|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 3 3433 07572747 3 |- Death strikes with the speed of the flash of skates on ice in this mystery of murder in the sports world. From the moment that Gaston Lemaire falls to the ice never to rise again, fate twists a weird trail for Dick Bowers— playing a dangerous game with death, he brings to a surprise climax one of the strangest murder mysteries that ever baffled a detective. CRIMSON ICE BY THE SAME AUTHOR No WITNEss 70,000 WITNEsses RED RHAPsody DEATH on THE DIAMoND CRIMSON ICE A HOCKEY MYSTERY By CORTLAND FITZSIMMONS ‘’ T- PRogrTY of 3hE NEw York society LºRARY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY NEW YORK W MCMXXXV * {: CopyRIGHT, 1935, BY Cortland FITzsIMMons All rights reserved. No part of rair work may be reproduced without the written permission of the publishers. D- 51104.3B THLDEN Foº º: re 1949 L Printed in the United States of America CRIMSON ICE CRIMSON ICE I THE BLUE DEVILS . It was a big night at the Boston Hockey Arena. Back Bay blue bloods in evening dress were being jos- tled in the lobby by hordes of Charlestown Navy-yard Irish. Outside the Arena, in the streets, the cops were having a frantic time trying to sort out the traffic jams and move the long line of taxis and cars waiting to pull up at the entrance. An icy, blustering wind cut into the less fortunate who came on foot or in street- cars and buses. They moved with heads down and collars up to shield themselves from the tearing, ice- laden gale, and darted into the comfort of the Arena entrance like cliff-swallows into their holes. The Boston Cougars had developed a great following under the wise direction of Old Lannie Snell, the Hub manager for the past three years. During Snell's man- agership the Cougars had won two Stanley Cup play- offs and finished third once. Society and townsfolk had taken the cause of the Cougars to their hearts. To-night the Quebec Blue Devils were paying their first visit of the season to Boston and a capacity crowd of twelve thousand was on hand to greet them. I 2 CR IMS O N ICE The ticket-booths had been closed since five o'clock, but the speculators were doing a good business and getting fancy prices for box seats. Even an ordinary end arena pew was fetching five bucks, with plenty of eager takers. Down along the boards in the choice seats were row upon row of society fans, the girls particu- larly conspicuous in their rich furs, low-cut gowns and sparkling jewels. The girls were more eagerly antici- pating the game than their seemingly bored compan- ions. There seems to be something particularly exciting to women about scientific mayhem on skates. Psycholo- gists may know the answer. The gallery crowd emitted a great bellowing roar. Out on the ice for their practise whirl came the Blue Devils, trim and handsome in their light-blue uni- forms. They took the north end of the ice and grouped themselves at the blue line, firing shots at Happy Boucher, their goalkeeper. In the stands at the south end there was a forty-piece colored orchestra under the leadership of “Sweet Man Walters.” When Sweet Man spied the Blue Devils he immediately led his band into the strains of “I’ll Be Glad When You're Dead, You Rascal You.” The fans loved it. There was a new shout of hysterical joy when the Cougars took the ice. In an instant the band started to jazz-up the melody of “There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night.” The Cougars came on with a flourish. They skated to T H E B L U E D E V ILS 3 and fro with easy motions. Ed Collins, the goalkeeper, wore his traditional peak cap and chewed gum furi- ously while he blocked the shots of his mates. Jim Knox, the demon left-winger for the Cougars, made the fans laugh by shooting into the cage with a deft flip while skating backwards. Dick Bowers stood behind the last tier of seats for several minutes. He wanted time to control his anger before he joined his father, who had been patiently waiting for him. Dick had just left Gaston Lemaire, known as the Blue Flame, star player on the Blue Devils' team. The memory of that interview rankled and tasted of gall. Because of Gaston Lemaire he hated them all for a moment. After the Cougars began their practise he walked down and slid into his seat. - “I take it you found him,” his father said. “Have a cigar?” - “I found him,” Dick answered. “How about the cigar?” Funny thing about Father, Dick thought, he always knows when not to ask personal questions. Aloud he said, “Er—no, thanks.” Dick looked forward, pretend- ing interest. “They are a smart-looking crew, those Blue Devils,” Mr. Bowers said. “Yes, aren't they? The Cougars are pretty keen, though. Did you notice that flip of Knox's as I was coming down?” 4. CR IMS O N IC E “I did.” They watched in silence for several minutes and then Bowers said, “Would you rather go home, Dick?” “No. I'd like to see the game.” He leaned forward, paying no attention to friends and acquaintances who were trying to attract his attention. “Beulah is over there,” his father said. Dick looked up and nodded to several people and then gave all his attention to the ice. Ace Kellie, the star player, went over to the boards and chatted gaily with two pretty girls who were sit- ting by themselves. Sweet Man's orchestra was now playing “That Daring Young Man on the Flying Tra- peze” with plenty of loud and very noisy assistance from the occupants of the dollar seats. Referees Armand and Steel came onto the ice and were greeted with the traditional salvo of boos. There was a pause and suddenly the band struck up “The Maple Leaf Forever.” All the men on the ice stood stiffly at attention. The music later switched to “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Walters had a little trouble with his men on our own national anthem. They evinced a strong desire to pep up the melody, but he succeeded in muting them down and the last chord crashed out with a loud cheer. The crowd sat back with an I'm-glad-that's-over sigh to await the faceoff. There was a moment of breathless attention all over the arena. Each manager was starting his first line-up 6 CR IMS O N ICE Ed Cartier started over the blue line and snatched the rubber off Jim Smith's stick. A twist and he was off down the center alley with only Ed Collins to beat. He feinted and tried to draw Collins out of position, but the goalie went down on all fours and smothered the shot to make a honey of a save. Coulter sailed in and lifted the puck over Collins’ prostrate pads. Cowbells, rattles and horns sounded like Hades let loose. It seemed impossible that the Blue Devils could keep up such a pace for three periods. Snell sent Haw- kins in to replace Bradford at defense. For the next ten minutes the battle raged from one end of the arena to the other. Boston still clung to a close defense. Time after time, Hawkins broke up the Blue Devils’ sweeping rushes with long clearing shots down to the other end of the ice. This maneuver always brought forth a storm of jeers from the Quebec fans in the house, but it certainly saved the Cougars from getting any more goals chalked up against them. Lemaire, the Blue Flash, had made several nice swift sorties down the ice, but failed to score. Hawkins was watching him closely, and Hooley Smith, the other defense man for the Cougars, was right on his tail every time he handled the puck. With about five min- utes left to play in the first period, Ace Kellie, the Boston star, swiftly pounced on a loose puck and was off down the ice like an eel. Stickhandling beautifully, he whipped the puck to Biff Craven, who passed it back to him at the goal-mouth. Ace shot, but Boucher T H E B L U E D E V ILS 9 fans started all over again. The second-string line took the ice this time and play was nearly all confined to the Blue Devils' half of the ice. Suddenly Renoir broke away and passed back to Jackson, who shot the puck past Collins, only to be called back by an offside whistle. The Cougars then took a hand in the battle and Manager Snell poured his shock troops back into action. Duval, the Blue Devils' manager, followed suit and Primeau, Coulter and Lemaire came streaming over the boards onto the ice. Snell had four men down on the ice. The Cougars were playing wide open hockey now and the fans roared approval. Boucher made save after save, but finally Kellie shot a sizzler into the corner of the cage from an assist by Knox and the score was tied. The roar that went up from the crowd was terrific— two goals apiece and anybody's battle. The Blue Devils were fighting mad now. Lemaire grabbed the puck at the faceoff and whipped it over to Primeau. On a pretty combination play Lemaire took it just inside the blue line and started off toward the Cougar goal. Kellie came in on him fast and stole the puck away. He had hardly skated ten feet when Lemaire was right back at him. There was a crash of sticks and in the mêlée a few more players tried to get the puck. Finally Bradford skated off with the puck and Kellie was lying on the ice. The referee blew his whistle and waved Lemaire to the box. A five-minute penalty this time for roughing. T H E B L U E D E V ILS II which just curled inside the post. The Cougars were ahead and it looked bad for the Blue Devils. It seemed that nothing would be able to stop the Cougars now. Lemaire was pleading with Duval, and a moment afterward he clambered over the boards onto the ice. The Boston fans greeted him with a terrific series of boos and catcalls. Kellie looked over and watched him skate into line, then Kellie said something to Knox out of the corner of his mouth. “I can't believe it is Gaston they are booing,” Dick said to his father. - Quebec took the puck on the faceoff and Primeau passed back to Lemaire, who skated down to the center of the ice. Kellie came in fast, but Lemaire eluded him and went on up to the Cougar blue line. He passed to Coulter, who, finding himself blocked, passed back to Lemaire. Kellie was behind Lemaire as he took the puck and promptly sent him flying with an obvious trip which the whole arena could see. “That was dirty!” Dick shouted. Lemaire was up on his feet and swung on Kellie, who went down on his back and lay there in a daze. The players crowded round and the referees skated over and grabbed Lemaire. There was an expectant silence. The crowd was too anxious to know what was going to happen to do much booing. Kellie crawled to his feet and fought to get at Lemaire. Bradford and Smith held him off while the referee talked to both of them. Finally they both I 2 CR IMS O N ICE skated to the penalty box with a major penalty for each. Two uniformed policemen came down and sat between them in the box to keep the peace, and the crowd started to yell and throw paper. The Boston fans blamed Lemaire, of course, while the Quebec rooters and the few impartial ones in the house realized that both men were equally to blame and in this particular case Kellie was the real culprit. The tension of the game over for the moment, Dick leaned back, sighed and then gazed vacantly out over the ice. He was startled out of his thoughts by his father's voice asking, “Are you sure you want to stay, son?” “Er—yes. I want to stay. I was just thinking.” “About the girl?” “Yes. The whole thing.” - “Lemaire would give you no explanation?” Mr. Bowers asked. “None,” Dick replied. “We were such good friends, Dad, at college. I can't understand it. I can't under- stand Juliette either. I don't see why they won't tell me what it is I have done.” “You did love her, didn't you?” Mr. Bowers' re- mark was more the statement of a fact than a question. “Yes, and she knew it. I thought she loved me, too. She certainly acted as if she meant it.” “That was about two and a half years ago. You were both young. I had no idea you took it so seriously,” Mr. Bowers said. T H E B L U E D E V ILS I3 “Why do older people always assume that youth can't love deeply and sincerely?” Dick complained with the eternal voice of protesting youth. “It isn't that older people don't believe in love's young dream, Dick. You see, as you grow older you learn a number of things from just living and one of them is the fact that time heals all wounds.” “I don't believe it,” Dick protested. “After all, son, two and a half years isn't much time out of a man's life.” “Don’t be philosophical. I'll never love any woman as I loved Juliette Lemaire. I want to know why she and her brother have treated me this way. Why did she tell me it was just a flirtation? Why does Gaston refuse to talk to me about it? We were friends. If I have done something unwittingly, I think I deserve to know about it. Gaston knew then and knows now how much I loved her. I’ve tried to forget her, but I can't.” “No man, or woman either, for that matter, ever forgets his first love. It's all new and strange, wonderful and romantic, the first time it happens to you. It leaves its impression indelibly on your mind.” “Is that why some married people act so queerly?” Dick asked bitterly. “Did they love once and marry for other reasons? There'll be none of that for me.” “Has the girl married?” “I don't know. She doesn't answer my letters. I've been writing to her regularly ever since the time I went to Quebec and she was not there.” I4 C R IMS O N ICE “You never told me about that trip,” Mr. Bowers said. “I feel very guilty about this, because I was the one who made you promise to wait for a year after you graduated.” “But you were willing for me to go to Quebec and explain it to her,” Dick answered promptly. “You didn't say anything when you got back and I didn't want to pry into your affairs,” Mr. Bowers Went On. “A man doesn't like to talk about his defeats,” Dick answered. “As bad as that, eh?” “Not then. Later. She had left Quebec. I didn't see her. She left a polite note saying she had gone to join Gaston, who was searching for his father. After I kept writing and writing she finally answered a letter saying it was nothing but a flirtation and should be forgotten. I didn't forget and I didn't stop writing, but it was useless.” He turned to his father then and went on, “Do you know, Dad, I'm sure Juliette loved me. I'm going to have another showdown with Gaston. I'll make him talk. I'm going to find out exactly what happened if I have to split the world open to do it.” A new hope, born of determination, burned in Dick's face. The older man patted Dick's knee. “I take it you failed once to-night, but a Bowers never gives up even when he is licked. Somehow, I hope she isn't married. I had no idea you felt so strongly about it. You are old enough now to know what you want and if you T H E B L U E D E V ILS I 5 want that girl I hope you can get her. It will seem a bit queer to have a French daughter-in-law, but I guess I'll be able to manage that, although I don't know what your Aunt Priscilla will say to it,” he ended. “Juliette isn't French.” Dick grinned as he thought of his Aunt Priscilla and her set ideas. “She's French- Canadian, and you are a good egg. I'll manage Aunt Priscilla, all right. She'd love Juliette if she really knew her.” There was no further scoring while they talked and the period ended. Lemaire and Kellie left the penalty box and skated across the ice. They had two minutes more to go when the next period started. Dick stood up. “I’m glad I talked to you, Dad. I'm going down there now. I'll see Gaston. I’m going to make him see me after the game. I'm going to go through this time and find out or die in the attempt. See you later.” He hopped up the aisle, full of new determination. Dick was back before the rest period was over. He sat down and after a moment said, “He will see me after the game for a few minutes. He is just as deter- mined to keep me in the dark as I am to find out what has happened. It's going to be a scrap—I can feel it coming.” “I hope you get it cleared up.” There was a welcoming shout and the teams came back on the ice. Both Dick and his father settled down. Lemaire and Kellie skated across the ice and returned I6 w C R IMS O N ICE to the penalty box. There was no display of temper by either of them. The third period started out very tamely. Boston was doing all in its power to preserve their one-goal lead. Playing a very dull, close-checking game, they became boring to watch. Every rush of the Blue Devils was smothered and the boys from Canada were getting nowhere. Kellie and Lemaire finished out their remaining time in the penalty box and skated back across the ice to their respective benches. The crowd sat up with interest once more, to see if Lemaire and Kellie would continue their feud when they returned to the ice. They didn't have long to wait. Snell sent in his front line and as soon as Duval saw Kellie and Craven skate out onto the ice he rushed his own first line into action. The jeers were terrific as Lemaire skated out to take up his position at center. Kellie took a pass from Smith and starting down the ice he crashed into Cartier and lost it. Cartier sent the rubber spinning down to Primeau, who raced along the center alley and passed to Lemaire. Kellie had come back with the play and cut in across the front of Le- maire, who started off toward the side boards. Lemaire hit the puck forward a little against the boards, hoping to take the rebound and thus slip past Kellie, but he missed the puck as Kellie checked him with all his force into the boards. There was a wild yell from the T H E B L U E D E V ILS N17 crowd. Lemaire went head first along the ice for about ten feet, scraping his face as he slid. Lemaire got to his feet and skated toward Kellie. The other players closed in. Kellie fenced off, ready to fight. Lemaire seemed to have lost his pep. The referees skated up, trying to break the huddle on the ice. All the fans along the boards were screeching curses and imprecations at Kellie. One woman threw a bottle which splintered to pieces on the ice. Other bottles followed. The crowd was insane. Bradford and Smith grabbed Kellie and pulled him away from Joe Primeau, who was trying to swing at him. The victim of all this excitement worked his way out of the crowd, shaking the hands of his team-mates from him, and moved slowly down toward his stick where it was still lying on the ice. He recovered it feebly and started down toward his own goal. His face was covered with blood, which was flowing freely from his nose. He was no longer the Blue Flash. He seemed to be a hurt and broken boy trying to clear his head. He put up his arm to fend off the things still hurtling through the air. Referee Steel waved Kellie to the box angrily and pushed Bradford away from his side. Kellie stood there glowering at them for a minute and then turned toward the box. Lemaire coasted on down the ice, almost lifeless. Suddenly a shout went up from the crowd. A woman screamed loudly, cutting across the voice of the throng. I8 CR IMS O N ICE The startled fans looked down on the ice and saw Le- maire flounder on his skates for a second and then pitch forward on his face and lie still, with his hands spread- eagled on the ice before him. The center of interest shifted to the lone figure. Necks craned as the skaters bore down on the fallen man. Lecoq reached him first. The dapper rival of Lemaire for the popularity of the fans stooped down and put his arms under Lemaire to lift him up and turn him over. The referees and players suddenly turned to each other in horror. The ice was slowly turning red around the side of the prone figure and right through the broad of his back stuck the blade of a clasp-knife, the handle protruding. Lemaire had been stabbed! II CRIMSON ICE Every spectator leaned forward, eyes glued to the spot where Gaston Lemaire had fallen. The people in boxes climbed over and down onto the ice. Whistles blew. The special police ran frantically about, trying to curb the general excitement. There were growls and catcalls, shouts and oaths. Another woman screamed and fainted. The stands rocked. The players had made a circle round the prostrate body of Gaston and the special police finally began to clear the excited crowds away. Dick had to fight his way through thick crowds to get down and out on the ice. The special police tried to hold him back, but Dick ducked under outstretched arms, hopped over the rail and landed on the ice. He took a running step forward, slipped and fell and slid for several feet, ploughing up the loosely powdered ice. An irate pair of hands landed on his shoulders and a thick Irish voice started to bawl him out. “Lemaire is a personal friend of mine.” Dick spoke over and through the angry words of the officer. “I’m Richard Bowers, Officer, and I must see what has happened to him.” It may have been Dick's earnestness or the magic I9 CR IMS O N ICE 2 I - that Lemaire had been stabbed. It brought to mind similar unfortunate occurrences on the ice in days past. Indignation and protest were voiced. Couldn't these men play a game without acting like wild beasts? The chatter went on long after the grim procession had vanished from the ice. Then, after the first flood of excited indignation, a new note was sounded. There were whistles and calls. The crowd wanted the game to go on. What was one injured man to a gang of wild and excited fans? Dick thought of the old Roman days when Chris- tians were sacrificed for the amusement of the popu- lace. He could sense the change of feeling in the crowd. At first they had been enraged and indignant at such a display of violence; now they wanted more amuse- ment, they were full of blood lust. They had paid to see a game and the game was what they wanted. They called, they whistled and stamped their feet. The special police tried vainly to quiet them. Gaston's body was placed on a rubbing-table in the dressing room, and the managers of both teams were holding a hurried consultation. The policeman who had received the hurried instructions from the doctor came away from a telephone. “They'll be right over,” he said to the doctor. Dolin, the policeman, then turned to the managers. “The Captain says to keep all doors closed and not to let any one out of here.” “But we can't do that,” they protested. 22 CR IMS O N ICE “It will have to be done.” Dolin's voice brooked no argument. “Where's Lodge?” - Lodge, the manager of the arena, stepped forward. “What is it, Dolin?” “Call your specials and tell them to keep every en- trance and exit to this place closed until the police arrive. No one is to leave here without police per- mission.” “But—” Lodge started to protest. “There are no buts and you will be held responsible to the police.” “We will have a riot on our hands,” Lodge said. “Listen to them out there.” “You had better do something about that, too,” Dolin suggested. “They want the game to go on,” Snell, the manager of the Boston team, explained. “Give them some music. Peppy stuff. Tell Sweet Man to play something to start them singing. That will keep them occupied and keep them in their seats until I can round up the specials and guard the doors until the reserves from the station arrive.” Lodge turned to Dolin. “I don't see why you had to stir up such a fuss. Things have been thrown before and nothing was ever done about it.” “Shall I tell him, Doctor?” Dolin asked. “It is my fault, not Dolin's,” Dr. Armitage said quietly. “This man is in a bad way, a very bad way. It is a case for the police and there is very little we can CR IMS O N ICE 23 do about it until they arrive.” The doctor was busy stopping the blood-flow. “My God!” Lodge gasped. “Are you sure, Dr. Armi- tage?” “There can be no doubt about it.” Snell and Duval were equally amazed. “A case for the police? There must be some mistake,” Duval protested. “I know my business,” Armitage snapped, “and there are no two ways about it.” “We have some of your crowd to thank for this,” Snell accused Duval. “Why my crowd?” Duval asked, his indignation making him stammer just a trifle. “Because—” Snell paused and did not go on. “Oh, what's the use?” He turned away. “Don’t be so quick to put the blame on my men,” Duval flared. “Now listen, you two,” Dolin cut in. “Stop this gassing. This isn't a Kaffee Klatch. This is serious and there is work to be done. Listen to that crowd out there. They will wreck the place if you don't get your men out and go on with the game or something. They don't know what has happened and we don't want them to know yet. There is only one person who would know and that is the man who used the knife. He may be gone by now, and if he is we can't help it, but we are going to try to find him. So get going.” The managers went back to their men, who were 24 CR IMS O N ICE | ! - huddled at the end of the rink waiting for instructions. Voisin, who traveled with the Blue Devils and often did exhibition skating, was out on the ice cutting figures and doing his best to keep the crowd's atten- tion. The stamping of feet and the shrill whistling went on. The crowd seemed to be enjoying this demon- stration of theirs. They were like children caught doing something forbidden and outside the bounds of au- thority. Sweet Man must have received instructions from Lodge. He broke off the accompaniment which he was playing for Voisin and swept his orchestra into “Yankee Doodle” with all the pep and flourish he could control. The crowd felt the new note in the air. They toned down somewhat. The band then swung into “There'll be a Hot Time in the Old Town To- night.” For several minutes after that Sweet Man had his audience. They did sing, especially the dollar boys, with wild abandon. Dick had entered the room while the discussion be- tween the managers and Dolin had been going on. When the managers left, Dick moved forward and spoke to Dolin and Dr. Armitage. “I’m Richard Bowers. Lemaire is a friend of mine. Is there anything I can do?” “Nothing until the police arrive. The case is in their hands now.” Armitage seemed to be washing his hands of the whole affair. “Is it that serious?” Dick asked. CRIM so N ICE 25 “Serious!” Armitage turned a withering glance at Dick. “His pulse has practically stopped. We've called an ambulance and the police.” “But—” Dick saw the uselessness of talking and stopped. “Isn't there any chance at all, Doctor?” “I'm afraid not. He is sinking rapidly.” “He has a sister—she should be notified,” Dick said to Dolin. “I’ll send her a wire to come at once.” “You can't go out. Nobody can go out until the police give them permission.” “I don't need to go out. I can do it from here. All I need is a telephone.” “Well, go ahead then,” Dolin said grudgingly. Dick rang for the operator and gave his message. “You seem to know him pretty well,” Dolin said when Dick rejoined them. Dick could not explain to Dolin why he would al- ways remember the address of the big gray house in Quebec. He had gone there so eagerly, so full of love and hope, and had found it empty. The street number and the rather gloomy aspect of the exterior were graven on his mind. To Dolin he said: “Lemaire and I were in college together.” Dolin was impatiently pacing up and down, won- dering when the reserves would arrive. Dick turned to Armitage after a long quiet look at the slim body stretched so mutely on the table. “I can't take it in. It seems incredible. I talked to him just a 26 CR IMS O N ICE - short while ago and he was alive and—” Dick couldn't go on. “There have been scandals enough over this sport in the last few years and this should give it the black eye it deserves. It's an outrage, the things that happen at a hockey match. You don't hear or see such things con- nected with football or baseball,” Armitage growled. “There was that episode at New Haven a few years ago,” Dolin said. “Yes, that is true, but that was spectacular because it was so unexpected and unusual.” The doctor was not to be turned from his idea. “I suppose you will always have things like this,” Dick said, “whenever you get men together who are emotional and highly strung.” “You don't think one of the players did it, do you?” Dolin asked. “I can't imagine who did it,” Dick replied. There was a commotion outside and Captain Connor and Detective Martin came into the room. Through the open door Dick could see many blue-uniformed policemen waiting for instructions, and hurrying from the rear came the ambulance attendants. “What's been done?” Connor asked Dolin. Dolin told him quickly. “Go outside. Tell the men to guard all exits. Keep all doors closed. No one is to leave here for the time being. Send the balance of the men through the arena. We want to keep all people in their seats as long as CR IMS O N ICE 27 possible. When you have done that, get hold of Lodge or his representative and send him in here to me. How much longer will the game go on?” “I don't know,” Dolin answered. “Get going and find out,” Connor snapped. Martin was looking at the body. “Where's Dr. Brady?” Connor asked as he went over to stand beside Martin. “Coming!” Brady announced as he came into the room. “Hello, Armitage, what have we here?” he asked as he spied the other doctor. “An accident first and murder second,” Armitage ex- plained. “Knife, eh?” Brady took his stethoscope out of his bag. “You don't need that,” Armitage said to the busy Brady. “His heart is just about beating and that is all.” The intern approached the table and paused as Brady said to Armitage, “It has to go in the record.” Brady winked at Armitage as he applied the instru- ment to Gaston's chest. The casual matter-of-fact air which they used in talking about Gaston and his critical condition revolted Dick. He couldn't understand such casualness. “What have you done?” Brady asked Armitage. “I’ve just given him a heart stimulant, but I don't believe it will keep him going.” “What about the wound?” Brady asked. 28 CR IMS O N ICE “I can't tell. He was bleeding badly. I've stopped that.” Brady turned to the intern. “Are you ready?” The intern nodded. Gaston's body was moved to the stretcher. Brady closed his bag and followed the men from the hospital. “I’ll report as soon as anything happens,” he said to Connor. Connor turned to Armitage. “Do you know what happened?” Armitage began his recital of the few minutes prior to Gaston's fall on the ice. “The knife was in his back, eh?” Connor asked. He moved over to the table and looked at the knife. “It isn't very big. It must have found a vital spot.” “I couldn't tell about that. Brady will know when he performs the autopsy.” “Then you are sure he's going to die?” Connor de- manded. “I don't see how he can live. He's almost dead right now.” “Rotten business,” Connor said. “Was any one near him when he fell ?” “No. He moved away from the group and skated away rather feebly, it seemed to me. Then he fell down face forward and slid along the ice.” “Did you see him as he fell?” “No. He was down when I looked up. I was inter- ested in the possibility of the row in the group.” “When did you first notice the victim?” C R IMS O N ICE 29 “The crowd was shouting and making a great furor, but across the din of shouts and growls and excited voices there came the wild scream of a woman. It was then that I looked down the ice and saw Lemaire slid- ing along on his face.” “Did you see the knife thrown?” “No. I didn't know anything about it until I bent down to view the body. One of his team-mates had started to pick him up, but had dropped him when the knife was noticed.” Connor turned to Martin. “Go out. Find Lodge or whoever is in charge to-night. He will probably know where the scream came from. The woman undoubtedly fainted. I’ll want to talk to her.” “There were two screams,” Armitage cut in. “It was the first one which attracted my attention.” “Okay,” Martin said and hurried out. Connor turned to Dick. “Who are you?” Dick told him. “What are you doing in here?” Connor asked with an assumption of personal gruffness. “Lemaire was a friend of mine.” “I see. What do you know about the knife?” “I didn't know about it at all until I ran down on the ice, broke through the crowd and saw it beside the body.” “Who pulled it out?” Connor turned to Armitage. “I don't know. One of the men, I suppose.” CR IMS O N ICE 3 I “How long has this bad blood between the two men existed?” Connor asked Dick. “I don't know.” “I thought you said you were a friend of Lemaire's?” Connor said. “I am, but I haven't seen him for more than two years.” “Then how is it you know so much about him?” “Because he was a friend of mine. Because I saw him just before this happened.” “How come you haven't seen him for two years? He's been in Boston several times during that period, hasn't he?” “I suppose so, but I haven't happened to be here. I have been abroad and I have been South or somewhere each time the Blue Devils played in Boston.” “Didn't he write to you?” Connor asked. “Not for a long time and if he did he wouldn't write about things like Kellie or some slight animosity over a game. These frictional feelings rarely endure beyond the last period of a game.” “This one seemed to last long enough to kill him,” Connor remarked bitterly. “I don't believe Kellie knifed him,” Dick protested. “You say you saw him just before this happened. What did you talk about?” “Just personal things.” “Did he say anything about the Boston team or the men?” 32 CR IMS O N IC E “No.” “And he gave you no intimation that there might be unpleasantness during the game?” “None whatever.” “Do you know his family or their address?” “Yes. I have already sent a wire to his sister asking her to come at once.” Lodge and Martin hurried in at that moment. “This is terrible!” Lodge said, greeting Connor. “It will ruin us! What are we going to do?” “Keep your shirt on, Lodge. What have you got here that will keep the people occupied after the game is over?” “A few professional skaters, that is all, and Sweet Man and his orchestra. But the musicians will have to leave soon. They play at a supper club.” “They don't leave until I say so. Have they gone on with the game?” “No. I wish they would, the crowd is very restless. They won't keep on singing forever.” “Have them go on with the game.” Lodge, relieved, started away. “Come back as soon as you can,” Connor called after him. “And, Lodge! The minute the game is over, have your loudspeakers ready. I want you to make an an- nouncement.” “You can't keep the people here. They start to leave before the final minutes of play unless it is a very close game. There will be a stampede.” CR IMS O N ICE 33 “We'll worry about that when the time comes. You do as you are told. Tell them that no one is to leave the arena for at least a half-hour. Tell them they must stay in their seats. Tell them it is police orders and any one who tries to get away will be arrested and held with- out bail. My men and your specials will be on the job to see to it that they don't leave. Then send your fancy skaters out on the ice and keep them there. Keep the music going, too.” “But it is ridiculous to keep all those people herded in there! You can't do it. What do you think you will find?” Lodge grumbled. “I’ll attend to my end; you do your job. Get the game under way again and come back here.” Grumbling, Lodge did as he was told. “I found the dame who screamed,” Martin informed Connor. “Where is she?” “In Lodge's office. There are two of them in there having a good time talking about their troubles.” “Did you tell them to stay there?” “You bet. Then they seemed in an awful hurry to get away. I put a man outside the office, to be sure they would be there when you wanted them.” “Good. We have to find out about that knife. Better circulate out there, Martin, and see what you can pick up. You may learn something from the crowd. The candy and pop boys may have some information for you, too. Get whatever you can.” CR IMS O N ICE 35 “I told Dolin to tell you that Lemaire had been stabbed. He was sinking fast at the time. What do you call it?” Armitage was nettled by Connor's tone. “Well, it probably isn't murder at all and we are making fools of ourselves,” Connor grumbled. “The man will die,” Armitage reminded him. “The knife couldn't possibly have killed him. Why is he dying?” “What are doctors for?” Connor retorted. “We are not magicians,” Armitage remarked be- tween tight lips. “There will have to be an autopsy.” “Delays, delays, delays,” Connor stormed. “We are always being held up by medical examiners.” “But you couldn't do without us,” Armitage re- minded him. “As bad as we are, you need us.” “What do you think?” Connor toned down and went on: “Maybe his death will be from a heart at- tack.” “Maybe cats fly,” Armitage retorted. “His heart was better than yours.” “Then, for God's sake, tell me what did kill him? I'm only trying to find out,” Connor pleaded. “You talk in riddles. The man is dying, you say; the knife couldn't have killed him. Then what did?” “I can't tell. I think he was poisoned. When I think back now about his general condition I am sure of it. There is no use going off the loose end. I'll call Brady and tell him what I think and he can watch, if he hasn't arrived at the same conclusion by now.” 38 CR IMS O N ICE been known to be delayed from ten minutes to an hour or two.” “Then it is possible that he was poisoned before he came here for the game to-night?” Dick asked. “No. I said death was delayed. I didn't say the effects were delayed. If he had been poisoned before he came here he would not have been able to play hockey at all.” Dick thought of Juliette alone in Quebec receiving his message. Then he thought of Gaston and his stub- born silence and his own helpless anger. Now he would probably never know what it was that had come between Gaston, Juliette and himself. “I want to get the lay of the land out there while the game is still going on,” Connor said. He turned to Lodge. “I’m keeping those two women in your office until I can question them. I'll need the office for the rest of the night probably.” “I wish you didn't want to keep the crowd here after the game.” Lodge was doleful. “If it is poison I don't believe there will be much sense to it. I'll know when I hear from Brady.” “Then I hope Brady hurries up.” “Come on, Martin.” Connor turned to Armitage. “You’ll be around if I need you?” “Do you mind if I stick along?” Dick asked. “Just as long as you don't get in the way,” Connor replied gracelessly. III THE FATAL HUDDLE In the arena the swift figures of the players were darting about. The crowd was once more absorbed in the game. Lodge motioned to Duval and Snell, acting on Connor's orders. Both managers hastened over, un- easy questions in their eyes. “I don't want the players to know Lemaire is dead for some time after the game,” Connor cautioned them. “Dead!” they both gasped. “My poor Gaston!” Duval said mournfully. “That's a rotten shame!” Snell said. “I had no idea it was as bad as that.” “I’ll want to talk to your men right after the game. Lodge is going to see what he can do to keep the crowd quiet. I want to find out something about that knife. I may not need to keep the audience here for very long. I hope not.” Duval moved away thoughtfully. Dick was not sure, but he thought he saw tears in the man's eyes. “Remember,” Connor cautioned as Snell, too, moved back towards his bench. “All the men right after the game.” The last few furious minutes of the game were being played out and in spite of their grim purpose the men 39 4o C R IMS O N ICE found themselves interested by the swiftness of the play. The Blue Devils were playing like men possessed. The Cougars, by virtue of the match penalty handed out to Kellie, were a man short and the Canadians were making the most of their advantage. They started with four men down the ice, but when that failed to make any impression on the score they threw discretion to the wind and piled down the ice with five men. Only Lecoq stayed back on defense. Suddenly the combination began to click. The red light back of the Cougars' cage started to go on and off like a traffic light. Three times in a row the Blue Devils scored. Boston seemed completely demoralized. Lecoq was finally sent off for roughing in the very last minute of play or the score would have been larger. Always a great gallery player, Lecoq, without the opposition offered by Lemaire, was shining. Snell leaned over the boards, screaming curses and advice to his team, but it did no good. The Blue Devils were playing as if they would avenge Lemaire and no team in the world could have stopped them. The bell ended the agony, with the Blue Devils out in front five to three, and they went off the ice to a storm of cheers. Even the most rabid Hub rooters had to admit that the best team had won. Snell and Duval were busy talking to the members of their teams. Armand and Steel, the referees, and T H E F A T A L H U D D L E 4 I Fallon, the Canadian radio announcer, who reported the games in French, moved toward the little group. Connor called them over. “I’ll need you two,” Connor said. And seeing Fallon he continued, “You’d better come along, too. I'll prob- ably be able to get something out of you. Any other announcers?” The three men exchanged questioning glances. Quirk stepped forward. He did the regular broadcast. At that moment the loudspeaker blared forth and the exhibition skaters glided out onto the ice. Contrary to custom, the crowd lingered, trying to satisfy its curiosity. All eyes were centered on the little group growing around Connor. “Due to the accident which occurred this evening we have been ordered by the police to hold everybody in the arena for a short time. No one will be allowed to leave at present, so kindly stay in your seats. Your cooperation will aid the police in the work they have to do and will shorten the time that you will have to stay. We have provided an exhibition for you and there will be music.” The voice clicked off, and amazed faces looked ques- tioningly at friends and companions. The music filled the arena, dulling the general buzz of conversation. The skaters cut their figures, but received very little attention or applause. Connor hurried over to Lodge, who was just leaving 42 CR IMS O N ICE the amplifier, and once more a great voice demanded attention. Connor was speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen: You are aware of the unfor- tunate accident which interrupted the game to-night. We, the police, are anxious to learn something about the knife which was found in Lemaire's back. As you know, things were thrown on the ice. It is possible that the knife, too, was thrown. If there is any one in the audience who saw the knife hurtling through the air, we would like to know the circumstance. If you have any information to give, will you go to the office of Mr. Lodge, the manager of the arena and wait there? Any of the attendants will give you directions.” Until the music swelled forth again there was a terrific clatter of talk. “What happened to Lemaire? Why is all this neces- sary?” Fallon asked Connor when he rejoined the group. “Lemaire is dead,” Connor answered. “Dead! Why didn't some one tell me! I should have known about it. I should have announced it over the air. It's an outrage, that's what it is, that the news was kept from me.” Fallon was highly indignant. “I didn't realize it either,” Quirk said. “It would have been a grim piece of news to add to the account. People at home like to have a thrill.” “We didn't want it known. That's why,” Martin answered for Connor. “But my job! I'll probably get fired for holding back T H E F A T A L H U D D LE 43 on the news,” Fallon protested. “I’m supposed to tell all there is to tell about hockey to the Canadian lis- teners.” “You can explain it later,” Martin said. “Be yourself, Fallon,” Quirk said bitterly. Snell and Duval were still part of the group. Connor turned to Duval. “Where were your men during the last intermission?” “In the dressing-room.” “Did you see Lemaire there?” “I certainly did. I had to send for him. He went to his private room for a minute to see a friend and stayed too long. He was in a bad temper to-night. He wasn't himself at all.” “How do you mean?” Martin asked. “He is never an ugly player, yet to-night he seemed to take delight in getting this Kellie man's goat. I spoke to him for getting a major penalty.” “You didn't bawl him out while he was out of the game, then?” Connor asked. “No, I never do that. I talk to them before or after a game, and during the rest periods when it is neces- sary.” “And you thought it necessary to-night?” Connor asked. “Certainly. I was afraid that we would be beaten if Lemaire was out of the game too much because of penalties,” Duval explained. “What did Lemaire say?” 44 CR IMS O N ICE “Nothing.” “Just took it, eh?” “He was in the wrong,” Duval said, as if that would naturally explain Lemaire's attitude. “Were you in the dressing-room all through the rest period?” Connor went on. “Yes.” “Did you see Lemaire eat or drink anything?” “He is always drinking Coca Cola.” “Did he drink anything to-night? I don't care what he did other times.” “I don't know. I wasn't thinking about what he was doing; I was concerned with what he had done. You were behind us, Fallon. Did you notice?” Duval asked. “No. It seems to me he had a bottle of the stuff, though, come to think of it. Wasn't he drinking while you were talking to him?” Duval's face lit up. “Yes. You are right. I remember now. He had a bottle and went on drinking. Later he put it down and listened to what I had to say.” “Which dressing-room were you in?” Connor asked. “The regular visitors' dressing-room,” Duval replied. “Dolin,” Connor said to Dolin, who had been stand- ing at one side, “search the Blue Devils' dressing-room. If there are any empty pop bottles in there, gather them up and take care of them. I'll tell you what to do with them later.” “What do you want to do with the players?” Snell asked. “They are getting impatient.” T H E F A T A L H U DD L E 45 “Let them go to their dressing-rooms, both teams, and I'll see them in a minute.” Duval spoke to his players in rapid French and they went clattering away across the boards, their skates making hollow clumping sounds. Snell spoke to his men and they followed the Blue Devils from the ice. “Now while I have you here I want to know what happened during the rumpus at the beginning of the third period.” Duval began to speak, but he became excited and both Armand and Snell refuted some of his statements. “All right, all right,” Connor cut the argument short. He turned to Armand. “You tell me.” Armand went through a full description of the row. “Did Kellie strike Lemaire?” Connor asked. “He tripped him,” Duval cut in. “What did Lemaire do?” “Nothing. Lemaire started back, but the players closed in to prevent a fight. Both Kellie and Lemaire were grabbed by other players.” “Who were the players who grabbed Lemaire? Be careful now,” Martin cautioned. “It may be very im- portant.” “I don't remember. I think George Black was one of them,” Armand said. “He was,” Fallon chimed in, “and Auriel Lecoq was the other. I remember saying so over the air.” “Remember those two names,” Connor said to 46 CR IMS O N ICE Martin, who was already entering them in his note- book. “How long did they hold Lemaire?” Connor asked. “He broke away at once,” Armand answered. “Did you notice the knife in his back then?” “I didn't notice it until he had fallen,” Armand an- swered. “Where did the knife come from?” Connor asked, and met a stony silence. “Come on,” he urged. “Do you mean to say that you were all there at the time right on top of Lemaire and none of you know when the knife hit him?” Duval shook his head. “How about you, Fallon? You are supposed to see everything. Did you see the knife?” “I didn't know anything about it.” “And you, Quirk?” “I’m not supposed to leave the mike, you know, but when the fight petered out and Lemaire fell on the ice and the boys were huddled over him I had to go down there. Sweet Man helped me out, because he started to play some jazz to fill in the gap and keep the crowd settled. I turned the mike over to the music and hopped down to see what had happened. The knife lay on the ice then.” “There were a lot of things being thrown at the time,” Snell spoke up. “A pop bottle hit me on the shoulder. It's a bad habit some of the fans have. The women started it to-night.” 52 CR IMS O N ICE “Oh, all right, then,” Fallon said. “Lemaire and Lecoq weren't on speaking terms.” “Why not?” “Tell it all now,” Duval said hopelessly. “Lemaire has a beautiful sister and Lecoq was more than attentive to her. He's a bit of a lady's man, is Lecoq. Women like him. Miss Lemaire obviously didn't. She gave him the cold shoulder, but that only added to Lecoq's desire to add her to his conquests. I believe, and this I don't know for a fact, Lecoq went up to the Lemaire house one night when he was drunk. Anyhow, the story got about that Lemaire came home and found Lecoq there and there was a row. Lemaire is supposed to have given Lecoq a good beating and then thrown him out of the house.” Dick hated to see the reporters' pencils flying over the pages taking it all down. It was going to be very difficult for Juliette being dragged into the story in such a way. “You may as well have the whole story,” Duval spoke up as Fallon finished. “There has always been bad blood between them. Lecoq is a good player, but he drinks too much. When I took Lemaire on I let Lecoq go. He felt it was Lemaire's fault and resented Lemaire very much. He was not able to get on any of the regular teams and had to go to a minor league. Last year I needed good defense men badly and recalled Lecoq. He promised me that he would behave and except for the story which Fallon has just told you T H E F A T A L H U DD L E 53 he has been very regular. Naturally he resented Le- maire. All the old-timers hate to see a younger man come in and steal their thunder. Lecoq is a good draw for the game because, as Fallon says, the ladies like him.” “I guess we'll have to give Lecoq the works,” Connor said to Martin. “You see,” Fallon protested, “I knew you would do it and it isn't fair.” “Neither is murder,” Connor reminded him. Connor turned to Snell. “How about your man Kellie? Was this the working out of an old feud?” “No. It all flamed to-night. Lemaire seemed to be unduly touchy. Checking isn't anything new in hockey, you know, and usually the men take it along with everything else. I think it was the difference in attitude displayed by Lemaire that made Kellie act as he did. After all, Lemaire did swing on Kellie and no man likes that sort of treatment.” “Then, you are sure that there was no old row which they were settling to-night?” “I’m reasonably sure of it. The boys are pretty ob- vious about their likes and dislikes. As a matter of fact, I have always felt that Lemaire was fairly popular with my men.” “Kellie must have been pretty sore to trip him up the way he did, though,” Martin suggested. “Wouldn't you be if some one had just given you a good clip on the jaw?”. Snell demanded. 54 CR IMS O N ICE “But it was some time after Lemaire had hit him, wasn't it, that the second fracas took place?” Connor asked. “Yes,” Snell answered. “Lemaire hit Kellie during the latter part of the second period and the accident to Lemaire was during the third period.” “Kellie had time to cool off a bit,” Connor said. “If it had happened immediately after Lemaire had hit him it would be one thing, but several minutes later shows a growing resentment and a probable desire to get even.” “You can't pin this thing onto Kellie because of ideas you have,” Snell protested. “Men have hung for less,” Connor said coldly and walked away. IV THE WEB OF EVIDENCE They went back to the big dressing-room, where the Blue Devils were partially out of their uniforms and getting into their street clothes. “Is this where you saw Lemaire?” Connor asked Dick. “No, he had a room of his own.” “Where is Lemaire's dressing-room?” Connor de- manded of Lodge, who was hovering about nervously. “Right this way.” Lodge led them into a corridor past a string of small rooms and opened the door to Number II. Connor looked in. “Is this the place?” he asked Dick. “This is it.” “How come he rated a room of his own?” Connor asked Lodge. “He has always had one. Prima donna, maybe. I don't know. I didn't mind. He seemed to like being alone.” On a table there was a nearly emptied Coca Cola bottle, which Connor picked up, being careful not to spill the contents. “Where's your office?” Connor next asked. “On the other side of the dressing-rooms.” 55 56 CR IMS O N ICE “There are people waiting there for me. I'll step in the dressing-room first.” Back in the dressing-room Connor gave the bottle from Lemaire's room to Dolin, with instructions to keep all the collected bottles separate and to take them to headquarters and have them all tested for poison. “Call Dr. Brady and tell him about the bottles. He'll know what to look for.” Dolin retired. The reporters pressed about Connor, begging for a Statement. “Nothing doing,” Connor growled. “You’ve had a break already and I'm just getting started on the inves- tigation. Come around to the station-house after I'm through here and I'll let you know all about it.” “When will that be?” one of them asked. “Don’t get funny, Brace, or you'll get nothing. We may be here all night.” The Blue Devils eyed Connor and Martin resent- fully as they went about their dressing. “Come on, Lodge, show us the way. Who is Lecoq P” A short, slim, black-haired man stepped forward. He had bushy black brows and large eyes under them. His features were regular and he had a neatly formed mouth. Good-looking, Dick thought, but a weak face and just the type you would expect some women to like. He was glad Juliette was not one of those women. “Come along with us,” Connor said to Lecoq as they left the room. T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 59 “Well, she makes me sick, dragging me out on cold nights like this just because she has a yen for these slick-looking frogs.” “John!” There was something ominous in the last pronouncement. It was laden with wait-till-I-get-you- home-you-worm. “Did the knife come from the group of players?” Connor asked the woman. “I don't know. It came from that direction,” Mrs. Curtis answered. “I told you she wouldn't know,” Curtis said with pleasure. “Mr. Curtis, would you mind waiting outside?” Connor sounded like a schoolmaster. “Serves you right!” Mrs. Curtis showed her pleas- ure. “And you, Mrs.-" Connor turned to the second WOInan. “I'm Mrs. Knobbs and this is my husband.” “I believe you screamed, too. Is that right?” “Yes.” “Why?” “She can't stand the sight of blood and when they turned him over and the ice seemed to be flooded with a pool of blood running out of him she screamed and fainted.” Mrs. Knobbs nodded. “Did you see the knife?” “Heavens, no! I'd seen enough. I don't see why peo- 6o C R IMS O N ICE ple come to see this horrible game. There is always a fight or something every time I come. It's worse than a prize-fight.” “Do you like fights, too?” Mrs. Curtis asked in the most friendly of voices. “I hate them!” Mrs. Knobbs said vehemently. “Do you know anything about what happened or was it as your husband says, just too much blood for you?” Connor asked Mrs. Knobbs. “I felt sick enough when I saw the blood all over his face from his nose, but when I saw that pool, well—” “Yes. Wasn't it horrible?” Mrs. Curtis cut in with obvious relish. “If you have nothing to tell us, Mrs. Knobbs, you need not stay. How about you, Mr. Knobbs? Did you see the knife?” “No. I was watching the row. It looked like a free- for-all for a minute or two. I thought Primeau was going to take a sock at Kellie. He would have, too, if some of the men hadn't grabbed him. They spoiled a good scrap. I wasn't even thinking about Lemaire until I heard the piercing scream which startled every- body.” “I never had such a shock in all my life.” Mrs. Curtis picked up her cue and took the spotlight once more. “Thank you, Mrs. Knobbs. Sorry to have detained you. I hope the shock will be gone by to-morrow. You, too, Mr. Knobbs. You needn't wait.” T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 6 I “It was no shock to me. It's the best game I’ve seen in a long time. What happened to Lemaire, anyhow?” “Lemaire died before he reached the hospital,” Con- nor said quietly. Mrs. Knobbs gasped and began to sway, but Knobbs jumped into action, due perhaps to past experience. “Now, Maisie, for God's sake, don't faint here and get in Mr. Connor's way. Grab hold of yourself!” He looked at Connor, shook his head and dragged the cheated Maisie through the door. “Stop blubbering!” Mr. Curtis growled at Mrs. Cur- tis, whose emotions had passed beyond her control. Connor sent the Curtises outside to wait and then called in the balance of the people who were waiting. After careful questioning he found that several claimed to have seen the knife in the air. They could not agree, however, as to the direction from which it had come. Their angles were all mixed. Finally Connor said, “I don't want to detain you. I hope you have all given your names and addresses to the officer who was on duty while you were waiting. Now if you will go back to the arena with me and each of you take the seat you occupied during the game I think we may get somewhere.” They trooped off, the Curtises bringing up the rear. As they went by, Dick heard Mrs. Curtis say to her husband, “Isn't that the Bowers boy? What do you suppose he is doing here?” Dick fell in at the end of the procession. T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 63 was standing out on the ice there had been at least a half-dozen flashlights taken of him and he could imagine the headlines which would accompany them. He had no idea, however, of what the real headlines would be in the morning press as he stood there ready to plead with Connor. “You said I could stay with you unless I got in your way,” Dick replied. “Well, you're in the way now,” Connor returned. “But, Captain, I was one of Lemaire's best friends. I represent his family, in a way of speaking. I ought to be allowed to stay.” “Get—” Connor started to speak, but he stopped. Dick was certain he would have to go, but in a minute Connor said, “Get over in a corner somewhere and keep still, just listen.” Connor knew the Bowers had influence in the high places. As Dick slid into a corner Connor turned to Lecoq. “Lecoq, you didn't like Lemaire, did you?” “No.” The answer came back swift and sure, some- what to Connor's amazement. “He got in your way, didn't he?” was Connor's next question. “Not if he could help it. He knew I didn't like him.” “You were pretty sore at him for taking your place on the team, weren't you?” “He didn't take my place. No one can do that. He has always played center and I am a defense man.” Lecoq was full of pride. T H E W E B O F EV IID E N C E 65 Lecoq had scored, but Connor did not make him aware of that fact. “Why did you grab Lemaire to-night when Kellie struck him?” “Because a fight is a disgrace to the team and I didn't want the game called.” “Very thoughtful of you. You had him round the shoulders, didn't you?” “No, I held one of his arms.” “And with your free hand you stuck your knife into him, didn't you?” “No.” “There's no use, Lecoq. We've got you just where we want you. You hated Lemaire. He was eclipsing you in every way and you wanted to get rid of him.” “I didn't, I tell you. I didn't do it. Why should I kill him there in front of thousands of people when I could have had plenty of opportunities with no wit- nesses?” “You are under arrest, Lecoq. We'll make you talk.” Connor nodded to Martin, who opened the door and called Brion, who was stationed outside. “Take this man outside and have him held in the dressing-room until we are ready to leave,” Connor instructed. “You can't do this to me!” Lecoq shrieked at Connor. “Yes, I hated him, I admit it, but I didn't kill him!” “Come on.” Brion took Lecoq by the arm. 66 CR IMS O N ICE “I didn't do it, I tell you! I didn't do it!” Lecoq kept shouting as Brion led him away. “Bring in the other fellow who held him,” Connor said to Martin. George Black was tall and dark. His skin was a ruddy copper. His cheekbones were high and his hair black and straight. He stood just within the door and turned a disconcerting steady stare on Connor. “Black, how long have you known Lemaire?” “For several years.” “I said how long?” “Several years.” Black's voice was even and unruffled. “Did you know him before you came on the team?” “Yes.” “Where?” “In college.” “Did you know him well?” “We played hockey together.” “Come, now.” Connor was getting annoyed at the way Black answered his questions. “Can't you tell me anything?” “You ask the questions and I answer them,” Black replied. “Well, then, if you want it that way. Were you an intimate friend of Lemaire's while you were in col- lege?” “No. We were just friends.” “How is it you are playing with the Blue Devils? Was it because of Lemaire?” T H E W E B O F EV II) E N C E 67 “Partly,” Black replied. “What do you mean ‘partly’? Explain it, will you, please? Don't make me drag every word out of you.” “After I left college I went home to Arizona. Lemaire was out there one summer and I met him.” “Did he visit you?” “Not exactly.” “Damn it all, man, what do you mean?” Connor was getting nettled. “He didn’t visit me then,” Black answered. “But before you said, ‘not exactly.' What did you mean when you said that?” “Lemaire was in Arizona and I saw him.” “How did that happen? Arizona is a fairly large State, isn't it?” “Yes, very large.” Connor rapped the desk impatiently with his fingers. “What I am trying to get at,” he bit the words out, “is an understanding of your relations with Lemaire. You saw him in Arizona and then you decided to play hockey because Lemaire was playing. Is that right?” “No. Lemaire was not playing hockey then. He was looking for his father. It was not until the next winter that he played hockey.” “Now we are getting somewhere. You saw Lemaire when he was looking for his father. Is that right?” “I helped him look.” “Oh, you did?” “Yes.” society LIBRARY 68 CR IMS O N ICE - “What happened to his father?” “I don't know. He disappeared and Lemaire was looking for him.” “Did Lemaire ask you to help him?” “No; I would help any friend in trouble, and besides I know the desert.” “So Lemaire's father was lost in the desert?” “Nobody knows. He was last seen at a trading-post in the desert. Armand knows more about that than I do.” Connor was amazed at the extra bit of information offered by Black. “Do you mean Armand the referee?” Connor lost no time in following up the information. “Yes.” “Did you like Lemaire?” “He was my friend. He made it easy for me to get on the team as an extra.” “Did you like him?” Connor demanded. “I like my friends,” Black replied. “You were one of the men who grabbed hold of him to-night, weren't you?” “Yes.” “What did you do?” “I just held his arm so there would be no fight.” “How did Lemaire act?” “Very mad.” “Did he usually get mad during a game?” “No.” T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 69 “Did he seem all right while you were holding him?” “He said, ‘Let me go, George, and shook his head.” “Did you let him go?” “Naturally when he asked me I would.” “How about the knife?” “I know nothing about a knife.” “You knew there was a knife in his back?” “I know it now.” “Did you know it then?” “I didn't see his back. I was looking at his face.” “Why?” “Because after he asked me to let him go he seemed bewildered.” “And yet you didn't look at him when he skated away?” “No.” “Why not?” “His nose was bleeding. He had just been hurt by a man. He was embarrassed. He was prevented from taking action. I didn't look.” “That sounds fishy to me.” “I do not pry into the feelings or privacy of my friends,” Black answered. “When did you first see the knife?” “When Lecoq started to lift Lemaire from the ice.” “Do you know where the knife came from?” “No. I suppose it was thrown.” “What makes you think some one threw the knife?” 7o CR IMS O N ICE “It had to come from somewhere.” Martin leaned over and whispered something to Connor, who grunted approval and then turned to Black, who maintained the same steady position and Stare. “Were you with Lemaire during the last intermis- sion?” “I was in the dressing-room with the other players. We were all there.” “Did you sit next to Lemaire?” “No. Lemaire was late coming into the dressing- room. Mr. Duval had to send for him.” “Where was Lemaire?” “I don't know.” “And you didn't sit next to him?” “No. I was in the rear of the room.” “Who sat next to Lemaire?” “I didn't notice.” “What happened during the rest period?” “The usual things, and then Duval reprimanded Lemaire for getting a major penalty.” “Did Lemaire drink anything during the rest period?” “He usually drank a Coca Cola.” “Did he keep a supply on hand? It seems to me he did nothing but drink Coca Cola.” “The pop boys all knew he liked it and they were always ready for him whenever he came off the ice.” “If you should think of any information which T H E W E B O F EV IID E N C E 71 might be useful to us you will let us know, won't you?” Connor asked sarcastically. “I will.” “That's all. Wait outside with the others.” Connor dismissed Black with a wave of his hand. “Just a mine of information, wasn't he?” Martin observed. “He either knows no more than he admits or else he's a pretty clever young man,” Connor remarked wisely. “Say, what is he, anyhow? He's not French.” “He’s an Indian,” Lodge spoke up. “His father is a chief, they tell me.” “A college-bred Indian, eh?” Connor remarked. “Well, I'd say he was a fine example of what education does to a savage. Why don't they leave them where they belong?” “He seems like a nice enough fellow. He's always very quiet and minds his own business,” Lodge of. fered. “You needn't stay in here, Lodge, if you have any work to do,” Connor said by way of dismissal. “My work is in here, but if you would rather be alone I'll be glad to go outside.” “No. It's all right.” Connor turned to Martin. “We’re not getting very far, are we?” “You never do with a case like this,” Martin re- plied. “You just have to keep plugging and if you have your eyes and ears open all of a sudden you find some- thing.” 72 CR IMS O N ICE “You think—” Connor started to reply to Martin and then called to the man at the door, “Ask Duval to come in here.” Duval came in, still agitated by the strange events of the evening. “My men,” he began, “are getting nervous and impatient. They want to go back to the hotel.” “So do I, but I can't and neither can they until I am through with them. You'd think they murdered a man every day, to hear you talk.” “But —” “Never mind,” Connor cut him short. “They stay until I say go. I want some information from you.” “All right, all right,” Duval said nervously. “During the interval, at the time you talked to Le- maire after you sent for him, who was sitting next to him in the dressing-room?” “Let me see—” Duval thought for several minutes. “Come on, surely you ought to know that?” Connor prompted. “It is not so easy. I was very angry with Lemaire and was thinking of nothing else at the moment. Primeau, I think, was on one side of him and I think Lecoq- no, it was not Lecoq. He was at one side talking to Fallon. I don't remember who the other one was,” he ended after another considering pause. “You are sure about Lecoq2" “Positive. He is too friendly with Fallon, who wants to know too much just because he talks over the air. T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 73 He is like a washwoman, that Fallon, always asking questions and then telling all he knows.” “What kind of man is Primeau?” “A fine boy, minds his own business and plays a good game.” “Was he friendly with Lemaire?” “Yes.” Duval pursed his lips and shrugged his shoul- ders. “They were good friends.” “But not chummy?” “No.” Duval shrugged again. “You don't think there was any quarrel between them?” Dick made his first interruption. He moved forward and whispered to Connor. “Pardon me, Captain; I don't know what you are trying to find, but I hap- pened to remember what Duval said before. He said Fallon was standing behind him in the dressing-room. It was Fallon who remembered that Lemaire was drinking Coca Cola.” “Which proves what?” Connor asked testily. “You can prove Lecoq's position through Fallon.” “I get you.” Connor nodded and Dick moved back to his corner. “You just said that Lecoq was talking to Fallon? Where was Fallon?” “Fallon was somewhere in the rear and Lecoq was standing off to one side talking to him.” “But Lecoq was not next to Lemaire?” 74 CR IMS O N ICE “No. I'm sure he was not. I know—it was Black.” Duval's face lit up as memory came back to him. “There is something else I want to know before you go.” Connor paused for a moment and then went on. “Why did Lemaire have a private dressing-room?” “He liked to be alone.” “Was he a privileged player?” “No.” “Then why didn't he go to the general dressing-room during the rest period?” “He was speaking to a friend. It was the second time to-night that I had to send for him.” “Oh, it was?” “Yes, I had to send for him just before the game and then again at the last rest period.” Connor turned to Dick. “When did you talk to Lemaire?” “Just before the game and I saw him for a minute or two during that last rest period.” “What for?” “I wanted him to go out with us after the game,” Dick answered. “Didn't you ask him that the first time you saw him?” “We didn't have time then,” Dick replied. “A call boy came for him.” Connor turned back to Duval. “You said Lemaire was in an ugly mood to-night. Have you any idea what made him so cross?” T H E W E B O F EV IDEN CE 75 “No idea at all,” Duval answered. “All right, Mr. Duval,” Connor dismissed him. “This is a long-winded business,” Connor said with a shake of his head. “You’re doing fine, Captain,” Martin assured him in a slightly oily tone. “The only thing is, you are not used to this sort of thing and you are tired. You have had a hard day. This individual questioning takes a long, long time and you always find that you forgot to ask certain people important questions after they have gone and then you have to call them back.” “I always found in my experience that it never paid to let one suspect know what you thought of the other fellow,” Connor grumbled. “That's true, particularly when your suspects fear one another. This is a peculiar case and I rather think we would get along faster if we questioned the whole bunch of them together. The advantage would be your ability to judge them as a group, to see their reactions to your questions and to size up your men at all times. You could fire your questions at them and dart from one man to another, so that they wouldn't have time to think about answers or sense what your next ques- tion would be. Remember when you were in school how easy it was to be ready for your question if the teacher went through the class by the alphabet” The teachers who jumped about caught many a chap nap- 23. ping. T H E W E B O F EVIDEN CE 77 “Mr. Duval said you were sitting next to Lemaire.” “I was with Champlain and Pierre,” Black replied quietly. “That's right,” a voice broke in. “Who are you?” Martin snapped. “Pierre.” “And I'm Champlain,” another voice chimed in. “Black was between us at the back of the room on a bench.” “How about it, Duval?” Martin turned to the man- ager. “I must have been mistaken,” Duval said, clearly sur- prised. “I was on one side of him,” Coulter spoke up. “You are sure of that?” “Yes, because I warned him about Kellie just as Mr. Duval came up.” “I was on the other side of him,” Primeau offered. “If that will be of any help to you.” There was a muttering in one corner and Martin turned in the direction of the noise and said, “Quiet!” It was Kellie taking exception to Coulter's remark. “Lecoq,” Martin turned to him, “where were you during the last rest period?” “Talking to Fallon most of the time, telling him about the argument between Lemaire and Kellie.” “That's right,” Fallon offered without being asked. “Kellie,” Martin called. “Stand up!” Kellie, a surly scowl on his ruddy face, stood up. 78 CR IMS O N ICE “Did you ever have a row with Lemaire before?” “We usually managed to mix it up whenever we played,” Kellie replied. “Then this fight to-night was one of old standing?” “No, sir. We didn't mean anything by it.” “So you go around tripping people just for fun, is that it?” “No. He got my goat to-night.” “And you vowed you would get him for it, didn't you?” “I don't know.” “Didn't you say you would get him?” “I might have said it. I don't remember. But it didn't mean anything.” “It meant enough to kill a man.” “I didn't kill him,” Kellie came back. “Then who did?” “I don't know.” “Where did the knife come from?” “I don't know. Do you take me for a Dago?” It was evident that Kellie had the true Nordic dis- taste for knives. “How about the poison?” Martin fired at him. “What poison?” “What do you think killed Lemaire?” “How do I know?” Kellie replied sullenly. A policeman came to the door and called Connor to the telephone. 8o CR IMS O N ICE the last rest period. He says that though there are known cases where death has been long delayed the effects would appear almost immediately after taking, even in diluted doses. We must take up a new line now on our investigation.” “It’s a funny thing. I just told that bunch in there that Lemaire had been poisoned. I thought I might spot the guilty one, but they all seemed to have clear consciences.” “Well, we will go at them from the poison angle now. The laboratory report wasn't ready about the bottles, but it will be sent over here just as soon as it is.” They returned to the room and the men looked at them expectantly. “We must have all the information about Lemaire that we can get.” Martin addressed them all. “Which one among you knew Lemaire the best?” “No one was what you would call intimate with him,” Duval spoke up. “Did Lemaire chew gum?” Martin asked Duval, who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Does any one know? Black, how about you? Can you answer that?” “I don't believe he did,” Black replied. Coulter stood up. “He never chewed gum. I know because I’ve often offered it to him and he has refused, warning me that some day I would bite my tongue off if I continued to chew as I played.” T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 8 I “Did he like candy?” Martin tried a new line. “He liked Coca Cola, that we all know,” Duval offered. “Where did he get it?” “The pop boys always kept him supplied.” “I wonder if any of the boys are here?” Martin asked Lodge. “I think so. They wouldn't want to leave while there was any excitement. I’ll look.” Lodge left the room. “Try to remember.” Martin was pleading with them to help him. “Did Lemaire eat anything to-night after he came to the arena?” There was nothing but stony silence. Martin turned to Dick. “You said you talked to him before the game. Was he eating anything?” “No. He had the inevitable bottle of Coca Cola be- side him.” One or two of the men laughed. “What was he doing during the rest period?” “Nothing. We were interrupted. I had just spoken to him when the boy came.” Lodge came back. “The boys are outside.” “Have them in,” Martin ordered. An officer with several of the boys who sold refresh- ments came into the room. “Which one of you boys sold Lemaire his Coca Cola?” Connor asked. “I usually did,” a pink-faced lad replied, stepping forward. w 82 CR IMS O N ICE “How about to-night?” The boy took a slip of paper from his pocket and said, “One in his dressing-room, one during the rest periods; and two when he was in the penalty box; and one when he was on the bench.” “Why are you so sure?” Martin asked. “He paid me at the end of the game, so I had to keep a record. I'm out fifty cents to-night, I guess,” the boy said dolefully. Duval said, “Here,” and flipped him a half-dollar, which the lad caught with a grin and a “Thank you.” “You are sure your stock was all right?” Martin asked. “Sure; fresh from the cases.” The other boys laughed at that. “Have you boys any information about Lemaire or what happened?” Connor asked. There were no replies. “Any more questions?” Con- nor asked Martin, who shook his head. Connor dis- missed them, saying, “If you think of anything that happened and it seems important, let me know, please.” The men from both teams were restless. “If you fellows haven't any information for me, you might as well get going,” Martin said after a long pause. There was a sigh of relief and a general scrambling to get away. The Canadians jammed the door for a minute and the Boston players banged locker doors open and shut, getting out their hats and coats. T H E W E B O F E V ID E N C E 83 Duval, Snell, Armand, Fallon, Quirk and Steel were ready to follow the boys. “I’d like you chaps to wait a few minutes,” Martin said to them. When the last of the players had filed out, Martin turned to Armand, but before he spoke he saw the dejected figure of Lecoq sitting in the far corner on a bench. “Why don't you clear out, Lecoq P” Martin asked. “Because he said I was under arrest,” Lecoq com- plained. “Sorry, Lecoq. You can go along with the others,” Connor said. “It's too late now. I've missed my date.” However, he lost no time in getting out of the room. Armand was waiting for Martin to turn back to him. “What do you know about Lemaire's father?” “His father?” Armand seemed surprised. “Yes. Black tells us that you saw Lemaire's father just before he vanished. Is that right?” “Oh, that! I met him at a place called Gallup in New Mexico. He was going up into the Indian coun- try and I went with him as far as a place called Chin Lee. He left me there and went on alone.” “What was he doing there?” “He was prospecting. He had been in once and was on his way back with supplies when I met him.” “Was he ever found?” “No. Young Lemaire searched for him one whole 84 CR IMS O N ICE summer and finally gave it up as a bad job. There are all sorts of tales about that country. If Lemaire found gold I don't believe he would have been able to get out with it.” “Why not?” Martin asked. “Because of the Indians. They don't want white men in there messing around their reservations looking for gold, and I don't blame them.” “Do you think Mr. Lemaire found gold?” “Yes, I do.” “What makes you think so?” “He had a map of the country.” “What kind of a map?” “A detailed map, one that an old desert rat had given him years ago. Lemaire told me he had done the old man a favor.” “Why are you so sure he found gold?” Martin insisted. “He found gold, all right. I could tell by his actions. He was too cautious and he was afraid. He had a nug- get or two, but that need not prove anything, because you can buy them as souvenirs. He didn't mean to tell me about the map. The information slipped out while we were drinking. He tried to cover his slip by making me afraid of the Indians. He told me that men often vanished in the desert.” “Did you see the map?” “Oh, no.” Armand was emphatic. “He said he didn't have it with him.” T H E W E B O F EV II) E N C E 85 “And did you believe him?” Martin asked. “Not at first, but when we arrived at Chin Lee I did.” “What made you change your mind?” “Chin Lee is a trading-post and he could have got all of his supplies right there, but in spite of that he went all the way to Gallup.” “And what does that prove?” “Just this: If he found gold and knew there was danger he would want to protect his interests. As I have told the men when we have been discussing it, Lemaire probably went down to Gallup to send the map back to Gaston. He wouldn't want to mail it from Chin Lee.” “Then you have discussed this with the men on the team?” “Often,” Armand admitted. “We have talked about it many times.” “Did you talk to Lemaire about the meeting with his father?” “Yes, but not until after Lemaire joined the team. Lemaire spent a summer out there trying to find the old man.” “How about the map? Did Gaston Lemaire ever mention it to you?” “Yes, many times.” “Then his father did send it to him?” “Gaston denied all knowledge of the map and re- 86 CR IMS O N ICE fused to believe my story about his father's trip to Gallup.” “Did you believe his denials?” “Surely. He went out there to find his father and was unsuccessful. If he had or knew about the map, I think he would have found his father or the gold.” “Perhaps he found them both,” Martin suggested. “He didn't, I'm sure.” Armand was very positive. “Has Lemaire talked about his father or the map recently?” Armand turned to Fallon. “We were talking about it the other night, remember? I had to leave just after the subject was opened up. Did he say anything about it?” “He said he was going back to Arizona next sum- mer,” Fallon answered. “I asked him if he had had any new information, but he said no. He wanted to know what had happened to his father.” “Can you add anything to what Armand has told us?” Martin asked Fallon. “No. We got all our information from Armand,” Fallon replied. “But you knew the family better than I did,” Ar- mand cut in. “Gaston and his sister never discussed the matter at home,” Fallon retorted. Martin was growing weary of getting nowhere. He turned to Duval to stop the argument which seemed to be brewing between the two men. 88 CR IMS O N ICE ships him and, well—” Duval shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Just a moment, Henri,” Martin called to the boy. “Did you see Mr. Lemaire to-night just before the game?” “Yes, sir.” “Where?” “In his room once and then just before he went on the ice. I went to warn him that time was getting short.” “That is right,” Duval beamed. “I sent him.” “Was Lemaire alone?” “No. There was a man with him.” “Did you see the man?” “Yes. He was coming toward the door as I opened it.” “Did you hear any of the conversation?” “Yes, sir.” “What?” “The man was angry. He said something about lik- ing to see Monsieur Lemaire squirm, and then he said he would send him to hell.” “You would know the man if you saw him?” “Yes.” “Is he here now?” Henri looked at all the men. Dick knew what was coming. “Is he here?” Connor prompted. T H E W E B O F EV ID E N C E 89 Henri did not speak. He pointed at Dick and then dashed out of the room. “I may need that young man,” Martin warned Duval. “See to it that he is where I can find him when I want him.” “You mean to-night?” “No. But I'll want him to-morrow and I am making you responsible for him.” “Very well. He will be with Lecoq.” “When did you plan to leave Boston?” “To-morrow.” “Don’t. I'll have warrants out for all of you. That will be all for to-night—all of you except Bowers.” The men, glad to go, hurried away without even a backward glance at Dick. Lodge, however, stayed. He couldn't leave. “Well, Bowers? You certainly are a glutton for pun- ishment. What was the idea?” “What idea?” Dick asked back. “Hanging around until we caught you.” “Caught me?” Dick had not thought they would believe him guilty. “Yeah. You were a friend of his, eh? You didn't tell us that you had had a row with him, did you?” “Naturally not.” “Why didn't you?” “Because it had nothing to do with all this. Do you think I would have stayed here all this time if I had anything to fear?” 90 CR IMS O N ICE “Perhaps you were being smart,” Martin suggested. “How do you think you are going to get out of this?” “If you will only let me explain what happened you will believe me. Surely—” The telephone rang and Lodge, who was half asleep, reached over and answered it. “What? Yes. He's here. Just a minute.” He pushed the telephone toward Con- nor. “It’s for you, Captain.” Connor listened intently for several minutes and then said, “Say that again.” He hung up and turned to Dick. “What business are you in, Bowers?” “I’m with my father. We are silversmiths.” “And just what do you do?” “I’m in the office, the business end.” “You know the business pretty well, don't you?” “Yes,” Dick replied honestly even though he sensed what was coming. “I’ve worked in every department.” “Then you know something about silver polish?” “I know our own.” “Ever hear of prussic acid?” “Certainly. It is used in silver polish,” Dick replied. “Do you use it in your polish?” “We do.” “Why haven't you seen Lemaire in two years?” “I told you before. I was never in town when he was here.” “You saw him to-night.” “You have proof that I did and I have already told you so.” T H E W E B O F EV IID E N CE 9I “Did you have an argument?” “Yes.” “What was the last thing he said to you?” “He wrote finis to our friendship.” “Why?” “It would take a long explanation to make you un- derstand, but I would like to tell you.” “Why didn't you tell us before?” “There was no point in it, then,” Dick replied can- didly. “But now we know that you had an argument, now that you have been found out, you think it would be wise to tell us—is that right? Because you told him you would send him to hell, you think we will under- stand?” Dick did not answer. He knew that it would be use- less to talk. They didn't want to believe him, and he didn't blame them. “Lemaire was drinking a Coca Cola when you were in his room, wasn't he?” “There was a Coca Cola bottle there.” “I’m glad you admit that, at least.” Connor's tone became heavy and Dick wondered what the man was holding back. “Just what are you driving at?” Dick demanded. “You weren't quite smart enough, young fellow. That bottle I took from Lemaire's room contained prussic acid and Dr. Brady says that was undoubtedly the method which was used to kill Lemaire. You were in there with him. You were alone. You admit he was 92 CR IMS O N ICE drinking. You put the poison in the bottle and went out to your seat and you had a perfect alibi. You forgot one important thing, however. You should have taken the bottle with you.” “That's ridiculous!” “It's good, water-tight evidence. You're in a bad spot, Bowers. You had better come clean.” Dick's face blanched. He could feel the web tighten- ing in on him. On Friday night he had been in the shop and had helped a new man to make up a batch of polish. If Connor went to the shop and started ask- ing questions it would be very difficult to prove his innocence, because of the ease with which he could have procured the poison. “Well, what have you to say for yourself?” “That you are entirely wrong.” “We'll see about that.” There was triumph in Con- nor's voice. “You are the one man who had easy access to the poison and you had an argument with Lemaire to-night. You were in his room alone with him.” Con- nor shook his head. “And to think you nearly fooled us!” “But, Captain! That poison acts very quickly. Don't you see I couldn't have done it?” “No. I asked Brady about it and he says that there have been known cases where a long time elapsed before death took place, especially after diluted doses. You can't squirm out of this.” V UNDER SUSPICION Dick saw the uselessness of argument. The men were tired and impatient. It was reasonable that they should suspect him because of the accumulated evidence against him. He could see their point of view, but it made him angry, because he knew they were giving the real criminal a chance to escape or at least to cover himself so effectively that he would probably never be caught. Dick was silent during the ride to the station-house, where his name was entered on the book. “Do you want to make a statement?” Connor asked. “I most certainly do not, but I would like to tele- phone my father.” It was Dick's misfortune that the pressmen had taken Connor at his word and were all waiting at the police station when he and Martin arrived with Dick. At first they thought nothing of Dick's presence with the two men, but the moment they realized that Dick was being held on a murder charge they hot-footed it to telephones to get the news in the morning editions. Dick was permitted to use the desk telephone. It was answered almost immediately by a sleepy voice. “Dad,” Dick began, “I’ve been arrested. I'm now at 93 94 CR IMS O N ICE the police station on Commonwealth Avenue. No, I don't know what they are going to do with me. Just a minute.” He turned to Connor and asked, “Will I be kept here for the night or will I be sent somewhere else?” “You’ll stay here.” Dick spoke into the telephone again. “I’ll be kept here for the night, at least. Now, Dad, don't get ex- cited! I'll tell you the rest of it. They are holding me for the death of Gaston. . . . Yes, I know it's ridicu- lous, but they have evidence against me. . . . But they are within their rights, Dad. Now, don't get upset! Of course you can get me out in the morning! Call Judge Williams to-night if you like. It is very late and the morning will do. What I wish you would do, how- ever, and it is much more important—call Dr. Holley at the hospital and get hold of the best toxicologist in Boston. We will need him. No, I can't prove an alibi. They know I saw Gaston twice and they also know that I could have laid my hands on prussic acid if I wanted to. What is much worse, a bottle containing that poison was found in Gaston's room. Will you call Dr. Holley? . Fine—and, Dad—don't tell Aunt Priscilla until the morning. There is no need of getting her all worked up for the rest of the night. . . . You did receive a wire? What does she say? Well, if I’m not out of here you will have to meet her yourself.” He hung up the receiver after he had said good-night. “Now what?” he asked Connor. UN D E R S US PIC I O N 95 “A private cell for you.” All through the night Dick kept churning the whole insane business over and over in his mind. Who could have killed Gaston? He was reasonably sure of one thing. The poison was not in the bottle when he was in the room with Gaston. How did it get into the room, then? Was it done to incriminate him? When was it placed there? Was the murderer aware of his visit to Gaston's room? Then, there was the knife. Did it have any connection with Gaston's murder, or was it, as the police believed, a blind which was to cover the real cause of Gaston's death? Question after question milled through his tortured brain. Would Juliette believe him guilty? If she felt about him as Gaston had felt, would she refuse to speak to him, too? Would he ever know why Gaston had turned against him and had refused his offer of friend- ship? What was behind Gaston's odd behavior? Did it have anything to do with the murder? He wished he had had a chance to talk to George Black. It had been impossible during the time that Connor and Martin were questioning the men. Would Black know anything about Gaston's behavior? No, that was unlikely. Gaston did not give his confidences easily. It was going to be hard on Aunt Priscilla. The papers would be full of it. Headlines floated before his eyes. He knew she would hate it all. Would she be nice to Juliette? Would Juliette let any of them be friendly to 96 C R IMS O N ICE her? What an awful stupid mess it all was! There must be some reasonable answer to it all. But what? Who would benefit by Gaston's death? Juliette would in- herit all the money. Would they suspect even her when he had cleared himself? How had the knife been thrown? Why hadn't some one seen it in the air? Who could have done it and how did he manage to escape detection? Was it be- cause all eyes were trained on the group at one side of the ice that the murderer had had cover to throw the knife?. And that confounded Coca Cola bottle. How did the poison get in it? Gaston was poisoned after the game started. But the bottle—who put it in Gaston's room and why? The poison was quick to act, he knew that much about it because he had looked it up in the pharmacopoeia. The toxicologist would have to battle that out with the police. Would they hold him? Could they indict him for this murder? He became cold with fear. Could his life be snapped out now because there was piled up against him evi- dence, some of which he could explain and some which he could not? He thought of cases of circumstantial evidence. The furor connected with the Sacco-Vanzetti case came back to him. Perhaps those men were inno- cent. Certainly many people had believed them inno- cent. Authors, doctors, lawyers, all sorts of men in public life had fought for them. Were they killed un- justly? Were innocent men murdered by the State? He had accepted circumstantial evidence as unproved UN D E R S US PIC I ON 97 facts. Would he be able to prove the facts in his own case? He rolled and tossed between fitful naps. The night seemed endless. The wind howled and moaned about the eaves of the building ominously. Was it a sign? He tried to laugh at himself for being a superstitious fool. He would go mad if he started thinking about evil signs. What was getting into his head? He tried to think of other things. He thought of Juliette, but always the still, cold, strained face of Gaston came before her image. They resembled each other mark- edly. He tried to think of books and plays. What had he read? Titles passed before his eyes. Best-sellers jum- bled together in a chaotic mass. Why couldn't he think of something decent? Why was he afraid when he knew he had nothing to fear? - The next time he woke, startled by a particularly loud and vociferous gust of wind, the night had turned gray. He could hear the occasional clop-clop of horses' feet. He knew what the city was like at that hour of the morning. Down on Atlantic Avenue men were scurrying toward the docks. Boat whistles would be tooting. He tried to hear their muffled notes, but could not. The Common would be a bleak, cold bare spot in the half-light. An overnight bus from New York would probably be pulling around the corner in front of the Park Street Church. The patch of window became brighter. When would his father come? Would Judge Williams be able to 98 CR IMS O N ICE - do anything for him? The noises in the city increased. He could hear street-cars and automobiles and the gen- eral hum of the city. The drunk who had been brought in right after him groaned. Dick shivered and drew the coarse blanket up under his chin. He napped again and when he opened his eyes he knew the sun was shining. He jumped out of bed, wondering about the time. It was after seven. He dressed, or, that is, put on the balance of his clothes. He rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. He needed a shave, and a change of linen would be nice. What did you do about such things when you were in prison? And baths, how were they managed? An attendant came and asked Dick if he wanted some breakfast. Coffee. How good it would tastel His mind ran on. The man waited. “I’d like some coffee and toast if you could manage it.” The man waited. Dick dug into his pocket and fished out a dollar bill. “Would you get me some papers? I may as well know exactly what they are say- ing about me.” “It's plenty,” the man said, palming the bill. “I say,” Dick called after him. “Could I shave or something?” “After your breakfast,” the man called back. The place was full of strange noises. Voices com- plaining, voices demanding attention. Footsteps echoed about him. Where was his father? Had he been able UN DE R S US PIC I O N 99 to get Judge Williams and a toxicologist? What had Connor and Martin been doing during the night? Had they slept or had they worked during the long stretch to add new evidence to that already piled up against him? What would happen? Would they keep him in jail? It was nearly nine. He had had his breakfast and was waiting. The time dragged on and on. He thought about himself and all the stories he had heard about police abuses, third degrees and other experiences meted out to prisoners suspected of serious crime. Would that come later? Would they try to make him confess to a crime which he had not committed? Had his name and his father's influence anything to do with it? Were they afraid to try their tricks on him or were they just exaggerated stories he had heard? He wished he knew more about law and its intricacies. Perhaps Judge Williams would be unable to help him, after all. This was something more than a ticket for speeding or anything like that. But then he had heard stories, all sorts of stories, of murders being hushed up be- cause people had money and influence. But he didn't want this story hushed up. He wanted the murderer found, only he didn't want to be held for something he had not done. He looked again at the papers. His name and picture were in every one of them. What did Aunt Priscilla think of the implications under the picture of him standing at the spot where Gaston had fallen? “The 51104.3B IOO CR IMS O N ICE suspect returns to the scene of the crime,” one of them had said. People were believing it, thousands of people were reading those papers and shaking their heads in wonder. The clerks and men at the shop, they would be discussing it. Perhaps Volland, the new man, was telling the others how he, Dick, had spilled the prussic acid the other day when they were making the polish. Perhaps Volland was telling it to Martin or Connor. It was too ghastly. In the office the stenographers prob- ably had their heads together whispering—looking at his picture. The whole world had changed overnight. Yesterday he was sleeping soundly, snuggled deep under a warm fluffy coverlet. To-day he was a man accused of murder. Yesterday he had had his breakfast in his room at eleven-thirty. Now he was waiting anxiously to see what could be done to prove that he had had nothing to do with this crime. Could they get him out or would he have to wait endless days and go through the horror of a trial? And to think that it was because some one had murdered Gaston Lemaire. Gaston had been Dick's best friend at college. They had been inseparable companions. Dick had admired the easy grace and fine manners of the French-Cana- dian boy from the very start. Gaston's shyness, too, had appealed to him. Their friendship had been slow de- veloping, but it had ripened after their first year to- gether. For three years they had been pals. They UN D E R S US PIC I O N IOI worked, played and roomed together. They had been called Damon and Pythias. It had been so fine. Then he had met Juliette, Gaston's sister. Dick had never seen any one as lovely as Juliette. She had such white skin and such beautiful eyes, sad eyes until she laughed and then the most wonderful transformation took place in them. They became gay, bright, laughing eyes. Her face lit up, too, with an impish quality. He loved her immediately. He became her slave. He was happy, excessively so. He thought of the years ahead and how wonderful it would be to be married to the sister of his best friend. He dreamed of the things they would do together. Gaston, too, had been pleased about it. Dick was bubbling over with happiness during the time Juliette stayed in Hanover. Dick's father and his Aunt Priscilla had come up for a visit over the same week-end. They had had such a good time together, all of them. He had told Aunt Priscilla and she had laughed at him. Older people didn't understand young people in love. She had been sweet about it, though. Priscilla Bowers had mothered Dick from the time he was a small baby. He had never known any other mother. The happy time together had ended too quickly. Juliette had returned to Quebec, but not before Dick had poured out his heart to her. She had been ador- able as she listened, with her black hair outlining the beautiful contours of her white skin. Her sad eyes IO2 CR IMS O N ICE had been so lovely as he talked to her. She had looked at him so tenderly and had smiled at his impatience. He knew they would have to wait until he finished college. He told her about his family and their plan to have him marry Beulah Paige. He told her he would never marry anyone but her. He had kissed her good-by and she had promised to come back for his commencement. He lived in a dream world until the blow fell. Gaston's father had vanished. Before the term ended Gaston left college to start the long hunt for his father. Dick had wanted to go with Gaston, but Gaston would not hear of it. Dick had to finish the term and graduate. Then things be- gan to pile up. Dick wrote home and asked his father for permission to join Gaston. He had had a long letter from his father about Juliette. Mr. Bowers was willing for Dick to join Gaston after commencement, but he exacted a promise from Dick in payment. He wanted Dick to promise that he would not think of marriage for at least one year. Reluctantly Dick had promised. At commencement time Juliette did not come. Dick insisted that he be allowed to go to Quebec and tell Juliette that they must wait a year before they could be married. He was afraid to write it to her. He was afraid she would not understand. He could explain it all to her so easily if they could talk together. He had not been happy at commencement time. Juliette was not there and he had had no word from Gaston. Dick wrote letters to both of them and they UN DE R S US PIC I O N Io 3 did not answer. He knew they were worried and upset, but why didn't they take just a few minutes to write to him? He went to Quebec on a fruitless errand. Juliette was not there. Sick at heart, he had returned home expect- ing to find a letter from Gaston giving him instruc- tions. There was a letter, but not what he had expected. It was such a short, brief, cold note. Dick could not un- derstand it. Gaston told him to forget about his little flirtation with Juliette. He also said that Dick could not help him in his search for his father. Dick was stunned and then he received a short note from Juliette in which she said that she was surprised that he had taken their little flirtation so seriously. Dick wrote frantic letters to both of them, but it had done no good. They did not answer him. At last his pride came to his rescue and he stopped writing, but he did not forget. What had he done? He wrote and asked them, but he received no answer. And last night he had met that same stony silence when he had talked to Gaston. It was so unfair to be judged without a hearing. Gaston had been so cool and distant. He had refused to discuss the matter. He had not been interested in Dick's pleading. He had been very definite about his feelings and had made Dick understand that the matter was closed for all time. Then Dick had been enraged and had stormed at Gaston. He had been very bitter. He had told Gas- ton that he would find a way to force the story out IO4 CR IMS O N ICE of him. He intended to show Gaston how wrong he had been and then he would see Gaston in hell before he would have anything more to do with him. He had been making that wild and extravagant speech when the boy Henri had opened the door. That had happened before the game. During the game Dick had been sorry and a little ashamed of his anger. He went back during the rest period to apologize and to plead with Gaston once more. The whole thing was so futilely silly. He had done nothing. He was sure of that. If he hadn't gone back the second time he would never have been arrested. Why had things conspired to make him seem guilty? Quick steps in the hall broke into his train of thought. The orderly came and handed him a small bag. It had been opened and examined, he could see that at once. Did they think he would try to commit suicide? Clean linen—that was fine. Aunt Priscilla had thought of that. Were they downstairs? Would he be allowed to see them? In a little while the attendant came back grinning and opened the door. Dick followed him gladly. Aunt Priscilla, tall and slightly gaunt, with the ha- bitual black band about her throat, was there with his father. He smiled and gave Aunt Prissy a bear hug. She trembled, he could feel it, but she said nothing. She was dry-eyed, and her mouth was clamped shut in grim determination. She wouldn't cry and Dick was glad of it, but it was good to see her and know that UN D E R S US PIC I O N Io; - she was there. He put his arm around his father. He wanted to ask a hundred questions, but somehow he couldn't do it just then. He was too full of emotion to trust himself. The man at the desk said, “You will have to wait. Captain Connor will be here in a little while.” “May we sit down?” Dick asked. They were ushered into a little room just behind the desk. “Did you get Dr. Holley?” Dick inquired as soon as they were seated. “Yes, and he will have Dr. Gaige here at ten o'clock. Judge Williams is doing all he can for you. We will have you out of here this morning even if you are not freed of the charge.” “Dick,” Priscilla said, “however did you get yourself into this? What did you do that makes them so sure you, of all people, have done this horrible thing?” Dick began at the beginning and told them what had happened in Gaston's room. He detailed the con- versation they had had and then went on and told the whole story, winding up with his identification by Henri as the man who had been quarreling with Le- maire. “And the bottle found in the room contained prussic acid P” Dick's father asked. - “Yes, and after I told them we were silversmiths and admitted we used it in metal polish they were sure I was the murderer.” Io9 CR IMS O N ICE - “But the poison works so rapidly,” Mr. Bowers ob- jected. “I know it, but Connor and Martin didn't seem to know it last night and I doubt if they will know it this morning. Dr. Gaige will be sure to come?” he asked anxiously. “He'll be here. Judge Williams has arranged for a hearing at ten o'clock. We will have bail ready, so don't worry.” “It will be good to get away from this place.” Priscilla patted his arm and smiled. “You’ve no idea why Gaston acted toward you as he did last night?” Mr. Bowers asked. “No. Perhaps they just don't like me. Maybe I have been a fool and thought because I liked them so much they would like me. There is no reason why they should.” “Why shouldn't they like you?” Priscilla demanded. “What's the matter with you?” “I must have done something unwittingly that hurt Gaston very much. If I only knew what it was! I hope Juliette knows and will tell me.” Priscilla Bowers did not look up. Her head was bent. She looked at her hands folded in her lap as she spoke. “If she is as proud as her brother and has his fineness of feeling, she won't tell you.” There was conviction in her voice and something quite final, too. Dick looked at her and tried to see her eyes, but she kept her head down. “Aunty, what do you mean?” UN DE R S US PIC I O N Io.7 “This is all my fault,” she said. “It is the price I am paying for not minding my own business.” “Good guns, what are you talking about?” Mr. Bowers exclaimed. “Priscilla”—there was no mistaking the command in his voice—“what have you been doing?” “Meddling.” “Yes, but how and when? What do you mean? Come out with it!” Mr. Bowers was excited. “Now, Father,” Dick remonstrated. He leaned over and took one of the long thin hands which he knew so well. Her fingers closed over his and they exchanged a silent pressure. They had done it a hundred times when Dick was a small boy, only then she was giving assurance and courage to Dick. Now the situation was reversed. “What have you been doing, Priscilla Bow- ers?” Dick assumed a deep voice and tried to make it amusing. “It isn't easy to tell you.” She clung to his hand. “I didn't know, Dick; I didn't believe that you really loved that girl. I thought it was just an infatuation which you would outgrow. You were so young and they seemed so foreign, so unlike ourselves.” “Aunty, you didn't—” Dick's thoughts had raced ahead of her speech. “Yes, Dick, I did. I wrote to them both. I thought they were nice letters. I never imagined— How could I know what would happen? After all—” She was be- yond her depth. IoS CR IMS O N ICE “Good heavens, what did you say to them?” Dick was dumfounded even though he had already guessed what she had said in those letters. He could see them written in Priscilla's precise script, cold, clear and to the point. “I told them both that I thought your infatuation was a mistake. That we had made you promise to do nothing about it for a year, and I assured them that at the end of the year it would be forgotten.” “Oh, Aunty, you didn't!” “I did, Dick, I did. I didn't want to see you getting into something that I was sure would be a horrible mis- take. They were different from us and I was sure your life would be spoiled. I thought of our family and our position in society and such a marriage seemed all wrong. I wanted you to marry an American girl, a girl of family and background.” She was crying softly then. “What a snob you are!” Dick said accusingly. “What do family and background have to do with love! Why didn't you ask me about them? I suppose you think all French-Canadians are alike. The Lemaire family is hundreds of years older than ours, if that means any- thing. What were we, two hundred years ago? Nothing. Why, we are the scum of the earth compared to them, if you are going to lay such stress on family!” “I’m sorry, Dick. I didn't know,” she sobbed. “Well, it's done. At least I know now why he wouldn't tell me what it was. He didn't want to hurt UN DE R S US PICI ON Io9 me. And I said such horrible things to him. Oh, it isn't fair!” “Now, son,” Mr. Bowers cautioned. “Did you know about it, too?” Dick demanded of his father. “No.” “I had to tell you, Dick. I can see now how I mis- judged them. When you see Juliette you can tell her I have told you all about it. I'm sure she would never let you know otherwise.” “She will probably refuse to come to the house now,” Dick said dolefully. “Let me talk to her. I'll go with you. I'll tell her the truth. If she is the right kind of girl she will under- stand,” Priscilla pleaded. “She has her pride, too, but we will try.” His hand, which had been limp in her convulsive grasp, tightened and he squeezed her fingers again. She smiled through her tears at that slight pressure and asked, “Will you forgive me, dear?” “If you promise never to interfere again.” There was no way of telling how serious he was. “I promise,” she said quickly. “I’ll do anything to make amends now, since it is all my fault.” “It is not your fault. You had nothing to do with it,” Dick remonstrated. “It was my fault.” Priscilla was not to be denied her full blame for Dick's troubles. “If I had minded my IIo CRIMS ON ICE own business this couldn't have happened,” she in- sisted. “It had nothing to do with his death, so get that out of your mind once and for all,” Dick said sternly. “But you wouldn't have been mixed up in it. This disgrace wouldn't have been heaped upon us. If you had been friends you wouldn't be sitting in a police sta- tion accused of murder.” She started to cry again. Dick was uncomfortable. He had seen Priscilla cry only once before in his whole life and that was when her father had died. “Stop crying,” he ordered. “Your nose is getting red. The men will be here any minute now. Do you want them to see you like this? Come on, now. Wipe your eyes,” he coaxed. “We will forget all about it.” He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face to meet his. Her eyes were pained and hurt as he looked into them. He kissed her. Priscilla moved over to the barred window and looked out into the alley that ran along the side of the building. Mr. Bowers shook his head when he and Dick exchanged glances. Dick understood. “What did she say in the telegram?” he asked after a long moment of silence. Mr. Bowers pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Dick. Dick read it, folded it carefully and put it in his own pocket. “Some one will have to meet her. Will you, if I'm not out?” UN DE R S US PIC I ON III Mr. Bowers nodded. “It will be hard for the poor girl, although she probably knows all about it by now.” “Yes, everything,” Dick said bitterly. “But she won't believe you could have had anything to do with it,” Mr. Bowers assured him. - “I hope not,” Dick sighed. An attendant came to the door and spoke to Mr. Bowers. “Judge Williams is here, sir.” When they went into the main room Judge Wil- liams was already deep in conversation with Captain Connor. He stopped, said “Hello” to Dick, and intro- duced Dr. Gaige, who had come with him. “Brady ought to be here any minute,” Connor said. “But you can't intend to hold this man,” Judge Wil- liams remonstrated. “It is ridiculous on the face of it. I have one of the greatest toxicologists in the world here with me to prove my point.” “We'll wait until Brady arrives.” Connor was mak- ing no promises. “I arrested him on Brady's word.” “I know nothing about the procedure of law,” Gaige spoke up, “but I do know poisons. Unless you can account for every minute of the young man's time, I don't see how you can hold him.” Brady came in with a portfolio and Dick sighed with relief. He wanted to be out. He wanted to have a chance to think. He wanted to be able to meet Juliette. He wanted to talk to her; to make her under- stand if possible why his aunt had written those aw- ful letters. - II 2 CR IMS O N ICE The men at the desk were talking. Dick caught a bit of the conversation. “Dr. Brady, you and Dr. Gaige can compare notes. Dr. Gaige is an expert on poison and will prove you are wrong. He has been hired by Mr. Bowers. I have asked Duval to come here with the boy Henri and I expect Dr. Armitage too. I told them ten o'clock—they have a few minutes.” Brady went to a low desk at the end of the rail while Gaige studied a paper that Brady handed him. His report, Dick supposed. He kept watching the clock. Why didn't the others come? The door opened, but it was only a policeman. Gaige and Brady were talking. It all seemed very casual and yet his life was hanging on that conversation. The door opened again and this time it was Duval, Armitage and the boy Henri, looking a little frightened. “Now,” Connor said, “I think we are all here.” Gaige moved forward. “I would like to tell you something about hydrocyanic acid.” Brady nodded. “Very well,” Connor agreed. Gaige told them simply and quickly the effects of the poison and ended by saying, “And I think these members of my profession will agree that I am right.” “That's correct,” Armitage agreed without waiting to be asked. “What have you to say, Brady?” “Gaige is right,” Brady agreed. Judge Williams then spoke. “If the poison acts as quickly as you gentlemen agree, there is only one con- II 2 CR IMS O N ICE The men at the desk were talking. Dick caught a bit of the conversation. “Dr. Brady, you and Dr. Gaige can compare notes. Dr. Gaige is an expert on poison and will prove you are wrong. He has been hired by Mr. Bowers. I have asked Duval to come here with the boy Henri and I expect Dr. Armitage too. I told them ten o'clock—they have a few minutes.” Brady went to a low desk at the end of the rail while Gaige studied a paper that Brady handed him. His report, Dick supposed. He kept watching the clock. Why didn't the others come? The door opened, but it was only a policeman. Gaige and Brady were talking. It all seemed very casual and yet his life was hanging on that conversation. The door opened again and this time it was Duval, Armitage and the boy Henri, looking a little frightened. “Now,” Connor said, “I think we are all here.” Gaige moved forward. “I would like to tell you something about hydrocyanic acid.” Brady nodded. “Very well,” Connor agreed. Gaige told them simply and quickly the effects of the poison and ended by saying, “And I think these members of my profession will agree that I am right.” “That's correct,” Armitage agreed without waiting to be asked. “What have you to say, Brady?” “Gaige is right,” Brady agreed. Judge Williams then spoke. “If the poison acts as quickly as you gentlemen agree, there is only one con- UN DE R S US PICIO N II3 clusion to be drawn. The poison must have been taken just before Lemaire went onto the ice the last time.” He turned to Dick. “Where were you during the last rest period?” “I went back to see Lemaire for a moment.” “How long were you with him?” Judge Williams asked. - “Not more than a minute.” “Can you prove that?” “Why, yes. I think I can. I caught Lemaire just as he was about to go in the main dressing-room. We went down the hall toward his private room, but we didn't go in. We were talking when the boy came for Lemaire.” “Have you any proof that you did not go into the room the last time?” Judge Williams insisted. “Perhaps the boy remembers seeing us go down the hall,” Dick suggested. “After Lemaire left you, what did you do?” “I started back for my seat and met Archie Cabot. I chatted with him until the game was about to con- tinue. You can call Cabot. He will verify that part of the story.” Judge Williams called Henri and smiled at the pert- faced little youngster. “You saw this gentleman in Le- maire's private room last night?” “Yes, sir,” Henri replied quickly. “You told Captain Connor that the gentlemen were quarreling, I believe.” II.4 CR IMS ON ICE - “Yes, sir, they were.” “When was that?” “Before the game started,” Henri replied promptly. “Did you see this gentleman again last night?” Henri turned his bright black eyes toward Dick. “Yes, sir.” “When?” “At the beginning of the last rest period. Mr. Duval was very angry and he was walking up and down the dressing-room when suddenly he said, ‘Now, where in hell is Lemaire?’” The assembled gathering laughed at that, but Judge Williams after a moment's wait went on with the questioning. “What happened?” “Some one said that Lemaire had met a friend out- side. I knew Mr. Duval would send me for Lemaire, so I started for the door.” “Didn't you wait to be told what to do?” the Judge asked. “I heard him telling me as I went out of the door,” Henri replied. “I went into the corridor and Lemaire and this man were there going toward Lemaire's room. Lemaire couldn't walk very fast because he was wear- ing his skates,” he explained. “They had just reached the door when I caught up with them.” “Did they go into the room?” “No.” Henri stopped for a moment. “I-er—” “Go on,” the Judge prompted. UN DE R S US PICI ON II 5 “Mr. Bowers turned away, saying, “Then I can't per- suade you, but Lemaire did go into his room for a minute.” - “What did he do in there?” “He opened his bag and took out a fresh handker- chief,” Henri replied. “Did he eat or drink anything at that time?” “No, sir.” “Very good, Henri. That will be all now.” Judge Williams turned to Dr. Gaige. “Dr. Gaige, you are sure that the poison could not have been taken from forty to fifty minutes before the reaction set in?” “Positive.” “Not even if it were a diluted dose?” Judge Williams insisted. “Dr. Brady tells me that it was a diluted dose. I have never heard of the reaction being delayed for more than ten minutes,” Dr. Gaige answered, “even when a small quantity was taken.” “Do you agree to that, Dr. Brady?” the Judge asked. “I do,” Brady replied. The Judge sat back and thought for a moment be- fore he went on. He had his facts marshaled before he spoke. “We have agreed on the poison and its effects,” he said. “We know that Richard Bowers was in that room with Lemaire before the game and we know that he went toward the room with Lemaire during those II6 CR IMS O N ICE last important minutes of Lemaire's life. I think you will agree that we have proved through our young witness that Bowers did not enter the room a second time.” Connors interrupted. “Bowers could have put the poison in the bottle when he was there the first time.” “Our young friend has told us that Lemaire did nothing in the room that second time except get a clean handkerchief. The boy was sure about that point, if you will recall it. As I see it,” Judge Williams continued after giving Connors a chance to speak if he wanted to do so, “we are dealing with a time element. I don't see how Bowers could have poisoned Lemaire if the evidence we have is true. If Bowers had poisoned him Lemaire would not have been able to get back into the game. He must have taken the dose just before he went back on the ice. Are you satisfied, Connors, that Bowers could not have administered the poison?” “No.” “Very well. What have you to suggest?” the Judge asked patiently. “The boy identified Bowers as the man who was in Lemaire's room quarreling with him. We found the poison bottle in there and the boy's evidence is the only thing resembling a motive that we have been able to unearth. I want to be sure there was no way for Bowers to have poisoned him.” The Judge turned to Brady. “Were you there when Lemaire was stricken?” UN DE R S US PIC I O N 117 Brady denied it, saying, “Dr. Armitage was in at- tendance.” “May I question Dr. Armitage?” Dr. Gaige re- quested. The Judge nodded his agreement to the request. “Dr. Armitage,” Gaige said, “I understand that the young man was stabbed. You were probably thinking about that when you examined him. Do you mind telling us what you noticed about his general condition while you worked over him?” “The first obvious thing was the slowness of the pulse,” Armitage began. “His pupils were dilated and his eyes were wide open and seemed insensible to the light. He was unconscious at the time. His skin was cold and cyanotic. I gave him a heart stimulant at the first opportunity.” “Thank you.” Gaige took a handbook out of his pocket and, marking a passage, handed it to Connor to read. When Connor finished reading, Gaige went on, “As you see, it is possible for reaction to be delayed for a few minutes. Dr. Armitage has described the reac- tions perfectly. Your autopsy confirms all he has had to say. You have in your possession a bottle containing the poison. I think you must now agree that Bowers could not have poisoned the young man.” “You are quite sure, Dr. Gaige, that Bowers could not have done it?” Judge Williams asked. “I am positive,” Dr. Gaige answered. Connor was not willing to give in too quickly; after II.8 CR IMS ON ICE all, he had spent the night building up a case against Dick. He turned to Duval. “How long was Lemaire in the dressing-room with you during that last rest period?” “Probably three minutes,” Duval answered. “How did he act?” “He was upset and I was scolding him—you must remember that,” Duval replied. “Was he sick? That's what I'm trying to get at,” Connor said impatiently. “No. He was not sick.” “You told me last night that he was drinking Coca Cola at the time.” “He was.” “I guess I will have to give in,” Connor said reluc- tantly. He turned to Judge Williams. “I’m afraid I have made a mistake.” Then he turned to Dick. “I’m sorry, Bowers. I was wrong.” “That's quite all right, Captain. I didn't blame you last night and I don't blame you now. As a matter of fact, I was horribly worried because the evidence made things look so black for me.” He gave a great sigh of relief. “I didn't sleep all night, wondering how I could clear myself.” Connor was still puzzling the thing over in his mind. “I wish I knew how that bottle got into Lemaire's dressing-room.” “That,” said Judge Williams, “is something for you and Detective Martin to worry about. Answer that question and you will have your murderer.” VI JULIETTE Dick was not released until Connor had checked his further alibi through Archie Cabot and had been firmly convinced by Gaige, Armitage and even Brady that it would have been physically impossible for Dick to have been the murderer. Connor asked about the possibility of using capsules. They proved to his satis- faction capsules were out of the question. And even if Dick or any one else had given Lemaire a capsule, they would hardly have put extra poison in a bottle and left it in Lemaire's room. Connor suggested that perhaps some one knew of Dick's appointment with Lemaire and had planted the bottle. Dick had to kill that idea, because he explained to Connor that not even Lemaire knew that he was going to visit him. Dick was eager to get going. He went home and shaved and then went downtown to see George Black. He had plenty of time before Juliette's train arrived in the evening and he wanted to make good use of it. He had no idea what the police would do now; but he would and could follow up ideas of his own. The members of both teams had been forbidden to leave the city. George Black was in his room when Dick tele- phoned him. Dick went up at once. A special edition of an early afternoon paper lay on II9 I2O CR IMS O N ICE the bed and Dick could see a sweeping headline which said: YOUNG BOWERS RELEASED “Glad to see you, George. I couldn't do anything more than smile at you last night.” “Were you under suspicion all the time—even then?” Black asked. “No. I ran down on the ice when Gaston fell and stuck to them the rest of the time.” “It is very strange.” “I wanted to talk to you about it, George. I want to find the man who killed him. I'd like to do it, in any event, but I also want to clear my own name. There will be a lot of people who will think I got out of this because my father is a rich and influential man.” “It seems to be a hopeless case,” Black said. “But it shouldn't be, George. You were somewhere near him all the time, weren't you?” - “Yes.” “Did anything unusual happen?” “No. Gaston did not seem to be himself. He has been brooding and worrying lately, but last night he seemed not himself. He was spiteful and he was never like that.” “It may have been because of me. I got pretty mad at him when he refused to tell me why he had been treating me so coolly,” Dick said regretfully. “He rarely gave reasons for any of his actions.” J U L IETTE I 2 I “Do you know why he was worried?” “No. He didn't say.” “I wonder what could have been troubling him?” “It may have been money,” Black suggested. “Money! He was wealthy!” Dick brushed the idea away. “He was, but since his father disappeared he has suf- fered tremendous losses.” “Just how bad?” “That I don't know. The members of the team have been talking about it lately. Lecoq and Fallon seem to know more about it than any one, and they say Le- maire was about broke.” “Do you think Lecoq knew what he was talking about? They weren't what I would call the best of friends.” “That I don't know. Lecoq might have means of getting such information.” “Just what is the story of Lemaire's father? I never knew any of the details until last night and then what I did get was very sketchy.” “It goes back to the time when we were in college. You doubtless remember that his father had supposedly vanished?” “Yes, that was the year we graduated.” “Lemaire left before the end of the semester to search for his father. I went back to my people. I don't know whether you knew that or not.” I 2.2 CR IMS O N ICE - “You told me that was what you were going to do,” Dick replied. “It didn't work out,” Black said regretfully. “But that has nothing to do with the story except that it explains how I happened to meet Gaston that summer. I am a Hopi, as you know, and my people live near the White Cave Springs. That is our land and we have cattle and sheep there. I was trying to adjust myself to the new life with an idea of staying with my people. I was a stranger to them, and their ways were strange to me. I tried, but it was no use. Education seems to be bad for the Indian. I saw other members of my tribe trying to adjust themselves after having been away to school, and most of them took to drink. Some of them were executed by the tribe because they stole jewelry from the graves. I didn't want any of those things to happen to me. I spent a great deal of time riding about by myself. There was nothing else for me to do. I know the country well, anyhow, and I have always loved it. I rode miles and miles, trying to find in the peace and solitude of the desert an answer to my problem. On one of these long rides I came across a small pack- train. It was Gaston, his sister and a guide. “They had been out all summer looking for some trace of their father. I took them back to our camp and helped them for the balance of the summer. Gaston felt sure that his father had gone to the Painted Desert, but he found no trace of him anywhere.” J U L IETTE I 23 “Do you think he was looking for, or found, gold?” Dick asked. “I don't know. There is gold in our country. And silver, but my people guard it carefully.” “You know the story Armand tells about the map— could it be true?” Black considered for a moment. “There are many stories of gold in that country. Have you ever seen a desert rath” “Yes. I saw one in Kingman, Arizona.” “Well, those men know the desert as well as the In- dians do, some of them better, but I have never known one of them to find gold and become rich.” “Why?” “Either they never find it or if they do they never live to tell about it.” “Do you mean, George, that the Indians would kill a man rather than let him take gold out of the desert?” “It isn't the gold we mind. It is the people who come for it. We are being crowded out of existence now. Soon all my people will be dead. We were not made for civilization.” “But what harm could the gold-miners do?” “You have never seen what happens to the Indian when he sees too much of white men. What do you think of the Indians you see in Santa Fé or at the rail- road station in Albuquerque? You need not answer. I know what you would say. “Picturesque, and let it go at that.” I24 CR IMS O N ICE “Well, then, do you think it is possible that Mr. Lemaire did find gold and was killed?” “Either that, or he was lost and died of thirst, as many men do.” “You have talked to Armand about the map story?” “Yes.” “Do you believe him?” “Why not?” “I don't know; I was just wondering.” “Gaston had a letter from his father mailed from Gallup at the time Armand said he saw him there. It is probably true enough.” “Do you think it is possible that some one did give or send Mr. Lemaire a map of that country?” Dick asked. “It is possible, yes. I knew a desert rat once, when I was a boy, who had found gold. He only took enough out of it at a time to buy supplies for himself. The gold did not mean anything to him. He loved the country and hated to see other men come in looking for the gold. He wanted peace and solitude. When he was lonesome he came to visit with us and told us strange tales of the world outside. It would have been pos- sible for such a man to have told some one where his gold was hidden. It is not easy to find in that country,” Black said with assurance. “I suppose the other men on the team talked about Gaston quite a bit?” “Naturally. After all, he isn't the type one usually finds on a professional hockey team.” J U L IETTE I25 “No. That's true. Did they ever talk to Armand, ask him questions about Gaston's father, gold and the desert?” “Yes. At times they did. What makes you ask?” “Because, George, I think Gaston's father is con- nected with his death in some way.” “How could that be?” Dick shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe I have a hunch.” He looked at his watch. “Gaston's sister ar- rives this evening.” He was restless with George and felt he must go. “It is a terrible thing for her. Give her my sym- pathy.” “I will, George. I hope she will stay with us while she is here. Why don't you come over and see us?” “Perhaps I will.” As he said it Black's manner seemed to change and he became the man he had been the night before when he was being questioned. “I’m sure she will be glad to see you. I don't know what her plans are, but I'd be glad to telephone you.” “It won't be necessary,” Black answered. “I hope I'll see you again before you leave town. If I don't, call me when you come back again, will you?” “If I come back.” What the devil did he mean? Dick asked himself as he went down in the elevator. Why shouldn't he come back? Why didn't he want to meet Juliette? It was obvious that he did not. 126 CR IMS O N ICE His mind filled with George and his changed atti- tude, Dick walked plumb into Fallon as he stepped off the elevator. “Well,” Fallon said. “I saw you had been released. The papers are full of it. Congratulations.” “Thanks.” They stepped to one side of the lobby. “What are you doing here? Sleuthing?” Fallon asked. “Yes and no,” Dick answered. “I’ll never be satis- fied until I find the murderer of Gaston. I have a double reason. I want to clear myself and I would like to bring the man to justice.” “I don't blame you. It was a horrible thing to do and it seems so pointless.” “I wonder if it is as pointless as it seems,” Dick said. “I’ve just been up talking to Black. I'd like to get the story of that map straight. I believe it has some- thing to do with the crime.” “There was a map,” Fallon offered. “Lemaire told me about it years ago. As a matter of fact, I thought it was just one of his stories.” “Do you mean Gaston?” Dick asked. “No. The father. He was a great boy for telling tall tales. A regular Munchausen.” “It seems to be true enough,” Dick suggested. “Except that no one has seen it,” Fallon replied. “Black just told me that Gaston received a letter from his father from Gallup at the time Armand saw the old man there.” J U L IETTE 127 “That dates back to college, doesn't it?” Fallon asked. “Why, yes, it does,” Dick agreed. “Then you ought to know something about it. Did Gaston receive such a map?” “If he did he didn't tell me anything about it.” Dick racked his memory for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m sure he would have told me about it if he had received it. He always showed me anything un- usual that he received.” “But suppose it was as valuable as they say it was,” Fallon suggested. “He may have kept it a secret.” “At that time the Lemaires were so wealthy that a little thing like a gold mine would not have interested them. Gaston would have thought it a joke.” Dick was very positive. “Well, perhaps you are right,” Fallon agreed. “But they tell me men do queer things for gold.” “I never knew any one who cared less for money than Gaston.” “Times are different now, you know,” Fallon re- minded him; “and, besides, when you have always had it you are not apt to attach much importance to it.” “I suppose that is true.” Dick was thoughtful. “It's going to be bad for Juliette,” Fallon said. The mention of her name in that familiar way shocked Dick and he would have been at a loss to ex- plain just why. J U L IETTE I29 “Yes.” “I’d like to be with you when you meet her,” Fallon said. - “If you don't mind, I'd rather be alone. I haven't seen her for some time and— I'd rather not talk about my reasons.” “I understand,” Fallon said magnanimously. “Ex- plain my absence, will you?” “Surely. I must be going now.” Dick knew his voice was becoming coolly polite. “And, say, I'd like to help you with your sleuthing,” Fallon said. “You know more about the case than any one outside the police.” “I think I have seen more than the police,” Dick answered. “I have to collect a few more facts, but I have ideas already. The important thing about the murder is the question of time. That came out when they were getting me off.” “Well, it was a close squeak for you. You were lucky to get out of it so quickly. Give my love and sympathy to Juliette. I'll telephone her late this evening.” “I would suggest coming over, only I think she will be very tired,” Dick answered. “See you later!” With a wave of his hand, Fallon moved toward the elevators. “I never thought of him as a rival,” Dick mused as he left the hotel. “I hope I'm not too late. It can't be —he's too old. He's years older than she is.” Dick went home and tried to read, but it was im- J U L IETTE I3 I In the cab on the way to the station Dick thought about Juliette and the difficulty of meeting her. Would she go home with him or would she insist on going to a hotel? If she would only believe him when he told her about Aunt Priscilla and her misguided inter- est in his welfare. Dick paced up and down the platform waiting for the train. The bulletin-board said it would be on time. He hoped that she would not have seen a paper, but she probably had heard all about his connection with the case. How would she act? What would she be like now after two years and more? Was he a fool, after all? Did she love Fallon? Was he too late? The great locomotive steamed down the rails, the white steam condensing in clouds about it. Dick ran down to the Pullman section and waited. He was watching all Pullmans, so that he would not miss her. Their eyes met and he knew he had not been a fool. He ran to her and took both of her hands in his, search- ing her eyes for what he hoped to find there. She was paler than ever and her eyes were sad, even when she smiled at him. He had always remembered her eyes. Sad until she smiled, and then they were gay and lovely. But not this time. They didn't speak, either of them. A porter hovered near her bags and Dick waved his hand at them. “Are these yours?” he asked her. Strange words to be the first he should say to her after waiting so long. I32 CR IMS ON ICE She nodded and they followed behind the porter. “We will take a cab,” he found himself saying. Why couldn't he say all the things he wanted to say to her? Did other people act as he was acting? Why was it so easy to be casual? To go on talking about things like cabs when he wanted to tell her that he loved her, had loved her all this time. He wanted to talk about Gaston, too. Why couldn't he do it? Would they ride on and never say a word? At last he knew what was the matter with him. He was afraid not only of what Juliette might think of him, but more than that he was afraid to talk to her about what had happened. He saw himself clearly for a moment as a shirker. He mentally gritted his teeth and said, “I want you to stay at our house while you are here.” “I’d rather not,” she answered quietly. “I think a hotel would be better.” “Juliette!” He put all of himself into the word. “Yes, Dick.” “We can't go on like this. At least, I can't. It's so strange. I shouldn't want to talk about myself, but I do. I want you to know certain things.” He raced on and told her of his arrest, Aunt Priscilla and all the rest of it. “Don’t you see?” he ended. “You will have to come to our house.” “Very well, Dick. Nothing really makes any differ- ence to me now.” “I know,” he said and was silent. I34 CR IMS ON ICE “No.” “I saw George Black this afternoon and he told me that Gaston was worried about something. Do you know what it was?” “Gaston wrote to me last week and said that strange things were happening to him. He said that he felt as if he was being watched. He said that his things were searched at his hotel. It made him very uncom- fortable. It would, you know.” “Had he been robbed?” “No. That was the thing he couldn't understand. He said nothing had been taken. It happened several times.” “I wonder why?” Dick was thoughtful. “I don't know. The last time the Blue Devils played in Quebec I went to the game. Then I went to the station with Gaston. The team left on the night train for Montreal. It leaves at eleven-fifty. When I returned home the house had been searched from top to bot- tom.” “Did you tell Gaston about it?” “No. I didn't want to worry him. It was important for him to have a free mind. We have needed the money he made playing.” “I have heard that you had lost your money, but I didn't think it was as bad as that.” “It is. Practically all we ever owned has gone.” “But why?” “Gaston says it was bad management on the part of J U L IETTE I 35 our guardians. You know, Gaston would have been twenty-one on January first.” “That's right, he was a New Year's child, wasn't he P” “He worried about the money, but there was nothing he could do about it. Of course, he has never given up the idea of finding Father. But with no funds it is a difficult thing to do.” “What do the trustees of your estate say about finances?” “They blame it all on the depression. Gaston was prepared to take things over himself next year.” “No wonder he was worried. Do you suppose he had something relative to the estate which the trustees if they were not honest would want?” “I can't imagine what it would be.” “Do you have anything that belonged to your father that might be valuable now?” “I have some mining shares which he gave me years ago as a joke. He told me they would make me rich some day.” “Where are they?” Dick thought he might be on the trail of something interesting. “In my safe-deposit box.” “Do you know if they have become valuable?” “No. I just put them there with some of my other things about a year ago. I was going through my desk one day and came across them. I kept them for senti- mental reasons.” 138 CR IMS O N ICE “Fallon says your father told him about it a long time ago.” “That is quite possible. If it was a long time ago father did not know that it was valuable. I don't know when he acquired it.” “Fallon sent his respects. He will telephone you later,” Dick said. “That was nice of him, thank you. He has been very kind.” She didn't act as if she were in love with Fallon and Dick felt better about that one worry. Juliette had been puzzling something over in her mind. “I can understand Father telling Mr. Fallon about the map a long time ago, but I don't see why he told Armand after he had been in the desert. Why should he?” she asked Dick. “I don't know. Perhaps because he was going into that lonesome country. He had been in once and had come out for supplies, or at least that is what Armand said.” “That is true. It was in his letter. He told me he would not need the map any longer. He said he could find his way without it.” “He may have had a touch of the sun. Men do when they are not accustomed to that country.” “His letter was all right,” she insisted. “You found no trace of him when you were out there?” Dick asked, eager for information. “No; and I made a rough copy of the map before I J U L IETTE I39 left. I made it on tissue-paper and kept it in the barrel of my automatic pencil.” “You did? What happened to it?” “I was looking at it one night trying to figure out our position in relation to the map. I didn't fill in all the little marks that were on the original. I didn't think that would be necessary; but I could tell nothing from the map I had made. That is a terrible country, Dick. It all looks alike. You see a rise of ground ahead of you and you think you know where you are going. When you get over the rise you look behind you and you are lost. That night I wanted to locate our position. I was sitting near our fire and I thought I was alone. I was startled by a slight noise and when I looked up George Black was standing beside me.” Dick was interested. “Did he say anything?” “No. Just smiled in that inscrutable way he has at times. I was startled, but I passed it off casually and put the paper into my pocket. In the morning it was gone.” “It was taken, you mean?” “I don't know. It was gone. It could have blown away, I suppose.” “I wonder. It would take a strong wind to blow a bit of paper out of your pocket.” “It was useless, anyhow,” she said. “I couldn't tell head nor tail of it.” “No. I don't see how it could be possible,” Dick said. “I beg your pardon?” “I was thinking out loud. I'm sorry,” he said. I4o C R IMS O N IC E “You were thinking about Gaston and this puzzle?” “Yes.” “You suspect some one?” “No. I was just wondering about George Black. Could it be possible that he-" Another idea came into his mind, and he asked, “How did Black happen to play on the Blue Devils? Do you know?” “Yes, through Gaston. George was not happy with his people and he came back with us. They talked hockey all the way home and were taken on at the same time. Gaston had to fight for George.” “I can believe that.” “Gaston did it because George helped us so much when we were hunting for Father.” “And it made it easy for George to watch Gaston,” Dick said bitterly. “Surely you don't think George could have done it!” “I don't know, but he will bear watching. I'm more certain than ever that the map you have is important.” “But why should Gaston be killed because of a map which he did not know existed?” “The murderer probably thought Gaston knew about it. The man probably showed his hand and was afraid of Gaston. With Gaston out of the way the map would be yours. Suppose the murderer thought he would be able—” Dick stopped as a new idea flashed into his mind. “Juliette, don't ever tell any one else about that map. Promise me!” “Why P” J U L IETTE I43 “Perhaps he didn't want to talk about anything as gruesome as that,” she suggested. “You should have heard him complain when he heard that Gaston had died. He said he would prob- ably lose his position because he had not given the com- plete story. He was furious, but it did him no good. He told me it was because he wanted to let you know.” “I couldn't imagine what had happened last night and your telegram didn't tell me. I supposed it was from the fall. I knew nothing definitely until I read the papers this morning; then I knew everything that had happened.” “It was horrible getting the news that way. I would have liked to spare you that.” “You could do nothing more, and you had your own problems last night. I'm glad you were able to clear yourself. I knew it was ridiculous from the very start,” she said. “Thank you,” he said humbly and gratefully. VII PLANS It had been Gaston's wish long expressed that he be cremated. When the police released the body Juli- ette and Dick's family had a conference and it was Juliette who decided that the funeral should take place in Boston. Dick's concern was to keep Juliette's mind busy so that she would not be able to brood over Gaston. He discussed the Lemaire finances with her, and Mr. Bowers suggested sending a solicitor he could trust, to make a thorough investigation of the guardian's books. It was Juliette who discussed Dick's idea of finding the murderer. She objected to the possibility of Dick's taking any undue risk. Aunt Priscilla spoke up then. “We must do it, my dear child, and you shouldn't stand in his way. We all owe you something.” “But what good could it possibly do now that Gas- ton—” They waited a moment until Juliette controlled her voice, and Dick went on. “It will do a great deal of good. I am afraid you may be in danger. You told me your house had been ran- sacked from top to bottom.” I44 PL ANS I45 “You mustn't go back there until this thing is settled. You must stay here with us so that we can protect you.” Priscilla was doing all she could to make amends for her past actions. “You are very kind, but it will be dangerous for Dick. There is no reason why he should be burdened with my problems.” “My dear Juliette,” Mr. Bowers said, “it isn't a ques- tion of kindness alone and we can't give too much em- phasis to the dangerous angle of the case. Dick has been under a cloud and he should be given a chance to clear himself and help you at the same time.” “Don’t you see,” Dick urged, “that it won't be very dangerous for me? No one will know that I know the reason for Gaston's death. When I am ready for them I will talk, but I will know of the danger and will be able to protect myself. Gaston didn't know and couldn't be prepared.” “Have you any plans, son?” “Yes, but they are rather hazy for the moment. I want to see Duval; he can help me if he will.” “Duval?” Juliette asked. “Yes, part of my plan is to be with the team as much as possible.” “You mean you want to play with them regularly?” Priscilla asked with more consternation than caution. “Why not?” Dick responded quickly. “Better men than I have been hockey players.” “But you're out of practise,” Mr. Bowers objected. “I skate every chance I get and I won't do much play- 146 CR IMS O N ICE ing. I'll be a third string man at best if Duval will take me on, but that won't come until later. I want to go to Quebec just as soon as I can and then I will be away about a week after that.” “Where are you going?” “Well, I may as well let you all in on it. Do you mind if I tell them about the map?” he asked Juliette. “Not if you think it wise.” Dick told them about the map and the long search Juliette and Gaston had looking for their father. “I don't see what you will accomplish going out there,” Mr. Bowers objected, “and a week won't be long enough.” “A week will be plenty of time. I'm going to fly.” “Now, Richard,” Aunt Priscilla broke in, “that is unnecessarily dangerous this time of the year.” “I’ll be careful. I’ll have to be,” he said grimly. “Will you charter a plane?” Mr. Bowers asked. “I’ll get Bill Sturgis to go with me. He'll love it— that is, if you have no objections to my being away for a time.” “No objections,” Mr. Bowers said. “You spoil him,” Priscilla accused. “He’s right,” Mr. Bowers said with an air of finality. “Then, all I have to do is fix it up with Sturgis and get the map from Juliette,” Dick said gleefully. “You may have it,” she said quietly. “I don't see what a piece of paper can have to do with all this,” Priscilla sniffed. P L A NS I47 “I’m not sure, either. It is just possible that I am following a blind lead, but I want to be sure. The mo- tive may be something connected with the business end of the estate, after all, and if it is, no harm will have come from my trip to Arizona. If the business is in proper shape and the financial losses are due to the gen- erally bad business conditions, then I am sure to be right. We will know either way in about a week.” “How do you figure that?” Mr. Bowers was in- terested. “The Lemaires have always been rich. Their fortune has been dwindling away until it is almost gone. If you were in such a position you would want to do some- thing about it, wouldn't you?” “Yes,” Mr. Bowers agreed. “Well, suppose you found yourself going broke, but had in your possession a document which might mean unlimited wealth for you again. What would you do?” “I think I would try to get the wealth, but on the other hand, son, the search for pirate treasure and that sort of thing exists only in the minds of writers.” “You are wrong. The papers are full every day of all sorts of expeditions going off in search of treasure. There are always plans afoot to float the Lusitania. Just the other day I read an article about a treasure ship that had been lost in Long Island Sound. Men will always look for treasure; but this isn't a buried treasure. This is natural wealth buried somewhere in the Ari- zona desert and guarded jealously by the Indians.” 148 CR IMS O N ICE “You can't do anything by air.” Mr. Bowers was still voicing his objections. “I can do more by air than any way I can imagine. In a few minutes I can do what it would take a pack- train a day to accomplish. Planes can land, you know. I don't have to stay in the air all the time.” “That's where all the accidents occur,” Priscilla voiced her objections. “Suppose you get lost in the mountains—it may be weeks before we could find you.” “Or years,” Juliette said with more conviction than any of the others. “Well, I don't see why you have to rush off to Ari- zona on this mad idea of yours. It's not reasonable and I for one can't see what a scrap of paper and the Ari- zona desert have to do with the death of a young man here in Boston. It's sheer nonsense, that's what it is,” Priscilla blustered. “You want my name cleared once and for all time, don't you?” Dick asked. “Yes.” “Then can't you let me do it in my own way?” He was annoyed. “But —” “There can be no half-measures,” Dick said flatly. . He turned to Juliette. “Have you ever been up?” “Yes. I love it,” she replied. “Would you be willing to fly to Quebec with Sturgis and me?” “Whenever you want to go.” P L A NS I49 “Promise me you won't fly north unless it is clear.” Priscilla was insistent about that point. “One of the things a good flyer always does is look up weather conditions,” Dick assured her. “We won't fly unless we have the proper conditions.” “Well, that is something,” Priscilla admitted grudg- ingly. “Now that you have made up your mind, young man, there are some things I must discuss with Miss Lemaire.” They talked it over and Juliette decided to have the funeral services on Wednesday morning. She said she had no objections to the presence of the team if they were still in Boston and wanted to attend. Mr. Bowers went away to make the arrangements with the mor- tician. “Aunty,” Dick said, “did you listen to the game on Sunday night?” “Yes. I turned the radio on when I came back from church.” “Then you knew what was going on?” “I didn't understand anything about the game, but I heard all about the accident.” “How long did you listen?” “I don't know. I was going to turn it off because I couldn't understand it, when I heard that Gaston had been hurt. Naturally I listened after that.” “What did the announcer say?” “He said Gaston had fallen. He was excited about it. Then he said it looked like another fight. Then he I 5 O CR IMS O N ICE sounded disappointed because he said Lemaire had skated out of the group, then he almost shouted when Gaston fell once more. There was a great deal of excitement and the man said he would turn on the music while he tried to get a report on what had happened. I waited, listening to that awful jazz for a few minutes. The announcer came back and said that the audience had started throwing things and some one had hit Gaston with a knife.” “But I didn't hear that,” Juliette interrupted. “You were listening to Fallon. Aunty must have heard Quirk.” He turned to Priscilla. “Was it an Eng- lish program you heard?” “Certainly; you know I don't understand French.” “It's all right. I just wanted to know.” Juliette stifled a yawn, which Priscilla's quick eye caught. “If you will excuse me,” Priscilla said, “I think I'll go to bed. We none of us had much sleep last night, I'm afraid.” When Priscilla left them Dick suggested a short walk to wake them up. It was still cold, but the stiff wind had died down and walking was pleasant. Fallon had telephoned Juliette soon after she arrived and Dick was pleased because the conversation had been short. He felt like whistling as he slipped into his coat and waited for Juliette. “You have forgiven Aunt Priscilla, haven't you?” Dick asked after they had been walking several min- uteS. P L A NS - I 53 hobby and had been responsible for two very good innovations in safety devices. He was in his workshop when Dick arrived. There was a black grease smudge across his forehead and his hands and overalls were a sight. He was taking a motor apart and did not stop because of Dick. “What's on your mind, Dick?” he asked as he struggled with a tight nut. “You, for the moment.” “Can't take you up to-day, too busy,” Bill said. “Say, how did you get out of jail? I thought you were in for sure when I saw the papers.” “That's what I want to see you about,” Dick replied. “There she goes,” Bill said with satisfaction as the nut yielded. “Seriously, Bill. I have a job I want you to help me do. Are you very busy P” Bill dropped the wrench. “What kind of a job?” “I can't tell you now. I have to go to Quebec first and then out to Arizona. I thought you might like to take the old ship out for an airing.” “You mean to Quebec’” “Both places.” “You’re not kidding, are you?” Bill asked with a grin. “On the level.” “Well, you know how I like to go places. What's the dope?” “I am going back to Quebec with Lemaire's sister.” I 54 CR IMS ON ICE “Is this trip of yours mixed up with the murder in any way?” “I hope it will lead to the murderer.” “You aren't developing into one of those supersleuths, . are you?” Bill kidded. “What has Arizona got to do with a murder here in Boston?” “That's what I want to find out.” “Come on, spill it. I’m beginning to get interested.” “You’ll have to take me on faith for a couple of days. I don't want to tell you until we are out there.” “Why all the secrecy?” “I don't want any one to know I am going or any- thing about it until I get back. Will you do it?” “Sure. How long do you want to be gone?” “I thought we could be back in a week if we have decent weather.” “Easy. Where do you want to go in Arizona? Tucson?” “No, in the north. Over the desert.” “Sounds nuts to me, but I'm your man if you have your mind made up.” “Thanks, Bill, I knew you would do it. And you won't say anything about it, will you?” “Not a word. Say, are you thinking of landing any- where in the desert?” - “We might want to. We probably will.” “Then we'll take the small boat. Now, when do you want to go to Quebec’” 156 CR IMS O N ICE “Yes. Of course you know I was only fooling, but this waiting, it is driving me mad.” “I’ll see Martin this afternoon and try to find out what is happening, but I came to see you about some- thing else.” “What? I can't stand another question. Since Sunday night it has been questions, questions all the time,” Duval complained. “It is a question, but not about the murder.” “All right. What do you want?” “I’d like to play hockey.” “Can you play?” “I played in college.” “But could you stand this game? It is not like the college sport.” “I think so.” “Why this sudden interest in the game?” Duval was too shrewd to be fooled for long. “Because of Gaston Lemaire.” “I thought so. What do you want to do? Some private detective work, eh?” “It might be that.” “Why are you so sure that one of my men is guilty?” Duval demanded. “I’m not sure. I just have a hunch. You would like the murderer caught, wouldn't you?” “Certainly.” “Even if it was one of your best men?” “Then you have a definite suspicion?” P L A NS 157 Dick laughed. “No. I was just trying you out. I believe you would sacrifice anything for a winning team.” “I want the man caught,” Duval said thoughtfully. “He must be caught. Your police have made such a mess of the thing and your papers have given it so much publicity that unless the murderer is found the Blue Devils will be under a cloud.” “Exactly.” “And you think you can solve the murder?” Duval was interested. “I’m willing to try. There are a few things I want to do first, however. I wanted to talk to you now while you were still in Boston.” “I'm afraid I’m going to be in Boston for the rest of my life.” “Will you take me on, that is the most important thing? All of my plans depend on that.” “When do you want to start?” “In a week or ten days.” “And you think you could play?” Duval was dubi- OUIS. “I could struggle along with your third-string,” Dick assured him. “We will see,” Duval considered. “No. That won't do. I want a promise,” Dick in- sisted. “Well, it can't do any harm,” Duval finally said. He was too shrewd a business man to pass up the money 158 CR IMS O N ICE Dick's being on the team would bring into the box office. “Good. I consider that a promise. Don't tell any one about it until you hear from me. I will keep in touch with your schedule and let you know. When I tell you I am coming, I want you to put a news note in the papers both here and in Canada. Say something like this: “Dick Bowers, who was arrested for the murder of his friend, Gaston Lemaire, has joined the Blue Devils for the balance of the season. If you will send it out to the papers in that form the pressmen will do the rest. Then I want you to give your men the impres- sion that I think I can solve the mystery. But I don't want you to speak to any one about this until you hear from me. Will you do it the way I want it done?” “Why are you doing this?” Duval asked. “Two reasons. I want the murderer found and I want my own name cleared.” “Why don't you start now? You would have plenty of time to practise.” “I’ve things to do. I'm going to Quebec with Miss Lemaire after the funeral. We are flying up with a friend. I'm bringing her back here, then I'll have to take a trip and I don't know when I'll be back. These activities of mine are important.” “Very well,” Duval said. “I’m going down to see Connor and I'll say a good word for you there. I don't believe it will help, but I may be able to find out when they will let you go.” 16o CR IMS O N ICE “The man's story sounds straight enough. He said he had the knife out when the excitement broke. He became excited like all the rest of them. He said every- body was throwing things and before he even realized what he was doing he had let go with the knife. Naturally he was terrified when he saw his knife beside the body of Lemaire. Even when the story broke in the paper about the poison he was afraid to confess. He talked it over with a friend and decided to come and tell us. He just left a little while ago. We are checking up on him, but I'm sure it is straight enough. He was afraid we might trace the knife in some way and it would go bad with him. He was smart to confess. He couldn't have had anything to do with the poison, I'm sure of that.” “Well, I'll be darned,” Dick said. “That makes it very simple, doesn't it?” “I wish the rest of it was as simple,” Connor said wistfully. “Then the murderer had nothing to do with the knife and knew nothing about it,” Dick mused. “Very interesting.” “What are you driving at?” Connor asked. “Nothing. I thought the knife was a red herring and it turns out to be just a knife and nothing more.” “If we could find a motive we might get some- where,” Connor complained. “You knew him pretty well. Can't you help us out?” P L A NS I6 I “I hadn't seen him for two and a half years and then we had an argument,” Dick reminded him. “Martin has been over to see his sister and she was no help to us, either.” “I hope you land the murderer. I want him found. You know half the world will always believe me guilty unless you get the right man.” VIII THE POP BOY HAS AN IDEA Dinner that night was a quiet meal. None of them could forget the strain of the late afternoon when they had gone to the mortuary with Juliette. The hushed shadowed recesses of the place had chilled them when they entered and the parsimonious professional smiles of the attendants did not add to their comfort. It was all so studied in its effects that it was quite horrible to a bereaved person. Juliette had been very brave and self-controlled. She had leaned heavily on Dick's arm when they entered the chapel where Gaston lay. The attendant slid back a glass cover as if he were display- ing a prize orchid. Mr. Bowers and Aunt Priscilla stopped just within the door. Dick and Juliette walked up to the coffin, where the attendant waited as any exhibitor might. Juliette sighed a deep heartrending sigh and Dick stole a quick glance at her. She had gazed down at Gaston and said nothing, just looked and looked and looked. Poor Dick, he would have been uncomfortable if she had cried, but at least it would have been understandable, but that intense look in Juliette's eyes hurt him. He felt useless. He felt the back of his own eyes filling with tears, not for Gaston, but for the girl at his side who was suffering I62 THE POP BOY HAS AN ID EA 163 so silently. She leaned more heavily on his arm. Aunt Priscilla and Mr. Bowers came and silently took their place beside Dick. In a moment, their duty done, they moved away. Aunt Priscilla's eyes were dim as she gazed across at Dick for a moment. Dick shifted his weight and Juliette looked up at him. She saw his tear-rimmed eyes and bit her lower lip. After a moment she said, “I would like to be alone.” Dick left her there and joined his people in the reception-room. It was too studied in its comfort and cheer, too professionally studied. They waited for twenty minutes and Dick began to be very uncomfort- able. Finally Juliette came out. Her eyes were red, her face drawn and white. Dick wanted to take her in his arms then and comfort her, but could not do it. He couldn't intrude upon her grief at such a moment. They had driven home silently and soberly. Juliette sank back into the seat and closed her eyes. Aunt Priscilla had taken and held one of her pale hands in the grasp of her long bony fingers. Juliette had not stirred. Several times she put her handkerchief to her eyes with her free hand. There had been a half-hour interlude before dinner, but none of them had been able to shake off the spell of death which had hovered over them during the visit to the little chapel. Immediately after dessert Juliette asked to be ex- cused, saying she had a headache. Priscilla offered to have coffee sent to her room, but Juliette declined. I64 CR IMS O N ICE With Juliette gone, the Bowers exchanged a few remarks over their coffee, but none of them was in a conversational mood. Dick paced the living-room restlessly. He started to turn on the radio, but Aunt Priscilla stopped him. He looked through the papers and stopped at the sports section. Finally he said, “I’m going out.” “Be late?” his father asked. “Don’t know. I can't sit still. I want to be doing things. There's a fight on at the arena. I'm going down there.” “How can you do it?” Aunt Priscilla asked. “I want to talk to the pop boys. They may know something.” “Still planning this mad trip of yours?” she asked. “It's all arranged. We fly to Quebec to-morrow after- noon. We will probably be back late Thursday or Friday and then Bill and I are hopping off to Arizona.” Dick stopped in front of Priscilla. “Remember, you are not to mention my trip to a soul.” “I won't.” “Don’t forget. Goodnight, Dad.” He bent over and pecked at Priscilla's cheek. “Go up to her later, won't you, and see if there is anything you can do?” She patted his cheek. “I will.” At the arena Dick bought an admission ticket and went in, roaming up and down the aisles until he spotted the boy who had sold Gaston his Coca Cola. I66 CR IMS O N ICE “What do you want to talk to me about?” the boy asked. “Coca Cola mostly,” Dick laughed. “That's a funny way to kill a man, isn't it?” the boy asked. “It was a very smart way,” Dick replied, “and for a time made it look very bad for me.” “I don't see how it was done. I've been trying to figure it out,” the boy said thoughtfully. “What is your name?” Dick asked. “Jerry.” “Well, Jerry, you know mine. There will be a lot of people who will always think I killed Lemaire. You know what papers say. People will go on thinking that I got out of it because I am a rich man's son.” “They wouldn't think so if they knew you,” Jerry said with a warmth and honesty which pleased Dick. “They don't know me and I want to have the mur- derer found. That's why I came to see you.” “I’ve told all I know,” Jerry answered. “I can say the story by heart now. My picture was in the paper, too. Did you see it?” “Yes. And I read what you told the reporters.” Dick was after something; he didn't know just what, but he felt that the boy might possibly have the clue. Ques- tions and answers he was sure wouldn't help him. He had to find something else. Something the boy hadn't thought of or hadn't told. After the session of ques- tioning he had witnessed by the police he had felt sure THE POP BOY HAS AN IDEA 167 there must be better ways to get at truths. To the boy he said, “Let’s just talk about it.” “You mean just talk?” Jerry was skeptical. “That's right. Now, suppose we were a couple of detectives—and in a sense we are—how ought we to go about solving the mystery? We know the Coca Cola bottle had the poison in it. The poison expert said that Lemaire took the poison just a few minutes before he fell. When did he get it? How did he get it? And who gave it to him? After we have considered these points we have to find out how the bottle got round to Lemaire's room?” “That's one of the things that puzzled me,” Jerry said thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking about it.” “So have I,” Dick agreed. “How would you give it to him if you wanted to kill him?” Jerry asked. “Well, I'd have to get the poison into the bottle. That would be the first step,” Dick said, “and then I'd have to be sure that Lemaire had that bottle. I wouldn't want any one else to get it. Now, if I had an opener I might open a bottle and put the poison in and then hand it to him.” - “Yeah, but you wouldn't have an opener and if you handed it to him, wouldn't some one see you and tell it?” Jerry asked. - “They should see me, but the other night no one saw how it was done.” Jerry was thoughtful for a minute. “You know,” and I68 CR IMS O N ICE his face lit up with his idea, “I read a story the other day, and guess who was the murderer? The District Attorney!” “Did you like the story?” Dick asked. “No, I thought it was a gyp.” - “I don't know which story you mean, but I would think so, too,” Dick said. “But I was thinking,” Jerry went on. “I sold him two bottles. One at the end of the second period and one at the beginning of the third.” “Who was in the penalty box?” Dick asked. “That's the idea,” Jerry said, “and nobody has thought of it so far. At the end of the second period there were two cops in the penalty box with Kellie and Lemaire. I was there and sold Lemaire his coke. Quirk was at one end of the box with his mike and Fallon was at the other end jabbering away in French at his mike.” “The mikes are not in the penalty box, are they?” Dick asked. “No. At either end. I don't see how people under- stand that gibberish of Fallon's, it doesn't sound like anything to me. Lemaire could understand it, though, because he said something to Fallon and Fallon an- swered him in English.” “Do you remember what Fallon said?” “Sure. He said Lemaire was foolish to resent the trip-up, as it was part of the game. But you interrupted THE POP BOY HAS AN IDEA 169 me before,” Jerry said accusingly. “You haven't heard all of my idea.” “I’m sorry, but I was interested in what you were saying. We will go back. You said at the end of the second period Lemaire and Kellie were in the penalty box and two cops were placed between them. Fallon was at his mike at one end and Quirk was at the other. Is that right?” “Yeah.” “Then go on with your idea.” “Well, Lemaire and Kellie didn't row in the box the way some players do. They just sat there quiet-like and when Lemaire bought his coke he asked the others if they would join him. They all said no. But later Kellie asked me to trust him for a bottle.” “Did you?” “Sure.” Dick was excited. “Go on with your idea.” “Well, at the beginning of the third period only one cop came back to the box with them and that cop bought a bottle of coke, too. I did a rushing business for a minute. It's usually dull just after a rest period, because people have been moving around and all.” “What do you mean, a rushing business?” “I just told you.” Jerry seemed impatient. “One to Quirk, one to Fallon, one to the cop and one to Lemaire.” “But none to Kellie that time?” 17o CR IMS O N ICE - - “Naw, he had left his bottle in the corner of the box and he finished it when he came back.” “Did the cop drink his, all of it?” “I’m coming to that, only you keep talking so much,” Jerry accused. “Suppose the cop wanted to kill Lemaire?” He paused for the effect and looked at Dick. Dick was obliging and asked, “How would he do it?” º “He bought a bottle, see? He sat there with it in his hands. He drank some and put the poison in it. Then when Lemaire wasn't looking he switched bottles.” “But he couldn't do that if they all held their bot- tles,” Dick objected. “Aw, they often put them on the floor when some- thing happens. I’ve seen them knock over a full bottle and buy another one.” “So you think the cop did it?” Dick asked. “I didn't say so. I said it was an idea.” “But you were there and would have seen the switch- ing.” “I didn't stay there all the time. I keep moving around. A hockey game isn't like to-night.” “Did you tell Martin your idea about the cop P” Dick asked. “No.” “Then I wouldn't if I were you.” “You think I'm a nut, don't you?” Jerry asked. T H E POP B O Y HAS AN ID E A 171 “Far from it, Jerry. I think you are a pretty shrewd observer.” “But you don't think the cop did it?” “No. I don't.” “Then, who did?” Jerry asked. “I wish I knew,” Dick answered with feeling. “Well, you said to suppose we were a couple of detectives and I told you my idea. What's yours?” “I think there is something more to this than we know, Jerry. A deeper reason than the police have been able to discover so far. Lemaire drank so much Coca Cola that it makes it a little hard to figure just how it was done and how the bottle got into that room. There wasn't much time for that unless it was done after Lemaire was carried off. You see that's one of the troubles with your idea about the cop. How did he get the bottle into Lemaire's room, for one thing, and would he know where Lemaire's room was, for an- other?” “He would find that out beforehand if he was plan- ning to kill a man,” Jerry answered. “You score there,” Dick acknowledged with a grin. “But you haven't told me yet how you would solve it,” Jerry insisted. “Did any one buy two bottles of coke from you that night—you know, blow Lemaire to a drink?” “No.” “Then that's an idea of mine all shot to pieces,” Dick said. 172 CR IMS ON ICE “I see what you mean. Take the bottle from me, put the poison in and hand it to Lemaire. Nope, that didn't happen.” “Well, I guess you are better at ideas than I am,” Dick admitted with a smile. He took a dollar from his pocket and handed it to Jerry. “Is there anything you would like to have very much?” “What do you mean?” “What is the thing you want to do more than any- thing else?” “I want to keep going to school. I want to get an education. I don't want to be working around a joint like this all my life,” Jerry answered. “How old are you?” “Fifteen.” “High school?” “Another year if I can stick it. That's why I work nights.” “Must be pretty hard for you to keep up with your studies.” “I don't have any trouble. I have the afternoons.” “I’ll make you a proposition. If you help me solve this case I'll see that you go through college.” “I can't afford it,” Jerry answered. “I’ll pay for it.” “I don't mean that. I'll have to go to work. We're poor.” “If I solve this case through any help of yours, I'll take care of that, too.” MO RE I D E A S 175 sold Gaston a bottle while he was on the bench. That was one question he had forgotten to ask the boy, and if it was the few seconds when Gaston was on the bench after the end of the two minutes in the third period, it would open up a whole new series of pos- sibilities. He would see Jerry before he went out with Quirk. Dick tried to imagine the floor clear, as it was the other night. Gaston had been close to the boards when he fell and as Dick recalled the fracas it took place down near the blue line. Gaston had moved out of the crowd away from the group. Primeau was trying to swing at Kellie and all the members of the team were herding together, including the two referees. Naturally all eyes, and he remembered his own, were at the time turned on the group. He had not been aware of Gaston skat- ing away from the others. Gaston had been near the boards when he fell. Well, the knife was explained, anyhow. That was one thing out of the way. Queer that the answer should be so simple. Moving along head down, Dick bumped into and nearly upset Jerry. Dick had a habit of walking with- out seeing things if he was thinking. It was the jounc- ing of the bottles which roused him. “It's you!” Jerry said, surprised. “It's a bit dark back here,” Dick laughed. “It's no way to treat a partner,” Jerry retorted. “That reminds me,” Dick said. “You told the police 176 CR IMS O N ICE you sold Lemaire a bottle while he was on the bench. When was that?” “It was near the beginning of the record I kept,” Jerry answered after a moment's consideration. “It must have been early in the game.” “Do you ever forget and then put them down after?” Dick asked. “No, sir. I put them down each time. I'd be out money if I missed one.” “You are sure of that?” “Positive.” “Fine. I was afraid it was those few seconds while he was on the bench after he finished his penalty.” “No. I couldn't get around there that fast. He was only in there two minutes when the period started and I sold all those people during that time. I couldn't have reached the bench.” “I’m glad you are so sure. There was another im- portant question I forgot to ask you.” Jerry turned wide eyes to him. “What?” “You didn't tell me what college you preferred. Is it Harvard?” “Did you go to Harvard?” Jerry asked. “No. Dartmouth.” “I thought so. All Harvard men look alike. I can spot them a mile away. I'll go to Dartmouth.” “Fair enough. See you later. Good-by.” “So long,” Jerry sang after him, and under his voice he said, “Pard,” and beamed at Dick's receding back. MOR E I D E A S 177 Lodge was not in his office, but Dick located him after a few minutes' search. “You got a lucky break,” Lodge said. “I did,” Dick agreed. “I’ve been over here doing a little private sleuthing.” “Going in for it, eh?” “No. Not really. I'm interested, however.” “I should think you would be. You had a close call.” “Too close for comfort.” “Well, I see the police have cleared up the knife business, anyhow,” Lodge offered. “Yes. That throws some ideas over,” Jerry admitted. “What do you mean?” “The other night the police believed the murderer had thrown the knife to hide the real reason for Lemaire's death.” “That would seem like a lot of doing for one mur- derer, I should think,” Lodge said. “I have an idea that the knife helped the murderer, just the same.” “You do. Why?” “Because,” Dick answered thoughtfully, “it gave the murderer time to cover up.” “I don't get it.” “How did the bottle get into Lemaire's dressing- room?” “I see what you mean. While the police and all the rest of us were wondering about the knife, the mur- derer had time to plant the bottle.” 178 CR IMS O N ICE “Exactly,” Dick agreed. “Well, you never know what thing will be im- portant.” “I still have an idea that the knife is very important,” Dick went on. “It may be the one thing the murderer didn't think about.” “I don't see how you can prove anything from that angle. Since it had nothing to do with Lemaire's death, how can it help to find the criminal?” “As you have just said,” Dick answered, “you never know.” There was a shout from out in the arena. “Sounds like it's over,” Lodge said. “I won't keep you. Thanks a lot. I have a date.” Dick hurried back to the arena and met Quirk. They went to the Brass Rail for a sandwich and some beer. Several members of the hockey team were in there just hanging around for the lack of something better to do. Boucher, Coulter and Renoir were sitting at the bar eating. Lecoq and Fallon were in a booth halfway down the room. Quirk walked down, looking for an extra booth, and spoke to Fallon as he passed. Dick could feel the eyes of the Canadians boring through his back as he walked. When they had given their orders Quirk asked, “What are you after?” “I don't know,” Dick replied honestly. “There are a lot of things I’d like to find out, though.” “Such as P” 18o CR IMS O N ICE are you doing with Juliette Lemaire? Why are you keeping her from her friends? Why are you hiding her?” “Miss Lemaire is a guest at my house,” Dick said icily. “Well, you don't have to be so high hat about it. I've been sweet on her myself, and so has Fallon,” Lecoq grinned. “I’d rather not discuss her here, if you don't mind.” There was a warning in Dick's voice which a soberer man would have recognized. “Why not?” Lecoq insisted, ignoring Fallon's pull at his sleeve. “All women are alike. They are all the same.” “Shut up!” Dick's eyes were flaming with anger. “I won't shut up, not for you or anybody else!” Lecoq's voice was raised. “Come on, Auriel.” Fallon tried to pull him away. “She can be had!” Lecoq sneered. Dick swung up and cracked Lecoq across the mouth. For a moment it looked bad for Dick, as several of the Canadians leaped to their feet. “Wait a minute now!” Fallon jumped into the breach as the others crowded around. “Lecoq deserved it. He had it coming to him.” There were murmurs and Lecoq tried to force his way around Fallon and get at Dick. “Do you mind going?” Dick asked Quirk. MOR E I D E A S I8 I They paid their bill and left. “I’m sorry,” Quirk said when they reached the street. “It's all right. I —” “I don't blame you. But we didn't have a chance for our talk.” “One of the things I wanted to know was the capac- ity of the boxes near you that night? Were they all full?” “I don't believe there was a vacant seat in the house that night. I've never seen such a mob before, not for a hockey game.” “Well, that's the main thing I wanted to know,” Dick said and then after a moment, “Do you mind if I run off? I have had about enough for one day.” “Let’s get together some other time,” Quirk sug- gested. “Oh, yes. There was something else. How long do you think you were away from your microphone when you went over to look at the body?” “Probably not more than a minute. I have so much stuff to sandwich in between periods and stops in the game that I can't afford to waste time.” “What impressed you first when you reached the body and the group about it?” “The knife, because I was so surprised to see it,” Quirk replied instantly. “Did you see or notice anything about the people there? Do you remember them and things like that?” “No. I can't say as I do. I was interested in one 182 CR IMS ON ICE thing and one thing only—Lemaire—and I had to get back to the mike. I couldn't have gone at all if Sweet Man hadn't swung into some jazz. He gave me the chance.” “Well, thanks a lot. Goodnight.” Dick wanted to get away by himself and think. He had learned a lot that evening, more than he had hoped for. There were some pieces of the puzzle he could put together if his idea for the motive held. He would know about that, though, after he had made his trip to Arizona. If George Black had pulled the knife out of Gaston's back, why didn't he say so? That question bothered Dick all the way home. X DEATH RIDES A PULLMAN It was a quiet and reverent group at Gaston's funeral. Dick, although he didn't like the assistants at the mortuary, had to admit that they operated with neat- ness and dispatch. They did make the funeral and following cremation less difficult than he had imagined it would be. Juliette went through it bravely and only once did she flinch and at that moment Dick was too busy holding on to himself to notice it. There is a finality about any funeral which brings relief to the bereaved. It is like the last act of a bad play. You sit patiently through it, waiting for the final curtain and when it goes down it's over and you can go on about your ordinary life. The house hadn't changed one bit in the short time they had been away for the ceremony, but it seemed different when they came back. The sun was shining brightly, for one thing, and the sense of weight and suspense was gone. Juliette was quiet, but even she seemed to be more a part of things. “You won't need much luggage,” Dick said after many sidelong glances at the window and the clear cold winter sky. “Be sure you are warm enough. I'd better let you have a pair of my breeches.” 183 186 CR IMS O N ICE “It's sweet of you to think of that, but somehow I don't believe she would have married. I think you have given her life meaning. I can understand why she wrote those letters to us. It was because she loves you so much.” “But love like that is a great responsibility to the person loved,” Dick protested. “Would you want any other kind? Love to be real must be unselfish.” “I know it and I wouldn't be satisfied with anything else ever, only it is so hard to feel worthy of it,” Dick went on in explanation of his feelings. “You could love that way yourself.” It was more a statement of fact than a question. “I do,” he answered. “I know it, Dick, and I will always remember these few days. I don't think they would have been possible if it hadn't been for you. You haven't changed a bit. I could feel your love and sympathy and it brought me through this horrible thing.” Dick took her gloved hand and kissed it in the palm. “I’ve been worried about Fallon,” he said, studying her palm. She laughed. “Why?” “Because he gave me the impression that you were more than friends.” “He has proposed to me a number of times. I like him well enough, but I couldn't marry him.” “I’m glad of that.” He squeezed her hand at that. D E A T H R IDES A PULL MAN 187 “Gaston was worried, too. He was afraid I might marry Fallon. It bothered him a great deal. I pre- tended to like Fallon more than I did just to tease Gaston. It was mean of me because he never knew my actual feelings.” The mention of Gaston brought back their reason for being together as they were. She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. They were silent after that until they reached the wide sweep of field near Bill's hangar. The big doors were shut, but when the chauffeur sounded his horn a small door swung open and Bill stepped out. His good- natured face was troubled. “Come in a minute,” he called. The chauffeur started to get the bags, and Bill called, “Never mind the luggage.” Dick and Juliette hurried in to the comparative warmth of the big building. - “I tried to get you by phone,” Bill said when they were inside and the introductions were over. “What's happened?” Dick asked. “It's the ship. Something's gone wrong with her and I don't know what it is.” “Gosh, what luck!” Dick was disappointed. “Can't help it. If you want to be in Quebec by to-morrow, you'll have to take the train.” “Are you sure, Bill? Can't you fix her up?” “I won't chance it. I don't understand it. I had her out yesterday after we tuned up and she worked like a I88 CR IMS ON ICE charm.” He turned to Dick. “Say, you didn't tell any- body you were going with me, did you?” Dick was thoughtful for a moment. “No,” he finally admitted. “I did tell Duval that I was flying to Quebec with a friend, but he wouldn't know you.” “Well, if this is as mysterious as you have led me to believe it is without telling me anything about it, I guess we have a little mystery on our hands right here,” Bill said rather gruffly for him. “Who is this Duval?” “He’s the manager of the Blue Devils.” “Is he all right?” “I think so. I'm going to play hockey with him when we get back from the West.” “You what!” Bill almost shouted. “It's part of the plan. Didn't I tell you? Say, what's the matter with the ship, anyhow?” “I don't know and we are trying to find out. My guess is that she has been tampered with in some way.” “And there is no hope of hopping off this after- noon?” “I wouldn't risk it. You had better go by train. I may be able to come up for you. I'll wire you. Just leave the address over there on the pad.” He waved his arm toward a work-bench. Juliette started over to look for a piece of paper. “Be careful,” Bill called after her; “things there are pretty messy.” He lowered his voice and said to Dick. “You always were a lucky stiff and you don't deserve D E A T H R IDES A PULL M A N 189 it.” Juliette turned to come back to them and Bill said to her as she approached, “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Bill and Juliette chatted for a few minutes while Dick walked around the ship looking at her as if in some way she had betrayed him. “You’d better get going,” Bill advised. “You’ll have to make reservations for the train and I have work to do.” “Do you believe in omens?” Juliette asked as they were driving back. “No. Do you?” “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. “I think I am probably a little superstitious. I believe most women are about some things. I don't like to wear a new dress or a new hat for the first time on a Friday.” “If this is an omen, it is a warning from some one who does not wish us well. Airplanes do not get out of gear for no reason at all. When Bill says the ship has been tampered with he ought to know what he is talking about. Duval couldn't and wouldn't do any- thing about it, I'm sure. Then who would?” He fell silent for a long time after that. Finally he said, “I’m trying to remember what I told George Black when I saw him.” “You seem to suspect George Black,” she said. “I wouldn't if I were you.” “I can't help it, somehow. He is an Indian and I feel sure he is more upset about his failure to fit in with D E A T H R IDES A PULL MAN 191 was the man who pulled the knife out of Gaston's back.” “And I still think you are wrong,” she said. Dick remembered something he had heard about women always wanting the last word and stopped the argument right there. Just then the car stopped before the North Station entrance and Dick ran in for his tickets. As he re- entered the car he said, “It is a lucky thing for us it's Wednesday. You can get through-train connections only twice a week and Wednesday is one of the days.” “When do we arrive at Palais Station?” “About twelve-fifty.” “We won't have much time if we are to fly back,” she said. “Or if we come by train. It runs from Quebec on Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-fifteen.” “We will do what we have to do quickly,” she said, accepting the situation. - “We may have a wire from Bill,” he suggested and became thoughtful. When Priscilla saw them returning she said, “I knew it was wrong for you to attempt this trip!” The afternoon dragged horribly. Dick wanted to be doing things. He rushed Juliette to the train long before it was necessary. He was amazed to see Duval on the platform as he and Juliette followed the porter with their bags. D E A T H R IDES A PULL MAN 193 “I shouldn't think you would want to see him again,” Dick said. “Oh, no, I don't feel that way about him at all. He couldn't help it and he couldn't know that I was listen- ing in, waiting. I rather like him. I don't believe Gaston liked him, though. He was always a little reserved with Mr. Fallon.” - “Fallon is hardly Gaston's type,” Dick said. “No. But Fallon is a very interesting man—he has been everywhere, knows so many people and has done so many things. I like to hear him talk.” “So does he,” Dick said not too graciously. When they were an hour out of Boston Dick went forward looking for Duval. He selected two seats in the corner of the club car so that no one would over- hear their conversation. “You haven't forgotten your promise?” he said after they were seated. “No. Didn't you tell me you were going to fly up?” Duval asked. “Did I?” “I thought you did.” “As a matter of fact, I did intend to fly, but some- thing went wrong with the ship.” “It’s a good thing you found it out before you went up in the air,” Duval said with a grin. “I prefer trains. I think if the good God had meant us to fly he would have given us wings.” I94 CR IMS O N ICE “Well,” Dick said, “we had horses before we had automobiles. Are you afraid of an automobile?” “But that is on the ground,” Duval protested. “Did you tell any one about my proposed trip to Quebec!” Dick asked suddenly. “No.” Duval shook his head. “I didn't even think of it. To tell you the truth, I have been thinking about one thing only for the past few days and that was getting away from Boston.” “I guess the men are glad to get away, too, aren't they?” “Yes. Another day would have ruined them. Lecoq got drunk last night for the first time in long enough.” “Is that so?” Dick asked, pretending surprize. “Yes. He had the room next to mine. Fallon brought him in and tried to keep him quiet, but I heard them. I have treated Lecoq like a schoolboy since he came back to the team. I watch him all the time.” Dick bought Duval a cigar and left him. When he reached his car he was surprized to see Juliette sitting in his section talking to Fallon. “The porter is making up my berth,” she explained, “and Mr. Fallon has been entertaining me.” “Did you see Lecoq P” Fallon asked, much too cheer- fully. “No.” “I would forget last night if I were you,” Fallon said and stood up. “He’s a nice fellow, but he will D E A T H R IDES A PULL MAN 195 drink. Well, I guess I'll turn in. We will probably see you in the morning.” - Before he started George Black came down the aisle. Juliette was glad to see him and showed it. There was warmth in her voice as she extended her hand and said, “Hello, George.” Black took her hand and spoke rather stiffly. “Sit down,” she invited. Fallon still stood in the aisle, and Black waited beside him. “I was just going to turn in,” Black said in answer to Juliette's invitation. “I hope you sleep better than I do. Trains keep me awake.” “I can sleep anywhere,” Black answered. “So can I,” Fallon added. “They say that's a sign of a clear conscience,” Dick remarked. “Are you suggesting that my conscience is not clear?” Juliette asked. “Far from it,” Dick replied. “Are you going back to Quebec for good?” Black asked. “No. Just for a day or two. I'm going to spend the winter in Boston. I–Dick wanted me to get—” She stopped, caught herself and then went on, “I need a number of things and Dick very kindly offered to accompany me.” 196 CR IMS O N ICE “You know how sorry I am about Gaston,” Black said. “I can understand, George.” “We all feel the same way,” Fallon said, “only it is difficult to talk about it.” He turned to Dick. “Lodge tells me you have turned sleuth.” “I’ll get the murderer if I can. Duval knows it, too,” Dick answered. There was an awkward silence for a moment and then first Black and then Fallon said goodnight and left them. - “What happened last night?” Juliette asked when they were alone. “Nothing of importance.” Dick tried to pass it off lightly. “There must have been something. What did Fallon mean? What should you forget?” “I went out with Quirk after the fights last night and got into an argument with Lecoq. That's all.” “But why?” “He said something I didn't like.” “About me?” There was no point in denying it, so Dick said, “Yes.” “I wish it had not happened.” “So do I,” he replied with feeling. “Dick,” she said, “I don't like it. First it was Gaston who quarreled with him and now it is you. It will be bad if you go on with this idea of yours and play on the team.” 198 CR IMS O N ICE his back. He reached round and pushed the slot closed. There was a towel just at the edge of his pillow all wadded up. What was it doing there? He tried to re- member. He looked at it. He hadn't brought a towel to bed with him. “What the ” It couldn't be! His mind began to work more clearly. Some one had un- doubtedly tried to chloroform him during the night! Why? Even though his head pounded he asked himself that question. He put the wadded ball to his nostrils and thought he could detect the slightly sweet etherish odor. He felt nauseated. He reached for the hammock and looked through his things. His wallet was there, tucked away in his sock just as he had left it the night before with his underwear and other clothes over it. He rang for the porter and asked him for his bag. “The young lady says you can use the drawing- room,” the porter said. “We going to be in pretty soon. You better hurry.” “Just a minute, porter.” Dick stuffed the towel into his grip and slipped his arms into his robe. He swung his feet out to the floor and felt for his slippers. “Bring the rest of my clothes, will you?” he said as he made for the door of the drawing-room. The porter, reaching into the berth for the balance of Dick's clothes, saw the soot on the sill near the slot in the window. “Some folks does like air no matter how cold it is,” he commented. 2OO CR IMS O N ICE “When do you go back?” Dick asked the porter after looking about to see if any one outside of Juliette could hear him. “This evening, boss, and I like it. This is a powerful cold place. I don't see what for I ever got myself to leave Florida.” Dick slipped him a card and a dollar. “Could you come to see me at this address in about an hour? I'll make it worth your while.” “If it's smuggling, mister, I don't want no part of it. A boy I knows is in jail right now.” The porter was most emphatic. “I want nothing but information.” “But, man, I ain't got no information,” the porter protested. “I’ll give you five dollars, information or not, if you come to that address in about an hour from now. If I'm not there, wait for me and I'll give you a dollar for every half-hour you have to wait.” “Yes, boss. If it's waitin', I'm very good at waitin’. Could you maybe be a little late?” The porter chuckled. “I might try,” Dick half promised. “Is you sick?” the porter asked a little anxiously. “No. Just tired. I didn't sleep very well.” The porter, remembering how difficult it had been to rouse Dick, shook his head, pocketed the dollar bill with the speed and finesse of a magician and trotted to the end of the car. Their Pullman had been shunted about during the A M E S S A G E F R O M G A S T O N 201 night and Dick was surprized to find that it was the first one after the coaches. He lingered on the platform purposely, and just as a man was about to start off with their bags he called the Pullman porter and asked him to look in his berth and see if he had left a handkerchief there. The members of the team came straggling down the platform. Renoir passed, going very quickly, just as the porter came back to say he hadn't found the hand- kerchief, but Dick turned to Juliette and spoke and the porter had to wait because at that moment Duval came up and said good-morning. Primeau, big Jean, stopped, said good-morning to Juliette and moved on. Cartier passed, followed by Coulter and several men from the second and third strings. Lecoq came by, walking on the outer edge of the platform, and passed without speaking. “It ain't there, boss,” the porter said before Boucher passed. Fallon was hurrying along the platform and came abreast of them just as Dick, taking Juliette's arm, started to turn away. “I’m glad I saw you this morning. If I don't see you before you leave let this be good-by. We will miss see- ing you in your accustomed seat at the game. Hurry back to us, please. Good luck, Juliette. Time will help you.” “What a fool the man is!” Dick thought. “He ought to know better.” “I won't be in Quebec this winter,” Juliette said, and 2O2 CR IMS ON ICE Dick was glad to notice that her voice held no warmth. “I’ll be in Boston until spring.” “Oh, I see.” Fallon looked from one to the other of them. “I see. Well. Good luck and good-by.” “Ass!” Dick growled after him. Once they were alone in the cab Juliette turned to him. “You look terrible! What is the matter?” “I think perhaps we had better go to a doctor, one you can trust.” “I knew something was wrong!” She leaned forward and gave the driver a new address. In a few minutes the cab stopped before an old stone house. Dick told the cab to wait and carried his bag into the house with him. Dr. Lelong was having his lunch, but when he learned that it was Juliette he came immediately. She ran into his outstretched arms and stayed within their kind embrace for a full minute. “What is it, my dear?” Juliette introduced Dick and told Lelong that she was not the patient. “May we go somewhere where we will not be over- heard?” Dick asked. The doctor led them into his office and waited as all doctors do for the patient to tell his story. “How long will it take me to get over being chloro- formed?” Dick asked. Juliette gasped. A MESSAGE FR O M G AST ON 203 “You are jesting,” Lelong said. “No, I'm not. I was never more earnest in my life.” “If you have been smelling chloroform you will feel better in a little while.” “I think that's what it was,” Dick answered. He opened the bag and handed Lelong the wadded towel. The doctor sniffed at it, moved it away from his nose and then smelt again. “I can't tell,” he said. “Where did you get this?” “I found it beside my pillow when I woke up this morning—or, rather, when the porter shook me awake at noon.” “Dick,” Juliette said, “you must give up this mad idea of yours. You cannot go on with it. I won't let you.” She turned to Lelong. “He thinks he can find Gaston's murderer. He wants to do alone what the police in Boston have been unable to do. It is too dangerous!” She turned back to Dick. “You must give up the idea. First it was the plane and now this!” “We have a few things to do here,” Dick turned to the doctor, ignoring Juliette's plea. “Will I be all right if I take things easily?” “You will be all right, but you may feel nauseated. Have you eaten anything this morning?” “No, sir, but I am terribly thirsty.” “That's a symptom. Don't eat or drink anything until you are very, very hungry and then I think you will be able to stand it.” 2O4 CR IMS O N ICE “You see,” Dick turned to Juliette, “he says I'm all right.” “You are all right now, but how long will you be safe? Dick, please listen to reason. You must not risk your life this way.” “It is quite obvious an attempt has been made on your life, my friend,” Lelong said. “Have you any idea why it was done?” “No. I can't imagine.” “It has something to do with Gaston. With me. This would never have happened to him if he hadn't come with me. We were going to fly here and the plane was made unfit for travel. I am beginning to under- stand why.” Dull color was creeping under her white skin. “The person did not want you to fly here. He wanted you to be on the train so that he could try to kill you.” “But no one knew that we were coming to-day!” “You told Duval. Fallon, Black and others knew,” she retorted. “But they thought we were flying,” Dick argued. “Dick,” she urged, “you must be reasonable. The murderer is afraid of you. I don't know why Gaston was killed, but this attempt on your life makes me feel sure that the murderer wants you out of the way. You will be killed if you persist.” “I want the murderer to be afraid of me. I'm glad I have succeeded so well. I’m going to keep him in- formed. I want him to know just enough so that I A MESSAGE FR O M G AST ON 205 can trick him if possible. I'm hoping he will give him- self away.” - “It's wrong, wrong, wrong.” Juliette tapped her foot as she repeated each word. “Do the authorities know about last night?” Lelong interrupted. “No. No one knows,” Dick answered. “I didn't want any more legal complications. They take too long.” “You suspect some one?” Lelong asked. “A number of people,” Dick replied. “Dick, please listen to me. This person is clever. Let the police solve the mystery, please.” Juliette's eyes were glistening. “You wouldn't want me to quit, and besides I'm worried about you. You are not safe, either, while the murderer is loose.” “This is an affair for the police,” Lelong said. “The police have tried once and they failed.” “But our police—” Lelong started to speak with pride. “Yes. I know they always get their man and all that, but they take time and we can't wait.” “You are being very contrary,” Juliette said. “I believe you are doing it the way you would play a game.” “Don’t say that, Juliette. It is a game, but it is one of life and death. Something is very important to the murderer and it is connected with you. We don't know 206 CR IMS O N ICE what it is, but we must find out. If we stay away from the police, we will be safer. I am sure of that.” “What could they want?” Lelong asked. “That, if you don't mind, must be a secret between Juliette and me.” “How do you feel now?” Lelong asked Dick. “Much better. My headache seems to have gone and I have stopped feeling as if I would faint.” “Then I think you will be all right. Don't you want something to eat?” he asked Juliette. “I had some coffee on the train. I grew tired of waiting for Mr. Bowers.” “I think we ought to do our jobs, Juliette,” Dick said. “We haven't too much time.” On the way back to the cab Dick suggested that they stop at the bank and get the map. “I would rather leave it where it is,” she protested. “Please!” “Very well,” and leaning forward she gave the driver the address of her bank. “Juliette,” Dick said after they had ridden in silence for several blocks, “I’m worried about you. I can't rest knowing that you are probably facing the same danger that destroyed Gaston.” “And do you think it makes me happy to know that because of your friendship you have already barely missed death?” she asked. “It isn't friendship, Juliette. I love you. I'm being selfish. I want to have you with me for the rest of my 208 CR IMS O N ICE - While she was busy Dick picked up a photograph album and looked through it rapidly. One picture puzzled him and he took the book to Juliette and interrupted her for a moment to ask, “Isn't this a pic- ture of Fallon?” - “Yes, that man is Fallon and that is Father standing beside him.” “It must have been taken a long time ago. Fallon looks so young.” “It was. Father met Fallon years ago in California. It was through that friendship that he became an inti- mate of the family.” “You didn't ever think that you loved him, did you?” Dick asked uneasily. “I’ve loved only one man,” she replied. Dick smiled at her appreciatively and went back to his chair. A moment later he was startled by a sur- prized gasp from Juliette. “What is it?” “There is a letter here from Gaston,” she said. “I don’t believe I can read it.” Dick went and stood at her side. “I would if I were you,” he advised. Slowly she slit the envelope and began to read. She became deeply absorbed as she turned the pages. “You were right,” she said and handed the letter to him. It was a long letter, in Gaston's fine hand. He skipped the intimate passages rapidly, but read more carefully when he saw his own name mentioned: . A M E S S A G E FR O M G AST ON 209 Dick has tried to reach me here at the hotel to-day. Fortunately I was out, but he left a message. I will not see him, but I would like to. He will want ex- planations and since we agreed to forget him because of his family I can give him none. It is better so. I would like to have his help and friendship now because I am in trouble. I have just received a curious letter. It demands that I produce the map about which there has been so much discussion. Since I have no map and know nothing of its existence there is nothing I can do about it. I have been warned. I am not to go to the police. I have been instructed to leave the map in a specified place at a given time. I think I will keep the appointment and discover the person who knows so much more about my affairs than I do myself. Does this map business explain the things which have been happening to me? Is there a map? I haven't believed the story up to now. Do you suppose there is gold out there? Perhaps since we are getting poorer and poorer I should look into this map story a little more carefully myself. I hope I can find the man who dares to threaten me. If he knows something which we do not I am going to find out about it. Don't worry. I'll be all right. I'm telling you this so that you will be prepared in case you get a similar request. If you do get one of these silly letters pay no attention to it. I will be home in a few days and we can worry about it together. Dick handed the letter back to her and went to the window and looked down on the street. A maid came 2 IO CR IMS O N ICE with some coffee and by that time they were both fully in control of their emotions. “I should have told him,” she said. “You mustn't blame yourself.” “But if he had known! He could have given them the old map and he would be alive now.” She stood up, moved quickly across the room to the table, picked up her purse, opened it and started for the fireplace, where logs were crackling cheerily. Dick reached her just in time. “You can't do that! We are safe as long as we have the map.” “But Gaston,” she sobbed. “Gaston didn't have the map.” He folded her in his arms and they stood before the fire for a long time in silence. The maid roused them by knocking at the door. “What is it, Celeste?” Juliette called. “There is a colored man here asking for the gentle- man.” “It's the porter. May I see him in here?” “Surely. I will go to my room.” She started away. “First give me that.” She put the worn and folded paper in his hand, took the balance of her mail, and left the room. “I’m sorry I couldn't keep you waiting,” Dick said to the porter. “Better tell me your name. Mine's Bowers.” “Yes, sir, Mr. Bowers. I'm John Cole.” “Sit down, John.” A M E S S A G E FR O M G AST ON 2 II “Mr. Bowers, you sure you don't want me to do nuthin' that ain't right?” “Quite sure, John. I just want to talk to you.” “Yes, sir.” “I want you to talk to me, too. I want you to tell me things.” “Yes, sir. What you want me to tell you?” “What do you do at night after all of your passengers have gone to bed?” “Well, I guess I sleep as much as I can.” “How about shoes?” “Yes, sir. I collects the shoes right enough.” “You shine them too, don't you?” “Yes, sir. Each pair I shine I wonder how much tip I'm gonna get.” “You have it all figured out ahead of time?” “You can't always figure. Sometimes a man is nice, he smile and speak to you like you was a human being and then he give you fifteen cents. Then there are plenty of passengers who treat you just as if you was born to make life easy for them. They sort of snap at you and treat you mean, complaining all the time and just when you think you ain't gonna get no tip a-tall you get a dollar.” “That's not being personal, I hope.” “Yes, sir. What?” “I gave you a dollar.” “I knew you and the young lady was regular people 2 I2 CR IMS O N ICE - from the start. I know class when I sees it. I was talking about shoes.” “Do you know who the young lady is?” “Yes, sir.” “Who told you?” “One of them hockey players. The handsome one.” “What did he say?” “He asked me was you married.” “You know the hockey players?” “Sure, they often travel with me.” “I suppose you mean Lecoq.” “I do.” “Do you know George Black?” “Yes, sir.” “Do you know anything about what he did last night?” “Yes, sir. He went through the car quite late. I was just getting your shoes from under the berth and he had to wait for me to get up. He walked so quiet I didn't even hear him until he was on top of me.” “Did you speak to him?” “I told him you was the gentleman who was taking Miss Lemaire home.” “Oh, you did.” “Yes, sir.” “Did he say anything more?” “No, sir.” “How long does it take you to shine your shoes and what do you do after that?” A MESSAGE FR O M G AST ON 213 “If I shine the shoes first I go to sleep after that unless we are going to stop somewhere. The other porter and me work together. Sometimes he sleeps early if there are stops and I take care of his car.” “Did the custom men come aboard?” “They certainly did.” “I didn't hear them.” “I told them who you were and they just went along,” the porter said. “Were there any members of the team in our car last night?” “No, sir. Mr. Fallon was supposed to be in my car, but he got a lower in the other car and moved back.” “I suppose you meet many strange people in your travels,” Dick suggested. “People is mostly alike. Some is good-natured, some is cranky and some you just don't know they are on the train until it is time for them to get off.” “Did you ever have any one die on your car?” “No, sir.” “You are pretty lucky.” “I wouldn't like that. I don't like sick ones at all.” Dick looked at John for a long minute. “Did I snore last night?” “Mister, you certainly make noise when you sleep.” “When did you notice it, early in the night?” Dick asked. “No, sir. It was after midnight.” “I thought so,” Dick said. A M ES S A G E FR O M G AST ON 215 legs, cause I can't remember hearing 'em at all and I ain't sure I saw 'em.” “I’ll give you another five if you can remember,” Dick urged. “I’d like the five, sure enough, but I don't want to tell you no lies.” John moved sideways on his chair, bent himself over a little bit and made some swinging movements with his hands. “I was sittin' like this,” he said. “The curtain over the door was up and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw blue pajamas on quiet legs, legs that walk without makin' any noise, like that Indian.” “Do you think it was Black?” “Mr. Bowers, I don't know who it was. I’m just tryin' to earn that five honest-like. No, sir, boss, I don't even remember if it was last night I saw those legs.” “Well, here's your five and I’ll still give you a chance to earn that other five. Find the porter in the other car or all the porters on the train if necessary.” “Yes, sir. I can do that.” “See if they remember any blue pajamas in their cars last night. If they do, try and find out who the men were who wore them. Will you do that?” John nodded, his eyes wide with astonishment. “If you get me a list of men who wore blue pajamas I'll give you another five. Is it a bargain?” “What you want it for?” “Did you know Gaston Lemaire?” “Yes, sir.” 216 CR IMS O N ICE “Did you like him?” “Yes, sir, sure did.” “I want to find the man who murdered him and you can help me.” “You mean the murderer was on the train last night?” The Negro was more than amazed. “I think so.” “Mr. Bowers, I don't want your five dollars. I don't want to get mixed up in no murder.” He was on his feet, ready to go. “Just a minute, John. You are mixed up in it.” “Not me, boss. No, sir. You must mean a couple of other fellows. I got to get me downtown.” “Don’t hurry. I don't want to cause you any trouble, but —” “I don't know nothin', Mr. Bowers. Nothin’ a-tall.” John was pleading. “That won't make any difference if I go to the police.” “But the police can't do nothin' to me,” John pro- tested. “They will make you find out about those pajamas if I tell them what you have told me.” “You wouldn't do that, Mr. Bowers!” “I will unless you help me.” “But—I don't want to get mixed up with no murder. It's bad business for a Darky, Mr. Bowers. How do I know what will happen to me if I tell anything? Maybe I'll get killed.” 218 CR IMS O N ICE “Yes, sir.” “Were you short a towel this morning?” “No,” John said. “I have one of them.” “But I wasn't short,” John protested. “Find out who was. I have a Pullman towel which was soaked with chloroform and dropped into my bunk last night. Did you have trouble waking me this morning?” “I certainly did.” “I’m lucky to be alive,” Dick said. “I don't want to go to the police until I have something tangible to give them. You can help me. I will never mention your name, but you must get me the information I want. If you don't, I will go to the police and then you will be drawn into not only this case but the death of Lemaire as well.” “I’ll find out for you,” John promised. “I certainly will.” “Be diplomatic about your questions,” Dick cau- tioned. “Don’t tell them why you want to know.” “I’m going to make diplomats look simple, Mr. Bowers. I don't want nobody to know but you.” A W A R N IN G 22 I sure it was valuable. He exposed himself to Gaston and was afraid.” “But why kill Gaston?” “Because of you.” “Me!” “If there was a map and Gaston didn't have it, who would?” he asked. “I see.” “But do you?” He raced on. “If Gaston had lived he would have warned you against the man, wouldn't he P” “Yes.” “Then it was necessary to have Gaston removed. My dear, the murderer wants the map, wants it badly enough to kill for it. Don't you see?” “It seems such a little motive for a murder,” she protested. “The motive is greed and gold. The gold your father was supposed to have found. Think of it—unlimited gold—wealth—fame—fortune. The story has been magnified out of all proportion. I’ll bet ninety per cent. of the men on the team think there is a gold mine in Arizona waiting to be discovered and the key to the treasure is the oft-mentioned map.” “You make it sound very convincing,” she said, al- though she was puzzled by the whole crazy tapestry of the crime and its ramifications. “Well, I'm convinced —” 22.2 CR IMS O N IC E - Celeste's entrance interrupted him. He turned to her immediately: “Did a messenger bring a note here this morning?” “I do not know.” “There was a message in Miss Lemaire's mail. Don't you know how it came?” “You mean the telegram?” “No, a letter.” “All the mail was in the box at one-thirty after the postman came.” “Very well, thank you.” As Celeste turned to go Dick stopped her by asking Juliette for some lunch. “What would you like?” Juliette asked. “Some scrambled eggs, toast and more coffee.” Celeste smiled at Juliette and left them alone. “I want to talk this thing out with you,” he went on with the conversation which Celeste's entrance had interrupted. “I want to tell you all the things I have heard and learned. I want you to think about it, too. I will tell you all that I hear. When the porter gets me the information that I want I will tell you about that. I am sure in all the various stories about this crime an answer to our riddle is waiting for us. We just must find it, that's all. The murderer was not an invisible man. If Gaston had written that letter to you after he had seen me he would have told us about the mur- derer, I am sure.” “What makes you think that?” she asked. 224 CR IMS O N ICE while he talked. When Celeste had gone she asked, “But why should they want to kill you?” “Because the murderer is afraid. He probably thinks I know about the map or he no doubt thinks Gaston may have told me something when we talked the other night.” “It is very strange and I do not understand it,” she said frankly. “There is so much and it is all so jumbled. It doesn't make sense, any of it.” “I don't believe they wanted to kill me last night,” he said after a thoughtful silence. “It is a wonder you ever came back to consciousness.” “Nevertheless, I think they wanted to scare us. If we were both sufficiently frightened we might give up,” he said with conviction. “Do they think that possession of the map will stop the authorities from looking for them?” she asked. “If we gave up the map and didn't mention it to the police, there would be nothing more done about Gas- ton's death. It would go down as a remarkable un- solved crime.” “And you are sure you can solve it?” she asked. “We can solve it,” he corrected her. The telephone rang. It was Bill Sturgis. He was at the airport and would wait for them. He urged haste because he wanted to get away before dark. Dick talked to him and learned that the ship had behaved beautifully on the way up. Bill urged him to hurry, as it A W A R N IN G 225 would take them at least four hours to get back to Boston. - “Four hours,” Juliette said. “Isn't it remarkable, and it took us sixteen hours to come by train.” “The train has to come a roundabout way,” he ex- plained. “Are you sure you will be all right?” she asked anxiously. “Sure. I’m feeling fine now. Fit as a fiddle.” Juliette called a cab and ten minutes after they had received Bill's message they were on their way to the airport. They stopped at Dr. Lelong's office and Bill picked up his bag, which was standing in the hall ready for him. Bill was watching all cars as they pulled into the area of the waiting-room. He dashed out, helped Dick with their bags and in five minutes the plane was rolling down the field ready to head into the wind. In a short while Dick sighted a long silver stream which mean- dered across the countryside and knew it was the upper reaches of the Connecticut River. It was a clear cold afternoon and ahead but rushing toward them at a really terrific speed, they could see the snow-capped summit of Mount Washington. In the quickly fading twilight they passed high over the summit of the mountain. Bill changed their course a little, then headed more directly south. Lights came twinkling on below them, small clusters most of the time, and then for nearly an hour they did not see a town of any size. XIII NUGGETS After a brief visit with the family and some neces- sary packing, Dick drove back to Bill's house to spend the night. He had cautioned Juliette over and over again to be careful, until it bordered on the ridiculous. He had made her promise him not to mention the epi- sode of the chloroform, because he did not want Aunt Priscilla to worry about him while he was gone. They used a room containing twin beds that night and after they had turned in he told Bill the entire story, giving him the complete picture and its possible ramifications up to and including that day. “It's too bad, in a way, not to wait for the news John the porter is going to bring you,” Bill said sleepily. “I don't think so at all,” Dick replied. “What can we prove?” “Nothing, I guess.” Bill admitted. “That note sent to Juliette. Did you keep it?” “Sure.” “The authorities do great things with notes and let- ters. Look what they have been doing with Haupt- mann in the Lindbergh case and Robinson in the Stoll case.” “That's true, but, after all, the entire resources of the 228 N U G G E TS 229 United States Government are behind the capture of kidnapers.” There was no further talk because a snore from Bill ended the conversation. They were up just after dawn and as the sun climbed in the sky behind them they were headed west. They passed high over the Berkshires and sighted Albany. Bill kept a straight course toward Buffalo because, as he had explained to Dick, he wanted to miss the high- est parts of the mountains in Pennsylvania. They stopped at Buffalo and again at Indianapolis for fuel and something to eat. They arrived at the Kansas City airport about four o'clock in the afternoon and Bill suggested they call it a day. They went to a hotel after leaving word that they would be ready to start early in the morning. “This is the jumping-off place for the West, any- how,” Bill said after they had registered at the hotel. “It always has been and I guess it always will be. Even the pioneers gathered here before going on.” The next morning they headed southwest and passed over Wichita. Bill landed at Amarillo in the Texas Pan- handle for fuel and a general tuning up. Their next stop was Albuquerque, where Bill made inquiries about the airport at Gallup. They decided to push on, and landed just before dark. They went for a walk after dinner to see the town, what there was of it. “This used to be a pretty tough spot, if all the things you read about it are true,” Bill said. 23o CR IMS O N ICE “This is the town where Mr. Lemaire met Armand. They went from here into the desert.” “I haven't heard you say much about Armand,” Bill said. “What do you think of him?” “I don't know, of course. He was out here and he is the one who told us about the map. That map was sup- posed to have been a secret. Why did Lemaire tell Armand about it?” That question had been bothering Dick for a long time. “Gosh! I don't know. If it was such a secret why did the old man blab about it to a stranger?” “Armand claims that Lemaire didn't mean to tell him—that he let it slip when they were drinking to- gether. But was Armand such a stranger? Perhaps they knew each other much better than we realize.” “Haven't you tried to find out?” Bill asked. “No. I meant to ask Juliette about him and forgot all about it. Things have been happening so fast. Do you realize, Bill, that this is Saturday night? Last week Gaston was alive. He was killed Sunday, buried on Wednesday. We left for Quebec Wednesday night, ar- rived there Thursday at midday, flew back Thursday evening, were in Kansas City last night and to-night, Saturday, we are in New Mexico.” “It sounds incredible,” Bill admitted. “About Armand—” Dick went back to Bill's ques- tion. “The police didn't pay much attention to him, either; maybe that's why I slipped up. His story was so straight and frank that he didn't seem suspicious.” N U G G E TS 235 answered. “Got your gun? Let's get going and watch out for rattlers when we get over in the rocks.” “What are those little beggars scurrying back and forth with their tails stuck in the air?” Bill asked. “Some kind of a lizard. They are all over the place,” Dick replied. “Cute, ain't they?” Bill fished a bar of chocolate from his pocket and handed half of it to Dick. It took them an hour to reach the first jagged rocks. They looked back and the ship seemed hardly more than a speck. “We could have landed anywhere in here,” Bill said a little regretfully. “So this is desert. God, what a place!” “You grow to like it after a while. It is so quiet and peaceful.” “It’s quiet, all right. No wonder people get lost. In a minute we are going to be out of sight of the plane and then how will we know where we are?” “We can mark our trail.” Dick proceeded to pile three flat stones one on the other to show Bill how it was done. “I’d rather go back for the plane and bring her up here as close as I can,” Bill suggested. “It will take you an hour to get back to her,” Dick objected. “Yeah and about three minutes to be back here. In the meantime you can give this spot the once-over and N U G G E TS 237 Bill was scrambling toward him in a few minutes, however, and after making a second rock-pile they went on up the arroyo. “I know this is the place,” Dick said. “Looks like all the rest of it to me,” Bill replied, stumbling along. “Say, how would you like a nice bot- tle of beer?” “If you are thirsty, take a mouthful of water from the canteen. Don't gulp,” Dick advised. “We don't know how long we will need it.” “I would never have thought of canteens,” Bill said after he had followed Dick's instructions. “You haven't been in the desert. This isn't New England, where you have deep wells, cold springs and gurgling brooks.” “You sound like a vacation guide circular,” Bill kidded. Dick stopped. “We turn north here.” “Why?” “Because this is the north wash mentioned on the map.” “Doesn't look like anything to me,” Bill said and followed Dick. They had been climbing in to the ridge. Dick in- creased his pace. He pointed to a small round hole to the left and above them. “See that hole? Some one has dug in there.” “What for P” “Gold, I suppose.” 238 CR IMS O N ICE “Well, I'll be darned!” In a half-hour they were in front of the hole and Bill was amazed to see the remains of rusty tin cans just a little way from the mine entrance. “You know,” he said, “I thought you were kidding me.” Dick was too engrossed to bandy words. “It can’t be far now.” He turned to the right along a shoulder of the ridge. They were working their way along a nar- row shelf. There were times when Bill walked side- ways with his back to the protecting shelter of the rocky wall. “It ought to be near here,” Dick said. “We have cer- tainly gone a quarter of a mile.” “What ought to be near here?” “The way up,” Dick explained. He walked farther along, examining the face of the rocky wall carefully. He came back on his tracks and retraced the way they had come. “I’ve found it!” he called to Bill. What he had found was a horizontal crack in the rocky wall. He was studying it carefully when Bill reached him. “What have you found?” “The crack.” “Oh.” Bill looked at it and then at Dick. “Now what?” “I’m going up.” “How P” “Climb.” “Think you are a goat?” XIV LECOQ Dick would not leave the following morning until the post-office opened and he had mailed the map back to his father by registered mail. Bill fumed, but Dick was obstinate. Their trip back was uneventful. Bill, once he was out of the desert, began to be himself again and insisted that he be allowed to go on with Dick in whatever plans Dick had made. Dick's next move was to join the Blue Devils, where Bill would be useless, but Dick told Bill that he would want his help when the team came to Boston for the next game. Bill had to be satisfied with that when he dropped Dick at his front door. “If you need me, let me know,” Bill said as his car swung away from the curb. The family were not convinced that Dick could ac- complish anything by joining the Blue Devils, but his mind was made up and he refused to listen to pleas of any kind, not even Juliette's. He went over his mail and found a list from the Pullman porter. Four men on the train that night had been wearing blue pajamas. They were Armand, Black, Fallon and Lecoq. Dick thought of each of them in connection with the murder and arrived at no reasonable answer to his problem. 243 244 CR IMS O N ICE He sent Duval a wire. Then he had a long talk with the family, telling them all about the trip. He retired early because he was very tired and his mind was con- fused with all the ideas he had connected with Gaston's death. The next day he left Boston to join the Blue Devils. Duval kept his promise and sent out a news note to all the leading papers throughout the country. Dick's sur- mise as to the reaction of the press was correct. The news stories played up his connection with the death of Gaston Lemaire, whose strange murder was still un- solved. There was a great deal of conjecture as to why Dick had joined the Blue Devils. One imaginative writer suggested that Dick might have decided that he could solve the crime for which he had been ar- rested. Dick was completely satisfied with the press reaction. He fell into the routine of the team readily and worked hard doing his best. After one or two days he realized that hockey as he had played it in college was an entirely different proposition from the professional game. The men on the team accepted him and let it go at that. There was no friendship offered him. Even George Black remained aloof and cool. Dick wondered about that. Was Black afraid of him? After three weeks of hard practise Dick was allowed to play once with the third string. He was proud of that and worked doubly hard. Strangely enough, after 246 CR IMS O N ICE “Do you think you will be with us long?” Lecoq asked. “Ah,” thought Dick. “Now we are getting it.” But he said, “Why not?” Lecoq shrugged. “I do not know. The men talk among themselves. They think you are here as a spy.” “What do you think?” Dick asked quickly. “I don't know. Why shouldn't you be a spy? Le- maire was supposed to be a friend of yours. I hear you are engaged to his sister.” “Not officially,” Dick interrupted. “I want to tell you I am sorry about that night in Boston. I had been drinking too much.” “I have forgotten it long ago.” “Thank you.” Dick leaned forward earnestly. “Do you think the men resent my being on the team?” “I wouldn't say they resented you any more than they would resent any one they couldn't understand. You see, you are not one of us. You do not even belong to our world. You are not a Canadian and you are a rich man. Lemaire had to endure the same isolation.” “I would like to be friends with the men, but they don't seem to want it. I never force myself on any one.” “Naturally,” Lecoq agreed. “It may be fear,” he suggested after a pause. “But why should they fear me?” Dick asked. “Because of what they think you represent. It is gen- L ECO Q 247 erally believed that you will stay with the team until the murderer of Gaston is found. It is believed that you think the murderer is one of us.” “If that is the case I should be feared by one man only and he is the murderer. Why should they all fear me?” “Because you might make trouble for them,” Lecoq answered. “But how could I? What can I do? I know no more about it than you do. I'd like to know that the mur- derer was caught, wouldn't you?” “Very much so, because I have felt that the police and you, too, consider the possibility of my guilt.” “You could have done it, you know,” Dick said. Lecoq shook his head slowly. “You are wrong. I have thought about it from many angles, trying to see how I could have killed him if I had wanted to do so. There is no answer. I could not have done it. I was never near enough to him to have had a chance.” “You were one of the men who grabbed him that night, weren't you?” “Yes.” “I have had an idea for a long time.” Dick bent over the table and lowered his voice. As a matter of fact, he hadn't thought of it until that minute, but he went on, first looking about to see if there was any chance of being overheard. “Did any one offer Lemaire a drink of any kind just after he fell? Did any one give him any water? I can't remember and I wouldn't be apt to 248 CR IMS O N ICE know. You were right there all the time. Can you recall any such circumstance?” “Why would it be important if I could?” Lecoq asked. “He might have been poisoned in that way. It acts very quickly, you know. The poison in the bottle may have been a false clue placed there because the mur- derer knew I had been having an argument with Le- maire.” “I can't remember any water or anything else being given to him,” Lecoq said. “Well, it will probably always remain a mystery.” “Don’t you know of any motive?” Lecoq asked. “No, I don't. Do you?” “Only the thing the boys talk about.” “And that is?” Dick prompted. “About a map and gold in Arizona. They keep talk- ing about it all the time. Armand started it.” “What does Black say about it?” “He says it is foolish talk. He says every inch of the country has been gone over by prospectors. He says the gold is farther west, nearer California.” “He ought to know, he was raised in that country. Won't they believe him?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because there seems to be no other reasonable mo- tive for the crime.” 25o CR IMS O N IC E Primeau resented Dick more than any of the other players and was more open in showing it. He never gave Dick a break in the play and once in a practise workout tripped Dick and sent him sprawling. Dick said nothing. He got to his feet, picked up his stick and went on with the game. Duval raked Primeau over the coals about it, which did not help the situation at all. Late in January Dick began to be discouraged. He had been with the team for nearly two months and he had learned absolutely nothing. He wrote letters to Jerry, asking him to think about that night in Boston. He made quite a friend of Henri, Lecoq's admirer. Dick changed his opinion of Lecoq when he learned about the boy. The kid was a waif and Lecoq had more or less adopted him. He took him out with him on short trips just for the lark of it. He refused to let Henri travel all the time. He insisted that the boy stay in school. He paid the boy's board and kept him clothed. One night in Detroit Duval put Dick in the first string to take Primeau's place. In spite of his bad cold Primeau fought to get into the game, but Duval would not listen to him. That brought things to a head. Dick spent most of his time after that keeping out of Primeau's way. He would have liked to have had a good fight and get it over and done with, but Primeau did not work that way. Later, in New York, at the Garden after Primeau had been continually vicious to one of the New York men, Duval sent Dick in, in the third period, to take L ECO Q 25 I e- - Primeau's place for the balance of the game. Primeau was furious. After the game Dick and Lecoq went over to “Frank and John's” for something to eat. Primeau was sitting in a booth and was joined by Fallon, who came in just after Dick and Lecoq, Lecoq made a trip over to the bar and Dick knew that in a little while he would have a drunk on his hands. When Lecoq started to go off the wagon he went with speed and dispatch. When Lecoq rejoined Dick he said, “Primeau is down the line and he is very drunk. He is meaner than I am when he gets drunk. Watch out for him.” As the meal progressed Lecoq made repeated trips to the bar. Dick heard an argument brewing and looked up to see Primeau talking to Lecoq. “Sucking around, I said,” Primeau growled. Lecoq pushed Primeau away. Lecoq was small, wiry and dapper. Primeau was big and heavy, but quick nevertheless. He swung his big paw out, caught Lecoq under the chin and knocked him to the floor. Dick was on his feet in a minute and ran to Lecoq, who was blinking up at him. “What are you butting in for?” Primeau turned to Dick. “That's my business. Why don't you pick on a man who can fight back?” “Meaning you?” - “Meaning me.” Dick was quivering, but he was fu- riously angry. L ECO Q 253 “Very well, Auriel,” Fallon said and winked at Dick. “He won't keep his place on any team if he is going to act this way very often,” Dick said. “It’s too bad. I was only taken on as a spare and I thought all the boys knew why I was here. This will be my one and only season as a hockey player and private detective as well.” Dick's discouragement was plain. “I don't believe they will ever find Gaston's murderer until they find the motive,” Fallon said. “It was a strange thing.” “They probably know what the motive is by now,” Dick said. - “Then you do know?” Fallon asked. “No, I wish I did. That's why I came with the team. I had hoped that I would learn something during these weeks, but I have been a failure.” “But you have been a good hockey player,” Fallon said. “If I were as good as you are I wouldn't quit the game.” “I’m going to finish out the season,” Dick answered. “That's fine. I know Duval is counting on you to pull a big house in Boston. He thinks the whole city will be there. He has been considering an exhibition game. But I suppose you know all about that?” “No, I didn't,” Dick replied honestly, “and I don't think much of the idea. It would be an exhibition of me, I'm afraid, and I wouldn't like it.” A P E R F U M E B O TTL E 255 offers of friendship. Armand was an unknown factor about whom Dick could learn nothing. Primeau's sud- den dislike and hatred for Dick seemed to him to be nothing more than it appeared on the surface—profes- sional jealousy. Fallon was another person he could not place in his list of suspects. He had had opportunity and yet there was nothing definite about the man with which to label him as a murderer. Dick felt certain that a good case could be built up against any and all of them, but the difficulty would be proof. He had dis- carded the idea of Kellie's connection with the crime. The train ride to Quebec had made Dick feel reason- ably certain that it was some member of the Blue Devils who was guilty. He had written to Connor, asking for an appointment, feeling sure that the in- formation he had gathered should be turned over to the police at this time. Bill Sturgis met him at the train when the team ar- rived. They went off and had breakfast together and talked for an hour about the case and the things that had happened to Dick while he had been away. Bill was going to be at the game the next night and was just as excited about it as Dick was. When Dick reached the house Aunt Priscilla was waiting to greet him. He kissed her hurriedly with a light peck on her wrinkled cheek while his eyes searched the hall for Juliette. Aunt Priscilla sniffed as she caught him looking so A P E R F U M E B O TT LE 259 to what they were saying, but I heard. Fallon said, “Did you speak to him?” and Lecoq said, ‘No.' Fallon said, ‘Well, it will be a long day before I speak to him again!’” “I wonder what Mr. Fallon meant?” Dick queried. “I don't know,” Henri answered, “but I do know that Mr. Lemaire did not like Fallon because when I came through the corridor that night I heard Mr. Lemaire say, ‘I tell you I don't know anything about it, and I wish you wouldn't annoy me. I don't like it.’” Dick knew that Jerry was watching him as a cat watches a mouse. To Henri he said, “You were going to explain why Mr. Lecoq needed you. You said he was careless.” “He is, too,” Henri insisted. “It is a good thing he has you to look out for him,” Jerry said with a grin. “It is. That night I was telling you about, Duval told me to get Lemaire. I ran down the hall and saw you When I went back I was being very quiet putting Lecoq's clothes in his locker because Duval wants things quiet when he is talking to the men. I didn't have the things all put away when Lecoq sent me on an errand. He likes perfume, you know, and he sent me down to get one of those small bottles out of the slot- machine. When I got back Duval sent the men out on the ice. I jammed Lecoq's clothes into the locker and was going to fix them later. I went looking for Lecoq and I forgot all about his clothes until after the game. A P E R F U M E B O TTL E 261 to play and get sent to the penalty box come over to see me. I’ll probably need a drink to keep calm.” “You’ll be allowed to play, all right,” Jerry said. “Mr. Lodge says you've developed into a pretty good man. Duval will have to put you into the game because the house is a sell-out just to see you.” “I’ll try to give you a good show,” Dick promised as he left them. Dick went over to the Brass Rail. Several of the team members were there. Dick joined the group at the bar. George Black moved down to make room for him. “How does it feel to be the feature player?” Lecoq asked. “I don't like it,” Dick answered. “I thought you had a date?” Lecoq looked at his watch. “I have, later.” Dick leaned nearer to Lecoq and could catch even in that beer-laden air a slight odor of perfume. He looked at the men as he lifted his drink and said, “Here's to the game to-morrow.” “To our new star,” Boucher said. “Fallon says you will be the greatest individual draw that any team ever had.” “That's nonsense,” Dick replied. “It’s because we are in Boston and the mob is morbidly curious.” Fallon came up and with his hands on the shoulders of two of the men asked, “Who's morbidly curious?” “The crowd coming to to-morrow night's game,” Dick answered. “I wish it were over. I don't feel right 262 CR IMS O N ICE about it. In the first place, it seems so cheap, and in the second place, I am uneasy.” “There is nothing to be uneasy about.” Black spoke for the first time. “I’m not so sure. I've been thinking about Gaston all day and it has given me the creeps. I guess I’m scared.” “What about?” Lecoq asked quickly. “I don't know. It's probably what is known as a pre- sentiment.” “You sound like a superstitious old woman,” Fallon said. “And I feel like one,” Dick replied. “It’s more than just a hunch—” He let his voice trail off. “You are sad, my friend,” Lecoq said. “Why?” “Because this brings the memory of Gaston back to me. I keep thinking about the murder and I am a little afraid, I guess,” he admitted sheepishly. “Why should you be afraid?” Black asked. “Because I know too much. I have tried to be clever but I know the murderer is smarter than I am. I have had to work in the open while he has been able to work under cover. He probably knows all that I know. He is probably fully aware of the fact that I know who he is.” “You do?” Lecoq was amazed. “Surely you are jesting.” “Tell us,” Fallon begged. “I can't tell because I have no proof. I would speak A P E R F U M E B O TTL E 263 willingly if I could prove anything. My hands are tied and the guilty man knows it.” Black said nothing at Dick's remarkable announce- ment. “Then you need not fear,” Lecoq assured him. “Don’t be surprised if I meet the same fate as Gaston to-morrow night,” Dick said dolefully. “Have another drink,” Lecoq suggested, “and you will feel better.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve time for just one more.” “Take it easy to-night, Auriel,” Dick warned. “We need you to-morrow night.” “You are right. I will go.” Lecoq left the bar and the group broke up. Dick walked toward the door with George Black. On the sidewalk Dick asked, “Which way are you going?” Black turned toward the left and Dick kept pace with him, saying, “You have avoided me, George, ever since I have been with the team. Why?” “I cannot be friends with a man who does not trust me,” Black answered. There was no reasonable answer Dick could make to such a bald statement. “I–er—” he stammered and stopped. “It is quite all right,” Black went on. “I don't blame you. I am not accusing you. There is no reason why you should want to be my friend. If you think I killed Le- maire it is quite all right with me.” 264 CR IMS ON ICE “Why should I think you killed Lemaire?” Dick parried. “Why should you go to Arizona?” Black asked in Teturn. “Because I wanted to know.” Dick's answer was honest. “And now that you know, aren't you afraid I will kill you, too?” “How did you know I had been in Arizona?” Dick asked. “My brother wrote and told me about the plane that landed in the desert and about the two men who ran away. You were the only one who could have known about that spot,” Black answered. “Did you know about it?” Dick asked. “Of course.” “And you knew about it all the time, even when Gas- ton and Juliette were there hunting for their father?” “Yes.” - “Why didn't you tell them?” “You forget that I am an Indian,” Black said with pride. “I owe something to my people. What good could have come of their discovery? None.” Black an- swered his own question. “The papers would have been full of the sensational news. ‘White Man Murdered by Indians.” There would have been a gold rush. Our country would have been overrun with people seeking gold. We have suffered enough at the hands of the white man. It was best to let the secret stay a secret.” A P E R F U M E B O T T L E 265 “You’re right, George, in everything you say,” Dick admitted. “Now the papers will be full of the Indians' crime against a white man,” George said bitterly. “No,” Dick replied. “What are you going to do?” George asked. “We have destroyed the map. Juliette thought it best. No one will ever know what happened to her father, and the secret of gold is safe with your people.” “Why did you do it?” Black asked. “Because the knowledge if given to the world could not bring back the two dead men. There has been trouble enough. We want no more.” “Do you really think you know who killed Gaston?” “I’m very sure.” “Why are you doing it this way?” “Because I think it is best. I'm glad we have had this little talk, George. It may clear things up a bit.” They paced the next block in silence. Black stopped suddenly at the next crossing. “Thank you, Dick, for what you have done. Good-night.” He turned the corner and strode down the street alone. Dick was watching Black when he felt a tug on his arm. It was Armand. “You are just the man I want to see,” Dick said. “What can I do for you?” “I don't know, but to-morrow night at the game I want you to keep your eyes on me. Don't miss a thing, will you?” 266 CR IMS O N IC E “But why?” “Because I don't want to be a dead man to-morrow night.” “You are jesting.” “I was never more serious in my life. I know who killed Lemaire and I'm afraid my turn has come.” “Nonsense.” “I wish it were nonsense.” “Have you told the police?” Armand asked. “No. Why should I?” “If you are so sure of dying I should think you would protect yourself.” - “I will as much as I can, and you can help me.” “What can I do?” “Just watch.” Dick called on Connor and asked him to be at the game the following night. Then he made one or two more stops. He had done all that he could. The trap was set and he himself was to be the bait. Would the murderer show his hand? It was very late when Dick returned home. He had been busy laying his plans for the next night. He had meant it when he told the boys in the Brass Rail that he knew Gaston's murderer. Little by little and piece by piece he had fitted the puzzle together, but he had no definite proof. He hoped to get the proof at the game the next night and all his work during the eve- ning had been done with that end in view. He had covered every possible contingency. He was ready. 268 CR IMS O N ICE - “From the things you have told me from time to time there are at least four of them who could have been the guilty ones.” Mr. Bowers, like every one else in a similar position, was eager to know. “There's Ar- mand,” he said. “He knew about the map. He was out in that country. He is sure that Lemaire found gold. He was on the train going to Quebec that night and he was wearing blue pajamas.” “Right,” Dick agreed. “Then there is Fallon. He was a friend of the family. He knew the father. He heard the story of the map as soon as any one else did. He was interested in the girl and he knew the habits of the men on the team. He also wore blue pajamas that night.” “Right again.” “Lecoq didn't like Lemaire. They had quarreled over Juliette. He was on the train; he also wore blue pa- jamas.” “Go on.” “And George Black knew all that the others knew. He was on the train and the porter told you that the man moved quietly like the Indian. He wore blue pajamas. He knew that Mr. Lemaire was dead. He prevented Gaston from finding his father because he wanted to protect his people.” “You are guessing,” Dick accused. “Don’t you think I am right?” “I know you are.” “It seems to me that Black had the best motive of them all. When the boys talked about the map he un- 274 CR IMS O N ICE between them and finally blew his whistle for assist- ance. The fans seated near the penalty box crowded down to see the fight. The special cops settled the argu- ment, the crowd sat down and the game went on. “I never in all my life!” Priscilla said to Juliette. “It’s a wonder they don't kill each other!” Juliette made no reply, but bit her lips. “My dear, I'm sorry.” Priscilla took the girl's hand in hers. “I’m so excited I didn't think. Forgive me.” “That is all right. I'm worried about Dick. I wish this had not happened. It is so nearly like that other time. I'm afraid.” “Nonsense! Dick can take care of himself. Did you see the way he went for that horrible man?” she asked with pride. Then, “How long do they have to sit over there?” “It was a five-minute penalty.” “It seems like an hour to me,” Priscilla complained. “The time ought to be up in a moment now. Oh, I hope nothing else will happen!” Juliette said, trying to keep the fear she felt out of her voice. “It seems to me that everything that could happen has happened,” Priscilla replied. Juliette's wish was not to be granted. She looked over and saw Dick drink from a pop bottle. Just then the time was up and the two men left the box, but before they skated away another argument developed. The cop was not in time to prevent the mixup which re- sulted. Dick was backing away from Kellie, who was T H E L A S T C H A P T E R 275 threatening him. Dick stopped and brought up his stick just as Kellie in a rage swung his own stick over his head and brought it down on Dick's head. There was a groan from the crowd when they realized what had happened. There were shrieks and cries all through the auditorium; horrified gasps at the brutal attack of Kellie. There was a concerted rush to the spot as Dick, losing his balance, dropped his stick and went over backwards, his arms flaying the air. He lay horribly still. Juliette moaned and buried her face against Priscilla's shoulder. Dr. Armitage rushed out. Sweet Man started his band playing. The crowd poured out on the ice. Fallon and Quirk were mobbed by excited people try- ing to get down. Mr. Bowers rushed forward and fought his way through the dense throng. The players were amazed as they stood there watching Armitage work over the still, crumpled body sprawled on the ice. Duval wrung his hands. The special police were augmented by regular policemen, who pushed the crowds back. Lecoq was kneeling beside Dick, but Armitage ordered him away. Jerry fought his way into the crowd with tears streaming down his face. He clawed and scratched at the men who held him back, “He’s my partner!” he kept crying. “He’s my partner, I tell you!” Aunt Priscilla, after the first awful moment, took Juliette's hand and said, “Come!” Still holding the hand of the girl she swept through that crowd like a THE LAST CHAPTER 283 Did you know that I had been in Lemaire's room? Where did you get the vial which held the poison? Did you use one of those small bottles which Lecoq was so fond of buying? “My two witnesses are here to prove what I say about Fallon and Quirk and their broadcasts.” It had been a long speech and Dick paused for breath. “It's a frame-up!” Fallon cried hysterically. “I had nothing to do with it! It's a lie! We are not supposed to report horror over the air!” - “Then why did you complain because you did not know about the knife?” Dick asked. “You said you might lose your job because of it.” “You can't pin this on me! I won't let you!” Fal- lon shrieked desperately. Dick ignored Fallon and went on: “I had to have a motive to make my radio clue worth while. For a long time I was baffled. At least it seemed like a long time to me. There has been a story about gold in Arizona and a map. If that story were true the motive was probably connected with the map, but how was I to prove that the story of the map had anything to do with Lemaire's death. After Lemaire's funeral I had planned to fly back to Quebec with Miss Lemaire. Mr. Sturgis was to take us in his ship. We had to go by train because the plane had been tampered with. The team had received permission to leave the city and was going on the same train. That night I was chloro- formed. Why? I knew nothing about the map and I 284 CR IMS O N ICE knew nothing about the treasure. I believe the chloro- form was a warning for me to lose interest in the case.” Jerry was watching Dick with wide admiring eyes, and little Henri hovered in the background, a pleased expression on his face. “In Quebec, Miss Lemaire received a letter from her brother mailed just before the game. Lemaire had been threatened. Some unknown person had demanded this fabulous map. Lemaire said he was going to uncover the person if possible. Lemaire saw Fallon that evening. Henri, Lecoq's protégé, will bear that out and repeat the conversation he heard between Fallon and Lemaire. Fallon was afraid of Lemaire. Why? Fallon had been an intimate of the family. Fallon knew Lemaire, senior. They were in California together years ago. Did Fal- lon know about that map? Fallon has been very atten- tive to Miss Lemaire. Did he think he could get the . map from her if her brother was out of the way? It has been no secret for the past two and one-half years that I have been in love with Miss Lemaire. We had had a misunderstanding which the death of Gaston Lemaire cleared up. Was Fallon afraid that he would not be able to exert his influence and charm on Miss Lemaire if I were in the way?” “You are being ridiculous, Bowers!” Fallon said with a SIICCI. “There is gold in Arizona,” Dick went on. “Ar- mand, who was one of the last persons to see Lemaire, senior, alive, was sure that Lemaire had found the gold. T H E L AST CH A PTE R 287 “Thanks for the drink, Bowers,” Fallon said as he replaced the bottle on the table. - “Get a stomach pump!” Connor ordered Armitage. “We can't let him kill himself!” “Be yourself, Connor,” Fallon said. “Do you suppose I'd be fool enough to drink poison? I want to show this young fool what a mistake he has made.” Dick smiled grimly. “But suppose it was poisoned?” Connor protested. “We'll know in a few minutes,” Armitage replied. He was watching Fallon. The group, fascinated, kept their eyes on Fallon, who did not move away from the table. Dick went to Juliette and Aunt Priscilla and whispered, “Don’t look. After all, it is too horrible to see a man committing suicide.” He moved them to the corner and turned their backs to the scene in the center of the room. “But if you are wrong?” Juliette whispered. “I’m not wrong.” The room was as silent as the desert had been, Bill Sturgis thought, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Bill didn't like waiting. Cold chills raced up and down his spine. “Let me out!” Jerry cried. “I can't stand it!” Dick caught the boy and took him to Aunt Priscilla, who held on to him, patting his shoulder with her long bony fingers. Connor let out a deep exhaustive sigh. “It won't be long now,” Armitage whispered to him. 288 CR IMS O N ICE Fallon stood like a statue. Once or twice he closed his eyes, unable to stand the concentrated glances in his direction. “I can't stand much more of this,” Duval breathed. Armand moved over and stood beside him. Lodge began pacing up and down the room. “I’m faint,” Priscilla's voice cut across the suspense- laden room. Mr. Bowers helped her into a chair and Jerry gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. Priscilla put her hand up and stroked that of the boy. Juliette was reaching the breaking-point and only a minute had passed since Fallon drank the poison. She was shredding her handkerchief into bits. Fallon blinked once or twice. The room was as silent as a morgue. Connor stirred uneasily. An odd smile played about the corners of Fallon's mouth and then he started to speak: “You think you are smart, don't you? Well, wait and see. You are trying to kill me with those eyes of yours which are eating into me. You think you are clever, don't you, Connor? Well, you are not so smart. Bowers is the only smart one here. There was a map and there is gold in Arizona if you can find it. I know all about the map because I was with old Lemaire when it was given to him. He treated the whole thing as a joke. We found an old man dying beside a trail in the desert. Lemaire picked him up and carried him to the nearest settlement. The old man died, but he did 290 CR IMS O N ICE as a warning. He fooled me for several weeks. I thought he had given up the search. But when I found he hadn't, I was afraid of him and wanted him out of the way.” He stopped talking and stared stonily ahead of him. “You must do something!” Connor urged Armitage. “We can't let him die this way. We must save him!” “For the gallows?” Fallon sneered. “You are a bit late, Connor.” “He should be dead by now,” Armitage said. “I don't understand it. He should react to the poison. I'm sure Lemaire was stricken long before this. Why did you use such a diluted dose to kill Lemaire?” Armitage asked Fallon. “Because I needed time. I didn't want him to drop right under my nose and give the show away.” Juliette gasped. “Lemaire couldn't take it,” Fallon said, and there was pride in his voice. “I’m strong.” At that moment a spasm seized him. His defiant poise vanished. He doubled up and would have fallen to the floor if Dr. Armitage's expectant arms had not supported him. The tension broke. There were sighs of relief and shivers of horror. Death had stalked into the room. “Can you save him?” Connor demanded. “We waited too long,” Armitage replied. “His pulse is very slow, his pupils are dilated and he is insensible