J. Thorne - The Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 1, No. 5 - August 1920)

"You didn't kill the man, did you?" snapped Lannen suddenly.

"No! No! Good God, no!"

"Well, then will you be kind enough to explain just what is it all about?"

"He hates me—" Allering continued.

"Who?"

"Andrew — Andrew Willoughby. He hates me as much as he fears me—"

Lannen started angrily to his feet "Willoughby is my friend!"

The younger man laughed stridently. "Friend! He's no man's friend! There's only one thing in the world of any value to him, that's science! Didn't you see how he took the death of that poor dog out there? I was behind a clump of shrub. I heard and saw him. He gloated over his body! He was glad! Glad that a man had died and proven another one of his damnable poisons efficacious!"

"By God! — are you insinuating that — that Andrew Willoughby killed the man out there?"

"I am!"

"A man he had never seen, a stray tramp—"

"It was intended for me—" Allering returned wearily — "he failed in his purpose so far as I was concerned, but he made a sure test and it proved successful."

"You're making an astounding statement, young man," said Lannen straining to keep his voice calm and uninterested — "You, are accusing a man of murder; your employer, the husband of the woman with whom—"

Allering sprang to his feet. The veins stood out in great welts on his high, thin forehead. His nostrils quivered. When he again sank into his chair he was panting from the struggle.

"Mr. Lannen," he said abruptly, "I–I met Louise, Mrs. Willoughby, outside in the grounds — why I did so is our affair — but she is a good woman, — you must know she is! Her husband is more than a scoundrel; he is the vilest, lowest—" Lannen's gesture interrupted him, he continued in a quieter tone—

"We met by an arbor near the greenhouses. It is very dark there, and in spite of its being moonlight we weren't seen; but we saw the figure of a man as he came out of the house. It was Andrew Willoughby. At first we thought he had seen Louise leave and was following us; but he passed the arbor and went on toward the greenhouses."

"In the moonlight, which made everything perfectly visible in the open, I could see he was carrying something. A little case, his medicine case, he uses when visiting a patient. I was afraid he could hear Louise's breathing, he passed so close to us; but he was too intent on his wicked thoughts to notice anything else. At the greenhouses he hesitated, and looked stealthily around; then he laughed. That laugh made Louise grip my arm. I put my hand over her mouth for fear she would cry out."

"There is a hydrant beside one of the houses. I use it every morning to attach the hose. To my knowledge no one else ever touches it. No one has occasion too. Willoughby was aware of this. It is an old fashioned arrangement and I have protested against it, but the thing has remained as it is. Several times I have been drenched by the nozzle slipping. As we watched, Willoughby went to this hydrant. He carefully unfastened the hose; then he opened the little case he carried. He took out something which was evidently a piece of cloth and wiped all the damp off the rusty metal. Then he put the cloth back into the case. Next he took a small vial out of it, and with great caution poured it all over the metal. Then as quietly as he had come, he whirled around and went back to the house."

Allering paused. Then — "We both stood there in the darkness, unable at first to speak or move," he went on. "Then Louise whispered, 'Charlie, what was it? What was he doing?' I didn't tell her — I knew he had contrived some diabolical way to get rid of me, though just how a liquid poison on a piece of metal could do it, I didn't know; I resolved under no conditions to touch it. Louise became frightened and started to cry. She was pent up and nervous before, now she became hysterical. I tried to reassure her and told her she had best go back to the house. Though she tried to control her feelings, I felt she knew instinctively what I did, that her husband had, planned my murder!"

"Just as she braced up and started to leave me — a man vaulted the stone wall, and lurched into view, a pool of moonlight outlining him distinctly. I think he was a tramp or a thief. I had never seen him before. He wandered about aimlessly, until he came to the hydrant. Almost before I knew what he was doing, he had put his mouth to the socket and turned on the water. The next moment he gave that cry you heard. We saw him stagger backwards, fling up his arms, waving them wildly, then fall over, doubling up and writhing as though in horrible pain. It only lasted a moment. Then he was dead. Louise screamed. She started to run. She fell twice. I was going to follow her, then I knew I mustn't. I crept further back into the shadow of the arbor. After you all came back into the house, I stole out the other way, climbed the wall and returned through the servants' entrance."

"Why should Andrew wish to kill you?" Lannen asked abruptly.

Allering rose again.

He crossed to the lawyer, and stood under a stand lamp, allowing its light to shine directly on his pallid face. The skin over his cheek bones was drawn and tight. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes. His young mouth was hard and grim; but in spite of everything there was a look of candor and manliness about him which impressed Lannen.

"Arthur Lannen, don't you know me?"

"Why — Why—" the vague something which had disturbed Lannen resolved itself into a memory. The memory of a pink-cheeked, red-haired lad, with a sunny smile, an almost cherubic cast of countenance.

He gave a gasp. "Charlie Moore — not — Charlie Moore ?"

"Yes!"

" Louise's brother! But why—?"

An automobile came into the driveway, stopped with a noisy purr of the engine. Some men alighted, then the door bell gave a metallic clatter.

The boy clutched Lannen's arm.

"For God's sake, keep me out of this!" he cried. "I'll explain later."

Before the lawyer could answer he had disappeared behind the satin draperies.

Lannen opened the door before the servant reached it. The inspector, followed by his medical examiner and a couple of officers, strode into the hallway.

"Well, what's the dope?" the inspector asked abruptly.

He was a large man with a twenty-four hours' crop of blue black beard; his eyes were dark and very keen. He wore horn rimmed spectacles which he kept constantly removing and polishing. Lannen knew that in that brief second's survey of the room he had noticed the almost imperceptible swaying of the curtains as they fell together behind Charlie Moore.

"You called me?" the inspector continued, not waiting for his question to be answered.

"Yes."

"Where's Willoughby?" The doctor was well known on the Island. "Outside. A dead man was found on the grounds. Some sneak thief or hobo evidently. We thought it best to send for you. It may be heart-failure. It may be murder."

"Alright. Take me to him."

As they stepped outside, Lannen realized that morning had arrived.

In the hazy light he saw Dr. Willoughby seated on a stone bench, his shaggy bearded chin cupped in his hand, as he stared with evident interest at the huddled splotch on the ground before him. The servants had grouped themselves some little distance away, evidently discussing the gruesome event; but at the sight of the officers they hushed abruptly.

Lannen glanced quickly at the hydrant. It was open, a slow trickle of water resolved itself into a little rivulet below it, and wended away into a tiny stream toward the greenhouses a trifle below it.