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 Leacock has, I regret to inform you, very foolishly confessed to the murder of Mr. Benson. But we are not entirely satisfied with his bona fides. We are, alas! awash between Scylla and Charybdis. We can not decide whether the Captain is a deep-dyed villain or a chevalier sans peur et sans reproche. His story of how he accomplished the dark deed is a bit sketchy: he is vague on certain essential details; and—what’s most confusin’—he turned the lights off in Benson’s hideous living-room by a switch which pos’tively doesn’t exist. Cons’quently, the suspicion has crept into my mind that he has concocted this tale of derring-do in order to shield someone whom he really believes guilty.”

      He indicated Markham with a slight movement of the head.

      “The District Attorney here does not wholly agree with me. But then, d’ ye see, the legal mind is incredibly rigid and unreceptive once it has been invaded by a notion. You will remember that, because you were with Mr. Alvin Benson on his last evening on earth, and for other reasons equally irrelevant and trivial, Mr. Markham actu’lly concluded that you had had something to do with the gentleman’s death.”

      He gave Markham a smile of waggish reproach, and went on:

      “Since you, Miss St. Clair, are the only person whom Captain Leacock would shield so heroically, and since I, at least, am convinced of your own innocence, will you not clear up for us a few of those points where your orbit crossed that of Mr. Benson? . . . Such information cannot do the Captain or yourself any harm, and it very possibly will help to banish from Mr. Markham’s mind his lingering doubts as to the Captain’s innocence.”

      Vance’s manner had an assuaging effect upon the woman; but I could see that Markham was boiling inwardly at Vance’s animadversions on him, though he refrained from any interruption.

      Miss St. Clair stared steadily at Vance for several minutes.

      “I don’t know why I should trust you, or even believe you,” she said evenly; “but now that Captain Leacock has confessed,—I was afraid he was going to, when he last spoke to me,—I see no reason why I should not answer your questions. . . . Do you truly think he is innocent?”

      The question was like an involuntary cry: her pent-up emotion had broken through her carapace of calm.

      “I truly do,” Vance avowed soberly. “Mr. Markham will tell you that before we left his office I pleaded with him to release Captain Leacock. It was with the hope that your explanations would convince him of the wisdom of such a course, that I urged him to come here.”

      Something in his tone and manner seemed to inspire her confidence.

      “What do you wish to ask me?” she asked.

      Vance cast another reproachful glance at Markham, who was restraining his outraged feelings only with difficulty; and then turned back to the woman.

      “First of all, will you explain how your gloves and hand-bag found their way into Mr. Benson’s house? Their presence there has been preying most distressin’ly on the District Attorney’s mind.”

      She turned a direct, frank gaze upon Markham.

      “I dined with Mr. Benson at his invitation. Things between us were not pleasant, and when we started for home, my resentment of his attitude increased. At Times Square I ordered the chauffeur to stop—I preferred returning home alone. In my anger and my haste to get away, I must have dropped my gloves and bag. It was not until Mr. Benson had driven off that I realized my loss, and having no money, I walked home. Since my things were found in Mr. Benson’s house, he must have taken them there himself.”

      “Such was my own belief,” said Vance. “And—my word!—it’s a deucedly long walk out here, what?”

      He turned to Markham with a tantalizing smile.

      “Really, y’ know, Miss St. Clair couldn’t have been expected to reach here before one.”

      Markham, grim and resolute, made no reply.

      “And now,” pursued Vance, “I should love to know under what circumst’nces the invitation to dinner was extended.”

      A shadow darkened her face, but her voice remained even.

      “I had been losing a lot of money through Mr. Benson’s firm, and suddenly my intuition told me that he was purposely seeing to it that I did lose, and that he could, if he desired, help me to recoup.” She dropped her eyes. “He had been annoying me with his attentions for some time; and I didn’t put any despicable scheme past him. I went to his office, and told him quite plainly what I suspected. He replied that if I’d dine with him that night we could talk it over. I knew what his object was, but I was so desperate I decided to go anyway, hoping I might plead with him.”

      “And how did you happen to mention to Mr. Benson the exact time your little dinner party would terminate?”

      She looked at Vance in astonishment, but answered unhesitatingly.

      “He said something about—making a gay night of it; and then I told him—very emphatically—that if I went I would leave him sharply at midnight, as was my invariable rule on all parties. . . . You see,” she added, “I study very hard at my singing, and going home at midnight, no matter what the occasion, is one of the sacrifices—or rather, restrictions—I impose on myself.”

      “Most commendable and most wise!” commented Vance. “Was this fact generally known among your acquaintances?”

      “Oh yes. It even resulted in my being nicknamed Cinderella.”

      “Specifically, did Colonel Ostrander and Mr. Pfyfe know it?”

      “Yes.”

      Vance thought a moment.

      “How did you happen to go to tea at Mr. Benson’s home the day of the murder, if you were to dine with him that night?”

      A flush stained her cheeks.

      “There was nothing wrong in that,” she declared. “Somehow, after I had left Mr. Benson’s office, I revolted against my decision to dine with him, and I went to his house—I had gone back to the office first, but he had left—to make a final appeal, and to beg him to release me from my promise. But he laughed the matter off, and after insisting that I have tea, sent me home in a taxicab to dress for dinner. He called for me about half past seven.”

      “And when you pleaded with him to release you from your promise you sought to frighten him by recalling Captain Leacock’s threat; and he said it was only a bluff.”

      Again the woman’s astonishment was manifest.

      “Yes,” she murmured.

      Vance gave her a soothing smile.

      “Colonel Ostrander told me he saw you and Mr. Benson at the Marseilles.”

      “Yes; and I was terribly ashamed. He knew what Mr. Benson was, and had warned me against him only a few days before.”

      “I was under the impression the Colonel and Mr. Benson were good friends.”

      “They were—up to a week ago. But the Colonel lost more money than I did in a stock pool СКАЧАТЬ