"Would it be any satisfaction to you, Tony, old
man," he said lightly, "to step to the phone and tell
Gateway to go take a running jump into the bay?"
Andregg's large black eyes flashed and two pinkish
spots of color came into his cheeks, but he answered
quietly:
"After all, Mr. Savoy, Gateway had some reason
for the attitude he took with me." His eyes became
almost like those of a faithful dog as they clung to his
employer's. "If you hadn't taken so kind an interest
in me"
"Nonsense. You were a sick man, that was all."
"A drug addict," said Andregg calmly, "as both Mr.
Laufer-Hirth and Will Little know. If you hadn't
taken me on this cruise and fought the fight out with
"We licked the enemy, too, didn't we? Eh, Tony?"
Savoy's smile grew warm; he knew that he had never
done a better job in his life. "Well? Why shouldn't
we see Gateway then? Will you tell him to come ahead,
Tony?—All right, Amos?"
"Right as rain! And after all, we did meet up with
Gateway under circumstances which had us all on edge.
—Taune!"
Taune had loitered within earshot and knew what
it was all about; here he came on silent feet bearing a
tray on which glasses twinkled and jingled musically.
There was an enormous fireplace at a far end of the
room with an oak fire blazing and crackling; Savoy
stepped to it and stood warming his hands and looking


10
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
at his host with the black lines of his brows cocked
up quizzically.
"Since you won't discuss coincidences with me," he
said with an odd gleam in his eyes, "you'll have to
listen to Gateway's explanation."
"Coincidence, your foot," snorted the jeweller, and
began pouring Scotch after his generous fashion. "I
suppose Gateway heard we were expected, and went
down to the pier to make sure."
"Exactly," nodded Savoy.
4
A very vital sort of young man was Paul Savoy,
and just now in the lively, intelligent blue eyes wide-
spaced in a fine, thin, intellectual face under a broad,
high and thoughtful brow was a gleam of some secret
thought or speculation which bespoke an eager and
alert interest. Awaiting the arrival of the detective he
stood with his glass forgotten in his hand as he stared
out at the fog which was so rapidly obscuring the
twinkling lights far below.
He was not long kept waiting. Taune ushered Gate-
way into the room, saw that there were chairs and van-
ished. Gateway, stepping through the doorway, stood
a moment stone-still, his inordinately shrewd eyes
speeding from face to face as he took in the four men
in the room. Fresh-colored, sandy-haired, square-
visaged, he was nattily dressed and yet managed to
convey the impression of a well-groomed bulldog.
There were times when that impression was accentu-
ated; when, as had been remarked of him, he was less
like a man who looked like a bulldog than a bulldog


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
II
superficially resembling a human being. Just now
however the wide mouth was smiling and the heavy
jaw somewhat softened.
"Hello, Gateway," said Laufer-Hirth, the first to
speak, and came forward to shake hands. "You're
right on the dot; we were just having a drink."
"Glad to see you, Mr. Laufer-Hirth," said Gateway
warmly. Still smiling he added: "Though I once made
a mess of things you've got to give me some credit in
my profession; knowing you as I do, I was pretty sure
there might be something to drink to celebrate your
getting home."
He stepped briskly to Savoy at the window, his hand
outstretched.
"Once I tried to knock your block off and you put
me down with a smash in the jaw," he said with a
grin. "I hope you're not holding that against me?"
"We were a pretty raw-nerved crowd, if I remem-
ber rightly," laughed Savoy.
The detective turned next to Will Little with whom
he shook hands somewhat casually, and only then faced
Anthony Andregg.
"I say!" he exclaimed gruffly. "I wouldn't know you
for the same man! You look fit as a fiddle and— Con-
found it, Andregg, I'm sorry for what happened.
Haven't I already admitted that I made a mess of
things? I'd like to apologize, you know."
Andregg, though he flushed up, bore himself well.
Savoy, knowing how deep the man's shame was for his
past, hastened to draw the detective's attention to him-
self. As all found chairs he said lightly:
"Who told you we were due to-night?"
"Even if you think I am a bum detective," laughed


12
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Gateway, straightening up after sniffing the bouquet
of his glass, "you'll admit that I'm smart enough to
read a newspaper. It was spread all over the front
page a couple of days ago that the young millionaire
yachtman, Mr. Paul Savoy, with San Francisco's fore-
most diamond-merchant, were on the way home. I
guess it leaked out from Mr. Laufer-Hirth's office
here."
"And so you made yourself a committee of one to
welcome us at the pier and then decided we didn't need
any welcoming?"
. "Saw me, did you? Well, I wasn't hiding at that.
And—" He broke off and hitched his chair back a
little way so that he could have a better view of Savoy
without turning his back on the others. "Do you be-
lieve in coincidences, Mr. Savoy?"
Laufer-Hirth jumped as though a bee had stung
him.
"That's funny," he said.
"What's funny?" demanded Gateway, mystified.
"Never mind," laughed Savoy. "What's on your
mind, Gateway?"
"Two-three things, Mr. Savoy." He sniffed his
drink again, and the others, as though awaiting this
signal, at last partook of Laufer-Hirth's sovereign
remedy for all the lesser and most of the greater ills.
"I wanted just to chin with you for ten minutes if I
found you willing. You and I ain't friends exactly and
I guess you'd say we never could be; just the same
I'm a well-meaning, square-shooting guy, and I don't
figure you as up-stage and stand-offish."
"By all means let's 'chin,'" agreed Savoy, all the
while wondering what the man was up to.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
13
"Anything private?" asked Laufer-Hirth.
"About as private as last week's newspaper I was
talking about," returned the detective. "That's the
best Scotch I ever tasted, Mr. Laufer-Hirth.—It's this
way, Mr. Savoy: You see I didn't do what I threat-
ened to do when you made me look like a monkey; I
didn't give up my line of business because I'd pulled
a boner. I'm still at it. Right now I'm on the homicide
squad here in town, and interesting things are always
popping up. I got to thinking over the way you doped
things out up yonder at that Madman's Mansion place;
I've thought a whole lot of a certain theory of yours;
I said at the time it was all moonshine and poppycock
—but it brought home the bacon. That's what I've got
in mind to-night; your way of figuring things out, and
that's what I wanted to talk about."
Laufer-Hirth's laugh was at times, as now, a sort
of chortling-chuckling noise which welled up in a low
rumble.
"Paul Savoy's theories!" he exclaimed. "Why,
Gateway, he's as full of theories as my shoes are full
of feet; he makes himself new ones every morning
before breakfast, spinning 'em out as fast as a spider
makes a web and then forgetting all about them! I
warn you to look out for him when he starts theoriz-
ing; nine chances out of ten he's just on a mental jag
and doesn't believe a word he's saying."
"I know," said Gateway soberly. "But when a thing
sticks in my head, it sticks. Something he said up
there in the woods has been turning over in my mind
ever since. You see," and only then he turned back to
Savoy, "in my business all kinds of new cases keep
popping up day after day, some with clues all over


14 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
them, some with clues darned hard to find.—See what
I'm getting at?" he asked sharply.
"Vaguely," smiled Savoy. "We didn't see eye to eye
the value of 'clues,' did we?"
"I fall down on the job sometimes," continued Gate-
way woodenly. "All us boys do. There are cases right
along that never get solved. I've been thinking them
over; they're cases, Mr. Savoy, that didn't get solved
because there weren't any clues to work on. That's a
fact."
"Sounds reasonable," conceded Savoy, eyeing him
narrowly. "But what has any theorizing of mine got
to do with the matter?"
"You said—and I want to know if you were just
spoofing, as Mr. Laufer-Hirth says you do a lot—that
in what you called the 'little workshop of the mind'
there were already the answers to all sorts of riddles,
and you said too," and Gateway's bulldog expression
became more decided, "that if a guy knew how to do
him a good job of straight thinking he could say, 'Hell
with the clues,' and go ahead just the same!"
Savoy shrugged. Andregg spoke up, saying quietly:
"In the case we all have in mind, Mr. Gateway, there
were all kinds of clues and they did no one any good
in getting the truth."
"That's what I'm talking about," said Gateway, and
sounded eager. "The more clues, the harder to come
at the truth; that's what Mr. Savoy said! Working
that backward, would you say, Mr. Savoy, that the
fewer clues, the easier the case?"
Savoy laughed, and said gaily: "Touche! You nail
me there, eh, Gateway? You take my theorem and
arrive at your conclusion by the good old reductio ad


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
absurdam method.—Well, at that," and he grew grave
on the instant, "I wouldn't say you aren't right. The
trouble is that I'm very much afraid that in every case
which comes up to your Homicide Bureau there are all
sorts of clues; one without them would be singularly
refreshing"
"And possible of solution?" Gateway shot the ques-
tion at him like a bullet.
Up went Savoy's brows.
"A challenge, eh? You're setting a trap for me, are
you? You've got a case that has you stuck—and you're
going to make me eat crow or you'll pin the jackass's
ears on me this trip?"
"You said it," returned Gateway grimly. "I've got
a case on my hands that's driving me nuts. It's a case
with no answer. And me, being out on a limb, having
tried everything that God gave me brains enough to
think of— Well," and he sat back and jammed his
fists into his pockets and looked downright surly and
sullen and ugly, his jaw shoved out belligerently, "I'm
doing to-night what they say a drowning man does;
grabbing at a straw, any straw"
"Or even cobweb," mused Savoy.
"Damn it, yes!" cried Gateway. Once he had given
up beating about the bush he became his forthright
self and travelled the whole road at a bound. "I said
your theories were cock-eyed and all full of holes,
didn't I? I said you were a nut and maybe worse—
and you said there wasn't anything worse than being
a fool. I called you all the things I could think of,
and I meant every one of 'em. And now?" He laughed
ruefully. "I'm beat and I tell you that I'm running
around in circles in a case that hasn't got any answer—


16 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
and so I take the long shot and say to you that if you
were just bluffing with all that talk of yours, well that
was your privilege; but that if you meant a single
word of it I've got the one case on earth that will show
whether you just played at beginner's luck in that affair
up in the woods—or whether you can find the answer
where I swear there ain't any answer!"
He reached for his hat and got to his feet.
"Am I to go now?" he demanded, still sounding
truculent. "I admit at the start I wouldn't have come
in the first place if this thing hadn't already driven me
crazy.—Or," he half sneered, half pleaded, "will you
listen to what I've on my mind?"
Laufer-Hirth snorted.
"Will a cat lap cream?" he demanded.
Savoy, after a long sharp glance at Gateway's suf-
fused face, sank back in his chair and thrust his legs
out to the blaze.
"You interest me strangely," he said with a purely
devilish sort of grin. "Amos, old boy, are the cigars
coming up? Let's get 'em going and harken to what
Gateway calls a riddle without an answer! As though
there could be a riddle if there wasn't an answer!"
Gateway sat down with a grunt. He meant it to be
clear that he wasn't a fool who trusted to getting any-
thing helpful from Paul Savoy—just a drowning man
snatching at anything offering itself, whether straw,
cobweb or moonbeam.
5
"A man gets bumped off," said Gateway. "Me, I
want to know who croaked him."
"A thoroughly commendable curiosity, considering


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
17
your vocation," nodded Savoy. "Who was this man
that got bumped off?"
"Don't know," said Gateway gloomily.
"Where was he killed?"
"Don't know," said Gateway.
"When?"
"Don't know!"
A frown of intense concentration darkened Savoy's
eyes then. Until now Gateway had hardly invaded the
outer rim of his interest; all of a sudden he was enor-
mously intrigued.
"Are you sure," he said sarcastically, "that some
man actually was killed?"
"Yeah," growled Gateway. "And that's about all
that I am sure of."
"A stranger done to death, and you don't know
where, when, why, or by whom? Docketed in the
Homicide Department as the Mystery of the Unknown
Victim!—At least you know what sort of a man he
was?"
"Average," grunted Gateway disgustedly. It was
clear enough that he had played a part on first arriving,
managing under severe restraint to appear urbane and
affable whereas inwardly he was under stress; now he
glared out of angry eyes and spoke almost savagely.
"You couldn't find a more average man if you went
out gunning for one; there are millions like him.
Neither young nor old, neither fat nor skinny, not dark
and not fair and neither tall nor short—damn him, he
even had an average hair-cut and finger nails!"
"So you sat back on your haunches and howled, I
suppose," said Savoy. "That done, you rifled his pockets
and found—nothing?"


18 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
A queer sort of grin stamped itself on Gateway's
square visage; he opened his mouth to say one thing
and quite obviously decided on another as he answered:
"I didn't find anything in his pockets."
"So then you sat back on your haunches again and
did your best to size him up by the way he was
dressed?"
"Guessed wrong for once!" jeered Gateway. "I
didn't pay any particular attention to his clothes."
"You amaze me! You mean you didn't look for
tailors' tags and laundry marks? For initialled cuff-
buttons and handkerchiefs? For a certain kind of clay
on his shoes and a lodge seal on his ring? If you
started out to mystify me, you've done it! You of all
men, didn't examine the man's clothes"
"He didn't have any," said Gateway and his fea-
tures relaxed only slightly for a fleeting, sombre smile.
Savoy lay back deeper and deeper in his big chair,
his eyes unblinking on Gateway; Gateway's other lis-
teners, Laufer-Hirth and Will Little and Andregg, sat
on the edges of their chairs, leaning forward, tense.
Savoy flicked the new ash off his cigar absent-
mindedly.
"Sounds as though it had all the makings of a
riddle," he said crisply. "And riddles do have answers!
Let's have it, Gateway; I'll not interrupt again."
6
"It won't take me all night to tell all I know about
it," said Gateway. "On the eighth of this same month,
which is to say eleven days ago, a taxi pulls up in front
of the Ferry Building at about 2 145 in the morning.


20 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"During the nearly two weeks which have followed
the discovery of the thing," suggested Savoy thought-
fully, "what have you done, Gateway?"
"For a couple days I chased all over the map. Since
then I've mostly sucked my thumb until it's raw."
"Waiting for Paul to get home?" put in Laufer-
Hirth.
"That's what I meant by coincidence," muttered
Gateway. "It did seem kind of funny, him popping up
just when a case like this was pulled off."
"See any light, Paul?" asked the jeweller.
All the light which Savoy at the moment saw was
in the fireplace on which his eyes were fixed moodily.
"I think that Gateway is fully justified in putting it
up to me," he said slowly. "I did do a lot of talking
and no doubt, quite as usual, said a lot of sheer non-
sense. He has called my bluff, that's all."
"So it was only bluff then?" demanded Gateway,
at once jeering and clearly disappointed.
"Oh, I suppose I was honest enough at the time.
And I won't say that there aren't possibilities lying
along the purely psychological lines I laid down."
Frowning, he fell to staring into the depths of his
star sapphire; Gateway, hunched forward on the edge
of his chair, eyed him with a queer anxious eagerness.
From Savoy's face the detective's eyes shifted almost
furtively to the gem in the ring, a glorious deep-blue
sapphire which at an earlier time had come to have a
strange fascination for him. It would be hard to find
a more matter-of-fact man than Detective Gateway;
show him the first hazy glimpse of the supernatural
and, were it at midnight among yawning graves, he'd
have the thing by the throat with those two hard hands


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
21
of his. Common-sense was Gateway's god. Supersti-
tion he openly jeered at. And yet, in that furtive
glance at the sapphire, there was something very much
like awe thinly veiled.
No other precious stone like it had he ever seen—
and there had been times in the past when the creepy
feeling stole over this most matter-of-fact Gateway
that "the damn' thing was alive!" and was actually the
home, as ancient tales had it, of a living spirit. Now
as Savoy's blue-veined hand stirred ever so slightly the
star shone and throbbed and vanished in the sapphire;
the blue depths changed in color in the lamplight and
took on a rich violet hue; the jewel became amethys-
tine; a little light seemed to flicker and move with
a movement which was like breathing at the intersec-
tion of the three lines which, so Laufer-Hirth had
once told him, stood for Faith, Hope and Destiny.—
Gateway knew that Paul Savoy would as soon think
of stirring abroad without his shoes as without his
ring on his finger; he knew from those other days
that there were those moments of silence and of ab-
straction when Savoy, his eyes upon the sapphire,
seemed to commune with a spirit . All hooey and prunes
and applesauce, in Gateway's homely way of speaking
—but just the same when a man started out grabbing
at straws he might as well grab full-handedly! And
it was odd, the way that Paul Savoy, after a period
of intense brooding caught glimpses of truths hidden
from other men.
Now suddenly Savoy jerked his head up and his
flashing eyes met Gateway's defiantly.
"Your case may present its difficulties, purely be-
cause it lies out of your ordinary experience," he said


22
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
with an edge to his voice. "I'd say, however, that
you're exaggerating when you call it impossible. Noth-
ing is, you know."
Gateway promptly rendered his face blank, save for
a hint of cynicism.
"Words!" he snorted.
"To be sure," retorted Savoy, and it seemed to the
detective that his eyes grew brighter. "Amos here
would tell you that in words there is power"! But you,
for your part, are a man of deeds! You'd be up and
doing?"
"It might be a good idea to run down to Head-
quarters and ask for my time before the Old Man can
fire me," said Gateway, ponderously humorous.
"Oh, don't do that yet; there's always time before
a man jumps off a cliff.—How about Gateway staying
to dine, Amos?"
"Fine," said their host. "You will, won't you, Gate-
way?"
Instead of looking at him Gateway kept his bright
penetrating glance on Savoy's grave face. Savoy gave
him no sign, but after a moment the detective said:
"Oh, all right. Sure I'll stay.—Thanks, Mr. Laufer-
Hirth."


CHAPTER II
1
"I've a notion," said Paul Savoy dreamily when
after dining well and leisurely the five men returned
to the fireplace and their big chairs, "that this case of
Detective Gateway's should prove extremely interesting
—and quite simple!"
"Oh, my eye!" gasped Gateway.
At table, due to Paul Savoy's insistent steering of
conversation in any direction but one, it had appeared
that he had dismissed the subject of the Unknown Vic-
tim utterly from his mind. Now it became manifest
that he had been thinking of it pretty consistently. He
lighted an after-dinner cigar with great care, nodded
his approval of it to Laufer-Hirth, made himself ex-
tremely comfortable in his chair and observed:
"Eleven days ago a certain unidentified man was
found in a taxi before the Ferry Building, shot to
death. Detective Gateway was put on the case imme-
diately. He gave himself up to it heart and soul, full
of his characteristic vigor and determination. Knowing
Gateway as we do we may be sure that he had the
Unknown Victim photographed and measured and
weighed and finger-printed. He encouraged the re-
porters to make a whale of a story of it. He gave
the taxicab driver about two hours of agony. He even
grilled the man who had elected to ride in that par-
ticular taxi, and found out all about him. He had a
23


24
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
thorough investigation made of the two gunshot
wounds by the proper expert at headquarters. He
and the police surgeon went into session. He there-
after haunted the morgue, praying for identification.
And then he began, as he has told us, sucking his
thumb"
"And cussing," amended Gateway. "If there are
words with power, I used 'em, believe me!"
"From one diing and another," resumed Savoy, "you
assured yourself it was a case of murder and not of
suicide. The wounds themselves, the fact that there
was no weapon in the taxi— Oh, you made that clear
enough, didn't you?"
"It's murder, all right," said Gateway.
"We have then," ran on Savoy thoughtfully, "cer-
tain facts to start with, facts, my dear Gateway, and
not silly-ass clues. That's one reason why I maintain
that, once we use our wits, it ought to be straight sail-
ing to the solution of the thing. The facts are that
the murdered man was found in a taxi in front of the
Ferry Building at forty-five minutes after two o'clock
in the morning of the eighth day of the month, that
he had been shot to death, that he was a certain type
of individual, and that there wasn't as much blood as
you expected to find in the taxi."
"He didn't say anything about blood," put in Laufer-
Hirth.
"That's easy enough," Gateway hurried to explain.
"He remembered that I did say we didn't know where
this guy was murdered."
"Obvious," said Savoy. "Those are the facts to
begin with, I think? Next comes the added fact that
to date, eleven days or more since the crime, no one


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
25
has stepped up to identify the victim. And this de-
spite still another significant fact that the newspapers
gave the thing wide publicity under screaming head-
lines."
"Obvious again," nodded the watchful and vaguely
suspicious Gateway. "Sail on, Captain."
"Oh, we don't start sailing so soon, Matey! We've
got to get our anchor up out of the ooze first, and
clear harbor. And we need to set some point to steer
for ahead." He nestled deeper down into his chair
and was silent a moment, staring moodily into vacancy.
"In a consideration of this kind there are so many
conceivable points of departure," he said at last, "that
a man doesn't know where to start! He's like the
jackass among the piles of hay. Shall we concern
ourselves with the victim first? Or with his slayer?
Or with the taxi itself, and its peregrinations during
the night? The taxi driver, of course, suggests a nat-
ural and tangible beginning for investigation; but of
course Gateway has already found out all about
him."
"I sure have," said Gateway. "His name is Pete
Carpenter; he's steady enough; got a family and all
that. He'd been 'way out by the Park; dropped a late
passenger there and came back to town. Drove along
Lincoln Way, turned into Stanyan, cut across to Sev-
enteenth, into Market and down to the ferry. He
stopped three times; to grab a cup of coffee at a little
cafe out by the Park, to take on gas at a service sta-
tion, to phone into the office on Market; I can tell you
every stop he made and every word he said"
"I know you can.—It just strikes me, Gateway,"
said Savoy with a glint of humor in his eyes, "that


26
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
you and I would make a great team! One of us to
do all the hard work chasing around and picking up
information of all sorts, the other to sit at his ease and
talk nonsense!—Well, let's forget your Mr. Peter Car-
penter for the moment"
"You can forget that bonehead for the rest of your
life," said Gateway with conviction. "He don't know
a thing about it all. And one thing is sure, he didn't
do the killing."
"No? Sure of it? Well, that's a step in the right
direction, isn't it? It's your pet method, I believe, to
suspect everybody, then to eliminate one by one"
"Yah! He's out. That leaves us only about a hun-
dred million other people to suspect!"
"Surely you're unduly pessimistic, Gateway! Your
police surgeon couldn't say definitely when the man was
killed, but he must have made some sort of estimate?
The murder happened within striking distance of San
Francisco, didn't it? I don't know the exact population
of this Siren of Cities," and he glanced smiling at
Laufer-Hirth, "but I hazard that the various cities
about the bay would aggregate only a million or so.
Just think, my dear man; here's another enormous
stride you've made! You've eliminated at one gesture
some ninety-nine million suspects. Verily, you're mak-
ing progress, narrowing down the field of investigation
wonderfully!"
"And it ought to be dead easy with only about a
million folks under suspicion to pick out the right one!"
said Gateway caustically.
"To be sure.—Where'll we begin, Gateway? With
the man we'll call, for want of his name, the Unknown
Victim? Or with the man we'll distinguish for the
moment as your Master Criminal?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 27
"Are you guying me?" demanded Gateway.
"I am not guying you."
"I tell you I don't know a darned thing about either
of them!"
"And I tell you that, if you only knew it, you know
a lot about both!"
"All I've done is asked myself a thousand questions
about both, and they've all been questions that didn't
have any answers!"
"I wonder! I've a theory"
"What did I tell you?" muttered Laufer-Hirth sotto
voce.
"What I was going to say," continued Savoy, looking
at Gateway abstractedly, "is that it is a funny thing
that when a man wants to know something, he can't
seem to realize that all he has to do is ask himself
questions! That the answer to the question lies in
actually putting that question into definite form! I
have Scriptural assurance; 'Ask, and it shall be given
you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be
opened unto you.'—I'll put it this way: The sorts of
questions we'd be apt to ask at a moment like this
constitute a series of definite problems. Mathematical
problems, if you like, in which the solutions are predi-
cated upon whatever facts are taken as the bases of
the problems themselves. Take a simple example: Say,
if a car goes steadily at forty miles an hour, how long
will it require to travel eighty miles? That's the ques-
tion, and in that question itself lies the solution."
Gateway hunched still farther forward, his eyes nar-
rowing and narrowing, bright and eager and very, very
suspicious. Had he been the drowning man that he
proclaimed himself he could not have been more alert
for any faint promise of salvation.


28
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Let's ask ourselves some questions, then," he said
under his breath.
"Bravo, Gateway! And let's begin boldly. The
Unknown Victim came all unasked into our midst; he
is the one who brought us our riddle. So let's begin
with him and ask, 'Who was he?'"
"Let's ask it!" said Gateway. "I've done so a time
or two, but let's remember what we learned at school:
If at first we don't succeed, let's try, try again!"
"Why, Gateway! That's the one and only slogan
for us in a case like this! Good man. Here we go:
'Who was he?'"
"Don't know, unfortunately. Don't know a damn'
thing about him."
"Don't make such sweeping assertions," said Savoy
with the sigh of a man determined to be patient. "What
do you want to do, help me or destroy all my confi-
dence just as I'm trying to get it under steam? This
is a purely mental exercise we're indulging in; let's
get our brains to functioning like scientists in their
laboratories, eager and alert and sure that in due course
our continued patient investigation is going to lead us
to the truth." A faint smile took some of the edge off
his words as he concluded bluntly: "Either think with
me, open your mind to the dim light and shut it to the
outer darkness—or get the devil out of here and blun-
der along in your own way."
Gateway flushed and bit his lip. Then he said stonily:
"I'm with you, Mr. Savoy. Let's go."
Savoy, whom Gateway had a knack of rubbing the
wrong way, was silent for a time, but gradually he
forgot the personal equation of Detective Gateway, and
grew obsessed with his speculations.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
29
"You and I, Gateway, are so essentially different,"
he said soberly, "that we cannot hope possibly to get
along together unless we walk warily from the outset.
Therefore I am going to indicate to you the sort of
method, as yet vague and tenuous in my mind, which
suggests itself as having possibilities in the direction
of a solution to your problem. It will then be up to
you; you'll either make up your mind to travel along
my road with me or to seek elsewhere for the light.—
To begin with, we're very frankly going to indulge in
sheer speculation."
"You mean—just guesswork?" asked Gateway hesi-
tantly and almost timidly.
Savoy considered the point at length; for a long
while he sat silent and frowning, so long in fact that
Gateway began to regret having spoken, fearing that
he had offended. At last Savoy rose from his chair
and thrust a hand into his pocket.
"Maybe I can make it clear this way—I tell you,"
he exclaimed sharply, and again with a hint of irrita-
tion, "that I'm just groping as yet! Get that in mind;
don't expect me to leap to any great conclusion at a
single bound.—We'll start with these two coins." One
was a dime, the other a ten-dollar goldpiece which
Savoy, for some obscure whim, had carried for years.
He showed them to Gateway, then stepped to the table
and slipped one of the coins under a book. Turning
again to the detective he said: "You saw the two coins;
you saw me put one on the table. Question: Which
one is under that book?"
Gateway, looking at him fixedly, his face curiously
sober, pondered and shrugged and said:
"It's a fifty-fifty break. I'll guess the gold coin."


30
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Savoy removed the book; Gateway, leaning forward,
saw that he had guessed right. It meant nothing to the
detective—and, perhaps not very much to Savoy him-
self who was merely beginning to dally with a new
theory!—and Gateway shrugged again, repeating:
"It was fifty-fifty"
Savoy returned to his chair and sat jingling the two
coins together.
"Yet you hit on the right answer," he said presently.
"Now I'll advance to the statement that our speculation
will carry all hazards of our making mistakes, but that
it will not be entirely guesswork—just as your selec-
tion of the goldpiece was not altogether plain guess-
work."
Gateway stared.
"I didn't see M
"You knew, though perhaps only subconsciously, that
I wanted to make a certain point; you knew, though
subconsciously, that in order to persuade you to follow
my line of reasoning, I wanted you to 'guess' right.
The goldpiece emphasized itself over the dime in every-
thing, in its value, brightness, beauty, rareness. A man
would naturally select it in any experiment. I did. You
spoke up to say the natural thing. It was not entire
guesswork; it partook somewhat, if in ever so little,
of what I am going to continue to call speculation.—
And I'd say that instead of being a fifty-fifty proposi-
tion, it was at least fifty-one to forty-nine in your
favor."
"Maybe," said Gateway. "Anyhow, I'm trying to
follow you."
"Now," continued Savoy, like a lecturer in his labora-
tory, "if I had propounded another question, if I had


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
31
said, 'Gateway, somewhere in the world right now a
man is putting a coin under a book,' and then if I had
demanded to know what the coin was, it would have
been different. You'd have realized that it might be
an Englishman with a shilling or a penny, a Frenchman
with a franc—an Eskimo with whatever he uses for
money—and you'd have had to make a wild guess.
And you'd have missed the answer. There we have
guessing as set against speculation."
"Blaze away," grunted the detective. "Got you so
far."
"We're going to speculate, then, on the Unknown
Victim. To get an answer to our question, 'Who was
he?', we'll start this way: He lived in San Francisco—
or he did not live in San Francisco? Which?"
"I'm trying to follow you, Mr. Savoy." There was
no doubting Gateway's profound sincerity now; his face
was puckered and earnest like an absorbed boy's. "Am
I to follow blind? Or am I, when I got something to
say, to speak up?"
"For the love of Heaven let's not have any blind
faith!" cried Savoy. "Say what's on your mind?"
"This second question of yours is like the one of the
two coins—there's just two things to choose between—
it's a fifty-fifty bet, as I said. The difference is that in
the case of the coins you could pick up the book and
I could see whether I was right or wrong! In this case
I make my guess, or we'll call it my speculation—and
how the devil am I to know whether I hit a bull's-eye
or missed it wide?"
"Fair enough," said Savoy equably. "Here's the
answer: We'll set ourselves several questions of the
type of the one I've just asked you. We'll form our


32 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
answers. From them gradually we'll build up some-
thing, if it's only a gigantic structure of moonbeams
and cobwebs! We'll get some kind of structure, and
some kind of a theory to account for this, that and the
other thing. Then, my dear fellow, we'll begin to check
and verify, or to check and find errors. And before
you're a day older than you are right now we'll find
both verifications and blunders—and we'll hit the
trail!"
Gateway started to shake his head vigorously but
caught himself up in time and changed a quick negation
to as vigorous a nodding. The one thing he was dead
set on was seeing this thing through, whether its name
be inspiration or nonsense.
"Let's spec," he said hastily.
2
Paul Savoy stared into his star sapphire like a man
in a trance. Gateway craned his neck for a glimpse of
the ring but subsided as Savoy began speaking.
"We start with facts and we go slowly: We say that
the Unknown Victim lived in San Francisco or did not
live in San Francisco. We have our choice with at
least an even chance to be right and are not long in
making up our minds: I'll hazard that he was what we
might call a stranger in town. He arrived, by train, I
think, some eleven or maybe twelve days ago. He was
not a common laborer; you'd have seen your precious
clues of that in his toil-begrimed hands and horny
palms. He was not a common hobo, or you'd have told
me. You looked at his skin and it was at least reason-
ably clean, and at his teeth and they were at least


34
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
one knows who he is—but because those who do know
have some reason for keeping still?"
"In that case," said Gateway sharply, "he might
have lived here after all!"
"To be sure," said Savoy, unruffled. "It merely be-
comes logical for us to weigh two possibilities. In this
matter-of-fact world, Gateway, which is the more rea-
sonable supposition: That the lack of identification on
the part of the public is due to ignorance or to some
mysterious conspiracy to keep still?"
"I see what you mean. It would be a fair bet to say
that he was unknown here. Just the same, the other
things could be true"
"Naturally. But mind you, this isn't the only ques-
tion we are going to ask ourselves. We'll formulate
others. We'll answer them as seems most logical.
We'll make mistakes, as I've promised you, but my
point is: Won't we be right part of the time? Possibly
even fifty per cent of the time? And if we are right
somewhere along the line, if even only ten per cent—
yes, one per cent!—we'll have our chance for verifica-
tion then! And if we establish a single fact about him,
it will lead to something else, won't it?"
Gateway nodded tentatively; it was going to take a
lot of verification to assure him that some of the cob-
webs and moonbeams in Savoy's structure were affixed
at one end or the other to tangible fact. But, doubting
Thomas that he was, there was no gainsaying that
Hope already had him by the hand.
"I maintain—purely to get started thinking, you
know—that he came to town the day he was killed,"
said Savoy. "Knowing you as I do, I am sure that
you went to every hotel in town, asking whether he


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
35
had shown up there; you even went further, naturally,
and asked whether some man had wired for reserva-
tions and hadn't appeared to claim them?"
"I did," said Gateway. "If you can show me a thing
I missed along our regular line, I'll eat my hat."
"He came by train, we'll say, though he could have
arrived by boat or even by plane— But of course you
checked on the plane passengers?"
"A lot of people come by car"
"You've checked at the regular auto-stage terminals;
you've assured yourself that no private car has been
left at any garage, unclaimed? Well, never mind how
he got here: For the present we'll say by train, and let
it go at that; most arrivals come that way. He came
on a bit of private business"
"I don't get that!" interrupted Gateway.
"I am going to repeat ad nauseam, so that you've
got to get a prime essential planted in your skull,"
snapped Savoy, "that I am admitting at the outset that
I am saying a lot of things that are wrong! I don't
give a hoot. Get that in your head, too. It is quite
likely that I am wrong in this last statement, but I
repeat it also, and bolster it up: I say that he came on
private business. For if he had represented some firm,
wouldn't he have communicated with his headquarters
within ten days? Wouldn't they have wondered about
him? Wouldn't they have tried to reach him by wire?
Wouldn't their letters to him have been accumulating
at some hotel—and wouldn't you have learned of them
before now? When they couldn't get any line on him
wouldn't they have wondered still further? Wouldn't
they have wired again and tried to get him on the
long-distance phone? In the end wouldn't they have


36 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
questioned the police? Eleven days it's been, you
know."
"We-ll," conceded Gateway slowly, "it's a fair bet.
Go ahead. Admitting that maybe we're wrong"
"He came on private business, then. That business
may have been merely vacation or may have been some
quite serious affair. Which?"
"Where we take a chance of coming an awful spill,"
said Gateway, pulling at his lip and letting it go with
a soft 'plop,' "is that we're building up questions based
on our first guesswork that he did come from any-
where instead of being here already!"
"Can't you get it into your head that we're prepared
to take a hundred awful spills?" demanded Savoy im-
patiently. "I'd think you'd prefer that to squatting and
sucking your sore thumb!"
"So I do," admitted Gateway hastily. He squinted
his shrewd eyes thoughtfully. "I'd say he didn't come
just to loaf and have a good time—that is," he amended
hastily, "if we're right in guessing that he didn't have
friends here"
"If he had friends he would probably have notified
them he was coming and they'd have been on the look-
out for him, remember. And by now they'd have
dropped in on you to tell you who your Unknown
was."
"Yes, that's so.—I'd say he came, as you put it, on
his own private affairs."
"Serious, private affairs," amended Savoy emphati-
cally. "Otherwise he wouldn't have come all that dis-
tance to a town where he knew no one"
"All what distance? How do we know he didn't just
drop down from Sacramento?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
37
"Do people read the local papers in Sacramento?"
asked Savoy sarcastically.
"All right, all right," growled Gateway, and it was
entirely obvious that he was determined not to lose
sight of the fact that it was at least an even bet that it
was all wrong! "Let's call it that."
"He came on serious and private business," said
Savoy, and glared at him. "That business was with
some one, maybe? With whom?"
"There are only a million or so folks hereabout"
"We establish that he doesn't know many people
here. We establish that he had a run-in with one man
who did know him. I mean the man who killed him. It
was with that man that he had business."
"Maybe, maybe not," brooded Gateway. "Maybe
some guy that never saw him before bumped him off.
Maybe it was a case of robbery; maybe he was flashing
a diamond ring worth"
"You, clue-hound that you are, surely looked at his
fingers with a microscope! You sought acid stains and
just such marks as a ring would leave"
"Well, he didn't wear a ring; that's a cinch. But he
may have had a diamond in his necktie, and he may
have flashed a roll of yellowbacks"
"And did all that the first thing on arriving"
"How do we know he was croaked so soon?"
"Where did he stay in the meantime, man? With
friends? At a hotel? And still no one stepping up to
identify him?"
"Just the same"
"And your man," Savoy hurried on, "who killed him
for robbery, went to work to steal his clothes, too?
And then to stick him in a taxi? Or maybe shot him


38
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
in a taxi, then scrubbed up the blood, stole his clothes
and went off, carrying them nonchalantly over his
arm!"
"Oh, I'm stumped," grumbled Gateway, and mopped
his head and then looked in a dumb, beseeching way
at Laufer-Hirth. That worthy, quick to read a sign
of distress and unvarying in his treatment, sprang up
and went to the table where Taune had left bottle and
glasses. Gateway looked grateful.
"This Master Criminal that you always imagine
lurking behind every crime," said Savoy when Gateway
had gulped his drink, "isn't just a chance killer for
loot. Crooks of that order aren't as meticulous and
as original as this chap. Having got what they want,
they don't linger on playing pranks. He polished his
victim off, and then he coolly did the things he meant
to do. He made a clean sweep of removing everything
his victim had on him, even to his clothes.—Why?"
"Plain as the nose on your face!" Whether here
came a question for which Gateway was prepared or
whether Laufer-Hirth's sovereign remedy had done its
work, he answered swiftly and with conviction. "To
mystify, to throw off all scent, to do just what he has
succeeded in doing. He had made it impossible for us
to get started, since we haven't a single clue as to the
murdered man's identity"
"You're more helpful, my boy, than you know! The
clothes, you say, were removed because they would give
something away? (Mind you I am not agreeing with
that yet, as another explanation hits one in the eye, so
to speak!) But say for the moment that you're right;
then, of what order were the garments that they'd tell
so much?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 39
"Something distinguishing," conceded Gateway war-
ily. "Not the common, everyday run of duds. Maybe
with a tailor's tag in them that would get us
started"
"Maybe the costume of a priest?"
"That fellow wasn't any priest— Oh, I don't know!
He might have been, at that."
"Or a United States army officer?"
"Quien sabe," muttered Gateway. "It's by me."
"Exactly. Quien sabe? He might have been either.
Or something else we'll think of later that would be
distinguished by a uniform of some sort? At any rate,
here comes a little chance for an attempt at verification
that you're so impatient for: If a man belonged to any
organization such as is implied by a uniform, his con-
nection with that organization would be close enough
for you to hope to get some check on him. Am I right?
Think that one over at your leisure. Now we'll step
along to this suggestion: Your Master Criminal re-
moved even the under-garments! What significance
there?—Laundry marks!" he ran on hurriedly, to fore-
stall Gateway. "Maybe." He drummed on the arm of
his chair. "It would have been easier, I fancy, to cut
any such marks out, and not have all the extra garments
on his hands to dispose of! But no matter. Let's ask
ourselves what desired result, beside the obvious one
which you have suggested, could have prompted the
removal of all the clothing. A result which has already
been obtained."
Gateway frowned, trying to see what he was driv-
ing at.
"Men are found murdered now and then," Savoy
reminded him. "But it is not a common occurrence


40
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
for a man to be found murdered in a public place, a
public vehicle, without a single rag to his name. It
isn't done, you know. It's so confoundedly unusual
that the Master Criminal must have been a far stupider
ass than he appears to have been not to have foreseen
that the daily press would make much of it. It's just
possible that that was what he was up to, isn't it?"
"Anything's possible—but it doesn't seem to make
sense! Why should he want any more publicity than
he had to have?"
"No, it doesn't make sense. But here's as solid a
fact as we are ever going to get under our feet: The
murderer knew in advance that when this story broke
it was going to be spread across the front page of every
paper on the Coast. He knew that if an unidentified
man had been found done to death in some lonely spot,
some alley or back street, the papers would dispose of
the fact in a short item, unemphasized. He knew also
that the way he was conducting arrangements would
be absolutely sure to cause wide and prominent pub-
licity. Right?"
"He must have known that," said Gateway. "Any
man would."
"It would appear then that he courted publicity?
Perhaps even he went to some considerable personal
danger to insure it?"
"But what earthly reason could he have had?" asked
the detective blankly.
"We'll ponder that in due course; as I've said already
I have an idea, but let's get on with sober fact-
stuff"
Gateway caught himself in time; he was about to
gasp again, "Oh, my eye!" but strangled the words
aborning.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
41
"We're covering a lot of ground," said Savoy lazily,
"and covering it, I must confess, rather thinly! It's a
pretty lacey sort of fabric we've spun thus far, more
holes than thread—but mind you, we've been on the
thing only half an hour! Willy-nilly, from starting
with the Unknown Victim we're concerning ourselves
with the Master Criminal. We're asking why he carried
out his plans in this peculiar way; why not begin far-
ther back and ask why he killed the poor devil? Aha!
There's a gleam in your eye, Gateway. It becomes a
question of motive, and gets us into the place you live!
Speaking your own language, what motive did he
have?"
"Motive? Good Lord! There's nothing to show—
He may have been actuated by any one of a thousand
motives"
"Slow does it, my boy!" cried Savoy. "Man, vaunt-
ing himself on being strangely and wonderfully made,
remains simple rather than complex. There are not a
thousand possible motives at all; there are precious few
that impel men to such crimes as this. The murderer
killed his victim because he hated him; or, because he
feared him; or, because he coveted something the other
had, which suggests your robbery motive; or, because
he coveted something he feared his victim was going
to prevent his getting; or, because he already had some-
thing he feared his victim was going to deprive him of.
That pretty well disposes of your 'thousand motives,'
eh?"
"The murderer might have been a crazy man, re-
member"
"The case has certain earmarks, I'll grant you, of a
purely pathological origin. But I think not. If it were
rank insanity, the pervert would quite probably have


42
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
left other marks of violence on the body; also, he would
not have waited to single out an unidentifiable individ-
ual; further, he would in all likelihood have perpetrated
similar crimes both before and after; and finally he'd
probably have indulged in a note in red and blue ink,
triangles and crosses and all that sort of thing, symboli-
cal nonsense meant to mystify. Still, I concede you
we may have to deal with a crazy man. We'll keep that
in mind, but only as a remote possibility."
"Fair enough, for the moment. What about motive,
then?"
"Let's dispose of them singly. Take hatred first.
Not entirely convincing. Hatred thrives on proximity
and some sort of incessant nagging; if we're right that
our Criminal lives here and that the Victim came from
afar, we dispose of the proximity and the likelihood
that the hatred would have been a sufficiently strong
motive. If it had been, it would also have been strong
enough to send the murderer forth, hunting down his
victim, instead of awaiting his coming.
"Next, let's say it was a case of fear. Sounds reason-
able, doesn't it? A man who commits cold-blooded
murder today has done other evil things before; fear
comes most often from a situation in which a man who
has perpetrated a criminal act lives in apprehension of
its discovery. The Victim may have known something,
may have come to dig the solid ground out from under
the other man's feet.
"Or, let's say it was that the murderer coveted some-
thing the Victim had? Robbery, then. In that case our
man of the taxi wore the diamond you thought of or
carried the big roll. The trouble is that your average
man doesn't do either. In all things, you have damned


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
43
the poor unfortunate for being just an everyday, aver-
age man. Speculate, Gateway; don't guess. Think the
fe'now over and tell me— Do you see him wearing that
diamond and flourishing his money?"
"Of course, there's no being sure," said Gateway
cautiously. "But I'd say, offhand, no."
"So should I. That leaves us the final consideration:
The murderer was about to get his hands on some-
thing, and the coming of the other fellow jeopardized
his venture. He was dead set on getting whatever it
was he was after, and it was a big thing to him—he
killed for it."
"It might be—and some other explanation"
"Oh, to be sure!"
"We're getting nowhere"
Up shot Savoy's brows at that.
"I told you at the outset that before we started sail-
ing we had to ship anchor and get out of the harbor!
That's what we're doing, and don't you forget it.
We're building up a theory"
"Which may be wrong like you've said," muttered
Gateway, "but which, as I'm a foot high, sounds like
the goods to me!"
"Which you might say more forcefully is undoubt-
edly wrong, if not in its entirety then certainly in big
black spots! But the essential general theory under-
lying the specific one is that we're going before long
to be in a position to check for errors and verifications.
If any section of our specific theory proves to be
wrong, we cut it out of our structure and fill the gap
anew. If any minute section should be right, we'll
build on it."
"Ah!" said Gateway.


44
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Still concerning ourselves with positive facts,"
Savoy continued serenely, "we know some interesting
things about your Master Criminal. He has shown
himself bold and original; he is a man of resource and
initiative; he is without scruple; he has, in all likeli-
hood, committed more than the single crime. He is
out for big things. He is as cool a customer as you'll
ever meet; he has physical courage; he is physically fit.
He didn't kill his man in the taxi, as you have assured
yourself; therefore he picked him up and carried him
and put him there. He did so at some time during the
night between the time that the taxi driver put his
passenger down out near the Park and the time he
arrived at the Ferry Building. You know the exact
hours. Also you know the various places the taxi
stopped. At the cafe out by the park or at the service-
station or at the place where he phoned on Market
Street—at one of these spots the body was placed in
the taxi—or, if not at one of these spots, then during
the drive itself. We get at least an insight into our
Master Criminal's character, don't we?"
"But there might be a million like him"
"Oh, not a million, surely! Let's not make it any
worse than it is!"
"And I tell you I've checked and rechecked on every
stop he made! At the first stop, the cafe, the driver
sat by the front window with his taxi in plain sight,
keeping an eye on it, hoping to pick up a fare. At the
service-station he didn't get out of his buggy, and there
were two boys at hand, one giving him the gas and the
other wiping his windshield. And when he stopped to .
phone on Market Street he was out of sight of his car
only a couple of minutes, and late as it was there were
people on the street— Oh, my eye!" he groaned.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
45
"It was no doubt right there, on Market Street, that
the body was put in the taxi!"
Savoy made his announcement as one who knew.
"If I even knew that much," muttered Gateway, and
began pulling nervously at his fingers, "it might help.
Dammit!" he exploded. "I don't care how hard a case
is, if I can just get the littlest toe-hold anywhere along
the line. If I was sure of that one point even"
"Dead sure," nodded Savoy emphatically. "Accept
as obvious by this time that the man you want has all
his wits about him. Desperate he may be, but he's none
the less cool in his desperation. He has made him a
plan and he has hewed to the line.—I've not yet got
around to asking you," he said sharply, "what the police
surgeon had to say; how long the man had been dead."
"Several hours; that was the most I could get out
of Doc Armiger. Maybe six or eight or ten hours."
Savoy brooded. Looking up abruptly he said:
"Your hardest job, Gateway, is going to be to pin
this thing to the murderer after we run him down!
He'll be all ready for you!"
Gateway shoved out a big hand and closed it slowly.
"And won't I be ready for him?" he muttered.
"Won't I, though!"
5
Savoy nestled even deeper down into his big leather
chair and from looking enigmatically at Gateway fell
to regarding the star sapphire on his finger, turning the
ring slowly. Presently he bestirred himself sufficiently
■ to feel through his pockets, locate his cigarette case,
open it and take out a cigarette; he even put it between
his lips and no doubt supposed that he had lighted it;
at any rate after he had begun speaking he several


46
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
times brushed the end of the thing with his little ringer,
like a man knocking off an ash.
"Here is a matter which wants consideration," he
said in that dreamy and aloof way with which Gateway
and Laufer-Hirth were familiar, recognizing in it a
sign that the man was entirely withdrawn from the
concrete world of sticks and stones, to brood in a
world apart. "We began with the obvious fact that the
Unknown Victim either lived here or did not live here;
we leaned with all due circumspection toward the be-
lief that he was a stranger in San Francisco, only
recently arrived. Fair enough, so far, but how did
Mr. X learn so promptly that his Victim-to-be was
in town?
"Mind you, we had further hazarded the wager that
the Victim constituted some sort of a positive menace
to Mr. X's plans or hopes or perhaps to his personal
safety. Granting that—oh, only tentatively, my dear
fellow!—it becomes axiomatic that the Victim realized
that he did constitute this menace. That knowledge in
itself would presume that he must have known what
sort of man he was up against. So I beg you to tell
me whether he would have gone straightway to Mr. X
at some lonely spot, some spot ideally and excellently
adapted to murder? Seems unlikely, doesn't it? Or,
in this community of some million souls was it just by
sheer chance that Mr. X so swiftly discovered his man?
Hardly any more convincing than the first explanation,
eh, Gateway?"
"No," said Gateway bluntly. "It ain't. Which," he
added hurriedly, "isn't saying that it couldn't have been
just luck. But the chances are against it.—I say! There
could be a third party in on this! Some other guy


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
could have tipped off the murderer." He spoke the
last word with gusto: Savoy might use the more
euphonious "Mr. X" all he pleased; Gateway would
have none of it.
Savoy's keen blue eyes glinted. This was one of the
times when he brushed off an imaginary ash.
"We broaden our practice canvas, then," he said.
"We'll consider the likelihood of there being an entirely
possible third man—whom we'll call the Tipper, be-
cause he gave the tip. Now: If this Tipper of ours
did send word to Mr. X that the Victim was on the
way, and if Mr. X got that word, he would have
known when to expect the newcomer; he could have
been on the watch for him; he could have had his trap
set and baited; he could have had every single bit of
preparation made well in advance. Let's pause here for
an observation and a question or two: The Tipper, to
be able to send that word, must have been wherever
the Victim was, id est, not in San Francisco but at
some considerable distance. If he did send such a mes-
sage, I think that we can suppose the message was
urgent? How would the Tipper then have sent that
word? Telephone? Telegraph? Air mail? Ordinary
mail? A messenger? Or would he have come himself?
"Just now there's no use trying to settle this point;
it isn't even a good fifty-fifty bet and we let it go by—
saying only that a telegram suggests itself and that
later on, when we get a line on our Mr. X we'll inter-
view the telegraph companies and ask whether he re-
ceived such a message on the date we have in mind,
eh? If we have any luck with it we'll have a chance
of learning Tipper's other name, his home town and,
along with it, the Victim's. All this for future refer-


48 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
ence—or for us to forget all about, depending on what
turns up."
"There might be something in it," conceded a cau-
tious Gateway. "And of course"
"Oh, of course! Always, of course! But, dreaming
our dream, let's say he had some personal interest in
what was going on; of course he may have been a
purely altruistic sort of chap—in the matter of getting
other chaps murdered!—bat it remains that vastly more
deals of one kind and another are set going by the
personal equation than by pure altruism! If personally
interested, he'd want to know, wouldn't he, the out-
come? And after the accomplished fact what would
a grateful Mr. X do? Write or wire or phone his
pal, saying, 'O. K., kid; I've bumped him off!' Not
in so many words, perhaps; but that would be the
burden of his song. And now"
He broke short off, staring into vacancy while Gate-
way on the edge of his chair watched him earnestly
and waited for him to go on.
"Has it dawned on you," said Savoy curtly, "that
our Mr. X is what I've heard you term a 'foxy guy'?
Whatever his motives in the things he has done, he
has left never a single minute connecting link between
himself and his victim. Now he was just the man to
know and ponder that records are kept of telegrams;
that phone numbers are set down and long-distance
calls can be traced; that letters have a way of not being
burned as directed—especially as men have a way,
crooked men, of holding on to anything which they
consider gives them the goods on another man?—But
isn't there still another way, a nice, safe, and innocent
way of getting over that message of 'O. K., kid; I've


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 49
bumped him off' ?—Why, man, have it published on the
front page of every paper in the neighborhood, copied
in papers all over the country, referred to time after
time as the days go by!
"And that's what you mean by this guy hunting
publicity!" gasped Gateway, and began mopping his
head.
Savoy tossed his unlighted cigarette away and selected
a fresh one.
"A most intriguing as well as essential consideration
logically suggests itself here," Savoy resumed pres-
ently. "We're in agreement, I think, that Mr. X fore-
saw, encountered and overcame difficulties in his task
of getting the undraped body of the man he had mur-
dered into Peter Carpenter's cab on Market Street?
How are we to suppose that he accomplished this
feat?"
Gateway, never more intent, observed swiftly:
"The body at that moment needn't have been 'un-
draped' as you call it, you know. Somehow I don't
get the picture of the killer strolling down Market
Street carrying the naked body of his victim in his
arms, looking for a taxi to chuck him in!"
"Our thoughts move hand-in-hand," nodded Savoy.
"The body at that moment was not undraped then? It
was covered—with what?"
"It don't make any difference—clothes, I suppose."
"It makes all the difference! What kind of clothes?"
"There's no way of telling"
"There's every way of telling! Man alive, do you
suppose that our Unknown Victim's body was clothed
in shoes and socks, in underclothes and trousers and
shirt and vest and nicely fixed tie? All these things


So
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
for Mr. X to take his time in removing after he had
gotten his burden nicely into the taxi?"
"Of course not," returned Gateway. "It would be
something that would cover the body, but that he could
whip off in a hurry! Let's see"
"Exactly," interrupted Savoy. "Something to be
whipped off in a hurry. Just what? It could have been
a sheet—but how any chance passer-by would have
stared! Or a blanket or robe of some sort? Whose,
in that case, and where obtained? Something belonging
to Mr. X himself, that would perhaps have a blood-
stain left on it or at least a tell-tale hair that a clue-
hound like you would never miss? Is that the sort of
man our Mr. X is? He who has been at all pains that
there could not possibly be anything to connect him
with the crime?—Now, let's move slowly here; let's
ask ourselves what conceivable covering would be ideal
—something that would not strike a wrong and arrest-
ing note on a city street and that could be snatched off
with little time lost?"
"An overcoat!"
"Nothing else! It was a foggy cold night, wasn't
it, with all other people on the street wearing topcoats
with their collars up about their ears ? A coat, of course.
And now comes the question: Whose coat? In the
first place Mr. X was wearing his own, wasn't he? In
the second place, maybe he didn't have two overcoats.
In the third place, he wasn't the man, as we've said
already, to use his own coat at such a time. Whose
coat then?"
"The murdered man's," said Gateway.
"Logical," admitted Savoy. "Logical enough, at any
rate, at first thought, for us to ponder. Let us say


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
that it is at least a good fifty-fifty bet that Mr. X did
use his Victim's coat—provided the Victim had one!"
"And of course he had one; every man on the
street"
"If he didn't have a coat," said Savoy meditatively,
"we can be sure that we were right in one of our
original surmises, namely that the Unknown Victim
wasn't a San Franciscan! We'd go on to the decision
that he had come from some part of the country where
a man simply doesn't think of overcoats in July.—Let
us content ourselves with the surmise that Mr. X may
have found it logical to use an overcoat—a hat, too,
maybe. The body placed in the taxicab, these garments
whipped off, Mr. X's one urgent desire was to be on
his way. He climbed back into his car, drove on down
Market perhaps as far as Third Street, made a right-
hand turn to get off Market, swung into Mission or
some good street south of Market, turned right again
and streaked toward—oh, toward San Mateo or Bur-
lingame, I suppose."
"Slow does it here," objected Gateway. "All this
about the coat and hat is reasonable and may or may
not be true. We can come back to that. But what's this
about San Mateo or Burlingame?"
"Perhaps I'm wrong in naming those two towns,"
admitted Savoy. "That's a matter for you, since you
. know the local geography so much better than I do.
So I'll merely indicate the line of thought and leave
it to your thorough-going methods: Mr. X has all his
wits about him. He planned carefully; he was at all
pains to prevent the crime being brought home to him.
But he said to himself that accidents have a way of
happening; the unexpected might occur; the curiosity


52 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
of the police might conceivably turn in his general
direction. So, my dear Gateway, I now repeat some-
thing I told you a moment ago: Even after you fix
your official eye on him you're going to have your real
job on your hands getting any proof. The first thing
you'll discover is that on the day the Unknown Victim
was killed somewhere here in San Francisco, our Mr.
X wasn't even in town!"
"Alibi?" grunted Gateway.
"I'm not surer of anything than that he will have an
alibi," Savoy answered promptly. "For an alibi is the
first line of defense for your criminal; he is absolutely
sure to think of it. Already we see in Mr. X a man
who has an eye to detail, and the cool nerve and shrewd
ability to carry out any plan he has formulated. Yes,
Gateway, I think we can take the alibi for granted."
"Well, admitting he might be fox enough to have
a fake alibi all ready—why down the peninsula? Why
not in Oakland, Berkeley, San Rafael, Alameda, Rich-
mond, Sausalito"
"For a very simple reason: Going back and forth,
doing his work here and establishing his alibi else-
where, he did not want to run any unnecessary risks
of being seen by some one who might know and re-
member him. Travelling in his closed car"
"You seem darned sure he's got one!"
"Oh, maybe not. Maybe, for example, when he
brought the Unknown Victim from wherever the mur-
der took place to the taxi on Market Street he swag-
gered along carrying him in his arms, or maybe he
trundled him in a wheel-barrow, and"
"All right, all right," Gateway cut in. "But why
does he go to San Mateo or"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
53
"Suppose instead that I tell you why he didn't go
to Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda, Richmond, Sausalito
or San Rafael? Because to have done so would have
meant that he would have had to take a ferry, and thus
he would have multiplied many times his risks of being
seen and remembered. Am I right, Gateway?"
"Right!" cried Gateway and smote a clenched fist
into an open palm.
Savoy turned to his secretary with the request:
"Tony, old man, how about bringing in the portable
and some paper for a few notes?"
Andregg hurried for the little Corona which had
accompanied them on their voyage, slipped it out of
its case, inserted a sheet of paper and sat ready to take
dictation. Savoy from the depths of his chair said:
"Gateway would be up and doing with a heart for
any fate, provided only he could get hold of something
solid to bite into. Andregg, will you set down these
points? We're going to call them 'Contact Points,' and
they are going to give our friend C. P. Gateway an
outlet for his amazing energies. Ready?"
Andregg was ready. But for a moment or so Savoy
sat silent, the old familiar far-away look in his eyes
as he strove for a certain logical arrangement of ideas.
When at last he spoke it was crisply and so rapidly
that Andregg's fingers were hard beset to keep up.
When his voice ended abruptly Andregg had typed:
Contact Po1nts for Gateway:
1. Check arrivals by all trains, July 7-8. (Inter-
view conductors, Pullman conductors, porters,
red-caps.)
2. Ditto for all arrivals by steamers.


54
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
3. Ditto for airplane passengers.
4. Keep in mind possible arrival by private auto-
mobile. (Check at garages for uncalled-for out-
of-town cars, especially from a distance.)
5. Also keep in mind possible arrival by auto stage.
6. Check story of P. Carpenter, taxi driver, in all
details, covering entire route he took on July 8,
making him tell as far as possible every thing
and incident he noted, even his odd thoughts.
7. Visit baggage rooms at R.R. stations for un-
claimed baggage.
8. Ditto at all check stands.
9. Mem. Telegraph offices; this for later.
10. Ditto for Air Mail, special delivery and long-
distance telephone messages.
11. Merely keep the following in mind as possible
sources of information:
a. News items in daily papers:
1. Before discovery of body.
2. After discovery.
b. Personals in papers, both before and after.
c. Lost and found Ads, ante and post.
d. Want ads, ditto.
12. Bear in mind that both, either or neither of the
two men, i.e., Mr. X and the Unknown, may
have belonged to the criminal class.
13. Begin assembling list of San Franciscans who
on the 7th and 8th inst. were in San Mateo or
Burlingame—anywhere well out of S. F., some-
where down the Peninsula. (Never mind San
Jose at present, being rather too far.)
Gateway, who had listened with profound attention,
sprang to his feet.
"Mr. Savoy," he exclaimed, "let me have that list—
and let me go. I'm on my way— Man, it's living again
just to see the chance of a clue ahead!"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
55
Savoy laughed at the man's electric eagerness, but
was scarcely less eager himself.
"Good hunting, Gateway! By the way, we'll want
a copy of every paper for every day, beginning say a
couple of days before the murder; you can get them
for us right away?"
Gateway, already in the hall, called back:
"I'll have most of 'em here for you in twenty min-
utes, and the rest in the morning," and was gone with
a rush.


CHAPTER III
1
Will L1ttle and Tony Andregg said their good-
nights as Gateway left, and Laufer-Hirth came over
to the fireplace where he stood leaning on the mantel
and looking down at Savoy extended once more in
the easy-chair.
"Paul, you rascal," said the elder man, rumpling the
few gray hairs on an otherwise shiny dome, his face
suggesting a mystified cherub's. "I'll stick by you be-
cause you're a friend of mine, but just in confidence
I'll tell you the truth about yourself: You're a deep-
dyed villain that ought to be tarred and feathered!"
Savoy glanced up at him and a faint smile twitched
at the corners of his mobile lips. His slightly elevated
brows asked, "Why?"
"You know darned well," grunted the jeweller, "that
you've been talking what they used to call arrant non-
sense—and I'll swear as I sat soaking it all in it sounded
like sense. You've got that poor devil Gateway all
stepped up with a big sample of your infernal theoriz-
ing, and when he wakes up dead sober in the morning
the big hopes are going to gush out of him like gas
out of a toy balloon, leaving him just as flat! What
have you got to say for yourself?"
As Paul Savoy's eyes drifted back to the fire the
shadowy smile slowly went the way of all smiles and
tears, finding a home no doubt in the garden of all lost
56


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
57
things where Villon has long since come up with his
snows of Yester Year. He sighed and said in a queer,
far-away fashion he had at times:
"I wouldn't be surprised if you were right, Amos!
And, while I was letting myself go it did all sound as
though there might be something in it! Funny how a
man can let himself slide that way, spending his words
like deflated currency, and before he's done getting
caught in the avalanche and being swept clean off his
feet. You're such a matter-of-fact old chap!"
"You really didn't mean a word you said then?"
demanded Laufer-Hirth, and actually looked disap-
pointed.
Savoy brooded. When at last he looked up it was
with that rare flashing smile of his which brightened
and enlivened his whole face exactly as does a sudden
gleam of sunshine falling upon some dark oil painting.
"Words are bred of thoughts," he said lightly, "and
thoughts in their turn are the offspring of words.
Maybe, as you say, Gateway will sober up when once
he shakes off my sinister influence, and we'll not hear
any more from him."
2
But they were to hear from Gateway very soon. The
detective on quitting the room, putting all his heart into
what to himself he termed a long shot in the dark,
meant to lose never a precious second in beginning the
gambit moves in the new game. He went down the
three flights of stairs, taking two or three steps at the
time, and left far behind him the Chinese boy who had
meant to precede him to the door. Gateway jerked the
door open and hurried out, and thus came close to


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
colliding with some one who was just lifting a hand
to ring. Who that some one was or what that some
one's business at this time of night he did not pause
to discover; he merely carried with him an impression
of costly black furs glittering with drops of moisture
and of a breath of roses. He hurried on along the
walk and did not even hear the door slam behind him.
For this latter failure to record events two facts were
responsible: First, the door did not slam, since the slim
figure in the costly black furs caught it in time and
slipped into the house, letting it close softly after her
so that its sound made scarcely more noise than did her
long sigh of relief. Second, nearly at the front gate in
the iron picket fence, the sort of collision so nearly
avoided on the steps took place. It was quite dark, the
mist had thickened until it was like a curtain of white
cotton and the light from the windows of the house
failed to shine through it.
"Unk!" or something of that sort was jolted out of
Gateway. He caught his breath and added, "Dammit
get outa the way can't you?"
An eager hand closed on his arm, and an eager voice
said:
"It's Detective Gateway, isn't it?"
"Well?" demanded Gateway, and shook the hand off.
"What's it to you? I don't know who you are"
"I'm Phil Stearns; you know me. Stearns of the
Morning Chron"
"Reporter, eh?" jeered Gateway. "Well, you get
nothing out of me. Lemme go." For the eager hand
was on his arm again.
Stearns tried to laugh in what might be called a
knowing way. The laugh was intended to assure one


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
that most things might be hid from most people, but
that nothing escaped Phil Stearns of the press.
"Look here, Gateway! There's big doings and I'm
horning in on the game. You've come here for a con-
ference with Mr. Paul Savoy; Savoy is the man who
made a lot of hot copy for us with his work in un-
ravelling the Mystery of the old House of the Opal.
You are on the case of the Unknown Gent found Dead
in a Taxi!—Can I stick one and one together or
can't I?"
"Lay off me," growled Gateway. "I don't want any
publicity on this. I'll tell you if anything"
Gateway fumed. Phil Stearns hung tight. Gateway
lost his temper, a very simple proceeding for him at
any time during the last ten days. Stearns, sensing a
big news-story running out on him, made a third wild
grab to stay his man and inadvertently stuck his thumb
into Gateway's eye. Gateway required nothing more,
in fact he did not require all that was given him; he
lashed out with his fist, struck Stearns full in the face,
sending him reeling, and the click of a gate and the
sound of swiftly receding foosteps, sounding muffled
in the fog, was the last heard of him.
3
"You know, Amos," Paul Savoy was saying by way
of companionably doing a bit of thinking aloud, "there
may be something in what I said after all. I mean
when I remarked that in asking a question a man per-
force summarizes his known data and it may be that
the answer lies thinly veiled in what he knows. And
mark this: If a fellow could manage to ask himself a


60 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
lot of relevant questions to be answered Yes or No;
could he word his questions like the first I put tonight;
'Did the Unknown Victim live in San Francisco? Or
did he live elsewhere?' then, even if a man answered
with both eyes shut and his ears plugged tight, still
by the laws of chance he'd guess right a good half of
the time! Think of that! Why, if a man hit right
answers only a third of the time—a quarter of the
time— What the devil are you looking at like that?"
he broke off, and slewed about in his chair for the
answer.
Laufer-Hirth, startled by so unexpected a vision,
was staring with all his might. Paul Savoy promptly
emulated him. There had been no sound of her ap-
proach, but there she stood in the doorway, a puzzled
Taune looking in over her shoulder, and embraced both
Laufer-Hirth and the younger man in a perfectly radi-
ant smile. Savoy came to his feet with a bound.
Laufer-Hirth continued to stare. And Taune merely
held his place and awaited on events.
Looking at her Paul Savoy thought swiftly of his
friend's rhapsodizings on the spirit of San Francisco,
her seductive charm and mystery. This girl was like
the spirit of the City of Mystery and Romance which
Laufer-Hirth held San Francisco to be. Her modish
jacket's black fur collar rose high about a piquant face,
softly brushing her cheeks which caught the eye with
their fresh couleur de rose complexion and nailed atten-
tion with a dimple. Her mouth was soft and exquisite,
just now smiling; her eyes very bright and soft and
very gray and very alluring. A young lady of superla-
tives, surely. Nestling in the black fur which twinkled
with tiny drops like dew were some three or four


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 61
fragrant pink roses. Her ear-pendants were of lustrous
jet with a tiny diamond flashing in each.
She looked thrillingly alive; she brought as much
zest into the room with its tobacco-smoke and faint
aroma of Scotch whisky as an eager young March
wind could have done.
"May I explain myself?" she asked almost breath-
lessly, sounding determined not to be afraid but frankly
excited.
"My dear young lady!" gasped Lauf er-Hirth.
"By no means!" exclaimed Paul Savoy, and made
her an extravagant bow. "Marvels should not be ex-
plained away, but should be content to remain marvels,
brightening a drab world and reminding us that fairy
tales are true tales!"
She had a rarely delicious little laugh which made
her big gray eyes crinkle adorably and which revealed
two rows of teeth of such an order that Laufer-Hirth,
somewhat old-fashioned and a jeweller besides, imme-
diately compared them to matched and thereafter
matchless pearls.
"You are Mr. Laufer-Hirth?" she asked when, hav-
ing nodded brightly to Savoy, thus giving him a receipt
in full for his compliment, she turned to his host.
Laufer-Hirth hastily made her his funny little fat
bow.
"Entirely at your service, Miss"
"You're an angel!" Then, with a faint whisk of
skirts and a wisp of rose fragrance shaken into the air
with her swift movement, she turned back to Savoy.
"And you are Mr. Paul Savoy." This time it was
a rather gay announcement with no hint of question
in it. She disengaged one of her roses from its fellows


62
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
at her breast, a long beautiful pink bud on a slender
stem, as graceful and pretty as herself. "It's nice to be
recognized as a marvel!" she said, and her eyes were
dancing as she came suddenly into the room, offering
him the flower—and her feet were dancing feet, too,
which carried her in her own inimitable way, lightly
and eagerly as though she walked on her toes. "Since
I am not permitted to explain myself, shall the rose do
it, Mr. Paul Savoy?"
He looked curiously at the flower. Before he could
speak she said swiftly:
"I've heard such wonders of you! How from a mere
nothing at all you can pluck out the hearts of mys-
teries! But then I am versed in magic, too. Otherwise
how could I at the first sight of you tell you what
your favorite rose is?"
And then she presented the pink bud.
A thoughtful pucker came between his brows. From
looking shrewdly at her he bent a thoughtful gaze
upon the rose in his hand.
"Hm," he said gravely. "A Glory of Persia, eh?
Yes, my favorite, peerless among roses." He lifted
a clear, frankly meditative regard to her twinkling eyes
while Laufer-Hirth stared at the two of them incredu-
lously and Taune still awaited on events. For a moment
or two of utter silence their eyes gazed straight into
each other, hers with that queer teasing smile in them,
his changeless in their profound gravity. At last he
sighed and looked again at the bud slowly twirling
in his hand. "I'll tell you a secret," he said without
looking up, his voice become a drone and a monotone,
"the Glory of Persia is my favorite because it is a help
to me in my magic-business. Where others must poke


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
63
among tea leaves or shuffle cards or peer into people's
palms in order to read behind the veil, I have but to
look deep among this flower's petals to see visions."
"Look here," snorted Laufer-Hirth, "if you
two"
"Ssh!" cried their visitor, laughing softly. "He is
in a trance! 'Weave a circle round him thrice, and close
your eyes with holy dread!' He is going to work a
spell!"
"Silence!" commanded Savoy sepulchrally.
He clapped his hand dramatically to his forehead,
breathed stertorously and finally declared:
"I see a tiny white scar—like a little crescent—on
somebody's left knee!"
"Oh, so you remembered!" She seemed at once dis-
appointed, since it had promised fun to mystify, and
glad that he did remember. "And it was a good six
years ago!"
"Amos," said Savoy, "this creature who, I assure
you is part imp and part fairy, is the harum-scarum
daughter of our old friend Mark Landreth! Janice
Landreth, as sure as you're born."
The girl clapped her hands softly. "You even re-
membered my name! And I was only sixteen and very,
very far beneath the notice of Mr. Paul Savoy who
at that time must have been oh, I don't know how
ancient!"
Janice Landreth explained herself over the coffee
and sandwiches for which the most hospitable Laufer-
Hirth sent Taune scurrying. Since that day six years
ago when Paul Savoy had been a guest at Mark Lan-
dreth's home near Santa Barbara much water had run
out of many stocks. Mark Landreth, she informed


64
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
them brightly, had gone flat broke. Oh, it was no
tragedy, she assured them; nothing to be ashamed of
and not a thing for tears. Her mother was comfortably
taken care of; her brothers were big enough to be out
on their own anyway; her one sister was married and
happy over brand-new twins. And Janice herself had
buckled on her glittering armor and was as busy as
you please tilting with dragons, generally adventuress-
ing, and incidentally very precariously holding down a
job!
"Mark is a glorious old trooper and doesn't care a
hang really," she said while recklessly sugaring her
coffee. "It helps him, I suppose, that he has been
broke before."
"I remember you quite well," Savoy nodded at her.
"And you did cut your knee that day on the beach,
you know." He regarded her like an old friend; that's
what she was, what any of Mark Landreth's true-blue,
rollicking family must be. "And so you've grown up
and become a young woman of business? Not a bur-
glar or anything of that kind, I hope? Breaking into
a wild young bachelor's home at this time of night"
Somewhere in the big house a bell tinkled faintly;
she must have been listening for it for she said quickly:
"That's Phil Stearns! You won't let him in, will
you, Mr. Laufer-Hirth?"
Laufer-Hirth rubbed his head, using his knuckles as
a sort of polishing stone.
"We just got home tonight, Miss Landreth," he
told her. "During the months I've been away San
Francisco, I think, has gone in for new customs. Now
I don't know who Phil Stearns is or what he wants,
but if you advise against it certainly I must refuse to
have anything to do with him at this time."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
65
"I said at the first glimpse that you were an angel!"
Janice dimpled at him, thereby making the romantic old
chap feel warm and contented. "He is a reporter and
one of my most deadly rivals"
"You, a reporter?" exclaimed Savoy.
She reached out to her coat which lay on a chair close
by and from an inner pocket produced a little memo-
randum book in Morocco covers with a red-enamelled
pencil dangling, and flourished it as the sign of her
office.
"And my excuse for breaking into wild young bach-
elors' homes at this time of night," she beamed at
Laufer-Hirth.
"Taune," said the jeweller, "if it's Mr. Phil Stearns,
a reporter, at the door, ask him please to excuse us
tonight. I'll be glad to shake him by the hand some
other time."
"Keep the chain on the door, Taune!" cried Janice
gaily. "He is sure to worm in otherwise!" As Taune
departed with a look of high resolution on his usually
smiling face she continued her explanations: "He did
snoop in on my taxi! And I served him right when I
left him to pay while I made my very adroit entry.
Poor Taune! He felt that he ought to throw me into
the street, but somehow couldn't work himself up to it."
"Who could?" demanded Laufer-Hirth.
"You two dear old boys are going to save my life,"
said Janice, and reached for the jam.
"I'm not a dear old boy," said Savoy promptly.
"Amos grows senile but I'm at the most dangerous
and quite marriageable age."
"Oho! He grows sensitive! Look out, it's a bad
sign"
"He begins to dodder," chortled Laufer-Hirth. "As


66
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
for me, I'm just as young as I feel. And since you
came"
"It's this way," she informed them. "This is my
fourth job—or is it the fifth? And the stage is all
set for me to get fired Saturday. You are free to watch
me devour my food; I was sorely tempted to eat an
ear-ring tonight! It's a hard, cold, cruel old world,
isn't it?" she gurgled. "Presently we're going to chat
and you are going to give me a big exclusive story
and I'll hold my job and eat regular meals for one
more week!"
"A story?" muttered Laufer-Hirth. "What story?"
"I'm perfectly willing to play fair," she conceded.
"You can give me the inside dope on the new angle
of the mystery of the man found in the cab—or you
can tell me something thrilling and exclusive, if you
prefer, about your voyage. You know how it goes:
'We sailed into a blue lagoon of the Island of Mag-
nolias, and '"
"Need it be true?" asked Savoy.
"Mercy, man, it's for a newspaper!" she told him.
4
Savoy was telling the story: Janice Landreth's pen-
cil was very busy between being nibbled at and rushing
across the pages; Laufer-Hirth sat back and smoked
and chuckled and admired the pretty daughter of an
old friend. Savoy had gotten as far as an expedition
into the heart of a savage island, where it was rumored
the native queen possessed a coronal diamond the size
of a prize-winning potato; and explained that it was
the unshakable determination of the well-known San


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
67
Francisco jewel king to have a go at that diamond,
hoping to bring it back to put on display at his elite
Geary Street shop; and had led up to the point where
the Queen of Magnolia Isle fell desperately in love
with the handsome jewel-merchant—when Taune came
in with a bundle of newspapers and a note from Gate-
way.
"How many m's in indomitable?" asked Janice.
"Two, I think," said Savoy, asked: "May I?" and
opened the bundle.
"Try three," suggested Laufer-Hirth.
"There was one thing I liked about Phil Stearns,"
the girl sighed. "He was teaching me how to spell
alleged, alias, habeas corpus, and a lot of perfectly
lovely words."
Savoy had read Gateway's note; it said merely:
"Here's a handful of papers I got from the corner
cigar store. More in the morning." He began glancing
through the newspapers.
Janice put away her notebook.
"I can work out the rest of the story now," she
said. "And I can see that Mr. Savoy is deeply ab-
sorbed"
"Don't go yet," expostulated Laufer-Hirth.
"But I wasn't thinking of such a thing! You're
going to give me the other exclusive story after all,
aren't you? Up and down Newspaper Alley tomorrow
they'll be calling me Two Scoop Janice—and I'll be
the hardest girl to fire in town!"
"And so little Janice Landreth turned out to be a
scribe!" said Savoy and looked up at her in new
appraisal. "What ever made you think that you could
write either a"


68
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"I can't," said Janice as much as to imply, "What
could have put that idea into your head?" She ran on
coolly: "I've never tried to write a story yet that it
didn't make the city editor swear. So now when I dig
up any nice bit of scandal one of the boys in the office
puts it into words. I'm what we call a 'legs man,' you
know."
"If you can't write"
"And can't ever learn; it's quite beyond me," she
smiled back at him.
"Then why do you suppose they gave you the job?"
"Oh, because I'm me! Because I know everybody.
See how welcome I am here in the home of that wild
young bachelor, Mr. Laufer-Hirth! Mark how patient
and gentle and obliging the immensely wealthy Mr.
Paul Savoy is with me. I can nose in places"
"Admitted," he laughed back at her.
"And so you will give me my big exclusive? You'll
tell me the true inwardness of the latest great coalition
formed by Paul Savoy, spectacular gentleman of leisure,
and Detective Gateway, bloodhound of the law?"
"Never a word, my dear," said Savoy. "For, mind
you, there isn't any coalition"
"It would be hard spelling," conceded Janice. "But
one of the boys could do it, and I'm only a"
"Never mind"
"I'm with you, Paul," said Laufer-Hirth. "You
start in identifying the young lady by her left knee,
and she proclaims herself a leg man, and it's too damn
indelicate, since it's a question of my friend Mark
Landreth's daughter."
Savoy, now and then flipping over a page of his
papers, continued his explanation:


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
69
"Not speaking for publication, I'll admit that my
old friend Gateway did pop in and we did chat on the
case which has him very deeply interested. Whether
I myself come to take any interest in it is yet to be
seen. So never a word in the papers, eh?"
"And little Janice falls down on an assignment and
gets fired Saturday."
"In all seriousness," he smiled back at her, "I'll do
this: If I should chip in with Gateway, and if there
should be a story to tell later on, well, we'll save it
for you."
"Glorious! Only—only who knows I'll still be asso-
ciated with the great molder of public opinion when
all that happens? What am I going to do in the mean-
time? One has to nose out stories, you know, or they
send you to the cashier and he hands you a little en-
velope and inside is a pittance and the snappy remark
that you're not needed any more!"
"I've got an idea for you," he said carelessly. "Here,
you see, is a handful of recent papers; Amos and I have
been away from such things for so long that I sent
out for a lot of the latest issues so as to bring ourselves
up-to-date, you know. Merely glancing at them, a no-
tion strikes me."
"For me?" asked Janice eagerly.
"Absolutely. I've been thinking that the very heart
of a city pulses in its daily newspapers—but not in its
news columns. Did you ever brood over the personals
and lost and found ads?"
"I know," nodded Janice. "Like this: 'Archibald, all
is forgiven. Meet me at moonrise by the lone ash can
in Finnegan's Alley. Geraldine.'"
"Right," laughed Savoy. "Now there's a story under


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
that, isn't there? You could hunt it out—leg it down,
so to speak. You'd find out who Archibald really was,
and"
"And who," said Janice, hushing her gay voice,
"were the cruel foster parents who abandoned Geral-
dine, a tiny babe, on the steps of the orphanage that
blustery December night!"
"Exactly. All of that. You're going to create a new
department for your paper and it's going to be a regu-
lar"
"Wow!" nodded Janice helpfully.
"And you'll call it: 'Romances of the Lost and
Found,' or 'Mysteries and Heart Throbs in the Per-
sonal Column.'"
"I'll make a shining name for myself!" cried Janice
merrily. "Oh, it's really a lovely idea!"
She reached for one of his papers at random.
"Here's one that sounds inviting," said Savoy. He
seemed as casual as herself in selecting a paper, and
turned to the lost and found column of some several
days ago. The eighth of the month, to be exact. He
read:
"'Lost, lady's cloak, dark red fox fur trim. No
doubt fell from car on Junipero Serra Blvd. Reward.
No questions asked.'"
Janice, sipping coffee, looked at him curiously over
the cup's brim.
"It gives a phone number or address?" she asked.
And when Savoy nodded, she added lightly: "And you
suggest, do you, that I take an ad like that at ran-
dom"
"Oh, quite at random," smiled Savoy, and handed
her the paper.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
71
'Til do it!" said Janice Landreth. "I'm really be-
ginning to grow enthused over the idea: Real Ro-
mances of the Lost and Found!—And if I can keep
myself from getting sacked for a few days it's a prom-
ise, Mr. Savoy, to let me in first on the Big Story?"
"It's a promise," he agreed.
When a few minutes later Miss Landreth said her
smiling good-nights and went on her dancing way,
Savoy looked at Laufer-Hirth and found his friend
staring thoughtfully at him. Clearly the jeweller was
already taking the problems of Mark Landreth to heart.
"Know who her boss is, Amos?" Savoy asked.
"Sure," said Laufer-Hirth. "There's not a city edi-
tor in town I don't know. He's Charlie Edwards
and"
"Why not get him on the phone and tell him not to
fire her?" asked Savoy. "She's a cute kid and despite
all her don't-give-a-hang, she's trying her bravest to
make good."
"Sure," said Laufer-Hirth again and went gladly to
the telephone.
Taune meantime let her out at the front door. Smil-
ing at him by way of thanks, drawing on her gloves
as she prepared to brave the misty night, Janice Lan-
dreth was asking herself curiously:
"Now what on earth does he think a lost cloak has
to do with Gateway's taxicab murder?"


CHAPTER IV
1
Amos Laufer-Hirth was a jeweller primarily be-
cause he loved beauty. He was not too old nor too
seasoned to thrill to a sunset, a rare Oriental rug, a
pretty woman like Janice Landreth, a jewel or a strain
of music or a fine deed. Beauty in whatever form
brushed a resonant chord in the old fellow's breast.
So, looking forward to bringing his best of good
friends home with him, he had taken delight in having
a certain suite of rooms in especial readiness for him;
here many of the choicest pieces of his collection were
assembled in order that Paul Savoy, likewise quick and
sensitive to beauty's appeal, might be given this little
token of his friend's affection. Prominent among these
priceless items was a splendid old desk which Laufer-
Hirth was fondly certain would draw a burst of ad-
miration from his guest.
It was one of the world's show-pieces. Its duplicate,
the famed "Bureau du Roi," the two men had admired
together in the Louvre, and Laufer-Hirth still recalled
how Savoy had lingered and hovered about it, until the
older man had laughed and called him as bad as Shelley
with a Grecian Urn. The history of the piece in the
Louvre was familiar to both: How a number of artists
had labored upon it for nine years to make it worthy
of the Fifteenth Louis, and how to bring their artistry
72


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
73
to full perfection they had first constructed a miniature
model, then a full-sized one, was common knowledge.
It was that full-sized model from which King Louis'
bureau had been copied that now stood in Savoy's sit-
ting room awaiting the anticipated burst of admira-
tion.
But so filled was Paul Savoy's mind with Gateway's
puzzle of the unidentified man of the taxicab that, left
alone in his quarters, he saw never a single one of
the beauties with which his friend had surrounded him.
He had said an absent-minded, "Ah, this is fine," when
his host escorted him here, added an automatic sort of
"Good-night, Amos," and slumped down into an easy-
chair drawn up to a hearth on which a low fire burned.
The old house on Nob Hill grew silent. One after
another the lighted windows which had made vague
wan blurs through the steadily thickening fog were
blotted out by the darkness until in only one room a
flickering fire gave some faint and uncertain illumina-
tion. Engulfed in the big armchair Paul Savoy sat
motionless, his brain teeming with ideas which he tried
to make serve his will as a stern drill sergeant strives
with raw recruits, determined on whipping them into
shape and so on achieving out of chaos a condition of
order. When a grandfather's clock chimed and struck
he heard never a single one of the musical notes. Faint
sounds penetrated from the streets below, but he was
unaware of them.
2
Dimly conscious of a discreet tapping Savoy was
about to demand who was there when the door opened
and Laufer-Hirth stuck his head into the room.


74
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"I couldn't go to sleep, Paul," he said from the door-
way. "I got to thinking and"
Savoy laughed into the puckered face.
"Come ahead, old boy," he invited, and added with
a chuckle: "Going to a masquerade ball? You're a
glad sight for the eye!"
Laufer-Hirth, waving the enormous pipe which he
had removed from his lips for his initial remark, ad-
vanced shamblingly into the room, closed the door and
lowered his bulky form into a chair. He had prepared
for bed, donning the most flamboyantly vivid pair of
pajamas Savoy had ever seen; then, impelled to be up
again for a last word with his friend, he had en-
shrouded himself in the full silken regalia of a Chinese
mandarin, all purples and golds. His few white hairs
on an otherwise rosily shiny dome stuck up in all
directions.
"I knew you'd be awake," said Laufer-Hirth. "You'll
be making a night of it, I suppose?" He took a pull
at his big pipe, laid down a smoke screen between him-
self and Savoy's keen eyes, shifted in his chair very
much as little Amos Laufer-Hirth, aged ten, might have
squirmed before the penetrating gaze of a school-
teacher, and then burst out: "Damn it, Paul, I'm
worried!"
"You look the part," said Savoy wonderingly. "But
what on earth you've got to worry about"
"It's that brave, bright little girl, Paul! She sticks
in my mind with her dancing eyes and pink roses and
eagerness."
"Naturally," grinned Savoy. "Of all the downright
sentimental old stagers, Amos"
"I don't know how much nonsense there is in all the


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 75
stuff you filled Gateway with," continued the jeweller
in a grumbling sort of voice, "but I do know that you've
got an uncanny trick of seeing things other fellows
miss. And now you've started Mark Landreth's girl
out on an assignment that, as far as I can see, is harm-
less enough, but—" He rubbed his knuckles vigorously
against his scalp. "I've got the crawly kind of feeling
that keeps a man awake that you've sent her full tilt
into some sort of danger."
"Danger?" snapped Savoy, and frowned. "Danger?"
he demanded the second time, even more sharply. "Why
should there be any danger for her?"
"I don't know," said Laufer-Hirth uneasily. "I didn't
even dream of such a thing until after I'd gone to bed.
Then I got to thinking about things—you know how
a fellow does—and all of a sudden I just began to
feel that maybe— Shucks, Paul," he concluded with a
rather sheepish smile, "I suppose it was just the sort
of nightmare-notion that rides a man when he's half-
way between waking and sleeping, and his brain gets
to flailing around like a driving-rod broken loose at
one end."
Again Paul Savoy said: "Danger?" and fell to
drumming on the arms of his chair. "Confound you,
Amos," he said irritably. "I hadn't thought of that
part of it! How do I know whether she's running some
risk or not? The whole thing, that cloak-business, is
just a long shot, you know. There's not likely to be a
thing in it—but the devil of it is that a man can't tell!
How often the 'sure-shots' go wrong for us! How
very, very often the favorite doesn't even come in to
the money! And have you ever noticed how the long
shots do now and then come galloping home?"


76
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Laufer-Hirth had begun to relax and lose his vague
fears on voicing them; now he blinked and stiffened
as he muttered, taking the other side of the argu-
ment:
"Of course it was just that I was half asleep
and"
"In the very frame of mind," Savoy cut him short,
"to be receptive to truths that the wide-awake mind of
man has a way of shutting all doors against, turning
in the locks, as he thinks, the very key of logic!"
"Then you do think she may be in danger?" gasped
the other.
"In the midst of life—" began Savoy.
But a bell ringing in the hall stopped him.
"Telephone," explained Laufer-Hirth and heaved
himself up eagerly. "Rings in the hall. There's an
extension here." He took up the instrument from its
teakwood stand behind a tall leather screen, and a
moment later handed it to Savoy, saying in a dis-
appointed tone—for the old fellow had at the moment
fully expected to hear Janice Landreth's lilting voice—
"Gateway. He wants you."
3
"I had a hunch you wouldn't be in bed yet," said
Gateway over the telephone and Savoy thought the
man sounded breathless.
"Your hunch was right," returned Savoy, and de-
manded: "What now? Don't tell me you've sunk your
talons into a 'clue' already!"
"It's sure a funny thing," grunted Gateway.
"Life's a funny thing, you know," drawled Savoy.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 77
"But if you think you've found one of those 'clues'
so dear to your heart, look out for all that goes with
it, wrong turnings at every hand and all that. Just the
same"
Gateway's laugh with a hint of a jeer in it sounded
for even Laufer-Hirth at Savoy's elbow to hear.
"Just the same you'd like to know, eh?"
"I plead guilty to being human," Savoy laughed back
at him. "Fire away."
"It's a travelling bag," Gateway told him trium-
phantly, and again Savoy caught that breathlessness
which told of ill suppressed excitement. "I've wasted no
time for as I've said from the start all I've got to do is
see an opening anywhere and you can bet your last dol-
lar I'll hop to it like a fire engine on its red way! I've
got a dozen men nosing about right now, making life
tough for the guys that run the check stands all over
the bay region. And what do you suppose? A girl that
hasn't got any more sense than just enough to keep her
chewing-gum out of her hair has busted out from an
unexpected place with what looks like the biggest piece
of news since the armistice! She punches the cash reg-
ister in a cigar stand down on the Embarcadero, right
near where the big liners dock from the Orient. Here's
her yarn: A guy carrying two bags, a big one and a
little one, pops in at her stand about a week or maybe
ten days ago, to use the phone. He phones somebody;
he pops out; he says he's in a hurry; he pitches her a
dollar and says to hold his bag until he gets back; he
beats it and never comes back. She understood that
he was to come back for it in a couple of hours."
Savoy despite his habit of belittling all sorts of physi-
cal clues was as eager as Gateway when he asked:


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"The Unknown Victim's bag? The girl helped iden-
tify him?"
"That girl!" snorted Gateway. "I caught myself just
in time and didn't choke her to death. She couldn't
remember anything at first; after I bullyragged some
sense into her she sort of remembered dimly that the
man was a kind of 'foreign-looking' guy, although she
couldn't explain what she meant by that! And in time
the idea trickled into her skull that he must have come
ashore with a crowd landing from the Empress of
China. That steamer, Mr. Savoy, docked in the late
afternoon on the day before the murdered man turned
up in the taxi!"
Savoy's eyes narrowed. One must always be distrust-
ful of coincidence. Yet the eagerness was still in his
voice when he put the chief question:
"You found something definite in the bag?"
"Not all I could have asked," Gateway's voice sound-
ing so grim that Savoy could fancy the squaring of the
bulldog jaw. "But something that means a lot to me—
though you'd turn up your nose at it, I suppose."
"Not cuff-links with initials on them?" cried Savoy
in mock dismay. "Not—not laundry marks? Spare me
that, Gateway!"
"'S all right," growled Gateway. "'S all right about
that sort of thing; there's more than one man that has
swung on account of a laundry mark. But in this case
it happened to be two things: On a steamship folder
was the only scrap of writing in the bag; a name
scribbled in pencil. It was written twice, first, 'Charles
A. Kemp,' the second time just 'Chas. Kemp.'—Now
wait a shake! That ain't the two things, that's just one.
The other is a suit of clothes"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
79
"Lord love us!" said Savoy. "Not—not with the
tailor's tag, Gateway!"
"I knew you'd guy me," muttered Gateway. "But
just the same I've already got a wire off to Shanghai
which is where the passenger hailed from as you can
tell by the agent's stamp on the folder, and as you can
tell from the tailor's tag. If the police are on the job
there they'll be finding out things as soon as offices open
up in the morning."
"One nice thing about Shanghai," Savoy reminded
him, "is that while we're getting on to midnight here
our upside-down Oriental brothers are calling it day-
time!"
"And that's the first real break I've had on this case
yet!" cried Gateway and hung up.
4
"When a gum-chewing cigar-stand girl has the im-
pression of a man that was a 'foreign-looking guy,'"
remarked Savoy when he had detailed Gateway's dis-
covery to Laufer-Hirth. "she sets one pondering, eh,
old boy?"
"It couldn't have been the man found in the taxi,"
Laufer-Hirth reminded him. "Nothing foreign about
him from Gateway's description."
Savoy stared frowningly at him.
"Yet it's odd, isn't it, that some one left the bag
down there just a few hours before this thing hap-
pened? Some one who rather obviously appears to have
just arrived from Shanghai—and who hurried to tele-
phone somebody, and then got such news that he left
his bag where it was and hot-footed wherever it was


80 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
that he did hot-foot—and never came back!—Look
here, Amos, what do you suppose it was about this
chap that made the girl think him foreign?"
"His speech, I suppose"
"But Gateway said that she said foreign-/ooking."
Just then the telephone bell sounded again and Savoy,
being nearest the instrument, took it up.
"Oh, hello!" he said briskly when he had heard the
voice asking for Mr. Savoy, and Laufer-Hirth thought
that he seemed glad and perhaps relieved. "Is that you,
Miss Landreth?"
"With a tale to tell !" announced Janice's voice gaily.
She, thought Savoy, like Gateway before her, was ex-
cited. "I've had all kinds of luck with my first assign-
ment! I've found the mysterious lady who lost the
cloak—though really she's not in the least mysterious
as we supposed"
"Did we suppose that?" he asked banteringly.
"Why, of course we did! One doesn't say, 'No
questions asked' if the article referred to is merely lost,
does one?"
"Oh!" said Savoy, and Janice laughed in her gay
fashion and ran on hurriedly:
"But the cloak! A cloak really symbolizes mystery,
doesn't it? I'll tell you all about it when I see you"
"I don't like to wait until tomorrow. Couldn't
"But it's really just the shank of the evening, you
know. Only the witching hour—and I'm going to see
you at a midnight supper! You're very especially in-
vited; yes, Mr. Laufer-Hirth, too. And— Isn't it
curious ?—your friend Mr. Gateway!"
"What's all this?" demanded a perplexed Savoy.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 81
"Look here, Janice Landreth, if I could think of you
as a drinking woman"
"Never so sober!" cried Janice. "Surely you and
Mr. Laufer-Hirth haven't gone to bed, have you? On
such a night! Well, even if you have you'll have to
jump into your clothes and come right down."
"Down?"
"Down Nob Hill and into the heart of Chinatown,"
Janice told him. "That's where I am this very minute,
and that's where you and Mr. Laufer-Hirth and Mr.
Gateway, if he'll come, are to join us at supper.—By the
way, the morning papers are already on the street, and
Phil Stearns did himself proud in the story he wrote
about you and Detective Gateway getting together to
make history in the ancient pastime of sleuthing."
"What on earth are you doing in Chinatown?" de-
manded Savoy, and Laufer-Hirth at his elbow mut-
tered, "Chinatown! Good Lord!"
"Following the Trail of the Cloak!" said Janice, mak-
ing the proper mystery of her tone. "It led me here
and, incidentally, it brought the supper invitation—
from a perfect stranger! Oh, my dear man, I'm sure
your new assignments for little Janice are going to be
life-savers. But are you coming? Don't say no. Please
come!"
"This stranger?" he demurred. "Why should he be
asking us to supper? And what's it all about?"
"To get the complete answer you'll have to come!
I'll give you twenty minutes, no more. Mr. Laufer-
Hirth will know the place: It'sChu Yung's. Everybody
knows Chu Yung's. Also he'll know the name of our
host though he does not happen to know him person-
ally: Tell him the gentleman who is giving the little


82
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
after-theatre party is Mr. Paradene. Just say, 'Sylves-
ter Paradene' to him—and make him come!"
"Chu Yung's," Savoy repeated. "Sylvester Para-
dene?"
"What I" roared Laufer-Hirth and clutched him by
the arm. "Sylvester Paradene!"
"Coming right along," Savoy promised Janice. "The
name seems to register with Amos. Yes, I'll make
him come."
"That's nice. Mr. Paradene wanted particularly to
meet him. He's going to ask his opinion about a queer
ring, something he picked up recently in the Orient.
He has only recently returned from Shanghai and"
"Returned from where?" Savoy cut in sharply.
"From Shanghai. But that isn't the important thing.
The question is, shall I assure Mr. Paradene that you'll
bring the others with you? We're giving the poor man
none too much time for table arrangements, are we?
By the way, it isn't necessary to dress formally; some
of the guests won't be—I'm not, you know and"
"Positively you can depend on Amos and me! As
for Gateway, if I can get him on the phone and whis-
per a certain word into his ear, you can count on him
also as on the surest thing you know."
"All's right with the world!" laughed Janice and
hung up.
5
Laufer-Hirth, having emitted the one roar when he
heard Sylvester Paradene's name, contained himself
until he had listened to all that Savoy had to tell him,
when he exploded the second time. To make himself
clear he used words unbefitting a gentleman.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 83
"Whew!" was Savoy's sole comment. For though he
had known Amos Laufer-Hirth intimately for many
a year he had never heard him speak like this before.
Laufer-Hirth, somewhat quieter yet rumbling like a
volcano ready to burst again into flame and hot lava
at any moment, exclaimed,
"Come ahead, man! Not that I thought I'd ever put
my feet under the same table with that man, not that
even yet I'm at all sure I'll do any such thing, but be-
cause—Good God, Paul! That little girl in Chinatown
and with a man like Paradene!" He started to the door
in a shambling trot. "I'll be dressed in five minutes!"
"This oddly stirring Paradene is recently back from
Shanghai," Savoy called after him.
"It would be all the better for the world if he'd been
the man in the taxi," the jeweller paused to growl back
at him. "I remember reading a Rider Haggard story
wherein there was a man called 'The Thing That Never
Should Have Been Born!' That's Sylvester Paradene!"
He hurried away to his room, his flamboyant dress-
ing-gown flapping about his legs, his big pipe carried
like a battle-ax.
Savoy put in a telephone call for Gateway.
6
The two friends walked the short distance, going
steeply down Nob Hill and to Chu Yung's place in
Chinatown. Street lights were but wan spots murkily
glowing through the heavy white fog, and darkened
buildings were quite blotted out or at best revealed
themselves only vaguely like architectural ghosts hark-
ening for the stroke of midnight to be off to their own


84 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
pale limbo. Few figures were astir, and those few had
a trick of looming up suddenly and unexpectedly and
of fading away into nothingness. Footsteps sounded
hollowly, swift footsteps, slinking, furtive footsteps,
shuffling footsteps. On the outer fringe of the Oriental
quarter queer spicy smells baffled their nostrils; aroma-
tic, fishy, foreign smells. Somewhere a gong sounded;
a pagoda-like building seemed to be encroaching upon
a narrow sidewalk; lights of a sudden were mellower
and though no less veiled, brighter. Scuffling feet came
up out of a dark alley under an overhang of Eastern
architecture. Here and there men in Chinese panta-
loons and jackets and tasselled tight caps with shiny
black nobs stood in doorways, their hands lost in the
mystery of their wide sleeves. In the heart of the dis-
trict a low babel of sing-song voices rose as a reminder
that, though the residential parts of town might be
going to sleep, here there was as much wakefulness as
slumber. At a distance a street-car clanged; a limousine
with a liveried chauffeur rolled slowly by and seemed
oddly far from home; from an open door the clack of
dominoes and rattle of an abacus rose above the low
jargoning voices.
"Chu Yung's is what you please," explained Laufer-
Hirth. "Chu Yung himself is a friend of mine—a
friend, that is," he amended hastily, "as far as such a
thing can be between products of East and West. I've
known him twenty years and like him. He is an im-
porter among other things, and I've had a few small
deals with him, finding him scrupulously honest as is a
racial characteristic. The Chu Yung building is one of
the show-places of Chinatown. Yes, there's a restau-
rant but also there are other things: A shop of rare and
beautiful Oriental importations; rooms each of which


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
85
is furnished only by a solitary rug, the rugs treasures
locked away from all but the eyes of rare discernment
and plethoric bank accounts; other rooms wherein the
favored few initiated ones may sup such vintages as
nowadays San Francisco is supposed officially to know
nothing of; still other rooms where men and women in
evening dress, having presented their cards, may fancy
themselves at Monte Carlo; on the top floor are a few
luxurious and exotic apartments which Chu Yung leases
for long terms only, at exorbitant prices, and which, so
they say, have some very colorful foreigners as tenants;
and, on the very top, there's a pent house of fourteen
rooms where Chu Yung himself is at home to his
friends and where he lives like a mandarin in his own
country. If we don't penetrate that far and high to-
night," he concluded as they came to a halt in front of
a high-arched door under the vivid red effigy of a
sprawling dragon, "I'll undertake while you're in the
city to have Chu Yung ask us to dinner en famille some
time."
7
A yellow taxicab, its brakes squealing, skidded to a
stop at the curb and Gateway shot out in such eager
haste as to make Paul Savoy think of the taxi as a cata-
pult and the detective as the bolt it launched against the
high walls of the stronghold of mystery which he was
set on battering down. So great in fact was Gateway's
haste that the taxi driver, subject to no such flights of
imagination as Savoy, harbored the suspicion that his
fare was about to run out on him without paying his bill,
and shouted angrily: "Hi, there! A guy pays to ride
with me."
Gateway's aplomb seldom deserted him long. He paid


86 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
his score, added an exact ten per cent honorarium, re-
ceived a grunt by way of receipt and bore down on the
two friends awaiting him.
"Great business, eh, Mr. Savoy?" he said eagerly.
"This is what I call getting action!"
Savoy sighed. Over the telephone he had scarcely
more than mentioned Janice Landreth and the errand
on which she had fared forth.
"Action!" he retorted a hint testily. "Always and
always you're a man of deeds and not of words, eh,
Gateway?"
"I've told you all along," said Gateway complacently,
"that all I ask is a toe-hold, and if that's what we're
getting in connection with some cloak or other"
"A toe-hold is what we're not getting, my dear fel-
low," said Savoy impatiently. "And it's exactly what
we're not looking for. Mind you this and mind it well,
lest we come to grief: We study a problem which in-
trigued us with the lines of its beautiful simplicity, like
a Greek temple, as I think I said before. From the nature
of the problem we are led naturally to a certain general
method of attack. Having outlined that method and
found it good, we move on little by little to the tentative
formulation of a first general theory. The third step is
logically one toward testing some portion of our theory
by questing some related fact. We may have a related
fact tonight, and we may not have any such thing. We
hope that we have hit upon a single point of contact
between pure theory and actual reality."
"And if we have," said Gateway with a mere chem-
ist's trace of doggedness in his tone, "there's my toe-
hold. Give me that, I'll dig in and get going."
"I think you'll not dig in or get going tonight,"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 87
Savoy informed him bluntly. "If we establish any con-
nection at all between our nebulous speculations and the
grim realities, that connection is bound to be vague and
tenuous, a mere moonbeam, if you like, across a dark
chasm."
"Here's Janice Landreth," said Laufer-Hirth.
Unlike Gateway in everything else, just now Janice
Landreth was like a sister in the matter of brimming
eagerness. Less now than ever could she walk after the
plodding fashion of most mere mortals, but came to
them so lightly and swiftly as to suggest winged slip-
pers, and in the fog one pert little feather standing up
from her snug-fitting hat hinted that there must be an-
other just like it on the other side and that her milliner
had equipped her with a petasus like that of the winged
messenger of the gods. She came out of Chu Yung's,
but not through the main door under the red dragon;
there was a small and less obvious door at the side and
to this she led them directly.
"There's a room where we can talk," she said as they
followed her. "We'll be all alone, there."
A narrow hall brought them promptly to the prom-
ised room. It was a small chamber softly lighted by a
single rose-shaded light. Save for a plain teak bench
in a corner and an exquisite Ming rug on the sky-blue
field of which the Sacred Mountain rose from the calm
Sea of Eternity, this room was entirely bare.
Here Gateway, who had been subjecting the girl to
a severe scrutiny, was presented to her; he bowed stiffly
and Janice gave him her hand and a smile with the
words:
"Though Mr. Gateway and I haven't actually met
before, we did come close to bumping into each other


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
89
lately, thank you. Oh, quite in the Big Way, you know,
which explains the cloak and a couple of extra cars and
the Pomeranian. You see, Mrs. Hamby had just got
home from a party, about one o'clock in the morning
and the Pomeranian, poor dear, was at the moment
having some sort of a queer fit. The chauffeur, 'For
we've only one just now, my dear,' was away with Mr.
Hamby, who was banqueting late that night. So the
resourceful Mrs. Hamby puts on one cloak and wraps
another about Pommy, and starts for the most exclu-
sive Dog and Cat—or should I say Canine and Feline?
—Sanitorium, heroically driving her own car. The
place is out beyond Twin Peaks somewhere, and on her
way she witnesses the collision of two cars on Junipero
Serra Boulevarde. So Mrs. Hamby stops and jumps
down and runs to see how many people are killed—and
when she gets back to her Packard or Pierce, I forget
which, but in our story we'll call it a Rolls Royce any-
how, she finds Pommy whimpering because some horrid
man snatched off his nice cloak and left him shivering!"
"Tragic," agreed Savoy smiling. But behind the
smile, just as behind Janice's inconsequential manner,
there was the keenest interest.
"She got it back several days ago," Janice continued.
"She showed it to me. She was enraged, and you
couldn't blame the dear soul! Some one had cut a big
hole in it and, it would seem, had then thrown it away.
At any rate it was sent back to Mrs. Hamby by a man
I suppose you'd call chief of janitorial staff to Mr. Chu
Yung."
"The cloak then turned up here?"
Janice nodded.
"That's what brought me here. I met the chief jani-


90
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
torial gentleman and though he had little more English
than I had Chinese, we got along delightfully. That
man can smile in any language! He was really most
humane and when he learned that I was a poor work-
ing girl and was hunting material for my new series of
queer articles he did all that he could to help.
"The cloak turned up—right there!" She pointed to
the nearer of the two elevators. "One of the house-boys
was tidying in this room one morning when the elevator
door opened and a gentleman came out with the cloak
in his hand. That gentleman was Mr. Alan Casamajor,
the artist, of whom you may have heard, who is one of
the apartment-tenants upstairs.—I have learned that
there are only four apartments in all, very expensive
they are, too; and that just now all the several tenants
are away on their summer vacations, with the exception
of Mr. Casamajor in the southwest apartment, and a
Mr. Larry Dean in the northeast. I have learned, too,
or fancy I have, that the two gentlemen are not fond
of each other. The result is that, rather than run the
risk of running into each other too often, they've gotten
into the habit of each using a particular elevator. So it
would seem that Mr. Casamajor, who I think just now
is either troubled.with a bilious attack or a love affair
that has gone sour, has gotten into the habit of con-
sidering this elevator as his exclusive property."
Gateway, to whom the girl was a new experience, was
all this while boring away at her with his bright, hard
eyes, trying to discover to what sub-genus she belonged,
empty-headed jabberer or astute female of the species.
This seemed a lot of talk—yet it might be pertinent.
Janice ran on swiftly, and Gateway began nodding
approval.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 91
"When Mr. Casamajor stepped out of the elevator,"
she reminded them, "he had the cloak in his hand. The
house-boy and he looked at each other. All of a sudden
Mr. Casamajor threw the cloak at the boy and growled
at him something like this : 'Who's left this confounded
thing here for me to stumble over? Go throw it into
the ash can; its owner must have got into a drunken
row; it's torn all to pieces.' He started out, then
laughed and said, 'Maybe your best girl can use the fur
on it and make herself a new one.'"
"All that the boy knows," cut in Gateway shrewdly,
"is that this artist chap, Casamajor, popped out of the
elevator with the thing in his hand?"
"And," continued Janice when she in her turn had
nodded, "he naturally carried it off to his superior, the
janitor-in-chief. That worthy looked it over and hung
it away on a peg. Later he returned it to Mrs. Hamby,
after she had advertised."
"And you say that Mrs. Hamby showed you the gar-
ment?" asked Savoy idly.
"Yes. And more than that, I— But I haven't finished
telling you the end of my adventures: A good reporter,
you know, keeps nosing right on from one person to
another until she gets to the very source of the story.
So I sent a message up to Mr. Casamajor, asking an
interview for the press. And what do you think he
did?"
"Being an artist," smiled Savoy, "he leaped at the
opportunity to get into print!"
"He sent word down to me," said Janice, dimpling,
"to go to the devil! So this time I sent my card up, and
wrote on it, 'Please!' and scribbled on the back, 'Mark
Landreth's daughter.' And added to that, 'You're a sort


02
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
of friend of Mark's, aren't you?' And found room to
add, 'R.S.V.P.' And the result was that I was very
promptly shown up to Mr. Alan Casamajor's simply
divine apartment."
Laufer-Hirth groaned.
"Paul warned me at the beginning that you were a
harum-scarum"
"He neither kidnapped nor assassinated me!" Janice
told him in triumph. "Despite his liver or broken heart,
he was almost human. He told me he found the con-
founded coat by the simple expedient of stumbling over
it and nearly breaking his neck when he stepped into
his elevator. And he added that he was glad to meet
Mark Landreth's daughter and that he hoped I was
doing nicely."
"Sylvester Paradene was with him?" demanded
Laufer-Hirth.
"Mr. Paradene came in while we were talking. He
had the morning newspaper in his hand, and was read-
ing Phil Stearns' account of the alliance of what he
called 'Brains and Brawn.'" She shot a glance full of
mischief at Gateway who took the arrow and save for
a snort bore the pain like a Spartan. "Then I had my
chance to say that I knew Mr. Savoy and that he was
quite the most interesting man I ever met!" Savoy did
not snort, but he looked at her as one who makes allow-
ances for the nonsense of sheer youth. "And then,"
Janice ran on, "Mr. Paradene exclaimed that Mr. Casa-
major and some other people were to have supper with
him presently, and he wondered whether I could use my
influence with my friend Mr. Savoy and induce him to
come and to bring his confrere, Mr. Gateway, along.
—And here we all are!"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
93
"You knew this fellow Paradene already?" asked
Laufer-Hirth.
"No, though I've barely escaped meeting him several
times. I have friends who are friends of his. One of
them, Dora Dillingham, is to come tonight."
"You hadn't quite finished about the cloak, had you?"
asked Savoy. "Badly torn, you say?"
"Mrs. Hamby," laughed Janice, "was delighted with
our idea of Romances of the Lost and Found, and per-
fectly willing to get her name in the paper as the owner
of a lovely fur coat, a pedigreed Pom and a fleet of cars.
So when she had telephoned my city editor to make
sure that I wasn't going to steal it, she let me bring it
along. If you'll look behind that bench"
Savoy fairly leaped to the bench and an instant later
Gateway's eyes were goggling at a woman's cloak ex-
travagantly trimmed in red-brown fur.
"You'll notice—" began Janice almost breathlessly.
"Yes," said Savoy and suddenly was very grim. He
looked, she thought, awed. "Just one of our many long,
long shots, Gateway—just one of a hundred that we
were going to try before we were through and—" He
flung the thing into Gateway's eager grasp, as though
resenting it. "Look at it! There's a hole in it you
could stuff your head through, a hole that's been
hacked out with a knife! Now tell me, man, if that
cloak were wrapped about your Unknown Victim,
wouldn't that hole just about match the wounds in his
left side?"
Gateway's face worked. He was mystified, awed,
eager, incredulous, afraid to believe—and electrified
with hope. From staring with all his might at the thing
in his hands he fell to staring at Janice Landreth.


94
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Savoy had begun to pace the room restlessly. Of a
sudden he came to a halt and stiffened; the look he be-
stowed on Gateway was comparable to that individual's
fixed stare at Janice.
"I almost wish this confounded thing hadn't turned
up yet," he said so sharply that he sounded angry.
"We're not ready for it! We"
He broke off and stood with his head down, seeming
to contend with some nervous tension; absent-mindedly
turning the ring on his finger, he was for the moment
a man communing with himself, utterly oblivious of
his surroundings.
Gateway to the end of his days would not altogether
understand him. There were times, as now, with the
trail seeming hot under foot when Savoy was apt to
grow silent, to seem to withdraw into some remote dis-
tance, to distrust that which the detective accepted—
and which, as far as Gateway could see, was the very
thing Savoy himself had been seeking!
As for Gateway, the moment was not one for analysis
but for action. He fingered the hole in the cloak almost
lovingly. When he looked up from it he had tucked in
the corners of his mouth, squaring his jaw and taking
on to a superlative degree his bulldog look.
"Me, all I've asked for was a toe-hold," he said with
a broad grin. "And here's a hole I can get my whole
foot in!"
"And that's the deuce of it," said Savoy impatiently.
"Let's hope your pun isn't prophetic; putting your foot
in it, you know, may be significant!" He fell to hunting
for a cigarette. "How many times have I told you that
your 'clues' raise the very devil with a man?"
"I'll take the chance," said Gateway, and turned


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 95
sharply upon Janice. "Miss Landreth," he exclaimed
with true admiration in his eyes, "you're a peach!"
In a flash Paul Savoy's tense mood vanished.
"For once, Gateway," he laughed, and slipped his arm
through Janice's, "you and I are in perfect accord!
Come ahead, Amos. This amazing young woman has
two arms."
"She's got Venus de Milo beat in all particulars,"
chortled Laufer-Hirth and stepped quickly to Janice's
other side.
8
Since this anteroom was intended solely to provide
a private entrance to the apartment elevators, to gain
access to the other part of the building it was necessary
to return to the street and pass in at the high-arched
door under the red dragon. A Chinese attendant in the
loose garb of his country came forward to meet them;
asking no questions, but greeting them smilingly, he
conducted them along a hallway to a door through the
iron grill of which a pair of slanting, jet-black, unwink-
ing eyes regarded them. As their escort stepped for-
ward this door opened and they passed into an elevator
which shot them upward quite to the top of the build-
ing.
"We're to see Mr. Chu Yung himself, then?" asked
Laufer-Hirth.
The young Chinese bowed gravely. The elevator
came to a stop and the four passed directly into a sec-
ond small anteroom, but in this one besides the Chinese
rug, a thing of delicate pattern and rich medallion, a
harmony of jade and pale apple-greens, there were two
high-backed ebony chairs, and on a bronze pedestal was


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
97
heard so much? What a fortunate man is Chu Yung
tonight!—Ah, Mr. Gateway? The very spirit of San
Francisco's great police force!"
Making them his profound obeisance he conducted
them through the door he had left open behind him and
into a spacious drawing room to step across the thres-
hold of which was to enter an elegantly appointed home
of modern China. But at the moment Oriental sump-
tuousness wedded to Oriental simplicity scarcely regis-
tered upon Paul Savoy. For at the far end of the room
standing in a critical attitude before a painting in a
small recess,—he did note the picture, a bird on an apple-
bough that with pale buds bursting into rich blossom
constituted, as do all Chinese paintings, a poem—a tall,
very dark and arrestingly striking young man caught
and held his eye. The genial Laufer-Hirth was renew-
ing old acquaintance with Chu Yung; as the two moved
across the room toward the tall dark young man who
had again turned his attention to the bird on the bough,
Janice tweaked Savoy by the sleeve, saying in an under-
tone with a thrill in it:
"I gather that our friend, Mr. Chu Yung, is a fright-
ful old rascal, don't you? There are rooms downstairs,
I am secretly informed, to which the initiate retire for
wine suppers and rather spectacular gambling." Then
her already hushed voice sank to even a lower tone as
she cast a quick glance toward the tall dark young
man who was now chatting in a bored sort of way with
Laufer-Hirth and Chu Yung. "Alan Casamajor," she
explained. "Striking, isn't he? As convincing a stage
variety of villain as I ever saw! Do we agree?"
"Do you know, his name sounded familiar when
first you mentioned it; I seem to remember"
"Of course; he's really quite well known. Couldn't


98
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
you tell him for an artist? He goes in for queer, down-
right weird sorts of things, things bizarre and soul-
troubling and sinister. It's said to be his search for
subjects— Or do you suppose that's merely an excuse?
—that brings him to Chinatown with his apartment
beneath this triple roof of Chu Yung's."
"Janice Landreth, when Gateway remarked that you
were a peach"
"We really mustn't hang back like this, must we?
Chu Yung, as I've already found out, is such a punc-
tilious old thing.—I've heard of Alan Casamajor all my
life; he knows Dad, too. At home we had a couple of
his paintings which always made me shudder deli-
ciously. They're the queerest things, strange and haunt-
ing and unholy. I can't explain: I don't know that I
understand. In them over and over you see Beauty
twisted into something hateful and horrid—they're
splashed with heavenly light, but through it you sense
a blind worm groping!—Did I tell you that Mr. Para-
dene when I met him had a newspaper in his hand and
seemed tremendously excited over the news that you
and Mr. Gateway were getting your heads together—
You've a treat in store; wait until you see Mr. Para-
dene!"
They turned together toward the others in the room,
but at the last moment Janice observed in a curiously
altered undertone:
"Mr. Savoy! Will you think I'm simply silly? Do
you believe in the least in what is termed a woman's
intuition?"
"Laufer-Hirth will tell you," he returned soberly,
"that I've a queer way in believing in all sorts of per-
fectly mad things."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
99
"That man Casamajor!" whispered Janice. "It isn't
just his face, though that's enough! I could swear that
I caught a glimpse of his soul a while ago—and it's the
soul of a mediaeval poisoner!"
9
A moment later Paul Savoy was shaking hands with
Alan Casamajor and experiencing the sensation of
being listlessly stared at by a pair of indolent and
vaguely insolent eyes.
The man was well above six feet and muscularly
slender, with big strong hands. His eyes were large
and very black, wide-spaced and intelligent, under thick
straight black brows. There was the look of the story-
book American Indian about him; his cheek-bones were
high, his skin smooth and dark, his carriage free and
arrogant. His mouth, thought Savoy, was that of a
man who had tasted life only to find it bitter. He was
speaking in his odd, bored way to Laufer-Hirth, and
Savoy wondered whether the mannerism were pure af-
fectation or the true expression of his real attitude
toward his fellow human beings; the bitterness of the
mouth lent color to the surmise that Alan Casamajor
found life in general, and most people along with it, flat,
stale and unprofitable. He was dressed conventionally,
but his formal coat fitted him loosely and he wore a
small bright-red blossom on bis lapel; his hair was very
long and brushed back carelessly. Altogether he struck
a certain note a bit out of the common, and a first
glance failed to dispose of his full possibilities.
For his part Casamajor stared down his long nose
at Savoy. For an instant Savoy was certain that a


1oo A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
sudden flash, like a flame glinting through smoke, came
into the sombre eyes. Janice, too, remarked it and
mentioned it later. But Casamajor spoke formally
enough, merely acknowledging the introduction in a
deep, rich and not unmusical voice and then turned to
Janice with whom it appeared he wished to discuss some
point in the painting of the bird on the bough.
But whatever he had in mind was not spoken. As he
was lifting a long forefinger the five in the drawing
room were startled by a woman's scream.
It rang out sharply and broke short off—a scream
only at the beginning, terminated as abruptly as
though a hand had been clapped over the mouth open-
ing for the first shrill note of terror. The sound burst
on them so all without warning and was clipped so
short that briefly those who had overheard it stared at
one another without moving. Then,
"May I be excused a moment?" asked Chu Yung
gravely, and started toward that portion of the house
whence the scream had come.
10
A heavy brocaded curtain of turquoise blue with a
scrolled border in gold thread was pushed aside from
a doorway and a man looked into the room. He was
laughing and Paul Savoy was not for an instant in doubt
that this was Sylvester Paradene. He was a little, dap-
per, self-assertive man, so small that he barely escaped
being a dwarf. A man of fifty perhaps, but the spirit
which leered out of his protuberant eyes—eyes which
stood out with such startling prominence that it seemed
impossible their lids could ever stretch far enough to


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 101
cover them—was old and warped and, as not even he
himself denied, evil. Behind him, just glimpsed through
the door, her eyes still round and fearful though a
strained, spasmodic smile made a travesty of mirth on
her over-red lips, was the young woman who had
screamed.
Paradene's laughter, all but noiseless, suggested some
secret, malicious glee. He held the curtain aside for his
companion to step through into the larger room; as she
did so he made her a jerky little bow full of mockery,
and she shrank by him. He then came forward with
one hand outstretched while the other remained behind
his back. Now, though his expression altered swiftly
and quick interest came into it especially when he shot a
piercing look at Savoy, the satyr's grin still lurked
within him and made of his smile a sort of fleering
grimace.
"Mr. Laufer-Hirth? So glad!" purred Mr. Paradene
without awaiting upon introduction. "Mr. Savoy? So
pleased! Mr. Gateway? Ah!"
Laufer-Hirth snorted and stared beyond him, con-
cerned exclusively at the moment with Mr. Paradene's
fair companion and with conjecture whipped up by her
stifled scream and no less by the fright still dilating
her eyes despite her obvious attempt to banish it
.
Savoy, too, looked beyond Mr. Paradene, glancing over
his head, frankly intrigued in the same quarter as Lau-
fer-Hirth, while Gateway's keen eyes, rever keener than
now, seemed to be everywhere at once.
It was Chu Yung who suavely introduced them to
Mrs. Dillingham:
"My dear Mrs. Dillingham, allow me. This gentle-
man, whose friendship does me a very great honor, is


102 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Mr. Amos Laufer-Hirth; without him, as you know,
San Francisco would not be San Francisco! And this
is a very dear friend of my friend, Mr. Paul Savoy—
and here still another distinguished friend, Mr. Gate-
way—" His voice ran on mellifluously.
Mrs. Dillingham's white breast, amply revealed in a
quite breath-taking evening gown of black lace over
ruddy gold, rose and fell to a profound sigh and the
tense smile gave place to a more natural and pleasing
one while her eyes became at once gay and friendly.
She was quite young for a bona-fide widow and strik-
ingly pretty; her eyes were large and lively, a deep-sea
blue, and her carefully coiffured hair bright gold. Her
blonde prettiness was exploited by accessories which
were clamorous in shouting "Money." Emeralds were
her choice; obviously she could afford them; they were
fine stones and she wore them profligately.
The sort of talk which she began was of the con-
venient social brand which permits of proper replies
being made while one's mind strays elsewhere. Paul
Savoy for one, having eyed her somewhat sharply,
found it possible to nod and even to murmur mono-
syllables while his more active attention was given to
Sylvester Paradene's curiously stealthy movements.
All this while Mr. Paradene had stood with his left
hand behind him. Suddenly he thrust it into sight. He
was peering up into Savoy's eyes at the moment and
now shoved the object that he held into Savoy's face.
So unexpected was the gesture and so startling was the
thing in his hand, that Savoy whipped back with an
exclamation.
Mr. Paradene broke into tittering laughter.
"Unintentionally, oh, quite, quite unintentionally," he


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 103
giggled, "I frightened dear Mrs. Dillingham with it.
And I was merely about to call her attention to it as an
interesting curiosity."
It was a Chinese mask and, at least from a Western
point of view, grotesquely horrible, a grinning, un-
earthly, misbegotten product of some incomprehensible
Oriental mood. It looked, as Janice said with a gasp,
"Like nothing on earth!" Trite as the remark was, it
fitted the case exactly. Like nothing on earth—and yet
it, too, had a spirit left lurking behind its inhuman grin
by the obsessed artist who made it—and from con-
templating it in varying degrees of natural horror, every
pair of eyes shifted back in a curious way to Sylvester
Paradene's face as though to trace some fantastic
resemblance.
Mrs. Dillingham was the first to speak. She said in
a quick eager way:
"Yes! Mr. Paradene raised it suddenly before my
eyes. Just as he did now before Mr. Savoy's. It—it
startled me."
"Dear me, yes," purred Mr. Paradene. "Oh, dear
me, yes!"
11
Chu Yung was telling them about Chinese masks. It
was all very interesting and Chu Yung knew his subject
and spoke eloquently, but he was far too astute a man
to be oblivious of the fact that he was eliciting merely
an outward show of polite interest. Mr. Paradene's
eyes crinkled up, his lids seeming to stretch as they
crept closer together over his bulging eyes, and kept
glancing sidewise at Mrs. Dillingham, who did not once
look his way. The artist, Alan Casamajor, stood with


104 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
his arms crossed and repeatedly Paul Savoy caught him
looking frowningly at Mrs. Dillingham, and now and
then transferring his gloomy gaze to Mr. Paradene.
Also he noted how she looked more than once at Casa-
major, and how her deep-sea eyes brimmed over with
something that was like a supplication for help—a
desperate and despairing appeal, Savoy thought it.
One of Chu Yung's servants appeared at the proper
moment and carried the mask back to the little room
where Mr. Paradene had picked it up. In the general
conversation which now broke out rather freely sev-
eral matters swam to the top. One was that still other
guests were expected at any moment, when supper was
to be served, among them a foreign lady, the daughter
of Paradene's elder sister, a certain Princess Perenella.
Then there was a socially prominent young attorney,
William Borchard, familiarly referred to as Bill Bor-
chard, who was bringing her. Another gentleman, Mr.
Larry Dean, at present indulging his natural proclivities
of gambling in Chu Yung's "Rooms" downstairs, had
promised to join them.
"You know, Mr. Savoy," confessed Paradene with a
sigh, having managed to draw Savoy slightly apart
from the others for a bit of chat, "I've a most amazing
interest in crime!"
"Indeed?" Up went Paul Savoy's dark brows po-
litely.
"Positively. It's quite a mania with me. I'd rather
like to explain to you, if I were sure I were not boring
you? Ah, yes, of course." He grimaced; a strangely
cruel look peeped unhidden from his eyes. "I don't
mince words, Mr. Savoy. I don't have to, you know. I
say what I please, when and where I please, as I please.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 105
In fact, it's a luxury of mine to do so, a luxury you'll
admit that is shared by few, very few men. You have
heard of me, I've no doubt, and if so you've heard my
boast that I am the only absolutely free and untram-
melled man on earth!"
Savoy said, "Ah." As long, he thought, as he had
committed himself to the ordeal of being this little
bounder's guest, "Ah" was all that there was left for
him to say.
"Exactly," said Mr. Paradene. "To begin with, I am
very rich. So are you, I understand; so, certainly, are
both Laufer-Hirth and Chu Yung. Even Casamajor,
for an artist, is wealthy. So is Mrs. Dillingham; a very
wealthy young widow indeed, widowed about two years
ago when young Tom Dillingham was killed. You
know nothing of that scrap of ancient history, I sup-
pose? A most perplexing affair, really. Was it murder
—or accident? The coroner's jury decided to call it
accident anyway—blamed it on a savage horse, saying,
poor Tom Dillingham was trampled to death! Well,
well."
He waved a pair of small, carefully kept hands; on
one of his fingers a large purple-black diamond flashed
fire.
"I could buy them all up and never miss the money,"
he said coolly. "Great wealth like mine makes a man
master of the world—if it happens that he can make
himself master of himself, eh, Mr. Savoy? Other men,
holding themselves free and untrammelled, are actually
bound by all sorts of spidery but none the less unbreak-
able webs—such as conventions, so-called moral urges,
the fear of what people will say, and all that. You fol-
low me, Mr. Savoy?"


1o6 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"I think so," said.Savoy.
"Of course. Quite clear, isn't it? Now I tolerate no
webs making a dreadfully disgusting human fly of Syl-
vester Paradene. I don't care what people say; I don't
give the slightest damn, my dear sir, what you may
be thinking of me right now. I haven't any moral
urges; I haven't any love for humanity or for anything
else; I haven't any puling 'human sympathies.'—I hope
you're not a sentimentalist?" he demanded sneeringly.
One of Chu Yung's servants appeared before them
bearing a tray on which were cocktails, cigarettes and a
small dish of sugary-looking nuts. Savoy accepted a
glass and a cigarette and thereafter remarked:
"Oh, I suppose we're all sentimentalists in one way
or another, aren't we?"
"Not I!" said Mr. Paradene vehemently as he drove
the servant away with an impatient gesture. "Shall I
continue? Yes, since I saw I caught your interest with
my initial proclamation. Being a free man all my life,
I've been free to do what I pleased. For upward of
thirty years, Mr. Savoy, I've done just that day after
day, night after night, year in and year out. If I've had
a wish, I granted its fulfilment. And if you want to
know it, I've gotten damned well fed up on most things!
I'm jaded because I've had everything. I demand new
sensations and they grow hard to find. Of late, until I
sickened of it, my greatest entertainment was to sit and
watch a great actor in a great scene in a great play—
and it goes without saying that the great play had to
be a tragedy, for no plays or stories are great that are
not tragic. I said to myself, 'Ah, if this were only real
life instead of a mimic slice of it! If I could sit here
and see the real tears, the real blood and agony and


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 107
could hear the real groans and outbursts of pas-
sion!
"Screams, perhaps?" said Savoy drily. "Like Mrs.
Dillingham's just now?"
Mr. Paradene rubbed his small white hands together.
"I'm not mad, either, if that's what you're thinking,"
he chuckled shrewdly. "My sister tried to prove that I
was once, long ago—to come at my money, you know.
No; I'm not mad; I'm just a man who has risen supe-
rior to a maudlin, over-sentimentalized civilization.—
Yes, Mrs. Dillingham's scream. The dear lady was
terrified. It wasn't mock terror; it wasn't some fool
actor's idea of what terror is like. It was the real thing.
You begin to get me, eh? My interest in crime now? I
saw the article in tonight's paper about you and Gate-
way collaborating to hunt down a murderer. Immedi-
ately I wanted to be in on it! I said to myself that here
was sometiiing delightful. Somewhere lurks a man who
has killed another man, who has put his own life in
jeopardy and who now moves warily, knowing that a
false step may be the end of him. Here, like two tigers
in a jungle, you and your accomplice Gateway are stalk-
ing him. And here sits Sylvester Paradene and looks
on—and for a little while I find life as interesting, as
compelling and as full of promise as when I was a boy,
and wondered what was just on the other side of a hill!
For the moment, avaunt boredom!"
"Boredom?" mused Savoy, and added thoughtfully,
"Young Alan Casamajor is a friend of yours, isn't he?
Is boredom contagious, and did he catch it from you?"
"Boredom is the single penalty I've had to pay for the
fullest life any man ever lived! No, that's not what's
troubling Alan Casamajor. He's entirely human, Mr.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 109
doubting. Her strange black eyes flashed and a dull red-
ness spread over her dusky cheeks.
"My dear, dear Uncle Paradene," she said sweetly.
But though she smiled she brought her fine black brows
sharply down and this made the smile a scowling one
with her lips clipping the words off and then forming a
hard line as they were tightly compressed. Savoy
thought that she looked at Paradene as though she did
not care who knew that with all her dark heart and pas-
sionate soul she hated him.
Paradene made a mockery of the introduction, affect-
ing to be presenting Savoy to royalty. The princess-bit
her lip and bowed stiffly and was obviously glad to
escape to Mrs. Dillingham and Janice. Savoy watched
her go, thinking how piquant and elusively foreign her
dark little face was. He saw in her a stormy soul
caught in a frail, tiny body, a puckish little creature
with great liquid black eyes to linger in the memory.
They were unusually full, and so reminded him that she
was Paradene's niece though with her this feature was
not exaggerated as with him, giving her an outre, alien
attraction—haunting eyes curiously brilliant making
him think of the lambent eyes of a night-flying squirrel.
He meditated that if really she was as poor as a church
mouse then church mice must of late have fallen on
better times or else appearances were up to their old
trick of deceiving. She was no less expensively gowned
than Dora Dillingham, if in better taste; she wore dia-
monds and her jewels, though less flaunting, were
superb.
But, "I think we have friends in common, Mr.
Savoy," William Borchard was saying. "I've heard
Mark Landreth mention your name—I see, by the way,


no A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
that Janice is here. And Mr. Laufer-Hirth, too. I
know him only slightly, however. Just back from the
South Seas, I see in the papers. Staying long in San
Francisco?"
. . . And all that sort of thing, Borchard evidently
spending words freely to dissipate the miasma of un-
pleasantness left hanging in the air from Mr. Para-
dene's manner. Savoy fell in with him and they chatted
of acquaintances in common for a moment or two.
"I didn't know that you and Mr. Paradene knew
each other," said Borchard.
"We've never met until tonight," returned Savoy.
"He's a queer little beast," said Borchard, and then
laughed at the perking up of Savoy's brows. "Oh, he
wouldn't in the least resent my saying so, were he to
creep up behind us at his eternal eavesdropping and
overhear; he finds his joy in his unique position where
he sets himself apart from mankind and asks hatred
rather than affection. But you were talking with him
when the Princess and I came in; so of course he had
already snatched the first opportunity to impress upon
you the sort he is."
"His niece in her own way is no less unique," Savoy
said. "I've never seen anything quite like her."
"She is delightful," said Borchard. Across the room
he caught Casamajor's eye and nodded genially. "I
must have a word with Alan. You've met him already
no doubt? An old friend of mine; a friend, you know.
The sort that would go to hell for you."
"That sort?" smiled Savoy. It dawned on him that
if ever he sought to know these people intimately Bor-
chard might be a source of valuable information. "Yes,
I met him just before Mrs. Dillingham came in."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY in
"She's another old friend of Casamajor's," said
Borchard. "The warm-hearted chap would cut off his
right arm for either of us.—Oh, you mustn't judge
him by what he appears tonight! I see in his eye that
he's upset about something; something tragic, you
know"
"Tragic?" repeated Savoy lightly.
"Like having a painting go sour on him just as he
thought he had what he wanted," said Borchard. "It's
that sort of thing in Alan's otherwise placid and
ordered life that puts that look on his face.—I hope
I'll see more of you," he added and strolled away to
come to rest at the princess' elbow.
12
During the entire evening Savoy had but few words
with Perenella but, inconsequential though they seemed
at the time, he had cause to recall them later. It was at
a moment when a chance eddy in the informal gather-
ing resulted in a chat a deux with Mrs. Dillingham,
and the little dark princess, shaking herself free from
the circle about Chu Yung, was flitting by them. The
young widow reached out impulsively and caught her
hand.
"Whither away, Dark Butterfly?" she asked lightly.
"To sip honey in other people's gardens, Blonde
Sorceress," laughed Perenella impertinently, and looked
significantly across the big room to Alan Casamajor
where he stood with an arm resting affectionately about
Borchard's shoulder; for the moment he had thrown
off his gloom and his eyes were warm with friendship.
Mrs. Dillingham shrugged her white shoulders.


112 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"He's not mine, my dear 'Nella."
"Take warning if you're susceptible, Mr. Savoy,"
said Perenella, with a trace of spite in her banter.
"Being a woman, the truth is not in her!"
"You mean no woman is ever honest? Not even
yourself, Princess?"
"Never!" she said promptly, "unless, just perhaps in
her diary. Even then"
She ended there, with a queer little wriggly shrug,
and passed on, and Savoy was mildly surprised by Mrs.
Dillingham murmuring softly with what seemed gen-
uine feeling:
"Poor lonely little soul! I think she never had a
friend, never a solitary soul to understand her, never
a confidant on earth—save that treasured diary of hers,"
13
Savoy was grateful for a few words with Janice.
Hers was a freshness which fell like dew upon the soul;
among these others it seemed to him that she was in-
effably sweet and dear. There were treasures under
heaven other than hard, brilliant stones and minted
gold; there were, and now was a moment to thank God
for it, violets in the springtime and rosebuds in July.
Her charm was a natural one which set her far afield
from Mrs. Dillingham with her worldliness and clash of
gold; from the Princess Perenella, so darkly passionate,
with a glitter about her like jet under gauze; from that
insufferable, frankly evil egomaniac Paradene; from the
brooding, bitter-mouthed artist, Casamajor; from even
the masterly and businesslike William Borchard, and
the enigmatic and remote Chu Yung.
"More than ever before," he told her, smiling yet


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 113
sincere, "do I love your roses! Emeralds on your friend
Mrs. Dillingham, diamonds on her exotic friend the
princess, have no such fragrance. But then of course
you know well enough that with eyes like yours"
Janice's laugh was exactly the merry ripply music
of that other dimly remembered Janice of the wounded
knee those several years ago. But almost instantly she
sobered; it was in a necessarily hushed voice that she
exclaimed:
"Did you ever dream that such a little wretch ex-
isted?" For an instant her eyes darkened and her lips
were rather like carved coral than the rose petals which
he had tritely yet none the less aptly considered them.
"Dora Dillingham is silly about money, but she's a dear;
and did you see the look on his face when he had her
ready to faint with fear? Although I've heard a lot
of Sylvester Paradene I never knew him for the devil
he is until then."
"It was a mean trick, his shoving that mask before
her without warning," said Savoy. "The thing startled
"Don't pretend to be stupid," retorted Janice. "You
know as well as I do that it wasn't the mask."
He lifted his brows, saying merely, "What then?"
"It's none of our affair, I suppose. Just the same—
He's a beastly little coward—and I'd like to see him
scared like that once! He'd make an awful fuss—I can
hear him squeal like a rabbit I had once when my dog
caught it.—And I'll bet you, Mr. Paul Savoy, that I'm
not the only one who'd relish hearing him!"
Savoy laughed.
"We're nice people," he bantered her, "talking like
this about our host!"
"H'mf," said Janice. And added, as the coral-hard


114 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
look melted away from her mouth and its warmth ana
softness returned, "I prefer to think of Mr. Chu Yung
as our host. I liked him from the minute I saw him."
And Chu Yung evidently liked her no less. He, like
Paul Savoy, had felt the contrast of her with the others,
since he too failed to find in her that worldliness and
mercenary taint which were all cold sparkle and no fra-
grance. He joined them now and, making Janice a pro-
found bow, offered her a cluster of fresh pink roses
exactly like her own.
"They have just arrived," said Chu Yung. "For you,
Miss Janice, if you will unbend from the clear skies
which you make so radiant to accept them from Chu
Yung."
"Why, they're lovely!" cried Janice, greatly pleased.
"And you sent for them when you saw my poor wilted
ones? At this time of night and with such speed, too! I
wonder how you did it, Mr. Chu Yung?"
She ran on to tell him in her genuine way what a de-
lightful spot she thought his home was, so high on the
housetop. Chu Yung beamed. To have her like it was to
have Heaven set its seal of blessing upon it. Perhaps,
while they awaited for Mr. Larry Dean who was yet
to arrive, she would care to have him show her over the
place? There could be no visit to his garden unfortu-
nately, so wet and foggy was the outside night; he
deeply regretted that, since he knew she would like his
garden. But the house itself would retain always an
added sweetness for the humble Chu Yung if she would
care to inspect it.
The other guests Chu Yung invited also, since to fall
in courtesy to any would have been to fail to remain
Chu Yung. But as he started to lead the way, promising


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 115
to show them first a collection of ancient jades which
might find some trifling interest in their eyes since his
guests were so young and of so young a world while
the jades were part and parcel of antiquity, one of his
servants appeared from nowhere and caught his atten-
tion. Chu Yung profoundly apologetic, stepped apart,
and listened to what the servant in a few words told
him. Then more distressed than ever, he was forced to
beg to be excused a moment or two.
But the inspection should start without him and he
would return on running feet. In the meantime he
called to his good friend, the artist Casamajor, to act
as cicerone in his stead. For he assured them that Casa-
major knew the house as well as did its master.
Chu Yung passed with a final bow through a pair of
rich curtains and disappeared.
"We will please him by doing as he requests," said
Borchard. "He would be hurt if we failed to treat his
diggings as though they were our own. And he has
some priceless things." He nodded to Casamajor, and
a nod from the forceful Borchard was like a command.
"Lead on, Alan; you're elected."
The several guests in little groups scattered through
the rooms. Savoy, holding back a moment, marked how
Casamajor when he had meant to act as guide for them
all was neatly snared by Mrs. Dillingham and drawn
aside in what smacked of haste: She had something to
say, something urgent, and it was for his ears alone.
He noted also how William Borchard and the princess
wandered off, at first to admire an exquisite vase over-
flowing with long-stemmed gladioli, then to fall into
quiet talk in a corner. A moment later, as out of the
corner of his eye he saw Sylvester Paradene bearing


n6 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
down upon him, he escaped from the room, parting the
curtains through which he had seen Janice Landreth
vanish.
14
He was in a small square room, alone. It was the
room from which Mrs. Dillingham's scream had come
and from which Paradene had thrust his laughing face.
On a wall hung the atrocity of a mask at which it was
difficult to look without a shudder. There were other
masks; a cabinet of ivory and jade carvings stood
against one wall; on a tall gold-and-ivory stand an up-
right dragon in bronze held a perfect sphere of pellucid
rock-crystal balanced on its spreading claw tips.
Savoy wondered where Janice had gone. On the far
side of the room hung other curtains and he stepped to
them, pushing them aside. Thus he looked into the din-
ing room. A long table was in readiness for the mid-
night supper, its white cloth garnished with gleaming
silver and glassware and flowers in crystal vases; he saw
there were place cards, each held in the carved hands of
a tiny ivory figurine. He saw also at the first glance
that the room was not unoccupied, though he did not
immediately see Janice.
The young widow and the artist were just quitting
the room; she was clinging to his arm and Casamajor
was looking down into her face so curiously that Savoy
was set wondering. Was this the very beginning of a
young love story—or the fag end of an old love story?
It was hard to make those two out. Not that it was in
the least any affair of his
He heard quiet voices though he did not see the
speakers; evidently they passed close to some curtained


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 117
doorway. There was the quick, alien utterance of the
princess and the steadier, quieter tone of Borchard.
. . . "But I'm frightened," said Perenella.
"You?" demanded Borchard sharply. "You, fright-
ened? What are you talking about?"
"Why is that detective here? Why did my uncle
send for him? Who is that other man, Mr. Savoy,
who has such disturbing eyes when they look at one?
What do they want?"
"You're just nervous," said Borchard soothingly.
"Paul Savoy has quite a flair for crime, I'm told, and
your uncle"
"There's something I must tell you! Not here; not
now; when we can be alone. Somewhere"
Their words died away as they passed on.
Just then Savoy saw Janice.
She had been in the dining room all the while, but at
one side in an alcove where he could not see her. He
was about to speak when something in her manner,
something very curious in her expression, stayed him.
She was busied at nothing more arresting than powder-
ing her nose—but her thoughts were not with the little
vanity case or with her personal appearance. Nor did
her entirely adorable nose require powdering.
Janice moved hurriedly to the table, almost running
on tiptoes. She stopped at the upper end and glanced
closely at the place card there. He saw quite clearly
when she dropped a pinch of powder into a glass. Just
as clearly he saw her face and for the life of him could
not have spoken. Its expression was—impish—devilish
—He had never thought to see Janice Landreth look
like that!
Janice did not see him since instantly her deft act was


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 119
Perhaps only at the end she had felt herself in the
worst of bad taste, and strove for salvation in a light
touch. Chu Yung's face remained impassive. The others
emulated him as best they could. Savoy noticed
Borchard's keen look bent on the young widow's
flushed face; later he learned that Borchard was her
attorney.
As they moved toward the supper room, Savoy felt
Gateway's eye on him and gave the detective his chance
to speak.
"That guy Paradene!" said Gateway behind his hand,
twisting his mouth sideways. The old familiar pred-
atory gleam came into his eye. "Know where I saw
him last? He was one of the men who looked in at
the morgue to give our Unknown Victim a once
over!"
They followed the others to the supper room.
IS
The midnight supper began pleasantly enough, since
Chu Yung dominated the moment and would have it so.
But Mr. Paradene promptly and rudely and quite ruth-
lessly snatched conversation by the throat and gave it a
vicious twist, thereby succeeding in making at least
some if not all his guests uncomfortaable.
Sunk deep in the big high-backed chair at the head of
the table he looked more dwarfish than ever.
"Do you know what the true sport of kings is, all you
people?" he demanded, firing his question sharply
athwart something Borchard was remarking in answer
to a courteous question of Chu Yung's. "Horse-racing,
they used to say, didn't they? That's silly. Stag-hunt-


12o A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
ing? Hunting wild boars or lions? Nothing of the sort.
The sport of kings is or ought to be man-hunting!"
He paused an instant and peered down the long table
as though to rifle his guests' minds through the looks
on their faces.
"I didn't know until after some of us had planned to
dine here," Mr. Paradene hurried on, "that we were to
have the treat of Mr. Savoy's and Detective Gateway's
company. By now you've all seen the papers, haven't
you? These two gentlemen have put their heads to-
gether and are already on the man-hunt—and don't you
suppose, my dear, dear friends, that they are going to be
generous and supply us with a few choice morsels of
their exciting story? You've been interested, every one
of you, I know. But then, to be sure, all San Francisco
has been agog with the thing. Most mysterious, most
intriguing! And therefore delightful! The sport of
kings. The kings are Mr. Paul Savoy and Detective
Charles Gateway; but they're our friends, my dears,
and surely they are going to let fall a few titbits?"
Gateway spoke up in his blunt fashion; he sat far
down the table, a couple of seats removed from Chu
Yung who presided at the lower end.
"Mr. Savoy just got to town tonight, Mr. Paradene,"
he said. "I ran in to see him, the two of us having been
friends, you know. A reporter named Phil Stearns
must have followed me; he made the story up."
Mr. Paradene laughed and none of his glee subsided.
"That will do very well to tell the press," he chuckled.
"But I know better. I've already confided to Mr. Savoy
my tremendous interest in crime. I read every line that
was printed about the case which got itself called the
case of the House of the Opal, in which you two fig-
ured. Now we've got a new mystery that has the police


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 121
stumped, a mystery eleven days old—and the moment
that Mr. Savoy arrives, Mr. Gateway, who has the case
in hand, calls on him. Oho! And what have you to say
about it all, Mr. Savoy?"
Mr. Savoy had rather a good deal to say and said
it idly and almost drawlingly, utterly at his leisure;
but, unfortunately for Mr. Paradene's lively interest,
his words carried that gentleman no farther in his
prying interests. What Savoy did was begin where
Paradene left off and then gradually and skilfully
steered the conversation so far afield that it never got
back to its original theme. Mr. Paradene sat back and
relaxed with a sigh; but the light in his eye told plainly
that he meant at any moment to revert to his "sport
of kings." That he failed to do so was due to the
incident which presently was to cause his supper party
to break up in the wildest confusion.
In the meantime he appeared content to let matters
shape themselves, biding his time; he sat abstractedly
sipping at his glass or mincing at one or another of the
various courses, each a delicacy. For a time he remained
silent; in a little lull he spoke up to Laufer-Hirth
toward the far end of the table at Chu Yung's right,
saying abruptly:
"I'm recently returned from the Far East, as you
have heard, Mr. Laufer-Hirth. In China I picked up
a gem which I'd be glad to have you look at." He
pulled off his purple-black diamond ring and handed
it to Mrs. Dillingham, who sat at his right, to be passed
along the table.
"Oh, what a beauty!" she exclaimed, holding it a
moment to admire its brilliancy before passing it on.
"I got it in Shanghai," he announced rather to her
than to the table at large. He tipped his head aside


122 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
and grinned into her face. "In Shanghai," he repeated,
and pursed up his lips. "Ever live in Shanghai, Mrs.
Dillingham?"
Dora Dillingham shrank away from him; though her
lips opened for a swift answer, for a moment she sat
breathlessly still.
"No," she said at last. "No. I have never been
in Shanghai."
But while his cunning eyes kept peeping at her, she
lowered her lashes in haste, though not before all had
seen how again the man whipped up a look of fear
in her eyes.
Janice Landreth came adroitly to Mrs. Dillingham's
rescue, making talk about the purple-black diamond
which had reached her hands, exclaiming upon its
beauty to Mr. Paradene as she passed it to William
Borchard on its way toward Laufer-Hirth. Borchardi
in his turn admired it and added his comment to
Janice's, like herself ignoring and striving to distract
attention from Mrs. Dillingham's agitation.
The jeweller, at first disliking even to touch a thing
that belonged to the man whom he loathed, instantly
forgot the personal equation as his eyes fell upon the
stone itself.
"An interesting stone," he judged it. "Cut in China,
but it came originally from Brazil, I think. A luminous
diamond, without a doubt; were we to have the lights
out there'd be a glow"
Paradene, despite his earlier announcement that he'd
like to have Laufer-Hirth's opinion of his gem, grew
abstracted; it is to be doubted that he heard a single
word. Laufer-Hirth, chancing to notice him, broke
off short. Paradene was straining forward in his chair
with his nose close to his glass; utterly unmindful of


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 123
the amazed looks turned upon him, he was sniffing as
a dog sniffs; the lips of his puckered mouth worked
as though he strove to define some elusive taste; a
strange blankness erased all expression from his face.
This was for an instant only. A gasp broke from him
and his goggling eyes seemed to start out of their
sockets as they focussed in a frozen stare upon a faint
dusting of powder on the brim of his glass. His face
was starkly white and big drops of sweat popped out
on his forehead as with a shriek of pure terror he
sprang to his feet and began screaming gibberingly:
"Poison! My God, the devil has poisoned me! A
doctor! Where's a doctor— Larry! Larry Dean! Get
a doctor! A million dollars if you save me!"
The man looked to be already in the throes of con-
vulsion. Moaning and whimpering, glaring all about
him, of a sudden he fell back half fainting into his
chair. Savoy stared at him incredulously; then looked
swiftly at Janice. She was leaning slightly forward;
her eyes were narrowed ever so slightly and there
came just the vaguest hint of a scornful smile to her
lips.
Larry Dean, at the first outcry, had run to Para-
dene's side. Chairs were pushed back in haste; Gate-
way was among the first to reach the frightened man.
But Gateway appeared at the moment less concerned
with him than with the glass from which he had been
drinking.
16
In all the confusion which followed Savoy had no
part. He thought, as he let his eyes drift from face
to face, that were the man really in extremis there were
going to be no wet eyes here. Princess Perenella


124 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
looked glad before she thought to veil her eyes
with her thick black lashes; Mrs. Dillingham seemed
frightened only; Borchard appeared contemptuous and
Casamajor disgusted. Larry Dean was coolly business-
like. To Chu Yung he said commandingly: "Get Evans
and Malloy. Quick!" Chu Yung hurried out and Evans
and Malloy, one a very big man, one a small, both
looking like prize-fighters, appeared almost immedi-
ately.
"Those two are his bodyguards," Borchard told
Savoy. "He never goes anywhere without both of
them. Larry Dean, by the way, is a third."
"Three bodyguards," mused Savoy, "and it would
appear that the whole trio dozed at the wrong mo-
ment!—Do you believe, Mr. Borchard," he asked
sharply, "that Paradene has really been poisoned?"
"Good Lord," muttered Borchard. "You mean"
"Imagination? A twinge of indigestion putting the
fear of death upon him?"
"You'd think a man would know—" began Bor-
chard, frowning thoughtfully. There he stopped,
pondering; slowly he continued: "He is always going
about in fear of assassination. On top of that he has
murder on the brain tonight." He shook his head
dubiously. "Just the same he seems dead sure"
"It's hard to conceive of any one here trying to
kill him."
Borchard nodded.
"I know every one here rather well and I can't quite
see any of them in the heavy Borgia role."
"His niece hates him"
"She has reason," grunted Borchard. "He isn't ex-
actly a lovable character, as you've no doubt realized.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 125
But Perenella, for all her fire and passion, is hardly
one to"
"Mrs. Dillingham appears to go in terror of
him."
"That's queer. I've fancied the same thing of late.
But Dora is as harmless as a mouse. She'd squeak, not
commit murder." He seemed more profoundly thought-
ful than ever as he glanced toward Mrs. Dillingham,
who seemed ready to faint. "I've a notion that he has
stumbled on some more or less harmless secret of hers;
oh, it could be anything from nosing out that she's
older than she pretends, to discovering some such dark
fact in her past as that her papa drove a brewery
wagon."
Gateway meantime was of a mood to dictate. He
learned that Paradene's car was downstairs and com-
manded Evans and Malloy to rush him in it to the
emergency hospital down on the Embarcadero. They'd
get him there in no time. Larry Dean was going to
stay here; so, added Gateway grimly, were all the
others until
Savoy got him by the arm as a swooning Paradene
was borne hastily out and said sharply:
"The man isn't in danger, Gateway. He's simply
scared. He hasn't been poisoned."
Gateway's eyes flew wide open.
"Oh, I know," snapped Savoy as the detective started
to remonstrate. "Let them take him to the emergency
hospital; I hope they put a dozen stomach-pumps to
work on him. But if they draw any poison out of him
it will be only that which he brews himself."
"But I say—" began Gateway, looking dogged.
"Suit yourself," he got for a curt interruption. "But


126 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
unless you leave things alone now you can go to the
devil after this as far as I am concerned."
"Oh, all right, all right," said a disgruntled Gate-
way. "If you say that you know, that's good enough
for me." But he looked slyly at the glass to which he
clung tenaciously. "Time will tell." He tucked in the
corners of his mouth.


CHAPTER V
1
Gateway, even after he was forced to give up his
natural urge to put several people on a red-hot grill,
was tugged two ways: He wanted to thresh matters
out with Paul Savoy, and he wanted no less to speed
after Paradene to the emergency hospital, there to be
in at the death or to hear what Paradene might have
to say if he lived. Savoy settled the matter for him
by saying:
"Can you drop in on me in the morning, say about
ten?" He turned to lay an affectionate hand on the
bulky shoulder of his old friend Laufer-Hirth, saying
smilingly: "I'm making pretty free of your hospitality,
eh, old-timer?"
"I'd have you thrown out into the street if you
didn't," said the jeweller, and added to the detective:
"Breakfast at ten, Gateway, and there'll be a drop of
that Scotch you liked, so be on time."
So Gateway hurried off for a taxi to be on hand
when the battle for Mr. Paradene's life was won or
lost. Janice found a moment for her good-nights as
the guests began taking their nervous departures; Alan
Casamajor had a car near by and was taking Mrs.
Dillingham home; Janice was going with them, to be
put down at her flat on their way. Laufer-Hirth com-
mandeered her hand, snuggling it cozily between his
two plump ones.
127


128 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"We're breakfasting about ten," he told her. "I
wouldn't see you driven to devouring those pretty ear-
rings for anything; will you drop in on us?"
"Before I go to sleep I'm going to send a wire to
Mark," she told him warmly, "telling him how fine
you've been to me. 'Night, Mr. Savoy. When shall
we three meet again? This very day, when the clock
strikes ten!"
"She's a girl in a thousand," said Savoy as, with
good-nights said all 'round and Chu Yung thanked for
his hospitality, the two friends walked homeward.
"Make it a million," returned the old fellow
promptly.
"I stand corrected," smiled Savoy.
Returned to the big house on Nob Hill they sepa-
rated to their rooms. Laufer-Hirth, no longer con-
cerned about Janice's safety and not worrying his head
about Sylvester Paradene's condition, was sound asleep
in twenty minutes. Paul Savoy got into pajamas and
dressing-gown, built up his fire and turned out the
lights. In the flickering light of a burning log he sat
in his biggest, softest chair, extended and relaxed physi-
cally while his mind raced. The tall clock chimed the
hours; the fire burned low and he took no stock of the
world about him. From the fire his eyes dropped to
his clasped hands on his knee; the star sapphire ring
on his finger glowed up at him softly like a lovely blue
eye. He stared into it fixedly, as a crystal-gazer stares
at the pellucid sphere in which he professes to see the
ordered progress of events marching on as preordained
by destiny.
He did not think of sleep that night. Two or three
times he started up and replenished his fire; for the


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 129
most part he did not stir even to reach for a cigarette.
When at last he heard as from afar the subdued sounds
of an awaking household he rose and stretched and
looked at his watch. Seven-thirty. He shaved and
bathed and went seeking his secretary, Andregg. You
could count on Andregg being about early and questing
work to be done. Well, there was plenty to do.
2
By ten o'clock when Janice and Gateway were due
for breakfast Tony Andregg had been at work for a
good two hours. Laufer-Hirth, looking into the library
dedicated to his guest's use, found Savoy bending over
the table at which Andregg was working amid a great
pile of newspapers. The jeweller had risen early and,
after a cup of coffee, had hastened downtown to look
in at his Geary Street shop, but most of the while had
kept a clock in view.
"Hello, Early Bird," Savoy greeted him.
"Caught the worm, too," said Laufer-Hirth cheer-
ily. "Guess who else was up with the peep o' day?
That little Dillingham widow! I'll have to tell Janice
when she comes; I ought to pay her a commission on
a sale I'd never have made if she hadn't lured us down
to Chinatown last night."
"What a mercenary old boy it is!" said Savoy. "Back
to the marts of trade bright and early his first morning
at home! A dejeuner intime with Mrs. Dillingham?
Better look out or Janice will be jealous."
"Mrs. Dillingham," said Laufer-Hirth warmly, "is
a young woman of the right sort. A good sport and
no haggler; she knows what she wants and how to


130 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
pay for it. A diamond bracelet this morning, young
fellow; sixty thousand dollars, cash on the nail. And
away she tripped, 'to do some other shopping!' with
sixty thousand in diamonds tucked in her purse!"
"Despite her boasted losses at Chu Yung's tables,
Mrs. Dillingham still would appear to have pin-money
for trinkets," mused Savoy.
"The boys at my shop tell me she's probably the
richest and altogether most marriageable little widow
in town. If you're looking around, Paul, you might do
worse!"
But here came Janice and Gateway, arriving almost
together. He looked gaunt and in need of sleep, she
radiant and rested. Chu Yung's roses had spent a re-
storative few hours in water and looked as fresh as
their wearer. More could not be said.
Andregg was presented to her; Will Little, Laufer-
Hirth's secretary, it appeared, was at the Geary Street
shop; the five went in to breakfast together, Laufer-
Hirth telling Janice of Mrs. Dillingham and Janice
gaily accusing him of turning Dora's pretty head.
"Well, Gateway?" said Savoy, as he shook out his
napkin. "Our sweet little Mr. Paradene didn't die
after all, did he?"
"He did not," returned Gateway.
"At that," and Savoy laughed, "I'd wager he had a
close call. Fear can kill, you know, and I never saw
a man more badly frightened." The final words might
have been spoken to Janice; he was looking at her
quizzically when he finished.
"He is quite the most contemptible coward I ever
met," she said with the same touch of scorn on her
lips he had seen last night.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 131
Up shot Gateway's brows.
"Well, ain't it enough to scare a man?" he demanded.
"What?" queried Savoy. "To find a pinch of pow-
der on his glass?"
"To be poisoned. I never saw a man come closer
to passing out. He can thank his lucky star that he
wasn't two shakes longer on the road. The doc said
there was enough arsenic in him"
"Arsenic! What are you talking about? I told you
the man wasn't poisoned, and I tell you again"
"Looks like I was the one doing the telling," grinned
Gateway, and revelled in nailing a blunder to Savoy.
"I kept the wine in his glass, you remember. It was
analyzed and that's where the arsenic came from.
You're wrong for once, Mr. Savoy. Some one at the
supper last night poisoned him—and you wouldn't let
me go after 'em red-handed while I had the chance!"
Savoy stared at Gateway like a man in a dream.
When at last he looked at Janice she was sitting rigid,
her lips parted as though she had started to speak
and had checked herself, her eyes seeming to him
unusually big.
"I was so sure!" muttered Savoy thoughtfully.
"Sure of what, Mr. Savoy?" asked Janice, for it was
at her that he was still looking.
When he did not reply immediately, Gateway an-
swered for him.
"Mr. Savoy told me last night that Paradene wasn't
hurt, just scared. He didn't believe in the poison. I
guess he does now!"
Savoy shrugged elaborately.
"I can't refuse to believe you and the hospital doc-
tors and the gentleman who analyzed the wine left in


132 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Mr. Paradene's glass," he said crisply. "So be it; some
one tried to exterminate him and failed. But because
I give full credence, Mr. Gateway, to your arresting
news, I wish to assure you that I haven't turned over-
credulous and gullible upon all other matters. There
remain things I simply refuse to believe."
"I don't understand," said a puzzled Gateway. "What
things?"
"Oh, lots of things," retorted Savoy airily. "I don't
and won't believe at the moment, no matter what evi-
dence you adduce, that the moon is made of green
cheese or that pigs have wings or that Amos here is
an Italian organ-grinder or that a really nice girl uses
arsenic to powder her nose!"
"Oh!" came in a sudden little gasp from Janice.
"Hi there!" cried Gateway. "What's all this?"
"All this," retorted Savoy, "has nothing to do with
anything right now that pertains to us. Granted some
one tried to poison the inestimable Mr. Sylvester Para-
dene. It's table gossip for the town by now, but haven't
we other and more important matters on our minds?"
He looked at Janice rather than at Gateway as
though for an answer; she was looking fixedly at him,
her lips still slightly parted. Gateway, full to overflow-
ing of his subject this morning, rushed into words:
"I don't know what you meant by what you just
said, Mr. Savoy; I know that you have a way of say-
ing things sometimes which don't seem to make sense
—whether they really do or don't. And I know also
that you'll explain if you want to and won't explain
if you don't, so that's that. But as for saying we have
no special interest in what's happened to Paradene"
"I thought," said Savoy serenely, "that our concern
was the present mystery of the Unknown Victim?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 133
"And therefore," cried Gateway, "we're concerned
with the whole outfit, Paradene and the rest, that we
ran into last night! That's clear, isn't it?"
"Not in the least." Savoy was very cool and very
emphatic. "Our concern remains exclusively with our
Unknown Victim."
"For the Lord's sake, Mr. Savoy"
"I see we are in for an argument which may grow
heated," Savoy interrupted him. "What do you say,
therefore, to postponing it until after breakfast? Miss
Landreth"
"Those several years ago you called me Janice," she
reminded him, smiling at him rather curiously. "We
were on the way to being real friends then, weren't we?
—I hope nothing has happened of late to—to dash our
friendship on the rocks?"
"Bless you, no!" he cried heartily. "It's a privilege
and a rare one, Janice. And a lovely name for the
loveliest girl I ever knew. Friendship grants one cer-
tain rights, though—as this." He put out his hand
and placed it a moment on hers, giving it a friendly
little pat. Her smile grew radiant once more. He
ended by saying lightly: "Tell us, Janice, about your
new assignments? Have you spoken with your city
editor about the idea?"
"I haven't yet.—Shall I do so?"
"I'm sure," he answered her seriously, "that it has
the makings of a corking feature. Andregg and I
have been cooking up some other ideas for you, eh,
Tony?"
"The one of the Persian Kitten promises well, I
think," said Andregg in his sober way. "And also the
one of the Lost Hand Bag."
"Of course. Both promise much. One never knows


134 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
until he runs a story down where it'll end; you may
catch a princely bootlegger in your net, or at the very
least a senator!"
Thus he headed off conversation that had in any
way to do with that which was uppermost in all minds.
3
But once they were seated in Laufer-Hirth's library
with cigars going and Janice accepting a cigarette from
a box which the jeweller had brought home especially
for her, the high tide which had been so long dammed
in Gateway broke free.
"Mr. Savoy," he cried out, fairly bristling with en-
thusiasm, his rugged face flushed and his keen eyes
unusually bright, "you're a corker! I've been up most
all night; when I wasn't figuring on the case itself I
was just thinking about your way of doing things.
I'm a flop when it comes to putting into words what
I've got on my chest, but—well, you're a corker!"
Savoy laughed and Janice cried with an enthusiasm
no less than the detective's, "He is!" And Laufer-
Hirth looked pleased, and Andregg, who had to con-
tend with a very natural dislike for Gateway, regarded
him for once not unkindly. Before Savoy could speak
Gateway hurried on:
"Your whole method seemed to me at first, me being
a hard-boiled detective out of a hard-boiled school,
like a dish of prunes. And you know I came to you
in the first place only because, as I told you, I was
nutty with the thing and not because I really believed
in you. And now?" He hammered a fist into an open
palm. "Man, you upset the whole idea of how to go


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 135
after a case! You make the detective job over into
something else"
"Detectology!" chuckled Laufer-Hirth.
"Mr. Savoy, the world's Great Detectologist!"
laughed Janice.
"Why all the enthusiasm, Gateway?" demanded
Savoy after having looked at Janice reproachfully.
"You lean toward my method, it would seem"
"Lean? Mr. Savoy, I more than lean toward it.
I'm there, all the way! Here I was last night like a
blind man locked in a dark room; here I am this morn-
ing, raring to go! As long as I live, your method is
my method."
"I wonder!" mused Savoy, eyeing him thoughtfully
through a slowly drifting cloud of smoke. "Shall the
way of the West be the way of the East?"
"I don't know about that," grunted Gateway. "But
your way is my way. I've seen the light. Who
wouldn't? Here I am with both hands full of clues and
a head full of hunches, and only twenty-four hours
ago
"Steady on!" said Savoy warningly. "You mean, I
take it, that you think you have something definite
enough to set to work on?"
"Have I ?" cried Gateway. He whipped out his note-
book. "I'm ready this minute to start in making life
rocky sledding for more than one party until I drive
straight ahead to the truth."
"The truth? Veritas temporis filia dicitur"
"You see!" exclaimed Janice merrily. "I said he
was a wizard and he proves it by speaking Latin! All
warlocks do! Will you repeat slowly, Mr. Savoy?
Something about Truth being the daughter of Time?"


136 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Here's what I'm to do," said Gateway, and flipped
his notebook open. "Want to listen?"
"I, for one, am eager to listen," said Savoy drily,
"though in advance of hearing I'd say that you're
going to do nothing of the kind."
"No? Why not?"
"Your very eyebrows this morning, Mr. Gateway,"
laughed Savoy, "are eloquent of action. And I've to
remind you that so far we've nothing definite to act
upon."
Gateway grinned.
"I've got enough to go on," he announced. "Which
one of 'em croaked the Unknown Gent, I don't pretend
to know. But one of that crowd did, that's a cinch,
and"
"May I remind you, Gateway," said Savoy so very
gently that Gateway should have taken warning, "that
you haven't as yet the vaguest reason to say that?"
"Ah, but I have! Plenty to warrant my going after
the bunch. The fact that the Unknown came just now
from Shanghai, that Paradene is recently back from
Shanghai, that Paradene called to look him over at the
morgue, that Paradene was so keen on having you and
me to supper and tried to pump us, that that cloak
turned up in Casamajor's hands, that there's some kind
of funny business going on, that some one tried to
bump Paradene off last night— Ah, a plenty to get
me going."
Savoy had been restless all through Gateway's rapid-
fire statement and had fairly writhed in his chair dur-
ing the last few words. That the detective had stirred
an emotion counter to his own was obvious to all, but
none was prepared for what happened: Savoy leaped


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 137
to his feet, his face flushing up as he exclaimed
angrily:
"I had no business going into this thing with you.
You, Gateway, of all men I know, are the very last
for me to hope to work with. You say you're all for
my method! You!" He laughed unpleasantly.
Janice felt sorry for Gateway; he looked like a little
boy who had carried flowers to his teacher and had had
his face slapped because in the bouquet was a nettle
which he did not know was there.
"Mr. Gateway means well, I know, Mr. Savoy," she
said softly. "It's only that"
"Oh, I know, I know!" said Savoy testily, and from
rumpling his hair and glaring at that picture of dis-
comfiture presented by the detective's reddened face
strode off to the window and for a minute stood look-
ing moodily out into the street. Gateway was looking
in a despairing sort of way at Janice when Savoy
whirled on him again to say bluntly: "Look here, Gate-
way. As far I'm concerned we're going to drop that
'bunch' of yours cold! Got that? If you and I are
to try to work together that point's settled."
Never did a man look more reluctant to drop any-
thing than Gateway now. He muttered under his
breath:
"But if the murderer is one of that crowd"
"If he is, we'll come back to him when we're really
ready for him. All we've done is establish a single
contact point. Nothing on earth is more contrary to
our intention than to put any blind faith in it. What
we've got to have is some other contact point. If the
two should result in indicating the same path—well
then, we can consider going ahead."


138 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"I see what you mean," said a very dubious and
unhappy Gateway. "You want to draw off and take a
fresh start"
"I want nothing of the kind! I merely mean for
the present to ignore a certain coterie of people who,
for aught we know, may all be either black with guilt
or as innocent as angels. It's not a fresh start that we
want but merely an orderly progress in continuation
of the plan we've already made, a forward progress
which can come only from our steering by compass
instead of leaping like porpoises. In short, to play out
our string, I insist that we make every endeavor to
come at our Mr. X from some other angle."
Gateway sat for a long time chafing his hands and
squinting his shrewd eyes at the toe of his shoe. At
last when his head came up with a jerk he did a thing
that was a pretty big thing for Gateway to do. With
what he deemed the scent of success in his nostrils
he said very quietly:
"I get you, Mr. Savoy. Your Contact Points as you
call 'em are the places where we take a chance of going
out on a limb, and that's why you won't trust to just
one but are all for hunting another one now. It's to
be check and double check? Me, I'm with you—all the
way."
"Good man, Gateway!" cried Savoy warmly, and
clapped him on the shoulder, thus making Gateway
look pleased even more than surprised. It was the
first time Savoy had ever done such a thing.
"Here we go," said Gateway, and came close to
undoing the good he had done by beginning, "Just the
same I'd bet a dollar to a dime that when Miss Lan-
dreth found that cloak"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 139
He broke off hastily as he realized that he was head-
ing straight into forbidden territory, and such a look
of consternation stamped itself on his face that Savoy
broke out laughing.
"By all means, Gateway," he said heartily, "let's fin-
ish what you started to say. We give credit where
credit is due, full-handedly to Janice Landreth. My
dear," he said gravely as he turned to the girl, "I for
one don't mean in the least to make little of your
achievement. I've every hope it may prove a splendid
and most helpful one"
"It was all your idea," said Janice. "And I have
been consumed with curiosity: What on earth led you
to think of the advertised cloak as connected with any-
thing?"
"Gateway and I had been indulging in a bit of spec-
ulation on coats in general just before you came in last
night," he explained. "We got as far as suggesting
that since Mr. X would need some sort of covering
for the body of the man he meant to shift from one
car to another, an overcoat would serve ideally. He
hoped not to be seen, and was determined on drawing
no more attention than was absolutely unavoidable.
When one asks, 'Which would have been less con-
spicuous, a man helping and lifting another man into
a taxi or a man doing these offices for a woman?' the
idea of the cloak is really forced on us, isn't it?"
4
Savoy returned to his chair and to his cigar.
"Before we move on into fresh pastures," he said
thoughtfully, "there is one point connected with your


140 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
discovery of the bag at the cigar stand which, I think,
demands our consideration."
Gateway, who had been so reluctant to drop his dis-
coveries of yesterday, brightened perceptibly.
"I've been puzzled," said Savoy, "to account for your
gum-chewing girl's statement that the man of the bag
was 'foreign-looking.' Have you an explanation to
offer?"
"That girl!" scoffed Gateway. "I'm sure of three
things: First, the man of the bag and the Unknown
Victim are the same man. Second, the Unknown Vic-
tim wasn't any more foreign-looking than Bill Smith
or Sam Brown. And third, that sap-head of a girl"
"Still her impression is there, something 'foreign*
about him.—By the way, you've never told me exactly
what the contents of the bag were. Did they happen
to include the small toilet accessories? Tooth brush,
tooth paste, perhaps, with comb and brush and so
forth?"
"They were there right enough. I'm having the
comb and brush examined"
"A razor, Gateway?"
"No razor. If he shaved himself it could be in the
other bag, you know."
"Oh, to be sure. But razors do have a way of flock-
ing with such articles as I have mentioned, haven't
they?—You used the words: 'If he shaved himself!'
Suppose that he didn't do anything of the kind?"
"Well?" said Gateway, puzzled.
"It's just possible, you know," Savoy reminded him,
"that he wore a beard. I wonder whether that might
explain the gum-chewer's impression of him that he
was foreign?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 141
Gateway shook his head.
"Not if it's the same man. The guy in the taxi was
dean-shaven."
"A most inviting bit of speculation offers itself,"
continued Savoy. "If it proves to be the same man,
how did the girl get the foreign idea into her head?
Nothing foreign about the clothes in the bag, was
there?"
"It might have been his speech"
"Still, she said foreign-looking. Nothing foreign in
his appearance when you saw him, remember. Now
you tell me he had no razor. It's quite possible,
you know, that the fellow wore a beard when he
landed"
"And hurried to get it taken off?" Gateway shook
his head. "The barber on the ship"
"And it is further quite possible, you know," said
Savoy serenely, "that— By the way, Gateway," he
added, his tone altered and became incisive, "is it true,
as I've heard, that a man's beard continues to grow
appreciably after death?"
Gateway nodded. Then suddenly his jaw dropped,
as he saw whither Savoy was steering.
"You mean the man that killed him shaved him
afterward?" he gasped.
"I mean that we'd be worse than blind if we didn't
open our minds to the possibility! It's a point readily
checked, and may be important. Will you have another
chat with your police surgeon? Will you ask him
whether there was as much of a show of beard as he
would normally expect on a man several hours after
death?"
"Consider it done," cried Gateway. "By the Lord,


142
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Mr. Savoy, we may have right here a reason why no one
was able to identify him!"
"At least we have fuel for fresh surmise. If we
can establish the beard we take an enormous stride
in our appreciation of the character of our Mr. X.
Here again are the cool nerve, the steady hand, the
meticulous eye, all developed to the n-th power. And
we may even get a new light on what we disposed of
as the publicity angle: It suggests itself that Mr. X
was determined either on obscuring his victim's iden-
tity—or on making sure that when the photos were
published the man should be recognized by some one
who had known him long ago, at a time when he was
beardless like most other men. And of course, should
this hypothetical beard become a fact, we shall have to
ask ourselves why the man had a fancy for that sort
of thing"
"It's an old dodge with crooks; grow a beard and
the folks you used to know pass you up."
"Be sure to have that chat with the police surgeon.
And now how about taking our first step out into those
fresh pastures which we promised ourselves? I fancy
I glimpse a partial outlet for your activities and the
chance of our next Contact Point."
"That's the stuff!" said an eager Gateway.
"Returning to the methods which we are warranted
in supposing Mr. X to have employed, we still contend
that he must have used a closed car to transport the
body from one place to another. The first question
becomes: Whose car did he use? And what did he do
with the car afterward?—Whose car would you have
used, were you Mr. X, Gateway? Your own?"
Gateway proceeded cautiously.


144 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Cram-full of color, romance and adventure!"
laughed Janice, and produced her gay little notebook
and ornamental pencil. "Ready, Chief!"
"'Reward offered,'" Savoy read aloud, "'to any
one who can help me identify the hit-and-run driver
that ran down and killed my Persian Kitten yesterday
morning near Third and King.' The name and ad-
dress of the evidently irate owner are given; ready?"
"I don't get that, Mr. Savoy," put in Gateway.
"It's primarily an assignment for Miss Landreth,
who is going to catch the attention of the town with
her bizarre stories," said Savoy. "To be sure the loca-
tion is such as to suggest the highway to South San
Francisco as well as the proximity of the Southern
Pacific railroad station. Also the thought of a hit-and-
run driver knocking over a kitten interests one. Most
men would have stopped, wouldn't they?
"And here are some other items," he continued and
read: "'Lost, near Golden Gate Park, suitcase con-
taining man's clothes. Reward.' And this one: 'George:
Caught glimpse of you on street car. I'm waiting.
Come to me. Mary.' And this one: 'Found, queer
black cane. Identify and take.'—H'm; we've checked
a lot of these, haven't we, Tony? There must be forty
or fifty"
"Sixty-two which you thought suggested possibilities,
Mr. Savoy," said Andregg.
Savoy passed the scrap-book over to Janice.
"Will you run through them and let your womanly
intuition lead you among them?" he asked, smiling.
"All this quite at your leisure, Janice.—And now will
you answer a question for me? Consider a purely hypo-
thetical case; suppose yourself a man, Mr. X to be


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 145
exact, who had planned how to get the cloak he wanted
and who next required a woman's hat. How would you
set about getting it, being sure to leave no sign to
point to you later on?"
Janice nibbled her pencil.
"Several things suggest themselves, but considering
the gravity of the case, Mr. X's I mean, none is quite
ideal. As Mr. Gateway said of the car, it wants think-
ing. May I take a bit of time?"
"Assuredly. Later on you'll tell us?" He turned
again to Gateway. "You'll no doubt have several points
to report on before the day is over. You will have
heard in answer to your wire to Shanghai, though
we're really not concerned with that until after we've
established our second Contact. But there remain the
other items on your list, and certainly the matter of
lost or stolen closed cars. Suppose that we all meet
for dinner somewhere tonight"
Laufer-Hirth, who had been an interested and silent
listener, heaved himself up and said in a tone that
would brook no denial:
"You haven't given my cook a half-decent chance.
You're all to dine with me tonight. What hour? Seven?
Eight?—Janice, you'll not buy roses; they'll be here
for you and you'll sit on my right and let me reach
over and pat your hand at least once, the way that
impertinent dog Savoy did."
"Janice!" Savoy exclaimed in mock warning. "Be-
ware the man who offers to buy you roses—when only
this very day, after trysting in the dawn with a spar-
kling young widow, he sent her home with her purse
stuffed with diamonds! And we have only his word
that they were not a love-token!"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 147
fined to a few words over the telephone, but sufficed.
Dr. Armiger was hurrying out on a case when Gate-
way rang him, requesting an interview. It was a busy
day also for the surgeon; he too had been up half the
night and was inclined to be snappish.
"What's on your mind, C. P.?" he barked. "Better
grab me now for a minute on the phone if you want
me, or wait till tomorrow."
Gateway promptly told him what was wanted. He
heard Dr. Armiger grunt; then there was a brief
silence. And thereafter came words to make the very
soul of Detective Gateway glad.
"Sure, I remember," snapped Armiger. "Of course
we can't say to the split-second how long he'd been
dead, and we do know that no two men's whiskers
grow exactly at the same rate—I had a good look at
his skin and it was rather curiously smooth. Beyond
that I won't commit myself right now, but that ought
to be enough for you? You can be sure I'll be glad
to talk with you later about this."
"Right," said Gateway. "Thanks, Doc," and with
the fires of enthusiasm burning bright he plunged into
his search through the reports of stolen cars.
It appeared that in San Francisco three automobiles
had been reported as stolen on the day in question,
which is to say between five o'clock in the evening on
the seventh of the month and two o'clock the next
morning. One was a delivery truck, one a small open
car, and the third a blue Studebaker sedan.
While this matter was being sifted he turned his
attention and that of his aides to the other items on
Savoy's list. When he received a long string of names
of San Franciscans who were reported as being down


148 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
the Peninsula on the date in question, the names hav-
ing been secured in various ways, from hotel registers,
from the society items in the newspapers, from resi-
dent police down the Peninsula, Gateway's eager eye
fairly raced down the column. In the end he came
up out of his chair with a whoop of joy and made a
dash for the telephone. But he caught himself in
time: This could wait with possible other news for
the dinner hour.
"That Savoy guy is a shark," said Gateway under
his breath, and his manner was almost devout.
During one of the busiest days of his life he found
time for a bit of speculation upon millinery. Savoy
had put it up to Janice, had he, to figure out how Mr.
X would come at a woman's hat if he needed one?
Gateway, sensing a rival in Janice Landreth, got busy
on that point, too. "It's right up my alley," he mut-
tered, and figured out for himself all the logical ways
the thing could have been done. He checked over and
over his list, frowningly scratching out one after an-
other of the least likely lines of action. In the end he
decided: "This Mr. X guy had a car. Closed. He
knew the town. Somewhere along the line he passed
a dinky millinery shop, open all hours and with few
people coming in. He stopped alongside the curb, not
too close. He waited for somebody to come by; a
bum or a kid—a girl or an old woman. He kept in
the dark and beckoned this party over, saying his leg
was hurt and he couldn't get out, but he'd give 'em a
dollar to go buy him a certain big hat in the window.
Maybe yes, maybe no? If he did, was the place some-
where on one of the highways down the Peninsula?
Maybe yes, maybe no? Anyhow that's the way I'd 'a'


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 149
i
done it, not counting on the chance of grabbing a lid
the way he copped Mrs. Hamby's cloak." And he
began asking patrolmen to locate just such a hat-shop
and to make inquiries.
A bright young man, red-headed Jerry Lannigan
from the district attorney's office, looked in on him,
lolling on his desk and smoking cigarettes. He and
Gateway liked each other rather well, and Lannigan
informed him in confidence that he had the Old Man
puzzled.
"He thinks you're either running an awful blazer,"
he grinned, "or that there's more in you than meets
the eye!"
"Far more!" Gateway grinned back.
"Here's the report on that blue sedan. It came to
our office because for a while we thought it might
have some bearing on another case. Hope it's of more
use to you"
Gateway snatched it into his own hands.
Young Lannigan laughed.
"You remind me of a drowning man grabbing at
straws"
"Straws, your eyebrow," scoffed Gateway. "Moon-
beams are my meat. Ever hear of Detectology? Stand
by, my boy, and watch for great things to happen."
"I'll clear out," remarked the other and strolled
away, remarking over his shoulder, "before you get
me buffaloed like the Old Man."
The report described the car, giving licence and
engine number, and stated that the owner was Wm. R.
Stanton of Oakland, an insurance broker. Mr. Stanton
was in San Francisco on the afternoon of the seventh,
making a number of business calls in his car. Left car


150 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
about six o'clock standing at curb on Powell near
Bush, probably unlocked. Met a friend not seen for
a long time and the two had walked a couple of blocks
to the St. Francis Hotel, where they spent an hour in
the grill. When Stanton returned about seven o'clock
for his car he discovered that it was gone. He had
notified the police promptly; as yet the car was still
posted as missing
So much for the official report. But a brief pencilled
memorandum attached added:
"Thompson on the job. Phoned in thinks he's on
track of this. Will report again later."
Gateway gave orders that he was to be informed
immediately of any progress, here at his office where
he would be most of the day or later at Laufer-Hirth's
home on Nob Hill.
7
Hard-boiled though he contended that he was and
the product of a hard-boiled school, still could Detec-
tive Gateway thrill. It was late afternoon and he was
frowningly about to close his desk for the day when
his phone rang.
"Henneberry talkin'," came a gruff voice which he
knew well, that of one of the policemen he had in-
structed to keep an eye open for small out-of-the-way
millinery shops that were open at all hours. "Some-
thing funny about this hat business. You see, Mr.
Gateway"
"Snap into it, man!" commanded Gateway impa-
tiently; Henneberry could talk all day just leading up
to what he wanted to say. "What is it?"
"I found a little hat shop, way out by Ingleside,"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 151
said Henneberry, and cleared his throat. Gateway
could have choked him. "So I nosed in and got ac-
quainted. Swell little dame that runs the joint; hats
an' a little side-line, cosmetics, she calls 'em. Trade
bein' slow an' her bein' lively, she was willin' to talk,
you know"
"Want to hold your job, Henneberry?" snapped
Gateway. "If you do, cut out the trimmings. What
happened?"
Thereafter Henneberry, sounding dignified, came to
the point. He had asked a few casual questions, lead-
ing up to asking whether some man late at night had
bought a hat here, when the lively little milliner told
him that a "mysterious young woman" had approached
her on the same subject a little while ago, asking a
puzzling question or two over the telephone. And the
same woman was on her way to the shop now and
"Hold her!" cried Gateway. "I'll be with you in no
time."
"How'll I hold her?" asked Henneberry. "Am I to
arrest"
"Knock her down and tie her up, if you have to,"
yelled Gateway, and grabbed his hat. On his way to
the police car which was to take him out to the edge
of town, he realized full well that he was not handling
this affair as Paul Savoy would have directed—but his
head was full of Mrs. Dillingham and the Princess
Perenella, and he swore that one of them or some
other member of 'that crowd' was as good as in his
net.
With throttle opened wide and siren screaming, Gate-
way streaked on his way. Arrived at the millinery
shop he jumped down and hurried in. Henneberry's


152 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
lively little milliner friend regarded him interestedly as
the stolid Henneberry himself beckoned him to a closed
door.
"She's in there," he said ponderously. "Busted down
an' cryin', I think. Nice-lookin' dame, too. When I
told her that Detective Gateway was on his way—
well, she just sort of all crumpled an'"
Gateway flung the door open and strode in. At a
table whereon hats and hat-frames were all in confu-
sion, her back to him and her head bowed, sat a
modishly attired young woman. Gateway's keen eyes
detected a twitch of the bowed shoulders as he stopped
on the threshold.
"Now, Miss," he began in his heaviest voice.
That was as far as he got. The young woman
whirled and looked up, and Janice Landreth, convulsed
with mirth, laughed into the blankest face she had ever
seen.
"Miss Landreth!" gasped Gateway, and his face be-
gan to redden.
"We know that great minds flow together," gurgled
Janice. "Who knows but that little ones do the same?
I was attacked by the perfectly dizzy inspiration that
some little shop like this"
"Oh, hell!" groaned Gateway.
"And the way your policeman threatened to eat me
alive!"
"Miss Landreth," begged Gateway, "will you do me
a favor?"
"Not tell Mr. Savoy?" she dimpled at him.
"Let's go," said Gateway. "I'll give you a ride
behind a siren straight to dinner at Laufer-Hirth's.
And we'll talk this over."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 153
"To ride behind a siren! Then dreams do come
true!" exclaimed Janice, and stood up and powdered
her nose and was ready.
8
As Taune showed them upstairs into the living-room
where Savoy and Laufer-Hirth were awaiting them,
Savoy announced briskly:
"You're wanted on the phone, Gateway. One of the
force, a man named Thompson, has some sort of a
report to make."
Gateway hurried to the telephone. Savoy and
Laufer-Hirth contended for Janice's first smile. Her
eyes were bright, her cheeks daintily flushed with her
rushing ride with the detective, and her smile the loveli-
est when Laufer-Hirth gave her the roses which he
had brought home with him.
"I never knew it was so much fun just to be alive!"
she told them gaily.
They were in the midst of inconsequential chatter
when Gateway burst in on them, a gleam of excitement
in his eyes.
"The blue sedan has turned up!" he fairly shouted
at Savoy. "Somebody swiped it about six o'clock the
day our Unknown Victim got bumped off. And where
do you suppose it was found?"
It didn't dawn on him that he was doing the sort
of thing he could have choked the deliberate Henne-
berry for; he stood leaning slightly forward, tense from
head to foot, like a bulldog straining at some invisible
leash.
"It had been burned as far as a car can burn," he


154 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
hurried on. "It was in a private garage—the whole
works burned down during that same night, toward
morning; a couple of cars have just been dug out of
the ash-heap. The place hasn't yet been cleaned up,
and that's why we haven't heard sooner. And the
garage was down on the edge of Burlingame—and
belonged to Alan Casamajor!"
A flash came and went in Paul Savoy's eyes. For
the moment no one spoke. Gateway's various announce-
ments had been fired like pistol shots; thereafter the
silence was profound.
Paul Savoy was the first to stir. He selected a ciga-
rette, lighted it carefully, then proceeded to toss it
absent-mindedly into the fireplace.
"Amos here has complained that we've not given his
chef a fair chance," is what he said. "And now we're
threatening to keep his dinner waiting. I think I heard
it whispered, didn't I, Amos, that the cocktails had
arrived at the state of perfection?"
"I'm going to get busy!" cried Gateway. "Right
now!" And when Paul Savoy lifted his brows, and
even Janice looked at him reproachfully, he added
hastily, with a broad grin: "Busy investigating those
cocktails, that's what I mean!"


CHAPTER VI
1
"Do ripples ever stop, I wonder?" asked Savoy con-
templatively.
They had returned to the living-room and had made
themselves comfortable over cigars and cigarettes with
coffee cups at their elbows; the men relaxed in post-
prandial luxury in deep easy-chairs, Janice curled up
on a monster divan, as cozy as a kitten.
"What ripples?" demanded Gateway gruffly. He, for
one, had other matters on his mind, and since Savoy
had headed off all sober discussion at dinner, the dam
which the detective had erected against the flow of all
that he wanted to say threatened at every minute to
be washed away.
"All sorts of ripples," said Savoy, still musingly.
"And by the term 'ripple' I would embrace all disturb-
ances created by any sort of action, extending out-
wardly in ever-wider and ever-fainter rings. Suppose
I slam a book down on the table." He did so, and
Gateway jumped in his chair. "I create sound-ripples,"
Savoy continued gravely. "You hear them very clearly
here in the room; they may even be heard out in the
hall. A man of very acute hearing would catch the
sound on the next floor below. Given the proper ears,
he'd hear even all the way downstairs. And still those
ripples run on and on, always diminishing—but they
continue indefinitely, I fancy, clean on down to the
155


156 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
sturdy foundations of this old house—and so on to
China."
"I don't know what you're at," said Gateway, with
that puzzled frown which always came when Paul
Savoy, whether profoundly serious or letting himself
go for a bit of nonsense, talked like this, "but I do
know that China puts me in mind of Shanghai,
and"
"I unfortunately mentioned China," drawled Savoy,
"merely because it happens to be antipodal to San
Francisco. And here's what I'm 'at': From every ex-
penditure of force, no matter what sort, there inevi-
tably go out these ripples of mine. I'm no physicist
but I'd swear that if you'll drop a pin on the floor it
will set in motion vibrations which, had we but the fine
sense to catch them, would be discovered to have car-
ried on through the earth—and as far as I know, on
into interstellar space and to its ultimate bounds—if
there are any. How then of all sorts of human acts
large or small? It's my thought that they carry on
endlessly; and that we may check back through them
to their source—if we've only the necessarily finely
attuned sense to do so. I don't care whether it is ten
days or ten years since the commission of a crime;
those ripples do run on. True, they may grow feebler,
harder to capture; but on and on they go."
"I get you now; like radio," said Gateway, and
shifted uneasily in his chair. What he wanted through
every nerve center of his specially trained being was to
come to grips with actuality, and he read all the signs
of Paul Savoy being off on one of his flights of fancy.
Gateway was astute enough to realize that there were
those times when Paul Savoy was deeply in earnest


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 157
and, no less, those other moments when he allowed
himself a wide laxity, limiting his absurdities no whit
more than he vowed he limited his "ripples" which
transpenetrated interstellar space. "But it seems to me,"
Gateway hurried on, and looked to Lauf er-Hirth, Janice
and even to Andregg to second him, "that, since those
dipples of yours do get fainter, and since a good deal
of time has passed already, and since we've got some-
thing to go on"
"We'd best be up and doing?" laughed Savoy. "Hav-
ing ridden our theories as far as a view of the goal,
we'd be wise to hop off them and take to shank's mare
on good solid ground? Perhaps you're right. Even so,
there's no tremendous rush yet. I was merely finding
it interesting speculation that little ripples set in motion
a very long while ago—much longer ago than the ten
or twelve days since the murder of our Unknown Vic-
time—are still rippling, so to speak, and events which
may have taken place years ago are today bringing to
our attention such considerations as a bag left at a
cigar stand, a cloak with a hole in it, a stolen blue
sedan, an attempt to poison the quite remarkable Mr.
Paradene."
"And what I say," retorted Gateway, "is that for the
second time we've made what you call Contact between
your theory and a certain crowd."
Savoy, for all his willingness to expatiate upon ab-
stract matters, betrayed with a look an eagerness to
match Gateway's.
"Yes, we keep coming back to them," he agreed.
"This blue sedan now: It's a downright queer and
illusory connection at best, like a link that's fast enough
at one end but with the other end wavering in thin air.


158 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
It appears to have some sort of a connection with
Burlingame and with Alan Casamajor, or at least with
his garage; that's clear enough. But we must keep in
mind that at the other end we have only speculation.
We don't know a single blessed thing about it, who
stole it or why, or that it has the remotest connection
with our affair."
"But," exclaimed Janice, "it does connect beautifully
with your tentative theorizing!"
"Yes. And so we go on with it, since it would be
unduly straining the long arm of confidence to doubt
that there is some connection, of what nature I do not
presume to guess, between the crime we are investi-
gating and a certain small group of people. So Gate-
way— The word is, Go ahead, eh?"
"I've already gone ahead, Mr. Savoy," Gateway con-
fessed, and watched Savoy's face as though half ex-
pecting a reprimand. "Though you said last night we
didn't have anything solid to go on, still I couldn't see
it would do any harm getting a bit of information.
I've got my hooks out; inside a day or two I'll know
a lot more than I do now about Paradene and Casa-
major and Larry Dean and Bill Borchard and Mrs.
Dillingham and the Princess, and even the Chink."
Savoy nodded.
"That's good. We'll need all the knowledge we can
get."
"There's a thing I learned today," said Gateway,
"that I didn't mention because you stopped me. And
it's maybe contact point number four, because of what
you said in the beginning about this Mr. X guy get-
ting himself an alibi. On the night the man in the taxi
was murdered, Paradene gave a dinner at his home.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 159
Know where that is? It's down the Peninsula, not
much over a mile from where Casamajor's place is
down there. And at that dinner were the whole mess
of 'em! The two dames, Chu Yung, Casamajor, Bor-
chard and Larry Dean!"
"A nice chummy crowd, evidently," was Savoy's sole
comment for the moment. He sipped at his coffee,
emptied the cup, set it aside and asked: "How many
pieds-a-terre has this chap Casamajor then? An apart-
ment in San Francisco and some sort of a home down
the Peninsula?"
"That's all I know at present," said Gateway. "I
think the place down by Burlingame is shut up, with
a caretaker, and that he's been living up here lately.
Tomorrow by this time I can tell you as much as he
knows himself."
"Money is obviously the common factor of that lot,"
mused Savoy.
At that moment Taune came noiselessly into the room
with word for the detective that he was wanted on the
telephone. Gateway hurried out to return almost im-
mediately, looking crestfallen. "It's an answer to my
cable to Shanghai," he said disgustedly. "Nothing
known there of any Charles Kemp; the tailor whose
tag was in the suit never heard of him. What's more,
he couldn't make a guess as to who the man was wear-
ing that suit. It's a flop."
"I'm glad to hear it!" cried Savoy heartily.
"Oh, I know. You hate tailors' tags as much as you
do laundry marks and cuff links!—I suppose you'd be
the same about finger prints!"
"Verily," said Savoy lightly. "Not that such things
may not be of value at some stage of the game. In


16o A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
due course, when any case goes to a matter-of-fact
jury, you'll no doubt find some use even for laundry
marks; you'd convert them more readily than abstract
speculations into such hemp as hangs a man."
"I'll not give up that Shanghai tailor angle," said
Gateway stubbornly. "I'll pack the suit of clothes off
in the morning for the tailor to look at."
2
"Speaking of clothes and forgetting tailors, if such
a thing be possible," suggested Savoy with a sudden
change of manner, looking not at Gateway but peering
abstractedly into his star sapphire, "tell me something:
Just what sort of clothing was in the bag at the cigar
stand that I wouldn't talk about yesterday? Mind you,
I've accepted it tentatively now."
Gateway's notebook had it all. But when he started
reading the bare list of articles Savoy stopped him,
asking him to go slowly and to give all possible par-
ticulars so that he could visualize exactly what the
bag contained. Thus Gateway specified a well-made,
dark-blue suit, black low-cut shoes, five ties, one dark
brown, another blue with white dots, the others "bright
and flashy" which was to say that one was red, another
gay reds and blues commingled, the third a brilliant
green; there were several pairs of socks, as gay as the
livelier ties save for one pair of dark blue; one pair
of pajamas, all orange and gold; five soft shirts, rang-
ing in color from white to apple-greens and pale tans;
a soft cap; several suits of underwear without any
manufacturers' names; a couple of tooth brushes, tooth
paste.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 161
Savoy, smiling curiously, stopped him there.
"You have, by the way, a really good photo of the
Unknown Victim? All I have seen are the newspaper
reproductions."
"Right here," said Gateway. It was a seven-by-nine
print which he had folded to fit his pocket. Savoy,
smoothing it out before him, turned to Janice and
Laufer-Hirth.
"You two, knowing everybody in San Francisco,
must of course know some artist, a portrait painter
preferably, who can make us a picture?"
"How about Alan Casamajor?" demanded Laufer-
Hirth.
"By Jove!" said Savoy, staring at him. He stared
for so long a while that Laufer-Hirth actually squirmed
and said: "Avast there, my boy! You glare at me like
an old witch putting the spell of the evil eye on a poor
devil. I was just joking and you know it."
"None the less," said Savoy thoughtfully, "the idea
does suggest all sorts of possibilities!—But, no; we're
in dead earnest right now, and there's a flick of sheer
frivolity in your suggestion, old boy. Name me some
other artist."
"I can," said Janice, "several in fact. I know a very
clever young man who works for the Commercial Art
Company."
Savoy handed her the photo.
"Will you jot down a few suggestions in your little
notebook?" he asked her. "Your artist is to make us
a full-length picture. This photo will serve as his model.
Let's see; Gateway said of the Unknown that he was
neither old nor young, neither dark nor fair, neither
fat nor thin. Tell that to the artist. Next, have him


162 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
give the man in his picture a small pointed beard and
a small, nicely kept mustache. The hair was light
brown, I take it, Gateway? Well, the beard then is to
be brown, slightly darker than the hair.
"Next, he is to clothe the figure. A soft shirt of
some unobtrusive color; say a very pale blue. A flashy
tie; be sure there is red in it. A gray, rather sporty
suit. Tan shoes, rather sporty. A light gray hat with
a good deal of brim, the brim pulled down. There is
to be an overcoat—and he is to stand with a black
bag in one hand, and with the other hand in his pocket,
pushing the topcoat back so as to show a very good
deal of the gray suit. Yes. That will do splendidly,
I think."
"Good Lord!" gasped Gateway.
"You agree with me then?" smiled Savoy. "Since
the dark-blue suit was in the bag, he wore a lighter
suit? Gray for a bet, in summer and in general. No
tan shoes in the bag—then on his feet? Surely the
bright tie? And the beard just because it has sug-
gested itself, and it will do no harm to use it—and
it might cause a person to say of him that he was
somehow 'foreign-looking,' eh?"
"And the hat brim pulled down?"
"If a beard at all, why? Why should a man like
him wear a beard? Oh, of course we don't know that
he did; it's a yes-or-no proposition, and right now
I'm willing to go a few steps in the yes-direction. The
question is, Why? At least one answer is that for one
reason or another he wished to avoid recognition. If
so, the natural gesture of pulling up a coat collar—
You'll add that to our specifications, Janice?—and of
pulling down a hat brim becomes obvious."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 163
"Any suggestion as to color of the overcoat, Mr.
Savoy?" asked Janice.
"I'm at the end of my tether," he laughed into her
bright, excited eyes. "Maybe your sartorial intuition
will direct? Suppose you ponder the tout ensemble and
guess at the topcoat? You and your artist friend can
do better there than Gateway and I could. Just don't
emphasize the coat more than is necessary"
"And when we get the painting?" queried Gateway.
"Photograph it, so that its general effect will be
like other photographs; add to it a dozen photos of
other men; carry them all to your gum-chewing girl
and see whether she can pick one out as that of a man
dimly remembered."
"Right you are!" cried Gateway.
"By the way, Janice," continued Savoy, "your artist
will have to put some sort of an expression into the
man's face: Let it be one, if he can manage it, of
tense eagerness.—And now where are we? The blue
sedan asks for consideration as the outstanding find
of the day, so let's clear the way for it by getting rid
of other matters. How about the various items on
your list, Gateway? Any luck anywhere?"
"All blanks," declared Gateway cheerfully, for he
felt that he had enough now to get forward with and
was not concerned with the day's failures. As he
spoke, however, he recalled his sally forth on the trail
of the hat, and colored faintly. "All blanks," he said
a second time to close the matter.
From him Savoy turned inquiringly to Janice.
"And your assignments?"
"Blanks, like Mr. Gateway's," said Janice. "I did
at one time think I had a bright idea, all my own,


164 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
about the hat—" For an instant she allowed a pair
of laughingly teasing eyes to rest on the detective's
face. "Just blanks," she added, and Gateway sighed
and looked both relieved and grateful.
Paul Savoy missed the by-play altogether; he was
drumming on the arm of his chair and though his eyes
had remained on Janice's laughing face it was clear
that he was not even conscious of seeing her. Janice
grew grave as she recognized what Gateway termed
"Mr. Savoy's far-away look."
3
"The blue sedan then," said Savoy, and a little
pucker of concentration appeared between his eyes.
"I think in it we may find the key to an explanation
of a certain hiatus."
"It's a good word," muttered Gateway.
"I refer to the lapse of time, as yet empty, between
the actual commission of the crime and the discovery
of the body in the taxi. Several hours, eight or ten
at least according to your surgeon, and also according
to our own findings. We built on the assumption that
our Unknown Victim was murdered shortly after he
quitted the Embarcadero at about six o'clock to go to
a meeting with some one to whom he had telephoned.
(You'll mark here again, Gateway, where a portion of
our first surmise is showing signs of being wrong!
We said that he would not go straight to put himself
into the power of Mr. X, and now it begins to look
as though that is exactly what he did do! Let's bear
this in mind for possible future checking.) Now we
know from the police reports that the blue sedan was


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 165
stolen at about this same time. Next, we assume—
And mind you," he interrupted himself sharply, "that
these are frankly mere tentative assumptions at pres-
ent, for us to put fuller credence in only when they
click with the larger mechanism we are setting in mo-
tion, or for us to discard utterly should they result in
a grinding and clashing of the gears instead of a smooth
meshing of cogs—we assume then that this is the par-
ticular closed car for which we have been looking and
that it had some sort of connection with the crime.
Now we'll move on a single cautious step and say only
this: A period roughly of eight hours passed between
the commission of the crime and the discovery of the
body—and the same period of approximately eight
hours on the same night intervenes between the theft
of the blue sedan and it's being destroyed in the fire
which consumed Casamajor's garage down the Penin-
sula! Those eight hours constitute the hiatus to which
I referred, and though such hiatuses are as a usual
thing as dumb and blank as a vacuum, this one strikes
me as being so eloquent of a number of things as to
become outright garrulous!"
"I'm the last man on earth to contradict you, Mr.
Savoy," said Gateway as Savoy grew silent, steeped in
profound meditation. "But I don't quite see"
"Let me ask you a question, Gateway: If Mr. X is
the man who took the blue sedan—to what use did he
put ur
"Why, we began with that! He had to use a closed
car to move the body from one place to another"
"And we know now," said Savoy with a twinkle in
the mystifying eyes he turned on the detective, "that
he did not use the blue sedan for any such purpose!"


166 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"I don't know anything of the sort!" grunted Gate-
way.
"But you do—only you don't know yet that you
know it! It's really as simple as your a b c's. Whatever
purpose caused Mr. X to take the blue sedan was
accomplished immediately after the theft, which is to
say between six and seven o'clock that evening. For
he knew as well as you know that the theft would
be reported to the police with no great delay; he knew
that all over town patrolmen and motorcycle officers
would be on the lookout. But he did not convey his
gruesome burden to the taxi until nearly a dozen hours
later! Can you picture him adding so recklessly and
foolhardily to his risks by challenging attention in a
widely advertised stolen car? Not on your life, my
boy. He used the blue sedan for one purpose or an-
other as soon as he got at the wheel. But he was sure
to get it off the streets before the alarm was out. Now,
eventually the blue sedan went down to Casamajor's
garage. We ask ourselves, when? It was burned, you'll
recall, within twelve hours. And I insist that it was
not being driven more than an hour or so after six
o'clock in the evening. It becomes then a simple
mathematical problem for the first grades: The blue
sedan went from San Francisco down the Peninsula in
the early evening; it went straight into Casamajor's
garage some twenty minutes or a half-hour perhaps
after it was stolen, and it stood there unmolested all
night—and went through the fire next morning!"
"It's something to think about," conceded Gateway
slowly. "But if so, I don't see— What in blazes did he
want the blue sedan for then?"
"We raised this question once before," returned


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 167
Savoy, "when you yourself suggested several answers.
Without recapitulating them it suffices to say that the
extremely wary Mr. X was not the man to use his own
car in any way that could conceivably be connected with
the crime."
"And then where did he get the other car he did use
to move the body with? And what did he do with
it"
"That's the system!" said Savoy. "Ask and it shall
be answered! Meantime we go on with our hiatus and
all it tells us: We begin about six o'clock on the seventh
of July. Some one took the blue sedan, and we assume
that it was none other than Mr. X. The Unknown Vic-
tim vanished from the Embarcadero at about the same
hour to be seen no more until his body turned up next
morning in the taxicab; and we assume that Mr. X and
the Unknown were together in the blue sedan. Since to
drive around in a stolen car is risky business, we next
assume that Mr. X used the sedan immediately on ap-
propriating it, and got through with it within a very
short time, merely some minutes, I fancy. But what
remains of the sedan now turns up in the ruins of Casa-
major's garage which is found to have been burned
about three o'clock the following morning. Now, the
short drive from San Francisco down to Burlingame
is along a well-travelled highway, just the sort of road
which the police would cover as soon as word came in
that the sedan had been stolen."
"All that's fair enough," conceded Gateway.
"What I'm after," continued a very thoughtful
Savoy, "is this: It would be safe enough for Mr. X to
make that drive immediately after he took the car, being
assured perhaps that Stanton was in the St. Francis


168 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
with a friend and that the loss would not even be dis-
covered for some minutes. If he jumped into the car
and hurried, he could be in San Mateo or Burlingame
before the theft was broadcast, but if he had a bit of
murdering to get done, he'd best be about it with all
haste! The questions become: Just when and just where
was the murder committed? Mr. X could have killed
his man at some secluded spot between San Francisco
and Burlingame, leaving the body there for subsequent
attention; or he could have fired the fatal shot as they
sped along some lonely bit of road"
"The wounds," said Gateway thoughtfully, "were in
the left side just about where they'd be if two men were
sitting side by side, and one of 'em, maybe with a gun
in his left hand, while his right was on a steering wheel,
shoved the gun under his right arm"
"Yes, yes," said Savoy, impatient at having his chain
of thought disturbed. "The questions I was propound-
ing were: Was the murder committed in San Francisco,
or in the car somewhere on the highway, or at the
end of the ride, which is to say in Casamajor's garage?
If in the garage the wounds could be the same as if on
the highway, two quick shots just as they drove in."
"But," demurred Gateway, "the body turns up at
2:45 next morning in San Francisco! Looks like a
long, risky and unnecessary haul—and by that time
every cop around the bay had a description of the blue
sedan. Imagine Mr. X's embarrassment if he was haul-
ing his dead man back to San Francisco and some nosey
cop steered him along into a police station!"
"You said, didn't you, that in Casamajor's garage
there were the wrecks of two cars? Was the other also
a closed model?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 169
"Yes—an old seven-passenger Cadillac sedan!"
"Which, no doubt, no matter where the crime was
actually committed was used to complete the work begun
in the blue sedan! Whether Mr. X killed his victim
in the garage, or whether he had killed and left him
somewhere along the route he had taken driving down
the Peninsula, isn't it extremely likely that the seven-
passenger Cadillac was used for the final move?
"But all the while, if Mr. X lives up to the character
we are building up for him, we feel almost confident
that he was determined to be nicely barricaded behind
an alibi if suspicion should ever look even in his general
direction. Therefore the haste in driving out of town;
what could serve him better than to be conspicuously
one of a small group as at dinner at Sylvester Para-
dene's? Can you find out how many of Paradene's
guests stayed all night? Did one of them, after he had
gone to bed, slip out of a window, take to some car
which was probably the old Cadillac, drive back to San
Francisco, chance along at a moment when Mrs. Hamby
had left her Pomeranian enwrapped in the brown fur
cloak, sieze the opportunity during the confusion of the
collision to snatch it off unobserved—and finish what
he had to do? It seems significant that the cloak was
lost between one and two o'clock that night, and on
Junipero Serra Boulevarde which Mr. X could be ex-
pected to travel if coming up the Peninsula by way of
the Twin Peaks district. Did he next return to Bur-
lingame, fire the garage and creep back to bed? If so,
our question becomes: Why wait so long to fire the
garage unless he was using Casamajor's old car? Next
question, Why fire it at all? He must have known that
he could not in that way destroy the identity of the


170 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
stolen blue sedan, since the engine number would re-
main and there were bound to be other ways of identify-
ing it. So, Why the fire?"
"To remove some sort of incriminating evidence,"
said Gateway.
"Exactly. Something which he couldn't carry off and
otherwise dispose of. Such as— Well, say a blood stain
on the upholstery."
"H'm," said Gateway.
Savoy shrugged.
"So much in a general way for the lapse of time," he
said.
"You know who did it !" cried Janice excitedly. "You
know who Mr. X is, and that he is Alan Casamajor, and
you just pretend"
"I am not forgetting," said Savoy soberly, "your
flash of feminine intuition last night, my dear, when
you bade me behold the murderer! But whereas a fairy-
like creature such as you may dart on swift bright
pinions straight to the end of a journey, a poor male
creature of the species must be contented to plod
along"
"You're making fun of me!" exclaimed Janice, look-
ing at him reproachfully. "I didn't think that of you,
Mr. Savoy."
"But I'm not!" he maintained heartily. "I simply do
believe that often there is more faith to be put in a
flash of inspiration such as yours may have been, than
in a lot of evidential matter. However, we'll not suspect
Casamajor and we'll not suspect any one else just yet,
for in this sort of investigation there can be no proper
place at all for suspicion since it is a thing which only
warps judgment."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 171
"I know your theories about suspicion," said Gate-
way, square-jawed. "Just the same, to be honest with
you since we're working together, I suspect that bird
Casamajor as much as Miss Landreth does. From now
on I've got my eye on him.
Savoy, knowing the man so well, knew that it could
not be otherwise with him, and smiled as he exclaimed
with a flash of his sheer devilishness:
"You're over prone to suspect! Man alive, you'd be
ready to suspect any one of us—even Miss Landreth
here!"
"No," muttered Gateway. "I'm not that bad. I keep
my head screwed on."
From him Paul Savoy looked quizzically at Janice.
"You have heard Gateway say that he means to be
above-board with his colleague?" he said lightly. "Shall
I be as frank and honest with him? Or shall I withhold
from him my secret knowledge?"
"What do you mean?" asked Janice swiftly.
"Do you suppose," murmured Savoy dreamily, a
bafflingly enigmatic smile on his lips, "that if I told him
of a certain lovely lady engaged in powdering a bewil-
deringly adorable little nose—" So much only Gateway
heard; Savoy broke off sharply, leaped to his feet and
a moment later was bending over Janice on the divan,
saying into her ear for her alone to hear: "If I told him
of a pinch of powder in Paradene's glass—what do
you suppose he'd say to us?"
Janice gasped; her bright smile vanished; a startled
look in which there was a flick of fear widened her eyes.
She could only stammer:
"Mr. Savoy! You—you—you—" She caught her
lip between her teeth, then burst out in an awestruck


174 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
on impulse. Now that I've made a proper fool of
myself I'll say good-night"
"Hold on!" said Savoy mildly. "At least we'll listen
with a sympathetic ear, and we'll try not to be alto-
gether stupid and unimaginative."
"Oh, it's no use, as I'd have known if I'd stopped
to think. It was merely to beg of you that you'd pay
not the least attention to anything that infernal beast
says. But of course you'll have to listen. It would be
a civility if you'd overlook my barging in here and try
to forget it."
Then he turned to Janice.
"Do you think I'm quite mad, Miss Landreth?" he
asked quite gently.
"Of course I don't!" answered the girl readily,
strangely moved by the man's obvious distress. "We all
know that something has disturbed you"
"Never mind that," broke in Casamajor. "Look here,
you're a sort of friend of Mrs. Dillingham's, aren't
you? Oh, at any rate you're sane and wholesome and
human! If ever a woman wanted a friend she does
now—and among the crowd she runs with there's not
a single one unselfish enough to come under that head.
I am on my way to drop in on her— Will you come
with me?"
More than ever did eyes bore into him, Gateway's
by far the most intent—and suspicious. Was this sud-
den request which Casamajor made of Janice a further
indication of the man's unpremeditated impetuosity?
Or was this really the purpose of his visit?
Laufer-Hirth had seemed stricken dumb by Casa-
major's request; of a sudden he found his tongue and
boomed out:


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 175
"No! Of course she'll do nothing of the kind. You
are mad, I believe now!"
Perhaps that outburst was the very thing to decide a
wilful Janice, or perhaps she had already decided. She
ran to Laufer-Hirth pulled his old bald head down as
though to whisper in his ear, and frankly kissed the top
of his shining dome.
"Of course I'll be glad to go!" she answered Casa-
major.
And, despite Laufer-Hirth's rumbling, grumbling
remonstrance and even a quick word from Savoy, go
she did.
"After all, she's safe enough," muttered Savoy.
While the two were going downstairs Taune again
came into the room. This time it was to announce Mr.
Sylvester Paradene.
5
"Bobbie Burns might easily have gone a step
farther," mused Paul Savoy at a later moment, "and
have exclaimed:
"'Oh wad some power the giftie gie us
To view mankind as the gods may see us.'
Given that proper perspective, remote, all wise and
paternal, I fancy we'd look upon a world populated by
children at play; clean, healthy and normal children
most of 'em, thank God; but here and there one 'that
never should have been born' that begins with tearing
off flies' wings and continues later on as you'd expect
from such a beginning."
Sylvester Paradene, to whom Savoy and Gateway


176 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
descended in the stiff drawing room downstairs, Laufer-
Hirth flatly refusing to see the man, looked sick and
irritable; it had been a near thing for him last night and
fear had come close to finishing the drug's work, leaving
him white and badly shaken. His gloved fingers were
tight about the bulbous head of a peculiarly heavy-look-
ing, ebony-black cane on which he leaned as for a very
necessary support. The gambler, Larry Dean, bore him
watchful company but had never a word to say between
his "Good-evening" and "Good-night." Paradene,
voluble enough for two, exploded into bitter and angry
speech.
"But for my eternal vigilance, but for the fact that
I had a man at hand to act swiftly, I'd have been dead
by now!" he announced between a screech and a groan,
whereupon Savoy remarked drawlingly:
"I've been wondering whether Mr. Dean got the mil-
lion dollars?"
"What are you talking about? What million dol-
lars?" snapped Mr. Paradene.
"One forgets, doesn't he?" murmured Savoy and
shrugged. "Mr. Dean perhaps recalls that there was
talk of a million dollars reward for saving Mr. Sylves-
ter Paradene at a moment when it looked as though the
grim reaper were about to give his scythe a last lusty
swing."
Mr. Paradene made a clicking sound. Then he put
all such nonsense aside.
"I'm here to take a very prominent part in your in-
vestigations," he spat out. "I've been content to be a
mere spectator until now. That attitude of mine goes
somewhat into the discard. I am going to tell you, Mr.
Savoy, what to do."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 177
Savoy made no reply, contenting himself with look-
ing at the man with the frankest of interest.
"An attempt was made to murder me!" Mr. Paradene
cried hotly. A sneer got into his voice as he exclaimed,
"There are many, I don't doubt, who'd be glad enough
to see me dead—but they don't dare! Larry Dean here;
look at him!" They looked at him but read nothing in
his cold eyes. Mr. Paradene indulged in his irritating
little giggle. "Outside in the car are two others, Evans
and Malloy, who'd be glad to see me dead—and either
of them would run bare-handed to fight lions rather
than have me taken down with a bad cold! And yet
some one—Ah, and I've an excellent idea who that
some one is!—tried last night to poison me to death!"
"If you come to share with us whatever knowledge
you may have—" Savoy began.
But Mr. Paradene cut him short with a swish of his
cane and an angry torrent of words.
"I'll tell you nothing until I'm ready! I know what
I am about; I know more concerning that murdered
fool found in the taxicab than you'll come to discover
in a thousand years—I have a better suspicion of who
poisoned me"
"Not interested in that," said Savoy coolly. "We
don't deal in suspicions here—do we, Gateway?"
"I've told you," spoke up Mr. Paradene in his strong-
est vein of blatant egotism, "that I'm a tremendously
wealthy man. I will spend money like water to get what
I am after"
"Haven't you learned yet that you can't get anything
that way?" asked Savoy contemptuously.
"Oh, drop that damned pose!" sneered Mr. Paradene.
"It makes me sick.—You need me and I'm here to


178 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
help. But you are going to do exactly what I say,
and you're going to do it the way I say—or I'll wash
my hands of you."
So did the man rasp against his sensibilities that
Paul Savoy could not and did not strive to refrain
from a very natural retort:
"Your hands no doubt can do with a lot of wash-
ing—perhaps as much as Lady Macbeth's—but for
God's sake go somewhere else to get the job done!"
Mr. Paradene stared and gasped as though he had
been slapped in the face. And Gateway looked almost
equally distressed. He would have handled the man in
a different way. "Use tact, that's the thing to do," was
what a pretty nearly tactless Gateway was thinking.
"Get all he knows before you give him the boot."
"My dear sir!" exclaimed Paradene. "My dear Mr.
Savoy!" He was aghast; he peered up for a long while
in silence, set on reading whatever might be deciphered
in the keen blue forthright eyes looking down so con-
temptuously into his. "Dear, dear me!" said Mr. Para-
dene and dropped his gaze to the big round knob on
the head of his cane. For some moments he stood
without speaking. Then, in a slightly altered voice,
though still inclined to be dictatorial, he said: "Mr.
Savoy, an attempt was made on my life. That attempt
may or may not be in some way connected with the case
you and Gateway have in hand. At any rate, I've a
right to know what you've done and what you think
you are going to do, since it all may concern me. In
short, I demand to be taken completely into the inner
circle"
"Oh, go to the devil," said Savoy disgustedly.
"Look here, Mr. Savoy," exclaimed Gateway.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 179
But Savoy was turning away when Mr. Paradene
ran to detain him with a hand on his arm until Savoy
shook it off.
"Mr. Savoy," said Mr. Paradene, all of a sudden so
meek that almost he whimpered, "bear with me! I—I
am used to having my own way, you know. And I have
been desperately ill. I'm sorry"
"Oh, that's all right; let's forget it."
"And you will take me in with you?"
"I wonder!—If you really know anything of im-
portance, why not speak up about it?"
Mr. Paradene's face puckered into many wrinkles of
distress.
"I—I don't quite know what I shall do," he said
fretfully. "I told you of my interest in this thing; I
confessed to you how of late I find so few real, fresh
interests that my life grows like a cursed desert. Now
this one— If you were at the play, Mr. Savoy, and
absorbed as Act I unfolded; if you had the power would
you then command the actors to omit the middle acts
and leap straight to the tragic denouement? Would
you? Would you?—You see how I am circum-
stanced!"
"I see," murmured Savoy, and all of a sudden his
teeming interest reawoke in the anomaly of a man.
Here he was scared out of his wits, craving to bring
some one to book—yet deliciously prolonging the sus-
pense in another though perhaps related sequence of
sinister events, rolling the taste on his tongue, wanting
to extend rather than curtail his hour at the play. That
he possessed knowledge that both Savoy himself and
Detective Gateway would give a lot to have was rather
clear.


18o A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Of a sudden inspiration reached out and tapped a
favorite son on the shoulder and Paul Savoy, with a
rather curious smile said to his caller:
"I'll see that you have a box seat for the middle and
last acts of your little play—but you are going to do
what I tell you to do. It most definitely is not to be the
other way around."
"Yes, yes!" cried Mr. Paradene. "Oh, dear, yes!
Tell me!"
"Give another of those house parties which seem to
appeal to you—and invite all those various persons
whom you had at supper at Chu Yung's. Invite them
for dinner and over night."
"Yes, yes. And when, Mr. Savoy?"
"For tomorrow night."
"I'll do it!" Mr. Paradene promised, and looked
very eager. Then he pursed his lips and demanded:
"But what if they won't all come? It's such short
notice; they may have prior engagements"
"Oh, they'll come!" laughed Savoy. "For we'll see
that your invitation is so worded that every single one
of them will make it a point to be on hand. It will end
something like this:
"... and for your delectation it is promised there
will be some further development and, it is hoped,
the very denouement of the case of the strange man
found murdered in the taxicab.
"Handcuffs will be served by Detective Gateway."


CHAPTER VII
1
Late into the night Savoy sat in the silence of his
room, and could Gateway have looked in on him it
would have been to wonder as he had wondered before
what Paul Savoy saw in the blue depths of the star
sapphire. Moving shapes, the creatures of his acutely
stimulated fancies, made their procession through the
hours as he strove patiently to follow them back along
the little gossamery threads which glinted but faintly
in the light of the present and which threatened to
vanish utterly in the black void of the past. Still he
maintained stubbornly that he had many significant
guide-posts which there could be no misdoubting since
they consisted in abiding human traits. The things
which Bill Brown and Sally Smith would do and the
way in which they would do them were not the acts
and the methods to be expected from Eustace Mont-
morency and Sylvia St. Clair, and heaven be praised
that in Sylvester Paradene and in the various members
of his circle now under the microscope each individual
was sufficiently individualized to set him or her widely
apart from all others in these essential matters.
But while his mind raced and he caught vivid gleams
and flashes of light among shapeless and shadowy
enigmas, Nature was not altogether to be denied; hav-
ing had not so much as a wink of sleep the night
before, the inevitable time came, though long after
181


182 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
midnight, when sleep overcame him. Extended loosely
in his chair, his last conscious thought was: "So Para-
dene had the whole crowd to dinner and kept them
overnight that night it happened." His first waking
thought when some faint sound from the street awoke
him was: "Nothing is clearer than that Paradene is
somehow the motivating force through all this, the
driving power."
He looked at his watch; he had slept perhaps four
hours, for it was now six o'clock and he felt rested
and wide awaxe. He had a shower, and in dressing-
gown and slippers lighted a cigarette and returned to
his chair. But presently he grew obsessed by a growing
restlessness and became irritably resentful of the fact
that so much progress had to mark time while the
world slept. He wanted a word with Gateway; he
wanted that picture done which Janice had carried
away. Before half-past six he had begun looking im-
patiently at his watch.
When he went at last to the telephone it was a very
sleepy Janice who answered him. He had to tell her
twice who was calling; by that time she was sufficiently
wide awake to inform him that it was a perfectly
unearthly hour.
"I know it. Forgive me"
Janice laughed.
"I was in the midst of such a heavenly dream, too!
Ready now to take orders, Slave Driver."
"It's that picture," he told her. "That young man
of yours, the one who works with the Commercial Art
Company— You haven't seen him yet, of course?"
"Be prepared to be surprised and say, 'Nice Girl!'"
said Janice. "Although it was simply a piece of luck.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 183
I've got to admit. You see, I went to supper after the
theatre last night, and ran into him. I told him all
about it, and he came 'round and picked it up together
with the royal commands"
"Janice, you are the one pearl of great price! And
did he say when he would have it done?"
"I merely asked him to hurry; I put it rather as a
personal favor, you know"
"Therefore he will undoubtedly get along with full
speed, and yet— I wonder whether you happen to have
his home telephone number?"
"It's down in my little book! The one I caught you
looking at so superciliously; I could tell you were
thinking it entirely frivolous!"
"I'll never look superciliously again! Would you
mind ringing him right away?"
"At this time of day! Or is it night?" A pleasantly
gurgling sound came over the wire as she exclaimed:
"With all the joy in life! It will be a sort of round-
about revenge, waking him the way you woke me."
"Janice, I'm consumed with impatience. Will you
move heaven and earth"
"It sounds rather a task, and I'm nothing like Her-
cules—and before breakfast, too! How shall I set
about it?"
"By pouring that lovely voice of yours into his sleep-
ing ear. Next, by seeing him the first possible moment
and anaesthetizing all his objections with a perfectly
devastating smile. Nothing else will possibly serve
now. Listen, Janice."
Janice listened dutifully: She was to have the young
man rush to work immediately; he was to make his
drawing in the greatest of haste; get the general effect,


184 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
managing to sketch in the form with an eye to those
details already specified, have the thing photographed
and rush a messenger boy with a copy to Gateway and
one to Savoy.
"If I were an artist," vowed Savoy, "I could do a
job like that in half an hour.
"I'll haunt him," Janice promised. "But I fear you'll
have to give the poor man two or three hours— By
the way, he says that he is a poor man, financially
speaking, or he'd be damned if he'd potter with this
sort of thing. So I'm telling him that he can send
you a perfectly enormous bill, and it'll serve you right
for spoiling that dream of mine! 'Bye; line's going to
be busy."
2
Ruthlessly Savoy rang Gateway who, the instant he
recognized the voice, was all alert attention.
"Look here, Gateway," said Savoy, "it strikes me
that we've got to get extremely busy to be ready for
Paradene's party tonight. Oh, we've already amassed
no end of data, quite enough, I fancy; but I seem to
see an avenue through which we may come all the more
directly at our objective.—Are you listening?" he asked
sharply, for after Gateway's "Hello, Mr. Savoy," there
had come no whisper of sound from the other end of
the line.
"Got you so far," said a very brisk Gateway.
"What's on your mind? What's this new road you're
talking about?"
"Notice these points, Gateway: We know of Para-
dene that he takes an unholy glee in this thing; that he
has recently returned from Shanghai; that he knows


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 185
something which puts Mrs. Dillingham in terror of
him; that he frightened her the second time by asking
her whether she had ever lived in Shanghai—and we
know further that he had all these people at his house
not only for dinner but overnight on the seventh of
the month. That final fact stands out like the Berkeley
companile. Are we to assume it was merely a coinci-
dence?"
"Not for a minute," said Gateway promptly. "In
things like this you can bet on a connection, only it
might be hard to find."
"Simple, rather, in this case. Consider what I've
just said about Paradene's interest, then ask yourself,
'Why should he set his house-party for that particular
time?'"
"You mean Paradene must have known that that
chap was coming over on that boat? That he knew
there would be trouble, and wanted to be where he
could sit back and watch?"
"I very much mean I'd like to know where all these
folks were when the Unknown Victim landed. Were
they at home that afternoon, or already at Paradene's?"
"I'll get busy and see what I can find out," said
Gateway.
"Keep in mind also," continued Savoy, "that the
Unknown Victim telephoned some one about six
o'clock. If the person with whom he wanted to talk
was not at home he may have spoken with a servant.
Therefore, will you strive to get a line on any and all
servants of any of our little circle? I think you may
as well be prepared, should you get in touch with the
proper servant, to find a very evasive individual."
"Likely enough," agreed Gateway, but there was a


186 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
tone in his voice which promised that mere evasiveness
on the part of somebody's cook, maid or butler would
prove a problem which Gateway had a forthright
method of solving offhand. "Leave it to me, Mr.
Savoy."
"Very gladly," said Savoy. "Now here's another
matter altogether: Paradene took very particular care
to sketch for me the scandal connected with Tom
Dillingham's demise. He implied the lively suspicion
that not all was clear and above-board in the case. Do
you know the details?"
"I remember that Dillingham was found dead in his
stable where it looked as though he'd been savaged by
a brute of a horse. I'll have a check made of the rec-
ords; there was an inquest, of course."
"Right. Finally, Miss Landreth is having that pic-
ture rushed for us; a messenger will bring it to you
before noon, I fancy; will you be all set to submit it
to your cigar-stand girl?"
"With bells on! She don't go to work till five, but
I know where she lives."
"And you think you can get something on the other
points during the day?"
"I'll put Lannigan on the servant detail right off,"
said Gateway. "He's attached to the D. A.'s office, is
already interested and is as bright a youngster as ever
came over the pike."
"Good man, Gateway!" said Savoy warmly, and
hung up.
3
At breakfast Laufer-Hirth looked shrewdly at his
friend to come by some hint at his nocturnal activities,


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 187
and instead of the gaunt and preoccupied individual he
had more than half expected to see was confronted by
a serene, obviously rested and immaculately groomed
Paul Savoy.
"For which all thanks be given," said Laufer-Hirth
and beamed over the brim of his morning cocktail.
"You look like a young fellow I used to know before
Gateway injected poison into his veins. Happy days,
Paul."
"Gesundheit, Amos. While we're paying compli-
ments may I tell you that you look like a frisky bay
colt?"
"I take it," said Laufer-Hirth and speared at the
bacon, "that you actually treated yourself to a night's
sleep."
"I slept enormously; the way a giant would do,
you know."
"A man would think you didn't have a worry on
your mind!"
"Nor have I. I'm beginning to think the hard work
is done, old chap."
Laufer-Hirth's first shrewd glance was no sharper
than his second as he observed drily:
"Oh, to be sure. A little thing like this that brought
our friend Gateway back into our otherwise untroubled
lives"
"'Murder will out,' you know," Savoy reminded
him chattily. "There's really no doubt about it, Amos."
He sweetened his coffee generously, thought briefly
of Janice and her recklessness in the matter of sugar,
reached for a golden-brown slice of toast and con-
tinued: "We have that assurance on such excellent
authority. And didn't that astute young gentleman of


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 189
"I've heard of it," nodded Laufer-Hirth. "It even
got into the papers."
"After the announcement of the discovery," re-
sinned Savoy, "the first question in order was what
to name the country which later on was to be termed
the Land of the Eighteenth Amendment. Now it hap-
pened that because quite another gentleman busied
himself and wrote a lot of erroneous matter about it,
and because his name happened to be Amerigo, the
interested world named the new land after him! So
here we come back to Amer1ca and my original
remark that, if we have only the eyes to see, in the
end is justice done!"
"Let's have the other barrel, Paul," said the placid
jeweller. "So far I don't see much justice in naming
this country of ours after any man other than the true
discoverer, and"
"Didn't I warn you," laughed Savoy, "that fate may
be subtle? Watch!"
Deftly his pen struck out the first two letters and
the last of his America, and left only er1c.
"There you have it!" triumphed Savoy. "Clear to
the discerning eye, in the very heart of Amer1ca, all
these years has stood the name of the man who would
seem to have made the discovery some five hundred
years before Columbus got around to it!"
4
Janice was shown in that day shortly before noon.
Savoy thought that she looked like Aurora with her
sparkling eyes and delicately flushed cheeks and her
dewily fresh roses, and greeted her with an exclama-
tion of pleasure.


190 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"But it's nearly noon, you know, and the rosy-
fingered goddess is supposed to start the new day hours
before this!" he admonished her. "This sort of thing
must be looked into; next we're apt to have Apollo
taking a whole day off to go skylarking.—Do you
know that you look"
"I know it's fun just to be alive," laughed Janice,
very gay. "The world's all splashed with brightness.
Today I thought how pretty the ugly old houses are,
and how nice the horrid fog is!"
"H'm," said Savoy, and lifted his black brows at
her. "And who is the lucky man, my dear?"
It was all in jest—until he saw Janice's face flush
up brighter and brighter until in an instant it flamed
scarlet. She spun on her heel to hide her face from
him, ashamed and inclined to be angry. But she hardly
stayed her pivoting until she faced him again, her head
held high, her eyes steady on his, though suspiciously
bright, a suggestion of defiance in the tilt of her
chin.
"I hate to blush like this"
"It's the prettiest sight on this old earth of ours,
splashed all over with brightness though you say it
"And don't you be misled by 'clues'!" cried Janice
merrily. "A girl's turning red doesn't invariably mean
there's a man in the woodpile, you know. . . . Behold
me still heart-whole and fancy-free.—And here's your
picture and the poor young artist's bill along with it!
And he says please send the money in pieces of eight,
trundled in a red wheel-barrow; he wants to hear the
jingle of it coming over the cobbles."
She gave him the large envelope, said, "I think he


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 191
did awfully well, considering the haste," and turned
to the door.
"What, going already?"
"Mr. Casamajor brought me. He's waiting outside
in his car; I'm going with him to see some new pic-
tures at the Art Gallery"
"Going with Alan Casamajor, did you say?" asked
Savoy.
"Yes, with Alan Casamajor," she retorted. "I've
come to know him somewhat and to like him! He's
fine. He's different from most men, from all other
men—and that's why people don't understand him. He
is a great artist and a splendid man—and I wish that
I could have bitten my tongue out before speaking the
sheer driveling nonsense I did of him."
Savoy nodded gravely enough, but there was a twin-
kle in those penetrating blue eyes of his as he said with
a sigh: "And today the ugly houses look pretty—and
all horrid things are nice"
"I was the one who was horrid, not Alan Casa-
major," said Janice. She spoke more quietly now and
quite simply. "I knew nothing of him and leaped to
conclusions as foolish people are forever doing. Now
I know what he is like. I know, for example, why he
lives in such a place as Chinatown. A true artist is
set apart from other men, Mr. Savoy; you yourself in
your own way are enough of an artist to know that.
Alan—Mr. Casamajor, I mean—has but one all-ab-
sorbing interest in life. It is the Quest of the Beauti-
ful! And I, blind and stupid, said that he did shudder-
some things in which he twisted beauty into ugliness!
I hadn't the eye to see, that was all! He hunts beauty
ererywhere, I tell you; he seeks it in the grotesque, in


192 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
the misshapen, in what inspires the rest of us only with
horror—even in Sylvester Paradene! He has painted
that little beast over and over and over, and always
swears that even in a man like Paradene there is some
hidden beauty, could we but see it! And if you will
again look at any painting of his," and now her voice
actually sounded pleading, "you'll see that it is not a
representation of Beauty made ugly, but of some beauty
found and brought to light in that which, until he
found it, was hateful!"
Savoy was profoundly interested. He said musingly:
"Is it your womanly intuition at work here that"
"Mr. Savoy!" She bit her lip and flushed. "That
is cruel!"
"I'm not jesting, my dear," he said warmly. "I'm
really quite in earnest. Is it that it is given your eyes
to see truths that are hid from mine?"
"It is not that! It is only that I have come to know
Alan Casamajor and, in just a little, to understand
and appreciate a rare, restless, idealistic soul. The
moodiness in his eyes is merely distress at losing beauty
somewhere along the road in his quest—he is like a
knight seeking the Holy Grail"
"I see. Honestly, I really think that I do see."
Janice was at the door, drawing on her gloves and
smiling back over her shoulder. Once more looking
like the lovely and romantic and adventuresome spirit
of San Francisco, she said gaily:
"By the way, I forgot to ask my Slave Driver for
the afternoon off, but perhaps you'll consent when you
consider what time of day you had me up and at
work"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"You'll be calling me Simon Legree otherwise! By
the way, you've had Paradene's invitation?"
"Just as I was leaving my room. Of course I'll see
you at his place tonight."
"If you have eyes for mere mortals," said Savoy.
He stood looking after her as she hurried away,
thinking that where she went the world might well be
"splashed all over with brightness."
Within the hour Gateway came. He charged up the
stairs, into Savoy's presence, and for a moment the
latter felt sure that Charles P. Gateway was going
to hurl his hat on the floor and execute a sort of
triumphant war dance on it.
"Bull's-eye for us!" the detective announced from
the door. "We've scored a knockout!"
"Personally I prefer my metaphors mixed," said
Savoy, "but just whose bull is it whose eye we've
knocked out?"
"It was your hunch of having the Unknown Gent's
photo dressed up with whiskers and the rest of the
accessories. The girl that chews gum on the Embar-
cadero made a positive identification!"
"Ah!" said Savoy, and his eyes brightened up like
Gateway's.
"It was a hunch in a million," ran on the enthusi-
astic Gateway. "One that might have missed a mile,
but didn't! I took half a dozen photos along with me
and put them in a row for the girl to look at, and if
you'll believe it, a gleam of actual intelligence came


194 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
into her eyes. She picked the right one, saying that
that was the guy who had left a bag with her and
never came back. Can you beat it?"
Savoy's eyes turned thoughtfully to the picture
which Janice had brought him and which now stood
propped up on his table.
"We move forward," he said. "How about those
other matters you were to check before tonight?"
"They're coming along," returned Gateway. "I'll
hope to know more about them before we start down
to Paradene's place. Lannigan's working hard on the
servant angle. I did find out that Mrs. Dillingham
was out at six; in fact she was out all afternoon."
"At Paradene's perhaps?" asked Savoy quickly.
"Yes. The princess had her come down early"
"And of course Paradene instructed the princess! I
think that all goes well, eh, Gateway?"
"I'll say it does," grinned Gateway. "Well, I'll be
stepping; I want to do a little net-spreading of my
own. I'll be seeing you, Mr. Savoy."
Savoy had never heard Gateway sing before, and
had really never thought of him as a singing man.
Yet now as the detective went on his way a little snatch
of melody floated back, and Savoy seemed to recall a
long-forgotten ballad of which the refrain was:
"It looks to me like a big night tonight!"
6
Laufer-Hirth, downtown during the morning, re-
turned at noon to lunch with his friend. As he came
into the library where Savoy was expecting him he


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 199
known him seemed irritable to the point of querulous-
ness, "the devil inspired you when you thought of
throwing out this sort of net for your school of fish."
"It was sure a great hunch," said Gateway. "I only
wish we'd had a little more time to pick up a few
loose ends; Lannigan gave me a buzz just before we
left town. He says there's some funny business going
on and that he's going to have a tale to tell about
Mrs. Dillingham's butler. All he knows to date is that
the butler seems to have passed out of the picture the
day after the murder."
"Discharged?" asked Savoy eagerly. "Mrs. Dilling-
ham sent him away or"
"Trust Lanny to get the full dope over to us as
soon as he can. He'll get it; it's Lannigan's way to
nail what he goes after. We'll hear more on this serv-
ant angle either tonight or the first thing tomorrow
morning.—Say! You don't think somebody's butler
did the killing, do you?"
"Butlers have been such useful, romantic and mys-
terious figures since time immemorial," laughed Savoy,
"that when one vanishes, if it isn't a question of the
silver you may be sure his vanishment has to do with
some darker crime."
Their car turned from the highway into a country
road before they came to Burlingame and it grew dark
under large, spreading trees. The headlights tunnelled
through the gloom and flashed on a very high iron
gate. At its side, with a wan light at one window,
was a small cottage looking black with ivy. Two men
were revealed as the gate swung slowly open. One of
them stepped to the car and demanded:
"Well? Who is it?"


200 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Expected guests," answered Gateway. "Mr. Savoy,
Mr. Laufer-Hirth and Detective Gateway."
The man stepped on the running-board and said
"Drive on; I'll go with you"; the gate swung shut
behind them; the lights of their car shone on a wind-
ing road which plunged deep into a wood. What the
trees were the night kept secret; they were as black as
cypresses with the wet fog drifting through them.
Laufer-Hirth's chauffeur drove slowly, watching for
curves. Hereabouts evidently the forest was unmo-
lested by gardeners, and was left to its own natural
devices. There were brushy tangles and the damp air
was heavy with earthy smells and the mustiness of
rotting wood.
2
The road curved this way and that—and suddenly,
making them gasp, the enormous house burst upon
them as its scores of queerly illuminated windows
flashed out creating a riot of color. Yonder one room
seemed flooded with rose light, another with green,
another with golden-yellow—while all the lower floor
overflowed with queer disturbing purples. Then the
car rolled into the porte-cochere, and they looked upon
a deep veranda where the darkness was less dissipated
than tinted and stained by a single purple porch light.
The man who had ridden on the running board
went up the steps ahead of them with no word of
invitation to follow, plainly bent on announcing them
and relieving himself of his responsibility. At the
top of the low steps a slight, agile figure, as quick
and silent as a cat, darted forward under the purple
light. A voice said hurriedly:


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
201
"Very well, Yates, I know these gentlemen." The
man made a clumsy clutch at his cap, grunted and was
gone. As those behind him came on up the steps, the
tiny figure hastened to Paul Savoy.
"Mr. Savoy!" pleaded the hushed voice. "Will you
give me one moment?"
So bundled in their overcoats were the three men,
and so dim was the outer light, that Savoy wondered
how she could single him out so unerringly.
"Princess?" he said, not altogether sure of her.
"Yes. Just a word before you go in. Please!" He
saw her eyes flash in that dim purplish light. She
caught his arm and drew him after her some dozen
steps from the others of whom she had taken no
slightest notice. "Tell me, Mr. Savoy," she said in a
tense whisper, "and for God's sake tell me the truth!
Do you know who tried to poison Mr. Paradene? Or
do you think that you know? Or have you any sus-
picion?"
"To be quite frank with you," he answered gravely,
surprised by her mood no less than by her question, "I
haven't really had time to give this particular matter
a great deal of consideration. As yet it hardly concerns
us, you know. It's your uncle's affair and that of the
poisoner."
She seemed relieved and withdrew her tense fingers
from his arm.
"Do you think that I did it?" she demanded in a
fierce sort of whisper.
"Certainly not," he was able to answer emphati-
cally.
She should have been satisfied with that, he thought,
and for a moment judged her so. Then impulsively


202 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
she caught his arm from which her restless fingers
had so recently dropped.
"That man—Mr. Paradene—my uncle!" she ex-
claimed passionately. "He hates me! Oh, you can
never guess how he hates me—nor how he makes me
hate him! There, I've said it. But I didn't poison
him, I didn't, I didn't, I didn't! No matter what he
says to you, no matter what he tries to make you
believe, you'll know that I am telling you the truth
now, and"
The door opened and a richer purple light stream-
ing out flooded the open porch, rippling down the
marble steps. Perenella sprang back and, even before
the door was wide, was calling out gaily: "This way,
Mr. Savoy! In this wretched light you've gotten your-
self lost looking for the door, haven't you? Here it
is.—Mr. Laufer-Hirth, isn't it?" She gave him her
hand over which the old fellow bowed with an air,
quite as one should bow over a princess' hand, whether
Paradene's niece or the devil's. "And Mr. Gateway?
Oh, here is uncle"
For it was Sylvester Paradene himself who had
come to the door, perhaps because he had heard the
car, perhaps merely that he was growing restively
impatient for the arrival of these last of his guests,
or possibly to spy on Perenella. The entrance to his
big house was of noble proportions and as he stood
in it he looked more the dwarf than ever. His boldly
prominent eyes from under his hairless brows were
staring, brimming with suspicion. Before he so much
as nodded toward his guests he demanded angrily of
his niece:


204 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
accommodated. Here they were unanimous in grati-
tude that they need not have Paradene's purple lights.
A row of many push-buttons of several shades gave
them a choice; Gateway shoved an energetic thumb
against a rose-tinted button and the room was bathed
in a soft glow fit for a lady's boudoir.
"Great bunch of hired men he's got," he muttered.
"Notice?"
They had seen several of Paradene's house servants;
two had accompanied them upstairs with their bags;
and a more splendid lot of men physically it would
be hard to find. Paul Savoy for one thought of Fred-
erick William's guard of Potsdam giants, for each of
these Paradene retainers stood well above six feet and
was superbly proportioned. Carrying themselves like
soldiers they struck an odd note in their white uni-
forms, their tall black patent-leather boots and the
slash of Tyrian purple across their breasts. Not a man
of them all could not have taken little Sylvester Para-
dene up in his great hands and snapped his back.
Their employer revelled in their powerful bodies,
since of such men his money made machines to serve
him.
Mr. Paradene's drawing-room was at once a splen-
did and a freakish sort of place; its domed ceiling was
so high overhead, so lost in shadows as to all but be
lost to sight, for in this portion of the house as in
that where they had mounted the spiral stair, graceful
columns sprang to the vaulted roof, and there were
airy balconies overhanging from the stories above, their
gilded rails looking in the shadows like faint delicate
traceries. Here among fine pieces of furniture of the
most ornate Venetian period all the other guests were


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 205
awaiting the arrival of Paul Savoy and his companions.
Even the Chinese, Chu Yung, was on hand.
Mr. Paradene's eyes were dancing; as the three men
entered his grin was like the leer of that devil-mask of
Chu Yung's.
"I was never so delighted in all my life!" he sang
out exultantly, and from grinning at them his glinting
eyes ran across the faces of his other guests. "The
sport of kings, eh? Glorious; oh, quite glorious, my
dears!"
One of the first things which Savoy remarked was
that Janice Landreth and Alan Casamajor were to-
gether, drawn slightly apart from the others, and that
they appeared to have progressed swiftly and deeply
into each other's sympathetic understandings; he did
not doubt in the least that with them a young love
story was being told. Janice was lovelier than ever,
her eyes brilliant with happiness; it was the first time
he had seen her in an evening gown, and he realized
that she had the trick of wearing clothes that neither
the young widow nor the dark princess could ever
acquire. Janice flashed him and Laufer-Hirth a smile
that was gay and friendly, and yet there was no doubt-
ing the glint of anxiety in it. And there was something
absolutely protective—almost maternal—in her eyes as
they sped back to Alan Casamajor.
Savoy, of a mind tonight to note details, marked how
a hush lay over the room; he observed that Mrs.
Dillingham indulged as startlingly as ever in her Lady
Gunga Din tendencies, gowned exquisitely and wearing
pearls; that there was an expression of nervous strain
on Princess Perenella's face and that her eyes were
forever roving restlessly; that Chu Yung and the gam-


206 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
bier, Larry Dean, were brothers for pure enigmati-
calness; that William Borchard from watching Pere-
nella curiously turned upon the newcomers a face on
which there appeared to be dying out the faint glimmer
of a cynical smile.
Dinner was announced, and as two of Paradene's
giants in their extravagant liveries threw open wide
double doors to the dining room, and the guests looked
into a splendid chamber glittering with its glassware,
sparkling with silver and bathed in a rich golden light,
sudden chatter broke out. With this cheerier light, as
with the breaking of day, spirits lifted, and though
tonight gaiety in most bosoms could scarce be other
than hectic, at least the pall of purple gloom was lifted.
To Paradene, aside from the rest, Savoy said:
"We've enough on our souls tonight without that
purple twilight of yours in the drawing-room. Do you
mind if, when we return to it, we have a light like
this?"
"My dear fellow, my most honored guest," exclaimed
Mr. Paradene, "it shall be anything that you like! You
should see my green effects; they're absolutely eerie.
Or my pale lavendars— Shall it be rose lights? They'd
bring out that pretty girl with the pink roses wonder-
fully!"
"A plain, clear light," said Savoy shortly. "Let's not
have pretty girls and pink roses in our minds tonight."
4
It was only when all were again assembled in the
drawing-room that the matter uppermost in all minds
was given any but the merest tangential consideration.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 207
True, during the elaborate meal Sylvester Paradene
again and again made some reference to the "Sport
of Kings," but invariably there had been none to fol-
low his lead; Savoy himself was at some small pains
each time to lead conversation into inconsequential I
channels; the talk touched on architecture a time or
two, strayed in the broader fields of art and in the end
broke into little eddies of light chat. All this while,
Gateway with frowning concentration and Paul Savoy
with no less interest if it masked itself somewhat, the
two were very busy forming fresh impressions.
At Paradene's orders chairs had been arranged in a
circle, his own placed at Savoy's right and Gateway's
on Savoy's left. Cigars and cigarettes were served and
as the clear lights were switched on Paradene turned
zestfully to Savoy and said:
"Now, Master of Ceremonies, we are ready for the
curtain to go up on our second act!"
Paul Savoy glanced at the several attentive faces
with a queer smile. It was a smile in which there was
a flick of a grim sort of humor, and along with the
humor a certain steely glitter.
"I think we must all agree," he spoke quietly, almost
in a monotone, "that there never was perhaps a gather-
ing quite like this one of ours? Our meeting is simply
one of the aftermaths of murder. You all know that
the discovery and apprehension of the murderer is a
task which has been assigned to Detective Gateway;
and that he and I, being old friends, have been putting
our heads together. You know also that Mr. Paradene,
having a flair for just such things as this, has taken a
peculiar interest in the affair; that it was at our sug-
gestion that you were invited to his house tonight; and


208 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
that, in short, the one thing which every one of us
has topmost in his mind right now is this crime, its
mystery—and the question: 'What is the end going to
be? And into what quarters will investigation run?'"
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Paradene, rubbing his
hands. He looked all about him with that leering grin
of his, murmuring under his breath: "It's the most
delightful thing!"
A little ripple, sensed rather than seen, ran through
the tense circle; perhaps Janice's head came up a little
higher, perhaps Mrs. Dillingham's bosom rose more
sharply, perhaps there was a twitch like a shudder to
the princess' gleaming shoulders—and certainly Amos
Laufer-Hirth, knowing Paul Savoy so well, shifted
uneasily and then whipped out a big handkerchief with
which he fell to mopping his brow. Larry Dean, the
gambler; William Borchard, the lawyer, and Chu Yung,
the Chinese, wore their faces like three polite masks.
A frown gathered Alan Casamajor's brows as he sat
staring moodily at his cigarette.
"Yes," resumed Savoy in that deliberate still voice,
"we must concede at the outset that this is quite a
unique gathering. A man has been murdered and now
retribution stalks his murderer. Investigation has been
led to concentrate itself in a certain small nucleus of
humanity constituted by those of us who are now
assembled in this room. Briefly, one of our number
is the murderer."
A gasp broke from the overwrought Mrs. Dilling-
ham. Her tenseness before dinner was markedly greater
now, though in a reckless way she had turned fre-
quently for solace to her champagne glass. Princess
Perenella, lifting her dark brows, murmured:


21o A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
or of refusing to answer such personal questions as are
sure to be asked you.—I am afraid," he concluded
bluntly, "that it's not going to be a very pretty sort
of game, this one of ours, but murder is not a pretty
pastime.—Do you understand what I am saying? Do
you take warning that we are about to deal in private
affairs with utter abandon? If presently I refer bluntly
to the fact that our host is as hateful, as hating and
as hated a man as any man can be, it will really not be
necessary for you to pretend to be shocked; when it is
time to speak of Mrs. Dillingham's passionate love for
money, we'll speak of it just as baldly. Oh, don't trick
yourselves into thinking that when I promise utter
frankness I do not mean what I say!"
"I never heard of such a thing!" cried Mrs. Dilling-
ham, and sprang to her feet, her face scarlet. "I for
one will not stand for it. I am going home!"
"Dora is right," growled Casamajor, and rose almost
as swiftly as she had done. "This is a cursed outrage.
I too am going.—Coming, Janice?"
Janice rose with him, though reluctantly, and looked
from his angry face to Paul Savoy.
"Don't you think, Alan "she began.
"Come, come!" pleaded Mr. Paradene. "Oh, come
now, my dears! You can't run off like that"
Janice began whispering urgently to Casamajor, and
a moment later Mrs. Dillingham joined them, the three
speaking in quick undertones. Presently the artist, with
a high-shouldered shrug elaborately bespeaking indiffer-
ence, said:
"We'll stay—as long as common decency permits.
No doubt," he added on the verge of a sneer, "our
reputations are to be torn to shreds, and I suppose we're
all human enough to be curious."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 211
"Fine!" cried Savoy heartily. He nodded a smiling
appreciation to Janice for her obvious intercession.
"With a full caucus it is going to be so much simpler
to get where we're going."
"Might one ask at the outset," demanded Larry Dean
with his faint shadowy smile, "on what Mr. Savoy
bases his assertion that he feels confident one of our
number killed the gentleman of the taxi?"
Borchard nodded emphatically.
"I think that's quite a pertinent question, Mr.
Savoy," he said deliberately. "As a lawyer, you know,
I must confess to a tendency to put my faith in hard
fact and to be sceptical of mere flights of fancy.
It's rather a startling thing, you know, to get a mere
handful of folk together and to advise them that you
hold one of them guilty of murder! If we, as reason-
able men and women, are to take this matter seriously
—and I think that that is your intention?—I feel with
Mr. Dean that you should afford us some tangible
reason for your attitude." He glanced at the others,
asking quietly: "Am I in error?"
It was Savoy who answered him, saying warmly:
"Not in the least, Mr. Borchard. You're quite right,
both of you. 'A decent respect to the opinion of man-
kind' as here represented demands that we explain our
position."
"Good," said Borchard, and settled back in his chair.
Unconsciously he assumed the air of a judge hearing a
case. "It is of course obvious, though to be regretted,"
he concluded judicially, "that your position compels you
to withhold much of interest from us, since it would
weaken your hand to share all your findings with that
one of us whom you hold to be the murderer. Still"
"Not in the least!" exclaimed Savoy. "Detective


212 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Gateway and I have nothing to withhold! Every single
scrap of knowledge, every conjecture of ours, is freely
at your disposal, Mr. Borchard, and at the disposal of
your friends. If I could hope that all of you would
be as frank and outspoken as Mr. Gateway and myself,
why then, I'd have every hope of giving our Mr. X
his proper name tonight!"
"Oh, I say, Mr. Savoy," began Gateway, himself
little disposed toward what he called "tipping his
hand."
Savoy shrugged.
"It is the proper role of crime to skulk in the dark
behind a buckler of secrecy, whereas retribution stalks
openly in the full light. I repeat that Mr. Gateway and
I have nothing to hide and that Mr. X along with the
others is welcome to what we know."
"It's a sporting proposition," commented Larry Dean
approvingly. "At that, I've a suspicion that Mr. Savoy
is setting some neat little trap for his Mr. X."
"At least we caution you to beware of snares! For
whereas it is our intention to have Mr. X under ob-
servation all the while, we most positively do not hope
for any blunder on his part and are as anxious as he
can be that he make no misstep. From moment to
moment we form our impressions of you, just as you
do of us; and among you we seek to make positive
identification of that individual of your number who
in all things coincides with the Mr. X whom we have
in mind. From the things that he has done we have
formulated our conception of him; his methods, his
type of brain, his ability and all that, are pretty well
indicated by this time. He has shown himself a person
to act as swiftly on impulse as Alan Casamajor; as


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 213
prone to take the long chance, the gambler's chance, as
Larry Dean; as logically minded as William Borchard;
as cruel and ruthless as Sylvester Paradene; as worldly
as Mrs. Dillingham; as enigmatic as Chu Yung; as
cunning as the Princess Perenella. To discover which
one of you is an individual who in all things, not in
only one, measures up to the specifications of this Mr.
X should constitute a simple problem, provided that
Mr. X continues to run true to form! Let him but
continue cool and calculating, bold yet cautious, let
him make no blunders which would tend to confuse and
throw us off, and we are content. So, Mr. Dean, if
we set any trap, it is one placed very frankly and con-
spicuously in the open."
"So was the wooden horse before Troy," pondered
the gambler, "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
Savoy noted that Larry Dean's tongue lent itself
deftly to the words, allowed himself an instant in which
to speculate upon the gambler's earlier social back-
ground, and returned to the matter under discussion.
"Mind you," Savoy continued and glanced shrewdly
at one after another of the faces so intent upon his
own, "Mr. X is one of you. He is under a very con-
siderable strain. Hard and cruel and cool-nerved he is,
but human just the same. He committed his crime
with what the papers call devilish cunning; he left never
a single clue behind him; he covered his tracks pains-
takingly and pretty thoroughly; he saw some ten days
pass with no single shadow of suspicion reaching out
toward him—and then suddenly he found Gateway and
myself very close upon his heels! That gave him a
very considerable start. He asked himself, being hu-
man, 'Am I already suspected? Or is some other person


214 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
here the one who is suspected?' He is asking himself
that question right now!"
He paused there for a moment. There was a heavy
silence in the room while he lighted a cigarette. No
one seemed anxious to speak first. It was Savoy him-
self who broke the silence, when, without lifting his
head, he said quite casually:
"Of course, Mr. X, you are free to correct me if
I am not putting your case quite right!"
An oily chuckle burst from Chu Yung.
"Since Mr. X does not care to come to our aid,"
Savoy ran on briskly, "let us assume that he is won-
dering just what we know; that most of all he is
anxiously asking himself how we know anything at
all. Since he must think twice tonight before he so
much as speaks a single word I am quite willing to
answer some of his unasked questions.
"To begin with, I think he would be interested in
this picture." It was in its envelope on the table near
which he sat. He merely lifted it and let it fall. "It
is the likeness of the murdered man whom Gateway
and I have got into the way of calling the Unknown
Victim—an excellent likeness, I feel sure, yet one
which would not readily be recognized as the photo-
graph of the man found dead in the taxi. Sounds like
a conundrum, doesn't it? Well, at least Mr. X under-
stands!"
"Are we to see it?" asked Mr. Paradene eagerly.
Savoy shrugged.
"Perhaps later. To continue: Considering that we
began with an almost absolute lack of anything like
definite knowledge, I think that we have done reason-
ably well in accumulating certain odds and ends of
information. These we are inclined to believe accurate:


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 215
"The Unknown Victim, though a stranger in San
Francisco, was known to at least one of those present,
and intimately known. He arrived from Shanghai on
the seventh of July. He came with a very serious bit
of business in mind, urgent business it was, too. From
a cigar stand on the Embarcadero where he left one
of his two bags—oh, there was nothing in the bag to
indicate his identity or his errand—he hurried, after
telephoning, to see Mr. X.
"This stranger from Shanghai was not travelling
under his own name; perhaps he meant to call himself
Charles Kemp in San Francisco? He was dressed in
a light gray summer suit with tan shoes, a bright tie,
gray hat and soft shirt of a pale color. Also he wore
a little mustache and beard.—The greater part of all
this is, to be sure, mere conjecture.
"The two men met at about six o'clock. They walked
along the street until they came to a blue sedan parked
at the curb and left unlocked. The sedan belonged to
a very careless man, Mr. Stanton of Oakland. Mr. X
appropriated it, opened the door to his companion and
the two drove off. It was in the car Mr. X committed
the murder. He left the blue sedan in Alan Casamajor's
garage"
"What are you saying?" ejaculated Casamajor.
"What the devil do you mean?"
"Having left the car in Casamajor's garage," re-
sumed Savoy equably, "Mr. X came on to Mr. Para-
dene's. He dined here; you'll recall that that night all
of you were Mr. Paradene's guests? Later that night
Mr. X returned to San Francisco, driving an old
Cadillac car taken from the garage. When very care-
fully and with a steady hand he had shaved the man
he had murdered, he made his final disposal of the


216 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
body. On his way back to San Francisco he had taken
a cloak from the car of a certain Mrs. Hamby and this
he wrapped about the naked body before lifting it into
Peter Carpenter's cab. That done he drove to China-
town. On the way he cut a big piece of cloth out of
the cloak, where it had become soiled by contact with
the two wounds in the murdered man's chest. He left
the cloak at Chu Yung's and returned to Casamajor's
garage down here. Putting the Cadillac back into the
garage along with the blue sedan, he set a slow fire
to the place and returned to Mr. Paradene's, getting
back to bed without fuss.
"And that is pretty near the sum total of our knowl-
edge," he concluded, "and is sheer conjecture. Now,"
and a second time he looked down at his cigarette
while he addressed some unspecified one of them, "now,
Mr. X, we've told you our secrets!"
5
"Sheer conjecture?" exclaimed Mr. Paradene, who
had listened with the most intent interest. "It can't be!"
"None the less it is," said Savoy.
"How can that be? How, for example, unless you
knew, could you surmise that your Unknown Victim
wore a beard and red necktie? How could you assume
he was killed in a blue sedan?"
In a few words Savoy patiently outlined his method
of attack, and his system of building up his theories.
Never did a man hold his audience more spellbound.
At the end Mr. Paradene exclaimed:
"My dear Mr. Savoy! You astonish me! Even to
a jaded man like me you bring a few hours of zest!


218 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
been done. I do not for a moment believe that all of
those present are murderers, either as actual perpe-
trators of the deed or as wilful accessories. If a man
refuses to answer the questions put to him it's ample
indication, isn't it, that it is his intention to shield the
murderer, whether himself or a friend?"
"You mean you suspect me of having killed that
man?" Casamajor came close to bluster and was obvi-
ously striving to master a flood of emotion.
"Nothing in the world can be clearer than this: If
you refuse to answer my questions it will be because
you've some very strong motive prompting you to keep
silent."
Casamajor looked distressed; from glaring at Savoy
he turned his eyes full of question to William Bor-
chard. Borchard smiled.
"As Mr. Casamajor's attorney," he said, "I can of
course remind him that a man doesn't have to answer
questions unless he wants to answer them. If you're
asking advice now, Alan, I'd suggest that you hear
Mr. Savoy's questions, and answer or not just as you
like. A man may have many reasons, you know, Mr.
Savoy, besides that of guilt, for remaining silent."
"Of course," conceded Savoy, and turned again to
Casamajor, asking bluntly: "Will you tell us the name
of the murdered man, Mr. Casamajor?"
With lips tighter and tighter compressed Casamajor
maintained a brief silence. In the end he countered a
second time, demanding:
"What makes you suppose that I know who he
was?"
"I'm not supposing," said Savoy. "I'm merely ask-
ing. Did you know him?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 221
kerchief pressed to her lips and her big blue eyes look-
ing bigger and bluer than ever, seemed scarcely to
breathe. "May I ask you a question or two, Mrs.
Dillingham?" he asked courteously.
"I—I don't know," she gasped. "Mr. Borchard is
also my attorney—perhaps he will advise me to remain
silent?"
"I'd like to know what he would advise," mur-
mured Savoy musingly. "You see, Gateway and I are
very frankly engaged in noting the attitudes of all of
you to a number of matters.—Do you advise silence
on the part of this other client, Mr. Borchard?"
Borchard laughed and spread out his hands.
"As a mere lawyer I feel quite out of my depths
in such proceedings as these, Mr. Savoy! In court, as
you no doubt know, it is customary to make clear that
a series of questions is meant to bring forth some defi-
nite fact. I see very plainly, were you setting out
merely to amuse yourself, that you could ask a tre-
mendous lot of embarrassing questions; I do not see
their particular trend; and I cannot feel that the cir-
cumstances, unusual as they may be, warrant any such
inroads among private matters as you seem to feel
yourself free to make."
Savoy heard him out with the greatest interest.
"Would you object to my asking Mrs. Dillingham
what her name was before she married Mr. Dilling-
ham? Would you object to my asking her whether
she ever lived in Shanghai? And whether she, at any
time, knew the Unknown Victim ? And, finally, whether
if she did know him, he wore beard and mustache or
was clean-shaven?"
Borchard appeared to reflect and turned his eyes


222 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
gravely upon Mrs. Dillingham. Slowly, while Savoy
was speaking, the high color drained out of her face;
she went white to the lips and the look of fear which
had been noted in her eyes at Chu Yung's place burned
bright in them now. Before Borchard could speak she
spoke for herself, exclaiming wildly:
"I'll not answer. I don't know that man—I never
knew him! I don't know anything about it all—I was
never in Shanghai in my life—I wish I had gone home!
I was a fool for staying!"
"I think you've pretty well answered most of Savoy's
questions now," was Borchard's dry comment.
"And one you've overlooked, Mrs. Dillingham," said
Savoy quietly, "you can surely have no reason for not
answering: Will you tell us your name before it be-
came Mrs. Dillingham? And where you lived as a
girl?"
"You're a devil!" Dora Dillingham almost screamed.
"I'm going home now. Alan, will you come with me?
Janice, will you come?"
She sprang up excitedly and several others rose,
Savoy among them.
"So you're content to go—and await until later to
learn what we do tonight?" he queried.
"I said you were a devil!" gasped Mrs. Dillingham,
and dropped back into her chair, twisting her hands
together nervously. She assayed an almost hysterical
laugh. "Nothing on earth could send me home until—
until I heard the last word of this ridiculous thing! But
I won't answer a single question! No matter what it
may be, I won't say a word!"
"Not even," said Savoy mildly, "if I ask you whether
of late you have lost a great deal of money gambling?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 223
"I'll answer that; yes! Yes, I have lost a great deal;
many thousands—oh, a tremendous lot!"
"You are very fond of money and all that it brings,
aren't you?" he asked with a smile.
"What if I am?" she retorted.
"Still you gamble—and lose?"
"You're tricking me!—I said I wouldn't answer any
more questions!"
"And you carelessly carry diamonds around in your
purse, and lose even them?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Your heavy losses are all very recent, aren't they?"
"I'll not answer!"
"Is there any connection between your various losses
and the recent murder? Haven't your heaviest losses
been since July 8?"
With her handkerchief again pressed tight to her
lips she merely stared at him round-eyed and shook
her head.
"Mr. Borchard, it's your turn," said Savoy. "Will
you answer a question or two?"
"I'll strive to answer any question, merely reserving
the right to myself to estimate whether it is pertinent
or not," said Borchard.
"Do you know who the Unknown Victim was?"
"I do not."
"Have you any idea?"
"Not the faintest."
"Have you ever been in Shanghai?"
"Never."
"Did you know Mrs. Dillingham before she became
Mrs. Dillingham?"
"No."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 227
Is it a money motive today and was it a money motive
two years ago?'—And now are you answered, Mr.
Borchard?"
"I had no thought of stirring your righteous indig-
nation," said Borchard coolly. "But, if you'll pardon
me being frank in my turn, this sort of thing fails to
impress me. To be sure I'm merely a man of law, not
of crystal-gazing and all that!"
"I'm with you, Bill," spoke up Casamajor, looking
hot about the eyes. "We have brooked the insult of
Mr. Savoy's assumption that one of us is a crimi-
nal"
"Murderer!" Savoy corrected him sharply. "Give it
its name, man! One of your outfit is a skulking mur-
derer—and by the Lord, I begin to think the rest of
you pretty nearly as bad! Are you all in this thing
together, hanging together like poor damned lost souls
that are afraid of hanging separately?"
"Look here, Paul—" said Laufer-Hirth, stirring
restlessly. "That's no business"
"Oh, I know, I know!" snapped Savoy. "Just the
same I'm going on with my questionnaire as long as
there's a single individual left here to answer me, and,"
he jeered at them, "it's my bet that not a soul of you
will go unless all go together, so anxious are you all
to hide what may be hidden and to know what is said
and done!—And can't you realize that the more stub-
bornly you strive to conceal any single factor, the
more eloquently you shout to heaven that it is one of
the prime essential factors I'm after? Don't you know
I'll dig it out despite you? Mrs. Dillingham clings to
her determination that all her past life, up to the time
she came to San Francisco, is to be a blank! Why?


228 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Why on earth does a woman want her past forgotten?
You may be sure because it contains a wrong done
or a blunder made, a sin or a shame! And the folly
of thinking that it can't be nosed out! At the moment
there are skilled investigators working on that point
and on many others; investigators here, others half
around the world in Shanghai! And those in Shanghai
are checking up on Mr. Paradene's recent visit there,
and on his niece's activities; they are not forgetting
Mr. Chu Yung; they are looking for some trace of
the artist, Casamajor, and be sure they'll find it, and
at any moment the telephone here may ring and Gate-
way be summoned to learn some interesting things.
Other investigators are checking on Casamajor in Bos-
ton and in New Orleans. Somewhere along the line
his little friend Dora Blank will come into the spot-
light"
"Mr. Savoy!" cried Janice beseechingly. "You are
being brutal to her!"
"In that little white hand of hers she holds the key,"
he muttered. "And she won't let it go— Why?—
Money, money, money! As though all the money this
side the sun would pay for a single life wiped out!—
Mr. Paradene!"
Mr. Paradene jumped in his chair, so explosively
was his name uttered.
"Will you answer a question or two?" Savoy de-
manded.
Mr. Paradene began rubbing his hands and looked
gleeful.
"Some questions, I might," he giggled. "Others,
no."
"Did you know Tom Dillingham?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 229
"Oh, very well indeed!"
"Do you believe that his death was accidental, or
that he was murdered?"
"Murdered! Not a doubt of it! I've thought so all
the time. Now I'm sure!"
"Who murdered him, and why?"
"That I must not answer! Don't you understand,
Mr. Savoy— Can't you and won't you understand
that not for the world would I shorten a moment
of"
"Do you know who the Unknown Victim was?"
The tight lids crept like shutters over Mr. Paradene's
eyes.
"Dear me, Mr. Savoy—I really mustn't answer
that!"
"You admit to a hatred of mankind. Would you
balk at murder, if you thought you yourself were
safe?"
Mr. Paradene rubbed his little hands harder than
ever and laughed softly. But he made no other answer.
"Mr. Paradene, you have no more love for your
niece than for the rest of humanity?"
"I hate the little cat!" returned Mr. Paradene
viciously.
"And she hates you?"
"Naturally. Why shouldn't she?"
"To the extent of wishing you dead?"
The question set the little man off into a series of
his unholy giggles.
"Of course! You see, Mr. Savoy, she knows me
for one of the richest men on earth. She is not only
a poverty-stricken yet ambitious little princess; she is
my niece as well. As my sister's child she'd hope to


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
with this man. He was rubbing his hands as he did
just now. He said to me, gloating: 'Life is really full
of delightful surprises, you know. Maybe we'll see
him again in San Francisco, and there'll be a merry
hell of a time.'"
She glared defiance at her uncle. He had sat strain-
ing forward, his hands like claws, and seemed at each
instant ready to fling himself upon her and stop her
speech by taking her by the throat; but when he dis-
covered that the sum total of her knowledge was so
small, only enough to pique Savoy's interest, he sank
back and fairly beamed at her.
"Your memory is unusually good for details, isn't
it, Princess?" asked Savoy. "You recall the exact
words?"
"One of these days," retorted Perenella with a cruel
little twist of her lips by way of a cynical smile, "I
am going to write the one honest book in the world.
It is my hobby. And I do not trust my memory, good
as it is. If I am able to give exact words after so long
a time, it is because I have written them down with the
day's events."
"This isn't the first time I have heard of that diary
of yours." He looked at her curiously as he added:
"Do you think a study of it might put us forward in
our search for Mr. X?"
Perenella laughed as though permitting a ridiculous
suggestion to amuse her, yet for an instant Savoy was
sure that she looked startled—and even fancied that
she was frightened. He asked her bluntly:
"Have you any idea, Princess, who killed that man?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, and her eyes grew inordinately
bright, seeming for the moment as prominent as her


232 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
uncle's. "A word from me could— Maybe I will!
I don't know. But I'll tell you this, Mr. Savoy, and
all who hear me, that I'll not be made a— Oh, never
mind! I"
"She's a temperamental little wretch," grinned Mr.
Paradene.
"Your uncle has told us that you and Mr. Borchard
are very friendly?" said Savoy. "Did he ever suggest
that you might break your uncle's will?"
"Oh, no. I asked him whether it could be done and
he laughed at me, and told me that Mr. Paradene was
the most careful business man he ever knew."
"You and Mr. Casamajor are good friends too?"
"We were; perhaps we still are," was the careless
rejoinder. "He seems very much occupied in another
quarter of late. Men are fickle beasts, aren't they?"
she demanded pleasantly.
"You're something of an actress, aren't you?"
"All women are!"
"To be sure.—And is Mr. Larry Dean another good
friend?"
"Decidedly! I think I admire him most of all the
men I know! Perhaps because I, like him, would be
a gambler—if I had anything to gamble with!" she
ended bitterly.
"And Mr. Chu Yung?"
The princess shrugged as rudely as she knew how,
which is to say very rudely indeed. Chu Yung gravely
inclined his head as though graciously accepting a com-
pliment.
"Mr. Chu Yung," said Savoy, courteously addressing
the Chinese gentleman who had elected to sit somewhat
withdrawn as though he were of a mind to be over-


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 233
looked and who had succeeded in being pretty well for-
gotten by the others, "I wonder just what you have
had to do with all this?"
"I?" murmured Chu Yung, his air that of an atten-
tive listener who never betrays a thought by the slight-
est change of expression. No single sound had come
from him save that one soft chuckle.
"Yes, you, Mr. Chu Yung. It would seem rather
strange than otherwise were you not in some way con-
nected with the chain of events we are discussing. That
you are a friend of those chiefly concerned, that you
have been associated with them socially at certain mem-
orable occasions, that you too have lived much in
Shanghai— You see, both Mr. Gateway and I are
inclined to regard askance that which for want of a
proper term we call Coincidence."
Chu Yung smiled.
"With us, Mr. Savoy," he said mellifluously, "it has
been said a very long time ago that that which mortals
consider as a coincidence is a veiled act of the gods."
"And our present task," Savoy reminded him, "is
to set veils aside."
Again Chu Yung bowed, thereafter awaiting such
questions as might be put to him.
"You perhaps knew Mr. Casamajor in China? When
he was living in Shanghai?"
"Oh, yes," nodded Chu Yung.
"Did you know also the man who was murdered the
other night?"
"It is so hard to be sure of a man's face as it appears
in the newspapers," said Chu Yung, and his manner
as much as added: "I can lie about this if you force
me. Why force?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 235
what he had said to convey a significant fact and was
swift to decide what that fact must be. Already the
Princess Perenella had spoken of a painting of Casa-
major's purchased and kept secret by her uncle. It
would seem that Chu Yung had sent him to the art
dealer through whom he acquired it—and that that
painting of Casamajor's, done those long years ago,
had become somehow a cog in the machine of mur-
der.
"Mr. Dean," asked Savoy, turning away from Chu
Yung, "do you know who our Unknown was?"
"Not the slightest idea," smiled the gambler.
"Never lived in Shanghai yourself?"
"Never been there."
«
"Have you any idea who killed him?"
"I have, but it's just an idea," returned Dean pleas-
antly. "I'd not mention it for anything."
"Did you happen to know Mrs. Dillingham at any
time during that past of hers which thus far is a blank
to us?"
"No. I met her shortly after she married Tom
Dillingham."
"You knew him well?"
"Yes."
"Did you think his death accidental?"
Dean shrugged.
"I wondered about it as everybody did for a few
days. I suppose I accepted the findings of the coroner's
inquest as correct."
"Your name isn't really Dean, is it?"
"No." He looked with a smile at Gateway. "To
save our good friends the police a lot of trouble I
can tell you that I am Gerald Morton. I was a gambler


236
A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
in New York. Got into a bit of a jam and came west.
Larry Dean to my friends now."
"Are you retained in any capacity by Mr. Para-
dene?"
"Better ask Mr. Paradene," grinned Larry Dean.
"You and Casamajor are not exactly friendly, are
you?"
"No."
"A quarrel?"
"You might call it that."
"Recently, Mr. Dean? During the last couple of
weeks?"
"Not as recent as that. Call it a couple of years."
"Will you tell us what was the nature of this quar-
rel?"
"Neither he nor I would like to answer that ques-
tion, Mr. Savoy."
"You say that Mr. Casamajor received a telegram
the night of the murder. At about what time, do you
remember?"
"Yes. It was well after dinner. We were all in this
room. I'd say about half-past nine; maybe a little
earlier or later."
"It seemed to upset him?"
"Tremendously." He glanced maliciously at Casa-
major. "He rushed off shortly afterwards."
"Did he show the message to any one?"
"I don't know. Perhaps. I really can't say."
"To be sure.—Mr. Casamajor, did you"
"I don't know!" muttered Casamajor. "I don't re-
member. And I've told you already that I'm answer-
ing no more questions. Even were you armed with
Mr. Gateway's authority I'd still refuse to answer.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 237
Furthermore I, for one, suggest that we call it an
evening. An evening of rank folly that even Mr. Paul
Savoy will confess has got neither him nor any one
of us a single step forward!"
Paul Savoy bounded to his feet, his eyes seeming to
catch fire as he exclaimed excitedly:
"Can't you see? Don't you realize that we've made
tremendous progress? You say it's got neither me nor
any one of you a single step forward? Good God! I
have made a long stride forward toward the Truth!
Mr. X moves forward—to what? To his salvation
or to his undoing?—And unless every precaution is
taken I very much fear that some one of us has taken
a step onward toward his or her death!"
Casamajor cursed him openly and nervously, and
swore that he grew theatric and melodramatic to make
some absurd effect. Borchard laughed at him and
echoed Casamajor's words contemptuously. Larry Dean
stared and ejaculated, "You're crazy!" Mrs. Dilling-
ham started up with a smothered scream, Gateway
gasped, "Oh, my eye!" and Laufer-Hirth snorted;
Janice paled perceptibly and Perenella's dark eyes wid-
ened as though they saw a ghost. Chu Yung, of them
all, smiled serenely.
As for Mr. Paradene, he leaped to his feet clutching
Savoy by the arm, and shouted wildly:
"Malloy! Evans! Larry Dean! Come here, damn
you! There's murder in the air. Evans! Malloy!"
His voice rose to a shriek of pure terror.
As Evans and Malloy came running, no one knew
from where, Savoy shook Mr. Paradene off and, star-
ing down at him said gloomily:
"You've a right to be afraid. How great a part you


238 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
have played in this horror, you alone know, but I have
no doubt that you, with your abnormal glee in pre-
cipitating others into misfortunes, have been the moti-
vating force which caused the murder. And you're not
the only one. I warn you—I warn you, Princess Pere-
nella! I warn every one of you, for each of you seems
to know something and— Can't you poor fools under-
stand?" He fairly shouted at them. "Mr. X knows all
that we know and he knows more. He knows right
now whether any one of us is a menace to his safety!
If he feels that he has cause to fear any one of us
what do you suppose he will do about it? Murder will
be done again—here—tonight! If I am responsible
for your gathering here, at least it is I who give you
full warning. For God's sake take it to heart. No
single one of you—save Mr. X alone!—will trust your-
self with any other member of this crowd if you want
to see the sun come up tomorrow"
"I for one," spoke up Casamajor, "think that Mr.
Savoy—" He paused and stared down his long nose
a moment, then jerked his eyes up to glare into Savoy's,
saying bluntly: "You've set the style tonight for dis-
regarding decent convention and being frank, haven't
you? Then I'll finish what I started to say and remark
that I, for one, think that Mr. Savoy is crazy! He is
obsessed with his mythical Mr. X. We are all old
friends here— It's just that Mr. Savoy gave us all a
jump of the nerves and that's over now. Again I
suggest that we stop this tomfoolery and enjoy what is
left of our evening."
Borchard clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.
"Good boy, Alan!" He turned to lift his brows at
Savoy. "You did give us a start, you know, Mr.
Savoy. Come now and confess that"


240 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Alan Casamajor and Mr. X were the same man, you
will remember that this morning I tried to make you
see how fine he is. You may make all the fun you
want to of my 'intuition,' but I trust him absolutely.
For example," she concluded brightly, "if right now
he should ask me to go for a lonely stroll into the
thick and darksome wood, I'd go like a lamb."
"Please, Janice," he pleaded with her. "It isn't much
that I ask"
Janice's gray eyes flicked from him to Alan Casa-
major, who stood with his arms folded and his eyes
gloomily on her.
"Oh, I promise—darn you!" she said. And then,
suddenly impulsive, she put her hand on his arm. "I
do know you mean well, you silly fellow, and so I
thank you."
But Laufer-Hirth, her avowed knight, was not as
easily satisfied as Savoy. Guessing what was afoot be-
tween them, he joined them now, saying as one who
would put up with no denial:
"Janice, this nonsense of Paul's has given me the
horrors. Paradene has allotted us a suite of three bed-
rooms; you're going to take mine and I'll bunk up
with Savoy here and it will serve him right if I roll
on him and smother him to death."
Janice hushed her lilting voice to the accents of
horror.
"Don't you realize that it is there, in the suite where
Mr. Savoy is that Mr. X is sure to strike?" she whis-
pered. "Who knows it isn't Mr. Paradene himself?
Or that he isn't at least hand-in-glove with Mr. X?
Can't you imagine panels sliding stealthily, trap-doors
opening, villainous faces peering through?"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 241
"I'll begin to believe you're the half imp Paul said
you were! But you'll do it, won't you, Janice?"
Janice's eyes grew very soft.
"You are the two dearest old boys on earth, and I'll
do anything you say."
They were all standing, their circle broken and re-
solving itself into groups of two and three when Gate-
way caught Savoy's eye and drew him aside.
"Look here, Mr. Savoy," he said, "if you're afraid
of more murder, why not head it off by making our
arrest right now?"
"Always Gateway remains Gateway," sighed Savoy.
"Forthright, a man of action, a champion Gordian
Knot cutter. Unfortunately we're not ready; we're to
make no mistake through precipitancy. It's essential
for us to see that telegram which caused Casamajor
to rush back to San Francisco. And we must see what
we can find at Casamajor's closed-up home down here,
a search which will have to wait on daylight. Finally,
we should give Perenella a little more time to think
things over. She knows something—and she may
talk."
Gateway, though reluctant, nodded. His eye bright-
ened, however, as it fell on Mrs. Dillingham.
"That nifty little widow is all set to fly to pieces,"
he said with grim satisfaction. "Give me a shot at her
tomorrow morning, after a nervous night, and she'll
break."
Savoy shook his head over the man, repeating:
"Always Gateway remains Gateway." But he added,
grown brisk again: "There's always something one can
do. How about getting that bright young man, Lan-
nigan of the district attorney's office, on the phone?


242 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
You say he promised us some interesting news about
Mrs. Dillingham's butler. Tell him to rush it and at
the same time by all means to get us a copy of that
wire."
"Consider it done," said Gateway, and hurried away.
6
"What we need all round is a good drink," mut-
tered Laufer-Hirth under his breath, direct in thought
and utterance and ever open-minded to that gay little
fillip adance in the proper glass. "Were our host any
one on earth except Sylvester Paradene"
Mrs. Dillingham overheard and took centre stage
for the moment. Pirouetting prettily, looking very gay
and young and lovely, her creamy skin so amply re-
vealed rivalling her lustrous pearls in exquisite satiny
whiteness, she cried out with all the merry fervor of a
tipsy msenad:
"While we live, let's twine vine leaves in our hair!
Mr. Paradene, you see us looking like so many home-
less ghosts—and we have talked our throats dry—and
there is such champagne in the Paradene cellars!"
"A stiff whisky would be a boon and a benison!"
said Casamajor, and the stout jeweller, still mumbling
under his breath, said soulfully:
"Alan Casamajor will make me love him yet!"
Paradene hurriedly ordered refreshment. Janice,
whose bright spirit always stood tiptoe, exclaimed in
jest:
"Let the bottles come sealed! And you, Mr. Para-
dene, as our host shall taste first."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 243
But Mr. Paradene took her words seriously and
hurried to put her right.
"I'll do nothing of the sort! Larry Dean here, and
Evans and Malloy shall be the tasters. They're paid
more money than fat corporation presidents; they can
earn part of it tonight."
Larry Dean laughed his vastly pleasant laugh.
"With all the joy in life!" he promised. "If Mr.
Savoy is no false prophet, then let us drink and be
merry, say I."
Their burst of gaiety, a little hard and brittle and
hectic, was like a clash of cymbals erasing the vibrant
memory of a dirge. Bottles popped and smoked, glasses
frothed, quick frivolous toasts were drunk and the
guests, led by the gay Mrs. Dillingham in her role as
of one who conducted the Bacchae to some rare grotto
dedicated to frolic, threw open a pair of wide doors
and trooped into Mr. Paradene's gambling rooms.
7
Among this set when nerves were at a stretch—as
for one reason or another they pretty nearly always
were—these rooms at Paradene's home were a favorite
retreat. Mrs. Dillingham, as one very much at home,
led the way to the roulette table. Larry Dean, at a
nod from Mr. Paradene, invested himself with the air
of a professional croupier, taking the croupier's position
at the wheel and beginning his chanson: "Mesdames et
messieurs! Faites vos jeux!" The ivory ball clicked
and raced and put something of its whir into the blood,
and Mrs. Dillingham still led the way by opening a


244 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
mesh bag bulging with bank-notes and staking her first
bet
.
Paul Savoy, sitting with his old friend Laufer-
Hirth and drawing thoughtfully upon his long black
cigar, was grateful for the moment. To sit very still
with companionable old Amos at his elbow, to feel
rather than see how Laufer-Hirth was enjoying his
drink, and to watch the others was an occupation to
crown the hour. He saw how Mrs. Dillingham had
sped to the table as straight as a honey-bee to the
clover; she was humming a gay snatch of song and her
high-heeled little feet were tapping out the time, doing
graceful, only slightly restrained dance-steps. Borchard
joined her, drawing out his bill-fold. He placed a
couple of dollars as Mrs. Dillingham flourished and
then staked a hundred-dollar bill. Janice and Alan Casa-
major, chatting together, joined them, and with less
attention given to the table than to each other, made
their small wagers; the chance brushing of hands was
of higher significance to them than the antics of the
ivory ball. Chu Yung, always placidly affable, emu-
lated the others and appeared to take the delight of a
child equally whether winning or losing.
Two figures were conspicuously aloof. One was the
Princess Perenella, who was like a dark spirit brood-
ing apart, her eyes grown sullen, her small mouth
as hard and tight-lipped as when she had closed it
stubbornly against making Savoy any answer. Savoy
did what he could to read her expression, but could
not be sure of her. Her soul seethed with bitterness
and resentment of some sort; as he saw her look at
Mrs. Dillingham, who was already beginning to plunge,
he recalled Perenella's words: "I, like Larry Dean,


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 245
would be a gambler—if I had anything to gamble
with!"
"Poor little waif of misfortune," thought Savoy.
"Decked in diamonds which belong to her uncle, with
hot, brave, reckless blood coursing through her—and
not so much as a single penny of her own."
Then his eyes turned to Mr. Paradene, the other
aloof figure in the gaming rooms. At that moment
Paradene was watching his niece every bit as nar-
rowly as Savoy had regarded her, and his face was
stamped with an expression of gloating satisfaction.
From these two strange creatures of the House of
Paradene his attention returned to the roulette table
and to Mrs. Dillingham, the single vitally eager one
of the players.
"Paul," said Laufer-Hirth, lowering his voice at
Savoy's ear.
"Eh?" asked Savoy, his eyes intent on Mrs. Dil-
lingham.
"Do you think that Janice is all right?" Amos tried
to speak casually, but his voice was troubled.
"Six hundred, I think," muttered Savoy. "No, by
George, it's an even thousand!"
An even thousand dollars that Mrs. Dillingham was
tossing on the table, staking it on the black. Here at
Mr. Paradene's one was free to establish his own limit.
Mrs. Dillingham had done with hundreds, evidently,
and in a few swift plays had lost some four or five
hundred dollars. The ivory ball obligingly stopped on
the black this time and Larry Dean's deft fingers added
a thousand dollars to her thousand from Mr. Para-
dene's till.
Savoy watched her face; he watched Borchard play-


246 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
ing for never more than five dollars and Chu Yung
for never less than twenty, and Janice, who had started
out with a dollar bill, and now, looking triumphant,
had a little handful of crumpled bank-notes.
Of them all Mrs. Dillingham was the only one who
really gambled. She grew wildly reckless in her play
though she controlled her expression very nicely; it was
difficult to guess from her gleaming eyes and tight,
fixed smile whether she won or lost. Savoy, never
missing a play she made, estimated that at one time
she was nine or ten thousand dollars ahead.
"Can it actually be that my luck has changed?" she
asked rather shrilly. "I've been losing thousands—
thousands! And tonight—why, I'm actually a little bit
ahead!"
And she plunged more wildly than ever and in due
course lost her winnings and along with them what-
ever amounts she had originally staked. When she
left the table she exclaimed ruefully:
"I might have known! There, I've lost again. How
much, I wonder? At least six or seven thousand, you
may be sure." She shrugged and clicked her bag shut
and powdered her nose.
"Oh, not that much I think, Mrs. Dillingham,"
laughed Larry Dean. "Shall I count?"
"Never mind," said Mrs. Dillingham airily. "It
doesn't matter, really."
To his friend Laufer-Hirth observed admiringly:
"A little sport anyhow, Paul. Lost several thousands
and never turned a hair!"
"Eh?" said Savoy with a start. "A little sport,
Amos? My boy, you fail to do her justice. She's a
very clever and just now a very desperate woman.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 247
Incidentally she hasn't lost a cent over six hundred
dollars."
8
As good-nights were being said Janice bestowed
upon Laufer-Hirth one of her very nicest smiles and
with it a quick little nod of reassurance.
"I'll run upstairs for my bag; my room was to be
near Perenella's, on the topmost floor."
"And I'm going with you as far as your door," said
Laufer-Hirth. "I don't let you out of my sight, my
dear, until I've seen you locked into a room that I can
keep an eye on all night."
"You are perfectly precious," Janice informed him,
and for full measure gave his hand a secret squeeze.
"I think that I shall adopt you and name you my Sir
Galahad."
Already Savoy and Gateway were in the little sitting
room assigned them with their suite on the second floor
when Laufer-Hirth brought Janice to join them. Gate-
way, advised of their concern for the girl, looked at
Savoy queerly, shifted about the room and finally
blurted out:
"Look here, Mr. Savoy, I'm not as bad as you make
out about suspecting everybody; but just the same
if Miss Landreth is going to be where she can hear
what we're saying, my hunch is we'd better watch our
step. She and Casamajor"
It was then that Laufer-Hirth ushered Janice into
the room.
"It would be a perfectly scandalous situation really,
you know," she laughed as the outer door shut her
in with the three men, "if it weren't so deliciously


248 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
silly. And that is my room?" From its threshold she
said in her spookiest whisper: "If you hear stifled
shrieks and rappings and slithery footsteps, burst the
door down! If you find only an empty room, a yawn-
ing trap-door in the floor and a blood-stained Spanish
dagger beside it"
"Janice!" expostulated Laufer-Hirth. "Don't say
things like that!"
"Janice," said Savoy, laughing at her. "A moment,
please. Our good friend Gateway here is a man of
hunches, and"
"Oh, I say, Mr. Savoy!" muttered Gateway.
"I recall," continued Savoy, with that old mystify-
ing look of his putting a gleam into his eyes, "that
only last night just before Alan Casamajor broke in
on our council I was about to play fair with my con-
frere Gateway and share all my knowledge with him.
Now, Janice, my dear, shall I see what he makes of
the Adventure of the Beautiful Lady and the Powder
Puff?"
So queer a look widened Janice's eyes and so con-
vulsively did her fingers tighten upon the knob of her
door, that Laufer-Hirth, though he didn't know what
it was all about, exclaimed indignantly:
"Paul, you villain, I'll have you up to no tricks with
my little friend Janice. Play your mad pranks where
you will so that you leave her alone."
Janice drenched him with her smile and thanked him
with her pretty gray eyes. Then, with a nice little
Parisienne sort of shrug she said to Savoy, who was
still eyeing her shrewdly:
"I'd love to hear what you're going to tell Mr.
Gateway."


250 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"It's you who said that!" boomed out Laufer-Hirth.
"As for me"
"Never mind, you gay old Romeo! Shall I go on—
Janice?"
"Do," said Janice quietly and without returning his
smile.
"Listen to the tale then, Gateway! I saw her drop
a pinch of powder in Paradene's glass when she thought
no one was looking—just a few minutes before he was
poisoned from that self-same glass!"
Gateway dropped his jaw, his face went blank and
he stared with all his might.
"Watch his eyes!" laughed Savoy. "You'll see the
bright spark of Suspicion begin to glitter there!"
As a matter of fact the detective's eyes did narrow
and grow hard. His smile, as he slewed about upon
the girl, was obviously artificial, as spurious in fact as
a lead dollar.
"If this isn't all joshing, Miss Landreth "he
began.
Janice did not even look toward him.
"I suppose I'll never quite understand you, Mr.
Savoy," she said, and regarded him with a faint shadow
of a pucker between her dark brows. "Do you mind
telling me whether you really think that I"
"Why, bless your heart!" cried Savoy and hastened
to her with both hands extended toward hers. "I'm
not a man given to suspicions! I'm just reading Gate-
way his lesson! Mind you," he chuckled as her eager
hands went to meet his and her eyes were suffused
with gratitude, "I haven't asked you to show us your
left knee! I take you on faith, Janice, as I take the
sunshine and the springtime and the flowers and all
God-given beauty."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 251
"But it did look"
"That's just it! The looks of things! The fingers
pointing now to Alan Casamajor! As you said, the
man may merely be bilious or in love, and yet he hath
a hang-dog air." He gave her hands a hearty squeeze
and went questing a cigarette. "We'll suspect none—
save Mr. X whom we must meticulously maintain in
a position of anonymity."
Still Janice shivered.
"It was a perfectly mad thing to do—I knew him
for a coward always afraid of assassination—the
temptation was too great to drop a pinch of face-
powder where his prying eyes would be sure to find it!
—After the way he had frightened poor Dora Dil-
lingham nearly to death"
Gateway's watchful eyes were mere bright slits.
Suddenly Janice grew conscious of them.
"I'm thinking of something I hadn't meant to men-
tion," said Gateway sternly. "When I got to thinking
about a hat your Mr. X might have used and started
looking for a little out of the way millinery shop"
Janice burst out laughing.
"I'll say good-night while Mr. Gateway is making
his confession," she said. Then she blew them a kiss
and went her dancing way into her room—and Laufer-
Hirth held his breath until he heard the click of her
lock.
9
Savoy had thrown himself into a big chair and now
sat with his long legs extended at length, his hands
clasped at the back of his head, his eyes on the ceiling
and his brows gathered in a frown of intense concen-
tration. Laufer-Hirth dropped some casual remark,


252 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
and at the stare he got from his old friend he snorted
out: "Well, I'd rather have you look at me that way
than bite me, but there's damn little difference," and
with a shrug of his big round shoulders shambled like
an old bear to try to peer out of a window. The night
was pitch black outside and so he jerked down the
shade and lowered himself with a vast sigh into an
armchair so placed that he could keep an eye on Janice's
door. There was a smoking-table at hand offering
cigars and cigarettes; there were books and magazines;
Laufer-Hirth's roving eye caught sight of a walnut
tabouret with a promisingly mysterious look to it and
he pounced on it. For an instant he almost thought
well of Sylvester Paradene. Scotch, that's what it was;
old Andy Usher's best and no man ever wanted better.
Gateway tiptoed to him and, hushing his voice not
to intrude upon Savoy's musings, voiced the somewhat
sepulchral warning:
"Me, I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, Mr.
Laufer-Hirth. Poison's darned cheap, you know; and
if Mr. Savoy's Mr. X has an itch to do any extermi-
nating tonight, this room's the most likely place for
him to start."
Laufer-Hirth poured a glass, sniffed it, meditated
the honesty of the sniff, sniffed it again and downed it.
"It's worth the chance," he vowed. "And let me tell
you something, C. P. Gateway: Liquor like that would
cure a man even if he was poisoned! You and Paul
there, sitting like a mummy having a bad dream, seem
to thrive on bloody murder, but it gives me the flibbity-
gibbits. There's only one sovereign remedy, as far as
I'm concerned and— Here's happy days!"
Gateway moved restlessly about the room; Savoy was


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 253
unconscious of his sharp glances, and Laufer-Hirth lay
back in his chair puffing complacently at a fresh cigar
and appeared to have no other thought than to keep
a calm and paternal eye on Janice's door. Presently
Gateway started to go to his own bedroom, but got
no farther than the threshold when he pulled up with
a sharp exclamation.
"By Jove! Mr. Savoy, you forgot that envelope with
the picture in it!"
"Picture?" said Savoy. "Oh, yes, I left it on the
table downstairs. Never mind. That's a good enough
place for it."
He lapsed into his brooding silence. Gateway about
to speak further remained silent and gawked at him.
Of a sudden an extremely lively suspicion assailed the
extremely suspicious Gateway. It might be that Savoy
had not forgotten the picture but had left it there for
some purpose of his own. It was a matter which
Gateway would have given a pretty penny to know.
"Gateway's up to something," said Laufer-Hirth
when the detective had said good-night and vanished
into his room. "There was a gleam in his eye."
"Eh?" said Savoy. "Who? Gateway? What about
him? What are you driving at, Amos?"
Laufer-Hirth sighed, reached for a book, emitted a
great cloud of cigar smoke and made himself com-
fortable in his big chair. He knew better than to
answer a man who wouldn't even hear him if he spoke.
10
Gateway looked at his watch. Nearly two, and that
was what he regarded as the "witching hour." Used


254 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
to be midnight, as every one knew, but times had
changed.
"High time," said Gateway.
He pulled off his shoes, took a flashlight and an
automatic pistol from his bag, turned out the lights
in his room and softly opened his door. At first the
house seemed to be steeped in absolute darkness, but
as the pupils of his eyes readjusted themselves he
could make out the very vaguest and most ghostly out-
lines. Closing his door noiselessly behind him he crept
to the stairs and down to the ground floor.
He supposed that the faint luminance through which
he moved came from the night outside, until presently
he discovered that here and there in the big house a
night-light seeming of scarcely higher candle-power
than a glow worm, made a pale point of light. Guard-
ing against the slightest sound, he made his remem-
bered way to the drawing-room. At the topmost point
of the high-vaulted ceiling a full three stories above
him a single tiny green bulb glowed like an emerald;
all about him the darkness instead of being dispelled
was merely overlaid with a weird greenish tint; the
place was like the heart of a forest at night searched
out by a single star. Not wishing to switch on his
flashlight, Gateway gropingly inched along to his place.
He knew where there was a deep-cushioned chair in a
corner near the door and within ten feet of the table
on which Paul Savoy had left the picture. Into this
chair Gateway sank and so vanished as effectually as
a drop of ink fallen among folds of black cloth. And
here he elected to await upon events. Tenacity and
patience were highly developed in Gateway.
What practical purpose that tiny emerald globe could


262 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
fancies. Used to shocks, this one for the moment
fairly bowled him over.
But the next instant, with all sorts of thoughts, sur-
mises and suspicions charging into his brain, he be-
came himself, which is to say a man like a bulldog.
He leaped for the electric switch, snapped on the first
of the row of buttons to come under his fingers and
so flooded the high-vaulted room with light. It was a
hard, emerald-green light and in it the ghastly face
looked even ghastlier.
But already Gateway was concerned with other mat-
ters; his eyes sped all about the room and took swift
stock of the high balconies, one above another. All
empty, yet surely so wild a scream ringing through so
quiet a house, enormous though it was, must bring a
scurry of footfalls. And he was on the watch, won-
dering who would hear and come first, and who perhaps
would hold back.
Another glance toward the lifeless form, a glance in
which already commiseration had given place to narrow
speculation, stopped with a little heap of fragments on
the floor which gleamed in the brilliant light. It was
a small bottle broken to bits and spilling its powdery
content on the floor; a few pieces of glass were still
held together by the druggist's label which proclaimed
in large red letters, "Poison." Stooping closer Gate-
way read, "Arsenic."
"And that's damn queer," grunted Gateway. "I've
a notion"
But here already came those first of the household
to be disturbed by the agonized scream—or, Gateway
amended as he let his suspicions have full rein, the first
to give evidence of having heard. They were Mr.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 263
Paradene and Larry Dean, side by side as they came
in from the hall, both fully dressed save that in place
of shoes they wore soft slippers. And close behind
them, similarly garbed even to their slippered feet, were
the burly forms of Evans and Malloy.
"What has happened?" demanded Mr. Paradene,
coming to a dead halt, gripping Larry Dean's arm.
"Who is it?" he screeched in a panic as he saw the
huddled form.
"Look for yourself," growled Gateway.
All four men were already looking. It struck Gate-
way, never so watchful, that both the burly bodyguards,
Evans and Malloy, looked sick with horror; that Mr.
Paradene merely looked frightened; that Larry Dean,
quite as was to be expected from your professional
gambler, had withdrawn behind a poker face.
Gateway, wasting no precious time answering ques-
tions, saw Mrs. Dillingham running down the bottom
treads of the stairway in the hall; she was deathly pale,
her big blue eyes bigger and bluer than ever; she gave
the impression of having only this moment jumped out
of her bed; a wisp of blue negligee floated from her
shoulders and revealed her prettily pajama-clad form.
A scream burst from her when she stopped in the
doorway, and an instant later she wilted down in the
chair which Gateway had so recently abandoned, her
face hid in her shaking hands, while little inarticulate
moaning noises broke from her.
"She's got slippers on," noted Gateway. "Tight-
fitting, that took a minute to slip on. And that negligee
thing of hers is fastened across her breast. That took
a minute, too."
Savoy and Laufer-Hirth, neither of whom had had


264 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
any thought of bed, came running; with them was
Janice Landreth with Laufer-Hirth's overcoat thrown
over her shoulders; a couple of disheveled servants
clutching their dressing-gowns about them burst into
the room at one door while simultaneously William
Borchard, getting an arm into a dressing-gown sleeve
as he hurried, came in at another. All the while Mr.
Paradene was gesticulating and spouting shrill noises
of fright and anger, and Mrs. Dillingham was rocking
back and forth, moaning, and a low murmur of several
voices was making a hushed babel of the place.
"It was dark in here," Gateway began in a whisper
to Savoy. "Just about as much light from a dinky
bulb up in the ceiling as you'd get out of a glow worm.
I heard her scream; she came pitching down from some-
where up yonder—the highest balcony, I'd say. Her
neck's broken, I suppose. There's a bottle of arsenic
at her side."
Savoy did not appear to be listening. He took the
quiet body up in his arms and carried it to a big divan
near by. For a moment he stood looking down on
the still face which so little a while ago had been
darkly and passionately beautiful, now but a pallid
mystery.
"She was warned," he said so softly that Gateway
was the only one to hear. "And so she did know too
much! But, realizing her danger, she must take her
chance! Poor brave, tragic little Perenella!"
But of a sudden his apathy vanished and in its place
came a towering rage.
"A fine lot, all of you!" He swung about upon the
others in the room, his voice hard and brittle with
anger. "While you sit and hold tight to your damned


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 265
little secrets, your silly secrets or wicked secrets, afraid
for the tatters of your reputations or afraid some
miserable gold coins will dribble through your cursed
claws, you let this poor brave dead girl pay for your
past crimes or your past blunders! And after this do
you still think that you can hug your secrets to your
breasts any longer? I give you an hour or two"
His voice fell away as he turned his back on them.
To Gateway he said crisply:
"If I know you at all I know that you've got men
somewhere near?" Gateway nodded emphatically.
"You'll need them," snapped Savoy. "Get them here
on the run."
"Oh, I say, Mr. Savoy!" cried Paradene.
Gateway answered for Savoy and put a deal of feel-
ing into his curt:
"Oh, for God's sake, shut your trap!"
He threw open the nearest window, stuck head and
shoulders out and blew his police whistle until ears
tingled. Whirling about upon the gawking servants
he ordered them to have the front door open for his
men.
"I believe in being ready for emergencies," he said
complacently as he turned again to Paul Savoy. "The
boys down at San Mateo and Burlingame are with us
on this. And"
"Where's Casamajor?" demanded Savoy. "And Chu
Yung? Those two alone appear to have slept through
it all."
Alan Casamajor spoke for himself, coming in at
that moment. He was in pajamas and dressing-gown
and slippers and had every appearance of a man scarcely
awake.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 267
"Oh, all right; Miss Landreth, too; we know where
she was during the night. Only those three, Connoly;
and if any one else drops in, here they stay."
Mrs. Dillingham, appearing for the first time to be
conscious of her negligee, demanded indignantly:
"Am I to go all day dressed like this?"
"You might do worse," grinned Gateway, not with-
out admiration. He cast an appraising eye at the
others. "I'll fix it. I'm not going to have you running
all over the house but the housekeeper can bring your
things and you can get dressed in one of the downstairs
rooms. Connoly, you run this show."
"Fair enough, sir," said the policeman.
"Mr. Paradene," said Savoy, "will you direct us to
a servant who can show us where the various guests
and members of your household were supposed to sleep
tonight?"
"There's a housekeeper somewhere," Paradene an-
swered sulkily.
While the housekeeper was being summoned Gateway
had a few words aside with his men; they were to
understand, of course, that nothing was to be disturbed
after Perenella's body was removed to an adjoining
room where one of them was to remain on guard.
"Oh, come ahead," said Savoy waspishly. The house-
keeper had come and he was eager. But as he left the
room with Gateway at his heels, he muttered cyni-
cally: "Here's where you live—you'll be nosing out
clues on every hand, I suppose,—I noticed how ten-
derly you gathered up the fragments of that broken
bottle. Clues! Just watch out, my dear chap, that if
you find any they don't blind you in both eyes and
throw iron filings into the machinery of your brain."


268 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Always got to have your dig at me, haven't you,
Mr. Savoy?" chuckled Gateway, all good humor once
more, for he at last felt that he was dealing with
tangible facts.
They went first in search of Mr. Chu Yung; his
door was locked and bolted, and that enigmatic indi-
vidual seemed to be fast asleep. Well, you never could
tell with a guy like Chu Yung! He came out when
they rapped, heard the tragic news with noncommital,
lifted brows, shook his head and sighed. No, he had
heard nothing. And Gateway wondered whether the
man spoke the truth or lied. His room was sufficiently
remote for him, had he slept heavily, to have heard
nothing.
"Better dress and get downstairs with the rest,"
grumbled Gateway and followed Savoy and the house-
keeper up the last flight of steps.
Savoy was impatient to come to Perenella's room
to which the housekeeper hurriedly led the way; it was
on the highest balcony and almost directly above the
spot where her body had crashed to the floor.
"It's no more than a wretched little attic room, the
dingiest in all the house, worse than any of the serv-
ants' quarters," explained the frightened housekeeper,
twisting nervously at the old kimono she had pulled
on over her night dress. "Her uncle, Mr. Paradene—"
She looked uneasily over her shoulder as though fear-
ful that he had crept up behind her. "Do you gentle-
men want me to come along with you?"
Gateway sent her to join the others downstairs and
stepped eagerly with Savoy into such a room as one
would not thought to have found anywhere under the
lofty roof of Paradene's home. It was so small that


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 271
to be burned, and a book burns slow. He'd have to
take it page by page to make sure"
He hurried to the fireplace and began to poke among
the ashes.
Savoy sighed and turned away.
"Come ahead; it's gone and no doubt he's got it. I
could have wished that we'd have found it if only
through it the dead Perenella might still speak—so that
it would be her hand reaching out from its pages to
fit the rope snugly about his damned neck! But come
ahead, man. It will soon be morning with light enough
for us to see what we can see at Casamajor's place.
—Oh, we'll find what we're after this time, never
fear!"
"It ain't full day yet," said Gateway. "While we're
waiting you leave me here a while. When I'm done in
this room I want a look 'round in the rooms of all the
rest of these funny guys. If they've got anything hid,
I'll dig it up and don't you fear." He indulged in a
broad smile. "Since they won't talk it will serve 'em
damn well right to have their stuff kicked around."
Savoy withdrew, saying as he went out:
"I'll be sitting outside on the terrace, having a smoke
and waiting for day. You'll find me there—and I've
a notion that's all you're going to find here this morn-
ing. On your way out you might ask our obliging
host to let us have one of his gardeners to direct us
through the woods to Alan Casamajor's place."
The new day came along slowly and gloomily enough.
From where Savoy sat on the terrace he watched the
pale light strengthening and looked out across lower
terraces and flower beds, and into the wet woods, and
found the whole place damp and dank and downright


272 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
depressing. There was no glint of gay color in all the
landscape; he noted as the light strengthened that the
flowers in bloom were as nearly all of a color as any
gardener could devise, and that color was a heavy
purple or at best a purplish blue. Could the jaded eye
have discovered anywhere a bright red rose it would
have been a joy; but there was nothing to be seen
either bright or red or rosy. The whole thing was like
some dreary garden of Proserpine, wherein one looked
instinctively for the "bloomless buds of poppies."
Here Gateway found him and from here in the first
strong light of day the two set out. As they went
down the terraces Gateway began the full account of
his vigil, of Paradene's curiosity, of Alan Casamajor's
sleep-walking, of Perenella's swift approach and hasty
flight so short a time before her death.
Most of all was Savoy interested in what Gateway
told him of those strange eyes of Perenella's.
"You'll recall," said Savoy thoughtfully, "that when
she met us on the porch last night, where the light was
dim and tricky, she recognized each one of us three
while we could do little better than make out outlines?
It would seem that it was her fate to see rather clearly
into matters which were supposed to have been kept
dark."
14
To the guide whom Mr. Paradene had sent them, a
hulking young gardener, Savoy said merely:
"Show us the way you'd take were you going from
here to Mr. Casamajor's place on a dark night if you
wanted to make the trip in a hurry and did not want
to be seen."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 273
"Right you are," the man returned. "This way, sir."
At his heels they struck into a bridle path which
entered the thickest part of the wood just opposite the
front of the house. "Everything's left natural as you
see," he explained. "Brush, poison-ivy, dead wood and
all; Mr. Paradene's orders." Gateway said: "This
damn place is like a forest in a nightmare or a park
for lost souls on hell's rim." Savoy thought: "There's
the smell of death in it; it's the proper setting for
Sylvester Paradene's home."
Piloted through a crazy maze of weed-grown paths
which in many places were choked with brush and
snags and tangles of vines, they made their way west-
ward through the wood. At one place a narrow foot-
bridge spanned a deep ravine made dark with a thick
growth of laurels; here Gateway paused a moment, to
peer over the handrail into the depths of the gorge
where a glint of water was like a mirror duskily gleam-
ing in a shaded room.
"This old bridge creaks and groans and shivers
under foot," he remarked to Savoy. "If a man came
this way and took every precaution against meeting
anybody or being heard, he might decide to find a way
down into the creek bottom and up on the other side?
It's only a couple of weeks after all since the thing
happened; somewhere along the way who knows but
that he has left some sign behind him?"
"Who knows?" returned Savoy curtly. "Come
ahead."
Nearly a mile from the house they came to the
Paradene boundary marked by a high wire fence so
covered with matted ivy that it was like a green wall.
Here their guide pointed out the padlocked gate.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 275
through room after room, his pace so increasing with
his eagerness that in the end Gateway was forced to
break into a trot to keep up with him. They flipped
up shades for greater light and made their tour through
living room, dining room, den, billiard room, servants'
quarters and kitchen. Gateway took time for a swift
examination of locks; the doors were old-fashioned,
all save the front one, and any of them would open
readily to a skeleton key; more than that, the chances
were that one common key would open all of them.
Further, the rear windows were equipped with but the
clumsiest of catches and one of them had no catch at all.
"Wait a shake!" said Gateway as they came to the
foot of a staircase in the hall. "There are tracks in
the dust going upstairs, Mr. Savoy. Some one has been
here of late—you never can tell— Keep close to the
wall, will you?"
On the upper floor they repeated their hurried and
cursory search, Gateway beginning to puff as he stub-
bornly kept at Savoy's speeding heels. Once the de-
tective protested, saying: "If there's anything here we
want, it'll be hid good, don't you forget that. We're
going too fast." But Savoy paid not the slightest
attention and Gateway, falling silent, began to look and
to feel awe-struck.
For all the world it was as though Paul Savoy knew
what he was going to find and where he was going to
find it.
15
They stood at the door of Alan Casamajor's work-
shop at the rear of the house high up under the man-
sard roof. A more amazingly untidy place, even for


276 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
an artist's studio, no man ever looked into. There were
ancient easels leaning crookedly and festooned in cob-
webs, lay figures stark and unprepossessing or decked
out in dusty drapes like ragged scarecrows, scraps of
drawing paper, charcoal sketches everywhere, even on
the walls, a litter of clay, bits of canvas and in one place
a score of rough sketches of Sylvester Paradene. On
a table stood an old typewriter with its rubber cover
hanging askew; on a couch were cushions of many
colors; in a corner a closet was so filled with rubbish
that all sorts of attic odds and ends, even to a broken
stool and a faded umbrella, overflowed the more re-
stricted space and littered the floor.
Savoy grew rigid, his body stiffening in a way to
remind Gateway of a pointer that had sighted the
quarry. He began muttering under his breath and
Gateway lemed close to catch the words:
"... why shouldn't I be right now? ... I have
followed the workings of this cruelly criminal mind
. . . it's the logical thing! . . . and here, so readily
hidden, so readily unearthed . . . it's the place!"
"As for me, I'd say no," said Gateway. "He'd have
been foxier— Well, we'll take a look-see. This
is a job for the sort you say I am, Mr. Savoy; a
man of action and not of words. If you'll stand
aside"
Ten minutes later Gateway rose from his knees from
amidst a wildly scattered lot of discarded things, his
face red with effort and no less with excitement. In
his hands, dragged from the bottom and from the
back of the closet, was a battered old suitcase. It came
open readily and revealed various items of a man's
apparel, a suit of clothes, shirts, socks and the like.


278 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"And now our job is done!" gloated an exultant
Gateway.
Savoy, like a man withdrawn to some great distance,
did not appear to hear. At a moment of lesser triumph
Gateway would have respected his silence; now, how-
ever, his exuberance bubbled over.
"The poor goat was scared and got a bad case of
the jerks," he ran on. "His pen all but slipped out of
his grip; look at that blot!" He himself eyed it again.
As is so often the way with ink smears this one took
on a fantastic shape. "Like a death's-head," said Gate-
way with relish. "A good sign, eh, Mr. Savoy? For
us, I mean!"
Savoy took the paper into his own hands and stood
without a word poring over it for a long while. Pres-
ently he looked up at Gateway with his tightest-lipped
smile.
"I believe that you remarked that now our little job
is done, eh, Gateway? Well, so it is. Here we find at
last the Unknown Victim's second bag. Here, for
fuller than full measure we have a full confession and
even the typewriter on which it was written! You've
noticed how the right-hand margin of this thing comes
right up to the edge of the paper, some words broken
off? We'll find, if interested, that the writer in run-
ning off that way typed the ends of the words on the
rubber roll"
"We'll cart the machine along," said Gateway, "with
suitcase and confession."
"To be sure.—Odd, isn't it, his running off the edge
like that? If we cared to pause for a bit of specula-
tion— You are sure that you caught Casamajor sleep-
walking last night?"


CHAPTER IX
1
A car was waiting in the yard to carry them back
to Paradene's home. On the return journey though
Gateway was inclined to talk, Paul Savoy had never
a word to say. Arrived at the house they were met by
two men who had been awaiting them, and who came
hurriedly down the steps as the car drew up. One was
a man of sixty, gray about the temples, with a stern
mouth and very piercing eyes who was remarkable for
his grave dignity and commanding air; the other, a
red-headed, eager young chap who looked to be twenty,
was in fact thirty-two and rejoiced in the name of
Jerry Lannigan.
Gateway performed the introductions with vastly
more haste than formality. The older man was Harley
Prentis, San Francisco's district attorney.
"Mr. Savoy," said Prentis, shaking hands warmly,
"word of how you and Gateway have conducted this
case has overflowed from the homicide bureau into my
office; we're all working together on it now, you know.
Jerry Lannigan here, one of my co-workers, has been
a bit helpful to Detective Gateway in gleaning informa-
tion; he has prevailed on me to run down here at this
early hour."
"You couldn't have picked the time better, Mr.
Prentis," Gateway broke in before Savoy could voice
280


282 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
at the moment, I got in touch with Mr. Prentis and
we drove right down."
"Fine," nodded Savoy. "We're glad that you're
both here. And the telegram?"
Lannigan gave it to him and Savoy read it as they
went up the steps, Gateway reading over his shoulder.
The message ran:
ALAN CASAMAJOR
CARE SYLVESTER PARADENE
NEAR BURLINGAME, CALIFORNIA.
VERY MUCH ALIVE JUST ARRIVED FROM SHANGHAI
DEMAND SQUARE DEAL OR WILL MAKE TROUBLE MEET
ME TONIGHT YOUR ROOMS SAN FRANCISCO.
BERTRAM.
"It clicks," said Gateway.
"And the servant angle?" asked Savoy of Lannigan.
"I've found out only enough to make me sure there's
more behind it," said Lannigan. "Further information
should be coming in right along; I left word for any
wires to be relayed on to me here. I have learned
that Mrs. Dillingham's butler, an Englishman named
Barcombe, did some fast packing the day after the
murder and left San Francisco immediately; it is sup-
posed that he was off for dear old England"
"I'm sorry he got away," said Savoy, "but at least
the very fact of his departure lends color to our sup-
positions, and"
"He didn't altogether get away," cut in Lannigan,
"which is to say that his haste appears to have cooled
off by the time he got to New York. He has been
hanging about there all this time where the New York
police had no trouble locating him once I gave them


284 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
approval. Please conduct yourselves as though I were
finishing my night's sleep up in San Francisco."
"Perhaps some of these people are friends of yours?"
"You mean Alan Casamajor? I know him only
slightly and, if you want to know it, I never liked
him. I know Bill Borchard, of course, since we're both
lawyers and all that, and I've met Chu Yung whom
everybody knows. Mrs. Dillingham and Paradene I
merely know by repute—and that comprises the extent
of my acquaintanceship with those present. In no case,"
he concluded, "need you apprehend any interference
from me."
They went immediately to the room where the vari-
ous guests, grown restive, were congregated. Savoy
formally presented Mr. Prentis and Mr. Lannigan. On
most parts there were stiff bows and tense looks;
Casamajor, who evidently liked Prentis no more than
Prentis liked him, made no offer of his hand but stared
ill-humoredly. Borchard got up and shook hands with
both the district attorney and Lannigan, saying briefly
to the former:
"Thank God you're here, Prent. You've got wind
of Mr. Savoy's farce, eh? It's high time you helped
ring down the curtain."
"Hello, Bill; no, I'm not here to run things exactly.
Mr. Savoy is still directing and whether farce or not
a few minutes will tell."
Mr. Paradene, who had fumed and raved and threat-
ened at the indignity to which he had been subjected
in being treated like a nobody in his own home, vow-
ing that he would have the law on Savoy, Gateway,
Connoly and all their aides and assistants, was about
to pounce on the district attorney and demand his rights.


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 285
But the few words just spoken penetrated his con-
sciousness even through the fumes of his rage. Of a
sudden he became tremulously eager and began rub-
bing his hands.
"It's the last act of my play, and it mustn't be a
farce! My dear friends, confess that the Sport of
Kings has its moments!"
2
Paul Savoy's fine, sensitive face, unusually pale this
morning, suggested a cameo from some master crafts-
man's hand; there was a steady purpose in his blue
eyes and a sternness which impressed all those gath-
ered in the room, now waiting for him to speak. Mrs.
Dillingham, so nervous that she found it impossible to
sit still and all but impossible to keep from scream-
ing, whispered to Laufer-Hirth who happened to be
nearest:
"He looks like a—a young god of vengeance or—or
something like that. He scares me!"
It chanced that Savoy's stern eyes came to rest on
her first, though he had heard nothing of the whisper.
"Mrs. Dillingham," he said incisively, "today you're
going to tell us things."
"No!" she exclaimed, half starting up out of her
chair. "You can't make me! I don't know anything—
not anything in any way connected with—with what
has happened."
They were assembled at Gateway's orders in the
library just off the drawing-room. To the necessary
nucleus of their number were added Paradene's two
bodyguards, Evans and Malloy; and four of Gateway's
five police officers were watchful that no one make the


286 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
first move to leave the room. At a small table on which
were an old suitcase and a typewriter in a rubber case,
sat Savoy with two typewritten papers in his hand,
the copy of the telegram and the confession which
Prentis had returned to him for this occasion; he had
just glanced up from them to address Dora Dilling-
ham. Sitting back from the same table were Prentis,
Lannigan and Detective Gateway, the detective with
fists jammed into his pockets, his chair rearing back
on two legs, his head sunk between his muscular
shoulders, his jaw shot forward and his eyes like
burnished agate. The others had dropped into chairs
as they listed, save for Evans and Malloy, who stood
at Sylvester Paradene's back, and Gateway's men, who
lounged near the three doors opening from the room
Alan Casamajor, who had been talking in an undertone
with William Borchard as Savoy and his companions
came in, now returned to Janice. Larry Dean sat near
Sylvester Paradene; and Laufer-Hirth, seeing his little
friend happy with Casamajor, annexed himself to the
pretty and now distressed young widow.
When Mrs. Dillingham's emphatic words had died
away into silence Savoy again glanced at the two papers
in his hand.
"It is small news to any of you, I suppose," he said
gravely when again he lifted his head, "that Detective
Gateway came down here with several warrants in his
pocket. He is about to make an arrest. Once that is
done affairs pass out of his hands and into those of
the San Francisco district attorney. Several of you are
going to talk for, as I reminded you last night, con-
siderations like the present one rise superior to per-
sonal preferences. If you refuse to speak now you


288 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
from here to San Francisco in time to murder him.
It"
Despite Paul Savoy's command for silence there was
no immediate hushing the stir caused by his com-
mentary on the implication of the telegram.
"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" cackled Mr. Para-
dene and seemed caught in a paroxysm of delight.
"From the very beginning I knew that it was Casa-
major, and I wondered whether you'd ever find out!"
Alan Casamajor, beginning a violent, wrathful de-
nial, was jerked back into his chair by Borchard, whose
voice drowned Casamajor's, saying sharply: .
"A still tongue does it, Alan, until we know the
whole of it. If it comes to any talking, let me do it
for you as your attorney."
As for Mrs. Dillingham, she was on her feet, her
hands clasped, tears in her eyes, her voice breaking
among the words:
"It was all for my sake—I am the wicked one—
whatever Alan did was for my sake"
But, though Gateway would willingly enough have
heard them out, Savoy finally secured the silence he
commanded.
"There is more to come, far more," he cried them
down, "and only after you've heard me out will your
turns come. Why shouldn't we have been told before
of this telegram? I warned you, Alan Casamajor, that
in time it would come to light; you should have ex-
plained then."
"Mr. Savoy!" cried Janice, and her hands clung
tight for all to see about the long fingers of the artist.
"The importance of this telegram," Savoy continued,


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 291
self, taking care to hide the blot under a thumb, held
the confession out for him to read. Alan Casamajor's
eyes darted to the signature and hung there a long time,
slowly filling with horror and confusion. He dashed
his hand across his eyes as though to clear them from
a gathering mist and forced himself to the necessary
calm to read the typewritten words. Before he had
finished Janice was standing at his side and her eyes,
far swifter than his, read the thing through.
"Alan didn't sign that," she said hotly. "It's a
forgery! Tell them so, Alan!"
But Alan Casamajor, as white as a sheet, was a very
long time silent, and when at last he spoke he uttered
none of the words she awaited so breathlessly.
"God have mercy on me!" he muttered in a voice
scarcely above a harsh whisper. "That is my signature
—it is mine, I tell you! But I have no memory, no
knowledge of this thing— Am I mad then? Have I
gone stark mad? Have I done things that I know
nothing of? Did I—did I— Oh, God have mercy
on me!"
"Are you aware that you are a somnambulist, Mr.
Casamajor?" demanded Savoy. "You may be inter-
ested in knowing that Gateway saw you downstairs in
the drawing-room, between two and three o'clock this
morning—just a little while before Princess Perenella
was hurled to her death from the highest balcony!
You were fast asleep; you came downstairs, turned
on the lights, went to the table where I left the picture
last night, studied it and then hid it as you supposed,
after which you turned out the lights and went away."
Casamajor, before Savoy had finished, looked as
though he were going to fall. And once more a smile


292 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
touched Savoy's lips, but not in the least a hard smile
now, as he saw what Janice did: She put her arms
about Casamajor as if to steady and support him, and
over her shoulder she said to Savoy:
"I have faith in my friends, Mr. Savoy. It is a
lesson you taught me. My faith in Alan Casamajor
is stronger than ever. And you—you," she said with
a wistful look he had never seen in her brimming eyes,
"are a friend too, aren't you?"
"Bless your heart, yes!"
"And the wizard that I called you?"
His only answer was that queer, enigmatic smile
of his. Slowly the smile faded and he sat drumming
on the table as Janice drew Alan Casamajor back to
their chairs where they sat side by side, their fingers
again interlocked.
3
Paul Savoy sat silent a moment, his eyes hidden
under lowered lids while his gaze was bent upon the
star sapphire in his ring, and a watchful Gateway
knew that he was getting his thoughts in order, pre-
paring to sweep steadily on to the end. Laufer-Hirth,
looking keenly at his friend and remarking a certain
familiar ironical quirk at the corners of his clean-cut,
mobile lips, sighed and mopped his brow and yearned
dumbly for a glass of some good strong drink.
"There's hell to pay," thought the old jeweller, and
began to wish that the sporting little widow, now shak-
ing with fear, might not come to incur his good friend's
wrath.
Savoy lifted his head and spoke; there was an edge
to his voice and a frosty gleam in his clear blue eyes.


294 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
doubt putting them into some other bank, perhaps
under another name. And obviously she has been doing
this for fear she was going to lose everything and is
desperately striving to save what she can. And so,
returning to our starting point, we ask: 'What fact
in her blank past could possibly put her present fortune
in jeopardy?'
"The answer readily suggests itself when we dwell
on the fact that her fortune comes from Tom Dilling-
ham. It comes to her in her capacity of Dillingham's
widow. What would be the situation if she were not
his widow at all?"
"You don't know what you're saying, Mr. Savoy!"
exclaimed Borchard. Savoy, quite as though no one
had interrupted, went on steadily:
"We arrive at the seeming paradox that she is not
Dillingham's widow, though she married him! How
could such a thing be? The natural explanation is that
she was married before, and that her husband, un-
divorced, was still living. That explains everything and
nothing else does explain it. Therefore that is simple
truth. And the man from Shanghai"
"Was my brother, Bertram Casamajor—and a scoun-
drel," Casamajor burst out, no longer able to contain
himself. "It is only justice that he is dead now—as we
thought him dead more than two years ago. He married
Dora in Shanghai; he was brutal to her— But forget
all that. He took to running with crooks, got himself
in trouble and ran out on her. Later we were assured,
both of us, that he was killed in a fight with the police
in Hong-Kong. It appears now that it was a pal of
his whom the police shot down, and that Bertram, in
order to save his worthless hide, managed to create the


298 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
I told him all about her, that she was living in San
Francisco and was a very wealthy young widow, he
was really most grateful to me!"
Savoy, not troubling to conceal his contempt for the
man, heard him out without indicating the slightest
interest in what he said, and when Paradene was silent
pointedly ignored him to continue:
"Now we can go on, asking ourselves whether Mrs.
Dillingham could be the one who killed him and there-
after did those things I have just asked you to visu-
alize."
Gateway hitched forward and said emphatically:
"No!" and added: "It's no easy job shaving another
guy; it would be simply hell for that little widow to
shave a dead man; she'd have carved his face to pieces."
"Gateway is right," said Savoy. "Mrs. Dillingham
could not have done it and therefore she did not do it.
Next, what about Perenella? Was she the guilty one,
and did she take her own life last night because she
grew panicky, thinking we were on her track? It is just
barely possible that she could have managed the razor;
a strange woman there." He sighed and shook his
head. "But the rest of it? The thing that is not pos-
sible is that she, so tiny and frail a thing, could have
had the physical strength and endurance to carry the
dead weight of the murdered man from place to place.
She was a tiny wisp of frail, nervous humanity and
did not have the physical strength.
"We pass then from these two women and come to
Mr. Paradene. He had a hand in all this devil's brew
as he has boasted; he is a moral imbecile who is mur-
derous enough in his heart to commit such a crime,
but as I have told you this whole thing is the work


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 299
of an extremely bold man, and I never knew a coward
to hold a candle to Mr. Paradene. I think that we all
know that his part in this was that of the common or
garden variety of stink-stirrer who would be kept far
from the actual commission of murder by his whole-
some fear of the gallows.
"To be sure, there is the remote possibility that he
might have fathered the crime, using his hirelings
Evans and Malloy as tools for its actual commission,
but mind you he could not have planned every single
step in advance; all the way through a quick, analyti-
cal, logical, swiftly functioning and subtle brain was re-
quired, almost instantaneously availing itself of such
opportunities as came up. There was the moment when
it was a question of taking the blue sedan; a moment of
quick thinking when Mr. X saw the chance to avail
himself of a woman's cloak. Is the entire affair the
sort of thing which would have suggested itself to
Evans or Malloy?
"We cannot say an immediate yes or no. We merely
incline to the negative, and go on to another considera-
tion which leads us in the end to an unqualified No.
"For, after the Unknown Victim had been placed
in the taxicab and Mr. X had started on his way, the
first question to arise was: 'What to do with the cloak?'
In this connection we become aware of a point so
subtle that it is impossible to associate it with Evans
or Malloy or any of their obvious type. The cloak was
left at Chu Yung's—but first a hole was cut out of it!
Why carried, at some risk, to Chu Yung's? A single
possible logical explanation offers itself—but you'll bear
with me in postponing its consideration for a moment,
hanging the cloak for the present in mystery's closet,


300 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
while I beat back from this side-track into the con-
tinuation of checking over our list of names and ask-
ing ourselves whether this, that and the other of them
could be our Mr. X.
"Another Paradene henchman, though of a different
type, is Larry Dean. Could Dean have had the physical
strength, the courage and the cool nerve required? Ab-
solutely yes. Would he perhaps be glad of the chance
to cast suspicion on Alan Casamajor? Let's say 'Yes'
again, for he and Casamajor are anything but friends.
But if Larry Dean had committed the murder and then
had dropped the cloak at Casamajor's door, would this
have been the subtle act of a Mr. X? Absolutely not—
for nothing on earth could be so glaringly obvious and
so little subtle as for a man to commit a crime and then
go straight to cast suspicion on his pet enemy!
"Now for Mr. Chu Yung. One meets difficulties in
disposing of this urbane, capable, enigmatic and subtle
gentleman! As subtle as Mr. X, without a doubt; in
fact he'd make an ideal Mr. X but for one saving point
—the cloak was left at his own house, and the argument
disposing of Larry Dean may be repeated here in Mr.
Chu Yung's case. I don't say," he added hastily, "that
this entirely clears either one of them, but I do say
that it makes us set them aside for the present while
we seek further.
"And so we come to Alan Casamajor. Those yard-
sticks we've used on the others we use on him. We
ask, 'Would Casamajor have had the physical strength,
the courage, the brain for this horror?' The answer
is a prompt, Yes. Would he have had the cool nerve
requisite? Ah, that's a question! Fancy him shaving
his dead man; think of the high-strung artist Casa-


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 301
major at the ghoulish task! Would he have had the
steady hand for it? We hesitate a long, long while;
in the end we remind ourselves that the artist, no
matter what his nervous temperament, does have an
almost uncanny control of his hands! And so again,
though with reservations, we say, Yes. It is possible.
"We pause therefore with Mr. Casamajor and apply
our final and chief test: Subtlety. Would he have had
the subtlety of mind for this thing?"
This last question, instead of answering it himself,
he fired at his listeners, and Harley Prentis said em-
phatically:
"Yes! As far as you've gone you show Alan Casa-
major the exact man for the murder!"
"Ah! But I'm going still farther! We repeat, the
cloak was found at Casamajor's door. Not only that,
but it was first seen in his own hands! Yes, seen in
his hands the next morning, mind you, after he'd had
all the time in the world to do what he chose with it.
What had happened to all his shrewdness? Had it failed
him all of a sudden, after the thing was done?"
Prentis, keen lawyer of many sharply won battles,
smiled shrewdly as having bided his opportunity he
remarked:
"If you are looking for subtlety, Mr. Savoy, pray
tell me what on earth could be more cunningly subtle
than the very thing you speak of, a man's boldly drop-
ping evidence at his own door?"
"One cannot avoid having the thought," admitted
Savoy imperturbably. "But subtlety ceases to be sub-
tlety when through over-emphasis it becomes offensively
obtrusive. Where is the subtlety in this thorough-going
style of putting up signboards at both his front and


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 305
pocket, didn't you? I advise you to serve it now—
unless you happen to concur in the opinion that I've
gone crazy."
Gateway hesitated never a single second.
"I don't see it all," he answered grimly, "but I don't
need to. You say Borchard is the man and that's good
enough for me. If he wants to bust out of here now,
he goes wearing the bracelets."
Again Prentis shot a sharp glance at Borchard and
again he said:
"How about it, Bill?" And added, "Why not hear
it out?"
Borchard shrugged and dropped back into his chair.
All those others who had risen so precipitately when
Savoy hurled his accusation followed Borchard's ex-
ample and all faces, perplexed, incredulous, dumb-
founded, were turned expectantly upon him. Then as
though they were become automatons, all turned from
him to Savoy.
5
"Considering William Borchard as dispassionately
as we have considered all the others," said Savoy, again
at his table, his brow smooth but thoughtful, his utter-
ance steady and clear and as dispassionate as he meant
his words to be, "we employ those same measuring
sticks of character which we have used all along. We
ask, 'Does Borchard possess those various qualities for
which we must look in Mr. X; first, boldness and sheer
physical strength?' We answer, Yes. Is his the clear
logical brain? Yes. The subtlety of mind? Yes. Taken
by and large Mr. Borchard would make an entirely
satisfying Mr. X.


306 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"But, as I can see Mr. Prentis is about to remind
me, the cloak was left at Casamajor's door—and Bor-
chard and Casamajor instead of being enemies appear
to be the best of friends!"
"Right," said Prentis. "Damon and Pythias. I know
Mr. Casamajor only slightly; but I do know that Bill
Borchard would go to hell for him. The two are like
that." He locked two fingers together. "I happen to
know—" he added thoughtfully, "that Borchard's will
leaves everything to his friend Casamajor. I'd not
mention it, but that it's rather widely known."
"We are forced to ask ourselves," Savoy continued,
"whether a man would betray a friend in order to save
himself? And we answer unhesitatingly that ho ordi-
nary man would do such a thing—but instantly we are
reminded that the man who murdered Bertram Casa-
major was not an ordinary man! And this thought
suggests itself: For a man to protect himself by be-
traying a friend instead of an enemy would have been
the really subtle way to do the thing.—I will concede
that probably this cold-blooded, inhuman inspiration to
choose Casamajor first suggested itself because he
would be the logical man to convict on account of his
past ill feeling for the murdered man and his well-
known sympathetic friendship for Mrs. Dillingham.
Doubtless Borchard, being friend and lawyer to both,
knew a good deal of their past.
"The cloak, the blue sedan and, later, the telegram
to Casamajor were all meant to hang him—provided
that circumstances should make it advisable for some
man to hang. I really think that thus far Mr. Borchard
did not wish particularly to have any one hang—though
I'm not sure of this point. But you may be very sure


308 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"This message is obviously a third step in the same
logical sequence, and when we consider it we cannot
avoid thinking that perhaps after all Borchard intended
from the outset that Casamajor should hang. The tele-
gram was despatched from San Francisco at nine
o'clock—or about three hours after the dead man was
dead! Were we to accept it at its face value, as of
course we were expected to do, it would seem to estab-
lish several facts: First, that the dead man was pre-
sumably alive when an agitated Casamajor rushed back
to San Francisco; second, that he and Casamajor were
to have a rendezvous that very night; third, that he
was supposed, perhaps long before, to have been dead
since he took pains to report himself 'Very much alive';
fourth, that there was trouble threatened; fifth, that
certainly nobody had murdered him at the time Bor-
chard got down here. A lovely bit of evidence, a tele-
gram! So much better than the spoken word over a
phone! Another nice little link in the chain against
Casamajor—and most of all the thing Gateway and I
were so dead sure we'd find: The alibi for Mr. X."
Gateway, with eyes growing larger, was hunching
farther and farther forward in his chair until his posi-
tion became the matter of a very nice balance indeed.
Savoy continued:
"From the outset we've said our Mr. X was sure
to have an alibi. A man as consistently meticulous as
he could not conceivably have overlooked so essential
a matter. It's his alibi, as far as I am concerned that
damns him. And the fact that Casamajor alone hasn't
any alibi is one of the essential points of his inno-
cence."


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 309
"But, look here; Mr. Savoy," said Gateway, "if
Casamajor's brother was dead, who sent the wire for
him?"
"There are so many ways in which the thing could
have been done," returned Savoy, "that I hardly think
we need to do more now than suggest that some idler
on the street, given a tip and asked to file a message
at a certain hour, would do so unquestioningly."
"Sure, sure," nodded Gateway. "Go on."
"The case stands that William Borchard is exactly
the man to fit the full specifications of our Mr. X. But
we agree that a man does not commit such a crime
without very ample provocation—and at last we are
forced to demand: 'What possible motive could have
impelled William Borchard, a prominent and reputable
attorney, to murder Bertram Casamajor, who as far
as we know was a perfect stranger to him?' For unless
we find a thoroughly compelling motive our whole
structure crumbles into the dust, and we drop our case
against him, merely saying that he might very nicely
have been Mr. X—but was not."
"At least you're right in your conclusion," Prentis
said brusquely. "Unless you can find a most compelling
motive, your case falls to pieces—as I hope to God it
will! Your views are interesting—beyond that I'll not
go except to remind you, Mr. Savoy, that in a law
court they'd have no weight. For, mind you, they are
but highly imaginary suppositions such as no prosecut-
ing attorney would think of submitting to a jury which
must have facts to get its teeth into. Despite your
theoretical case against Bill Borchard the fact remains
that the only real evidence which you have given me,"


312 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
Larry Dean smiled and shrugged and sat back idly
in his chair. Savoy said gravely:
"In a moment, Mr. Dean, we'll thank you for telling
us what you know. First I have one further question
for Mr. Casamajor. A moment ago, Mr. Casamajor,
you assured us of the genuineness of your signature.
Will you look carefully at it again?"
Savoy handed it to him, though Prentis frowned
and watched like a hawk, while all Gateway's men were
alert for any overt act. Casamajor obediently bent his
moody gaze upon the paper in his hands. But in an
instant a change came over his face, and a look at first
merely of bewilderment dawned in his eyes.
"I didn't see that blot before," he muttered, sound-
ing like a man confused and made uncertain of all
things by a stunning blow or a great flash of light
too bright for the eyes to endure.
"My thumb happened to cover it before," said Savoy.
"What of it? It's only a blot."
"But notice the shape of it! The queer shape!" He
spoke gropingly, seeming suddenly unconscious of all
others in the room, struggling with a memory which
started thoughts whirling in a chaos. He lifted his
hand on which he wore an intaglio ring, and bent the
same perplexed, awestruck look upon it that he had
turned upon the blot. "I remember that blot. I thought
it was queerly like this emblem on my ring—a crux
ansata—my lucky sign"
"Crux ansata, symbol of eternal life—or death's-
head?" murmured Savoy. And then demanded, curt
and sudden:
"Then tell us when and where you signed this con-
fession!"


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 313
"Confession," said Casamajor heavily. "Confes-
sion. . . .
From staring at the paper, then at Savoy, his head
pivoted slowly, so slowly that it seemed it would never
complete the slight half turn, moving with all the pain-
ful sluggishness of some inert object being gradually
drawn about by some exterior force hardly able to
move it.
But at last he faced Borchard, and his eyes, now
filled with horror, rested on Borchard's eyes.
"Good God, Bill "was all that he said.
"What's the matter, old man?" asked Borchard,
sounding casual, but for the first time he glanced in-
voluntarily at the door.
"Out with it, Casamajor!" commanded Savoy, never
so eager. "Out with the whole thing now."
Casamajor, still looking dazed, turned toward him.
"There is some horrible mistake," he said doggedly.
"I remember that signature with the blot, but it was
not set down under any confession; it was nothing
more than some trifling paper connected with the in-
surance of my garage. I went to Borchard's office and
signed it several days ago"
"Of course! Borchard's office! And what else do
you remember, Mr. Casamajor? What little thing hap-
pened there in that office that day? Nothing of great
consequence—but something which for an instant
diverted your attention?"
"That's strange, that you should say that," muttered
Casamajor. "It was nothing—but I was nervous that
day— There was a top-heavy vase of flowers on Bill's
table—you remember those long-stemmed dahlias, Bill?
—they crashed to the floor and I jumped as at a pistol


314 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
shot—maybe that's the way the drop of ink fell—I
don't know."
Prentis, grown very stern, demanded of him:
"Do you realize, Mr. Casamajor, that you, whom
at least some of us still suspect, are implying that this
confession was unconsciously signed by you—and that
you are charging Bill Borchard with having done ex-
actly the thing which Mr. Savoy accuses him of
doing?"
"Let's hear what Mr. Dean was about to say," cut
in Savoy sharply. "You were going to tell us, Mr.
Dean"
"As I started to say," returned the gambler equably,
"Alan Casamajor is no friend of mine and we haven't
spoken in two years. What's more I'm no crusader
against vice. But I'm damned—if the ladies will par-
don me?—if I'll stand by and see him hang, as he's
like to do with his sentimental notions. He and I
quarrelled those two years ago, and it was about Bor-
chard that we came to blows. There was a game of
cards; we'd all been drinking. Tom Dillingham was
drunk—but pretended to be drunker than he was. I
saw Borchard cheat at cards; so did Tom. After the
game Dillingham told both Casamajor and me that
Borchard was a crook; that he began to suspect that
Borchard was cheating on a larger scale and feeding
the loot to his stock-gambling transactions. Later on,"
and here the gambler shrugged and paused to reach out
for a cigarette, and then said with a truly amazing
coolness: "Later on, after Tom Dillingham was dead,
I made a little business suggestion to Casamajor; it
was that he and I throw a scare into Borchard and
shake him down for a wad of money to keep our


316 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
expressionlessness by both Prentis and Savoy, he kept
his facial muscles rigidly in order, but could not alto-
gether dim the quick lights which sprang up in his
eyes. As he returned the paper Savoy again addressed
Borchard:
"We admitted but a moment ago that we had not
tarried to concern ourselves with either evidence or
motive; these were matters which we were confident
would come along in due order once we knew where to
look for them. Already they commence flooding in
upon us.
"We know now why you killed Tom Dillingham.
You had betrayed your trust and he had glimpsed the
truth. By disposing of him you not only shielded your-
self but got even a securer grip upon the control of
his fortune, finding in Mrs. Dillingham an easy vic-
tim. You continued managing her affairs and it sug-
gests itself that you found an opportunity to pry among
her most secret papers; at any rate doubtless you
learned long ago of her previous marriage.
"You went on thieving from her as you had thieved
from Tom Dillingham. What you did with the money
we do not know only because we have not yet had
time to investigate your private affairs. But in due
course we'll find the stock gambling which Mr. Dean
mentions or something of the kind, won't we? You
know best; but we both know that we'll find some-
thing that you've been at infinite pains to keep hidden.
"You learned of Bertram Casamajor's arrival al-
most immediately after his steamer docked. Since no
one but Mr. Paradene expected him, and since it seems
unlikely that Paradene told you, we infer that Bertram
Casamajor phoned Mrs. Dillingham's house, was told


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 317
that she was away, and was referred to you as her
business manager. Did you guess or did you learn
from him that he was the husband who was supposed
to be dead? Did you foresee blackmail and such
troubles for her that she was in danger of losing the
Dillingham millions—that most of all you were in dan-
ger of losing control of those millions? And if the
Dillingham fortune went into other hands would there
be investigations, questions asked—and the searchlight
of legal notice turned upon your stewardship?
"We asked ourselves at the outset why the man was
stripped and shaved and put into so public a place.
Was it because you wanted the newspapers to make a
big story of it, to publish the man's picture so that
Mrs. Dillingham would be sure to see and recognize it?
—so that she would know that she had no legal right
to the Dillingham estate? Counting upon her passion-
ate love of money did you anticipate that she would
cling hard and fast to what she felt was at least mor-
ally hers? Did you say to yourself that knowledge
was power, that you had made yourself secure, that
you in your turn could blackmail her whenever such a
procedure became advisable? Did you, when you killed
Bertram Casamajor, count that at last the Dillingham
millions were your millions?"
Borchard laughed at him.
"Surmise! By your own account nothing but sur-
mise."
"Surmise on top of surmise!" Savoy's voice rang
out. "So do we draw on inevitably to the Truth. We
establish our conjectures and then we check on them
—as we are going to check now through the questions
I am about to put to you.—To be sure you may stand


322 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
10
"Our hand strengthens at every moment," said
Savoy, clipping his words off short and crisp as his
sternness grew upon him, "and becomes the relentless
strong right hand of retribution. The evidence and
motives which we lacked in the cases of both Tom Dil-
lingham and Bertram Casamajor are already offering
themselves. How shall it be then regarding the poor
little Princess Perenella? Murdered, and the arsenic
bottle cast down at her side so that all would say that
it was she who attempted to poison Mr. Paradene.
Murdered because she knew! She told us that she
knew.—Those eyes of Perenella's which could see, if
not in the dark, then certainly in less light than most
eyes require! Did she see her lover when he crept out
of the house that night? Did she even follow him, I
wonder, through the woods as he went to Casamajor's
garage? I think that she did, for she loved him, and hers
was a stormy soul in which jealousy must have dwelt.
Did she fear that he went to meet some other woman?
Did she watch, shuddering in the dark, when he dealt
with the dead body of his victim? I wonder! I won-
der! And I think that it was all in that diary of hers—
but her murderer, even while she was falling from the
balcony, was already running into her room to break
open her table drawer, never more desperate, never
more cool!"
Mrs. Dillingham was weeping and, for perhaps the
single time of her life, without any thought of self;
without even lowering her head or wiping away the
coursing tears, she sat there, twisting and twisting at
her hands. Of a sudden she said brokenly: "I have


324 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
grew silent. "Maybe you can help us in that direction
as you have already helped us in another. From what
you have just said I think we can glean the proper
explanation of Perenella's torn note which we found
this morning on her wrecked table. Her words, 'It is
driving me mad; I can't stand it,' become full of mean-
ing now. Were they, I wonder, the last lines of a letter
she had written Borchard only yesterday? A letter
which may have insisted that he go on with the mar-
riage or she would tell? Did that letter even make
an appointment with him at some late hour, after the
rest of us were to be abed?" He sighed. "We have
come to the time when speculation becomes superflu-
ous. But we'd still like to hear what you know of Pere-
nella's diary."
"I saw it only two days ago," wept Mrs. Dilling-
ham. "We were driving down along the coast highway;
we stopped at a beautiful spot and she took her little
diary out of her bosom." Mrs. Dillingham's hand
fluttered up to her own breast. "She was something
of a poetess, you know; she put a thought down in
her tiny, beautiful handwriting. I"
Gateway dashed out of the room. A profound hush
shut down upon those watching him go; there was
for a space no slightest sound save that of the detec-
tive's hurrying footsteps. Savoy turned slowly to look
at Borchard and Borchard, gripping the arms of his
chair, gazed straight ahead of him into vacancy. Before
any one stirred or spoke, Gateway was back; his mouth-
corners were tucked in so that he looked like a man
with two deep dimples. In his hand, gripped tight, was
a little blue morocco-bound book.
"She had it on her!" he said exultantly. "When


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 325
he threw her over the balcony it was as good as in his
mitt—and the poor fish never guessed it!"
Had Perenella herself returned in life, the effect
could have been little greater on Borchard. Rigid
already, he turned deathly white; his sneering arro-
gance oozed out of him, and his eyes became furtive
and restless as though some last desperate idea of escape
were forming in his brain.
Savoy took the little book into his hands. About it
was a plain elastic band. On the cover was pasted a
sheet of paper on which Perenella had written:
"It is my intention to destroy this before my time
comes to die. But should I die unexpectedly, I who
have had so little mercy at the world's hands, I who
have asked no favors of mankind, beg this one last
kindness:
"Let this little book be burned unread, its ashes
scattered with the ashes of
Perenella."
11
"It's inviolate!" murmured Savoy reverently. "It
would be unthinkable to read it"
"I am afraid the law cannot take sentiment into con-
sideration, Mr. Savoy," said the district attorney
sternly.
Then it was that Borchard, getting himself in hand,
spoke up and thereby amazed them:
"Here, Prentis, I'll make you a proposition. Burn
that book unread—and I'll give you a full, detailed
confession. Better take me up, you know. It's all cir-
cumstantial evidence that you'll have to work on; such
convictions come hard, old man."


326 A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY
"Now here's a queer note struck!" mused Savoy,
and fell to studying Borchard very narrowly. "An
unexpected streak of sentiment in the man? Possibly.
One never knows.—Or subtlety and trickery to the
end? Ah, vastly more to be expected!"
None the less he joined his voice to Borchard's, and
the result was that after considerable deliberation,
Prentis accepted the offer Borchard had made, and the
latter dictated and signed a full confession. Only at
the end—and there Savoy saw the subtlety he was
watching for—Borchard added the words:
"Yes, I killed Bertram Casamajor. But, as I shall
show in due course, I did so in self-defence!"
At that Prentis swore he'd not go on with the thing;
Borchard was cheating and
Mrs. Dillingham had plucked Savoy timidly by the
sleeve. What she had to tell him in whispers made
him gasp with amazement at the quirk circumstance
had taken. Again, hurrying to Prentis, he added
his voice to Borchard's, and in the end the district
attorney agreed to complete his part in the trans-
action.
The confession, claiming self-defence, was signed.
"He'll hang, just the same," vowed Gateway.
Then Savoy, with a queer crooked smile on his lips,
said to Prentis:
"Mr. Borchard, though with a joker added, has
kept his bargain. I think that he has earned the right
to possess the diary. Will you give it to him?"
For what Mrs. Dillingham had whispered was:
"That's not Perenella's diary—it had red covers—or
any way, this is a brand-new one!"
And what Borchard read, when he ignored the dead


A CASE FOR MR. PAUL SAVOY 329
"That! Look at it, Amos! The original Bureau du
Roi, as sure as you're born! Where'd it come from,
man? When did it get here? Where'd you find it?
Why didn't you tell me"
Laufer-Hirth smote him on the back and burst into
spacious laughter.
"You don't mean that it has been here all the time!"
demanded an amazed Savoy.
"It will serve you right if I quote Epictetus at you!"
chuckled the old jeweller. "The old boy might have
had you in mind:
"'Appearances to the mind are of four kinds:
Things either are what they appear to be; or they
neither are nor appear to be; or they are, and do not
appear to be; or they are not, and yet appear to be.
Rightly to aim in all these cases is the wise man's
task.'"
"What a blind bat I've been," said a contrite Paul
Savoy.