The Greatest Murder Mysteries of S. S. Van Dine - 12 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). S.S. Van Dine

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СКАЧАТЬ I didn’t learn about it,” answered Vance, falling in with her manner. “That’s the reason, d’ ye see, that I indulged in this charming little visit. I was foolish enough to hope that you’d take pity on my ignorance and tell me all about it.”

      “But I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing,” she said, “even if this mysterious transaction had really taken place.”

      “My word!” sighed Vance. “That is disappoint-in’. . . . Ah, well. I see that I must tell you what little I know about it, and trust to your sympathy to enlighten me further.”

      Despite the ominous undercurrent of his words, his levity acted like a sedative to her anxiety. She felt that he was friendly, however much he might know about her.

      “Am I bringing you news when I tell you that Mr. Pfyfe forged Mr. Benson’s name to a check for ten thousand dollars?” he asked.

      She hesitated, gauging the possible consequences of her answer.

      “No, that isn’t news. Andy tells me everything.”

      “And did you also know that Mr. Benson, when informed of it, was rather put out?—that, in fact, he demanded a note and a signed confession before he would pay the check?”

      The woman’s eyes flashed angrily.

      “Yes, I knew that too.—And after all Andy had done for him! If ever a man deserved shooting, it was Alvin Benson. He was a dog. And he pretended to be Andy’s best friend. Just think of it,—refusing to lend Andy the money without a confession! . . . You’d hardly call that a business deal, would you? I’d call it a dirty, contemptible, underhand trick.”

      She was enraged. Her mask of breeding and good-fellowship had fallen from her; and she poured out vituperation on Benson with no thought of the words she was using. Her speech was devoid of all the ordinary reticencies of intercourse between strangers.

      Vance nodded consolingly during her tirade.

      “Y’ know, I sympathize fully with you.” The tone in which he made the remark seemed to establish a closer rapprochement.

      After a moment he gave her a friendly smile.

      “But, after all, one could almost forgive Benson for holding the confession, if he hadn’t also demanded security.”

      “What security?”

      Vance was quick to sense the change in her tone. Taking advantage of her rage, he had mentioned the security while the barriers of her pose were down. Her frightened, almost involuntary query told him that the right moment had arrived. Before she could gain her equilibrium or dispel the momentary fear which had assailed her, he said, with suave deliberation:

      “The day Mr. Benson was shot he took home with him from the office a small blue box of jewels.”

      She caught her breath, but otherwise gave no outward sign of emotion.

      “Do you think he had stolen them?”

      The moment she had uttered the question she realized that it was a mistake in technique. An ordinary man might have been momentarily diverted from the truth by it. But by Vance’s smile she recognized that he had accepted it as an admission.

      “It was rather fine of you, y’ know, to lend Mr. Pfyfe your jewels to cover the note with.”

      At this she threw her head up. The blood had left her face, and the rouge on her cheeks took on a mottled and unnatural hue.

      “You say I lent my jewels to Andy! I swear to you——”

      Vance halted her denial with a slight movement of the hand and a coup d’œil. She saw that his intention was to save her from the humiliation she might feel later at having made too emphatic and unqualified a statement; and the graciousness of his action, although he was an antagonist, gave her more confidence in him.

      She sank back into her chair, and her hands relaxed.

      “What makes you think I lent Andy my jewels?”

      Her voice was colorless, but Vance understood the question. It was the end of her deceptions. The pause which followed was an amnesty—recognized as such by both. The next spoken words would be the truth.

      “Andy had to have them,” she said, “or Benson would have put him in jail.” One read in her words a strange, self-sacrificing affection for the worthless Pfyfe. “And if Benson hadn’t done it, and had merely refused to honor the check, his father-in-law would have done it. . . . Andy is so careless, so unthinking. He does things without weighing the consequences: I am all the time having to hold him down. . . . But this thing has taught him a lesson—I’m sure of it.”

      I felt that if anything in the world could teach Pfyfe a lesson, it was the blind loyalty of this woman.

      “Do you know what he quarrelled about with Mr. Benson in his office last Wednesday?” asked Vance.

      “That was all my fault,” she explained, with a sigh. “It was getting very near to the time when the note was due, and I knew Andy didn’t have all the money. So I asked him to go to Benson and offer him what he had, and see if he couldn’t get my jewels back. . . . But he was refused,—I thought he would be.”

      Vance looked at her for a while sympathetically.

      “I don’t want to worry you any more than I can help,” he said; “but won’t you tell me the real cause of your anger against Benson a moment ago?”

      She gave him an admiring nod.

      “You’re right—I had good reason to hate him.” Her eyes narrowed unpleasantly. “The day after he had refused to give Andy the jewels, he called me up—it was in the afternoon—and asked me to have breakfast with him at his house the next morning. He said he was home and had the jewels with him; and he told me—hinted, you understand—that maybe—maybe I could have them.—That’s the kind of beast he was! . . . I telephoned to Port Washington to Andy and told him about it, and he said he’d be in New York the next morning. He got here about nine o’clock, and we read in the paper that Benson had been shot that night.”

      Vance was silent for a long time. Then he stood up and thanked her.

      “You have helped us a great deal. Mr. Markham is a friend of Major Benson’s, and, since we have the check and the confession in our possession, I shall ask him to use his influence with the Major to permit us to destroy them—very soon.”

      CHAPTER XVIII

       A CONFESSION

       Table of Contents

      (Wednesday, June 19; 1 p.m.)

      When we were again outside Markham asked:

      “How in Heaven’s name did you know she had put up her jewels to help Pfyfe?”

      “My charmin’ metaphysical deductions, don’t y’ know,” answered Vance. “As I told you, Benson was not СКАЧАТЬ