Erle Gardner: The Monkey Murder

The undercover man sighed.

“Now then,” Ackley went on, “you’ll have to make up for that mistake by devising some way of getting yourself back in Leith’s good graces.”

The big undercover man, his black eyes suddenly glittering, said. “O.K., I have an idea!”

“What is it?” Sergeant Ackley wanted to know.

“I could claim that I was under arrest; that you came here and pinched me first and then kept me with you all the time you were laying for him on the train and—”

“That’s fine,” Ackley said. “We’ll put that across.”

“But,” Beaver went on, “it won’t explain our conversation in the closet. You’ve spilled the beans now.”

“You’ll have to think up some explanation,” Sergeant Ackley said. “You thought up that other, now you can think up—”

“Of course,” Beaver said, “I could say that you’d called me in here and made me a proposition to spy on him and that I resented it.”

“Swell,” Sergeant Ackley said. “That’s exactly what we want. I knew we could think up something if we put our minds to it, Beaver.”

“Oh, we thought of this, did we?” Beaver asked.

“Certainly,” Sergeant Ackley said. “That is, I outlined to you what was required, and directed your thoughts in the proper channels. It shows you the value of supervision.”

“I see,” the spy said, his eyes still glittering, craftily. “But Lester Leith won’t believe that story unless I tell him that I bitterly resented your attempt to bribe me.”

“Well, go ahead and resent it,” Sergeant Ackley said.

“But how can I resent it?”

“You can shout at me, abuse me in a loud tone of voice.”

“No,” Beaver said, “this closet is virtually soundproof.”

“Well, think of something,” Sergeant Ackley said impatiently.

“I could push you up against the wall.” Beaver said, “and he could hear that. Then I’d have to hit you.”

Sergeant Ackley seemed dubious. “I don’t think we need to carry things that far, Beaver. We can scuffle around a bit and—”

“No. That will never do,” Beaver said. “We have to put this thing on right, or not at all. I won’t stay here unless we can do it convincingly.”

“Oh, all right,” Sergeant Ackley said. “Just to make it seem convincing, I’ll hit you first. You hit me easy, Beaver. You’re a big man. You don’t know your own strength. Come on; let’s get started. Now remember, Beaver, after things quiet down, I want you to get him started on the affair of the drugged guard.”

“What’s that?” Beaver asked. “I hadn’t heard of it.”

“Well, you will hear of it. We’ll give you all the dope. It happened last night. Karl Bonneguard was collecting funds for a political cult movement in this country. We don’t know how far it had gone. But he’d collected quite a bit of money. There was a grand jury investigation in the offing, so Bonneguard drew all the money out of the bank and—”

“I get you,” Beaver said. “What happened?”

“Somebody drugged the guard, and burgled the safe. We can’t find out how the guard got doped. It’s a mix-up that simply doesn’t make sense.”

“You don’t think the guard framed it and copped the dough?”

“No. The guard’s O.K. He warned Bonneguard soon as he felt drowsy. I’ll have to tell you about it later, Beaver. We haven’t time to discuss it now. We’ll go ahead with the act. We’ll open the door. You’ll be indignant.”

“O.K.,” Beaver said, “let’s go.”

They raised their voices in loud and angry altercation. Beaver flung open the closet door and said:

“I think it’s the most contemptible thing I ever heard of.”

“Go ahead and be a dumb cluck, then,” Sergeant Ackley roared. “You keep playing around with this crook and you’ll wind up behind the bars. You’re a crook yourself!”

“Liar!” Beaver shouted.

Sergeant Ackley lunged a terrific swing at Beaver’s jaw.

The undercover man, moving with the swift dexterity of a trained boxer, stepped inside of the blow. For a fraction of a second, he set himself. A look of supreme enjoyment became apparent on his face. He moved his right in a short, pivoting jab which caught Sergeant Ackley on the point of the jaw.

Ackley’s head snapped back. The force of the punch lifted him from the floor, slammed him back into the arms of the two detectives.

One of the detectives reached for his blackjack. The other dragged out a gun. Beaver whirled to face them, so that his back was to Lester Leith. He gave a series of warning winks and said:

“I call on you to witness that he struck me first, after accusing me of being a crook. Do you know what he wanted? He wanted to bribe me to stay on in this job and act as spy. I told him what I thought of him. I told him Mr. Leith was the best man I ever worked for.”

He took a deep breath and turned to Lester Leith. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said, “for losing my temper. But Sergeant Ackley took me into custody, very much against my will, earlier in the evening. Disregarding my demands that I be taken before a magistrate, he dragged me aboard that train and forced me to accompany him. I didn’t dare disobey him. However, when he made this infamous proposal to me, I felt that I was well within my rights as a citizen in couching my refusal in no uncertain language and in defending myself against attack. I trust I haven’t done wrong, sir.”

The police officers stared in amazement at the spy. Lester Leith regarded the limp form of Sergeant Ackley with eyes that were half closed in thoughtful concentration. At length he said:

“No, Beaver, you’ve done exactly what I should have done under similar circumstances. I distinctly saw Sergeant Ackley make an unprovoked assault upon you.”

Turning to the two officers, Beaver said: “And I call on you two gentlemen to be witness to what has happened. I demand that you take Sergeant Ackley out of here. I think, when he recovers consciousness, he will be the first to tell you that I have done exactly what the situation called for.”

One of the detectives returned the spy’s wink. “O.K., Beaver,” he said, “you win. Come on, Al. Give me a hand and we’ll drag the sarge out of here before there’s any more trouble.”

When the door had closed behind them, Beaver said to Lester Leith: “Disloyalty, sir, is one of my pet abominations. I detest one who is disloyal. I couldn’t restrain myself.”

“I don’t blame you in the least,” Lester Leith said. “I’m surprised that Sergeant Ackley had the temerity to arrest you and drag you aboard that train.”

“So am I, sir,” the spy said. And then, with a look of cunning in his eyes, added: “Incidentally, sir, while I was with them in the drawing room, I heard them discussing a crime which was committed no later than last night; a crime involving a drugged guard—”

Lester Leith held up his hand, palm outward. “Not now, Scuttle,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The spy said, “Perhaps tomorrow, when you’re feeling rested—”

“No, not tomorrow, Scuttle.”

The spy did not press the point. “Very well, sir,” he said.

“By the way, Scuttle,” Leith commented, “I think I’d like a brandy, and you’d better join me. I derived a great deal of satisfaction from the way you hung that punch on Sergeant Ackley’s jaw.”