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

"Stop!" It was Willoughby who exclaimed.

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"You've made some strange statements, young man." said Dwyer quietly "and I must say for a man under arrest — an escaped convict — you're damned cool."

A frank smile curled the other's lips.

"I'm not going back, Inspector," he said, "and don't you think it for one minute."

"Is that so?"

"You bet your life it is. I spent two years in that hell-hole. I was clever enough to make my escape, you can rest assured I'll be clever enough to keep out of it. What do you think I came here for?"

"That's what I'm wondering?" said Dwyer drily. "You might have known that sooner or later we would have run you down; that we would be certain to come to your sister's for you."

"Not so certain. If that poor devil hadn't died out there, I'd still be safe here. I've had six weeks start of you, Inspector, that was all I needed. Six weeks too much for you, Andrew, but you see you didn't get me after all."

Dwyer flung his cigar from him impatiently, and stepped over the threshold into the disordered laboratory. He closed the door behind him with a snap. Willoughby suddenly swayed, and dropped into the nearest chair.

"Now, Moore," said the inspector, "No funny business, get me? You're going back with me, and you're going back to stay. You were sent up on a poison charge, young man. There's a dead man out there on those grounds, — what did you have to do with his death? "

The boy shrugged his shoulders again, then his eyes clouded, a note of pathos crept into his voice.

"Everything," he said quietly. "I suppose if it weren't for me the poor devil would be alive at this minute."

Willoughby gave an inarticulate cry.

Dwyer stared at the ex-gardener, striving to digest his astounding words.

"Let me get you right," he said slowly. "Are you confessing that you killed that bum out there?"

"No," said young Moore — "but I'm saying that my brother-in-law, Andrew Willoughby, did."

There was a dead silence. Then Willoughby laughed. He laughed until he shook, then he staggered to his feet and waved a long bony finger at his accuser.

"You tried to implicate me before, you whelp! You tried to shift John Gordon's murder on my shoulders! By God! Don't you try it again! I never saw that man out there before — I—"

"Just a minute." The dignity, the note of authority in the boy's voice seemed to impress even Dwyer, hardened officer of the law that he was. "Two years ago, when I came out of college, I came here to study chemistry with Dr. Willoughby, my brother-in-law. I was interested in science. He had gone farther into some phases of it than any other teacher I could secure. I became his assistant in numerous tests. John Gordon was another assistant."

"Why rake all that up?" snapped Dwyer impatiently. "All that detail came out at the trial."

"Because you are going to know the truth. Because I am going to prove my statements. I don't know if Andrew Willoughby is insane or not, but I do know that in the interest of science he will stop at nothing , not even murder! Please," he continued, raising a silencing hand as they would have interrupted him. "He was making some tests of a new, very strange and interesting Eastern poison — it left no trace of any kind; a touch of it on a mucous membrane would produce instant death. This was not enough for Dr. Willoughby; he was searching for a poison whose mere contact would be deadly. At last he hit upon one. A harmless enough liquid until combined with metal and moisture—"

Lannen gave an exclamation of surprise.

Willoughby had seated himself, and now sat staring at the speaker with beaded, fascinated eyes. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue but otherwise made no movement.

"The trouble with this poison," continued Moore, "was that the victim died in convulsions — the death being of several moments' duration. Consequently Willoughby was still dissatisfied. I don't know what his desire was in making of poisoning a fine art, I don't think that at that time murder was his object. He sacrificed numerous animals in his experiments, even Louise's pet Airedale and a Persian cat belonging to the housekeeper were destroyed. The brutality of their death, the horrible agony they suffered was getting on my nerves. I wanted to get away. He did not let John Gordon into the secret of these poisons, so Gordon was in total ignorance of Willoughby's ambition.

"I began to fear my brother-in-law. There was an insane glitter in his eyes when at work. It dawned upon me that he would not endure any obstacle being placed in his way, and that because of my knowledge of his tests, he hated me, although he needed me. Then John Gordon was found dead. His attitude, the tortured expression on his face proved conclusively he had been poisoned, though if Willoughby had not so painstakingly explained the nature of that poison no one would have detected it in his system. Whether my brother-in-law deliberately killed him as a test — or it was an accident, I am not prepared to state, — but I had nothing to do with it. The metal cup which contained the coffee which Gordon drank, I never saw before — so help me God! Willoughby swore in court to my carelessnes — that I had deliberately left that cup which had been used on a tea table — and young Gordon had poured coffee into it and drank it! It was a lie; Dr. Willoughby himself did it! I had nothing to support my statement then . I was working for a reputable famous scientist. What was my word against his? With every proof in the world against me? But I made up my mind that the instant those prison doors closed behind me, and I was again a free man. I would not only prove my innocence — but Andrew Willoughby's guilt, and I have done so."

He paused abruptly.

"I escaped. The papers gave the' details. I took a chance in coming i here, — but as Louise's gardener I was safe from you if Willoughby did not recognize me. For a long time he never noticed me. One servant was the same as another to him. His wife always engaged them. Then he noted our friendship, Louise's and mine, and he became jealous. Too late we recognized our mistake, for the instant he took a good look at me, he knew who I was.

"As I said, he was cowardly. He knew I had something more than my liberty at stake. He feared me. He was afraid of what I knew of him. He instantly sensed that my presence in his household meant I was spying upon him. He could not send me away. He determined to do away with me. Cleverly he planted the idea in the mind of all his wife's friends that she was unfaithful to him, that I was, her lover; he did this so that if he were discovered as my murderer he would be exonerated for protecting his honor; then he began to study my habits. Knowing what he intended, I ate all my meals at a nearby road-house. Everything suspicious I handled with gloves — but in spite of all my precautions, if that poor devil had not appeared last night, this morning I would be a dead man."

An enigmatical smile curled up the corners of Willoughby's eyes. He shifted his position. He glanced in an almost disinterested fashion at the papers tossed about the room.

"He had contrived my murder in the cleverest, most diabolical fashion conceived of by man," continued Moore. "Knowing that to water the plants I must attach the hose every morning, he carefully saw to it that it was unattached — then using this poison which he had perfected, he placed it on the faucet — so that the instant it came into contact with moisture and metal it became deadly; so deadly that the touch of it on my bare hand was enough to kill me."

"Very pretty," said Dwyer with something like a snort — "but it strikes me like some sort of a fairy tale. You can't get away with that stuff, young man."