Эрл Гарднер - The Amazing Adventures of Lester Leith

There was an imperative knock on the door of the apartment.

Lester Leith strolled to it casually.

“Probably the police now, Lamont.”

He opened the door.

Harry Vare burst into the room.

“You’re under arrest!” he snapped at Lester Leith.

Lester Leith stepped back and eyed Vare with well-simulated amazement.

“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked.

“Your name’s Lamont,” said Vare, “and you’re under arrest for the murder of George Navin. I’m representing the Indian priests who are trying to recover the gem, and I’m going to take you to police headquarters with me right now.”

Lester Leith said: “You’re crazy. My name’s Leith. I’m not Lamont. That’s Lamont over there, the man you want. I’m working for a newspaper.”

Harry Vare laughed, scornfully.

“I saw you come in here and had the doorman point out the one who lived here. He pointed to you.”

“You fool,” Leith said, “he made a mistake, or rather you did. He pointed to this man here, and you thought he was pointing me out.” Vare snapped a gun into view, and fished for handcuffs with his left hand.

“Hold out your wrist,” he said, “or I’ll blow you apart.”

Lester Leith hesitated a moment, then held out his wrist, reluctantly. Vare snapped one of the handcuffs to Leith’s wrist, locked the other one around his own wrist, and said, “Come on, you slicker, you’re going to headquarters.”

Leith said: “Listen! You’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You’re letting the real murderer—”

Bob Lamont laughed.

He turned to Harry Vare and said: “You’re quite right, officer, that’s Bob Lamont that you’ve got under arrest, but this comes as quite as a shock to me. I’ve known him for two or three years, and thought he was above reproach.”

“No, he wasn’t,” said Vare. “He was the man who murdered Navin.”

Lester Leith groaned.

“Youngster,” he said, “you’re making a mistake that is going to make you the laughing-stock of the city inside of twenty-four hours.”

Vare muttered grimly: “Come along, Lamont.”

Lester Leith sighed and accompanied Vare through the doorway to the elevator, down the elevator, across the lobby of the apartment house, and to the street.

“Well,” said Leith, “that was pretty well done, Vare. You can let me loose now.”

Vare took a key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock of the handcuff only after considerable difficulty. His forehead was beaded with nervous perspiration, and his hand was shaking. He made two attempts to fit the key to the lock. “I can’t seem to get it,” he said.

Leith glanced at him sharply. “Vare,” he said, “what the devil are you trying to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Give me that key.”

Vare didn’t pass over the key but instead looked expectantly back toward the shadows.

The voice of Sergeant Ackley said: “I’ll take charge now.”

There was motion from the deep shadows of the doorway of an adjoining building. Sergeant Ackley, accompanied by a plainclothes officer, stepped forward.

Leith said to Sergeant Ackley: “What’s the meaning of this?”

Ackley said: “You should know more about it than I do, Leith. You’ve delivered yourself to me already handcuffed.”

For a moment there was consternation on Leith’s face, then he masked all expression from his face and eyes.

“Didn’t expect to see me here, did you?” Sergeant Ackley asked gloatingly.

Leith said nothing.

Sergeant Ackley said to Vare: “Give me the key to those handcuffs, young man. I’ll slip one off your wrist, and put it on Leith’s other wrist.”

Vare extended his hand. Sergeant Ackley took the key, clicked the handcuff from Vare’s arm, and snapped it around Leith’s other wrist.

The rapid click-clack click-clack of high heels as two women rounded the corner, walking rapidly, came to Leith’s ears. He turned around so that the light fell full on his face.

“Why, Mr. Leith!” Dixie Dormley exclaimed. “What’s the matter?”

Lester Leith said nothing.

Sergeant Ackley grinned gloatingly. “Mr. Leith,” he said, “is being arrested. You probably didn’t know he was a crook.”

“A crook!” she exclaimed.

From the doorway of the apartment house came a hurrying figure, attired in overcoat, hat, and gloves. He carried a light suitcase in one hand, and crossed the strip of sidewalk with three swift strides. It wasn’t until he started to signal for a taxicab that he became aware of the little group.

Sergeant Ackley said to the plainclothesman: “Get that guy.”

Lamont heard the order, turned to look over his shoulder, then dropped the suitcase, and started to run.

“Help!” yelled Sergeant Ackley.

Lamont sprinted down the street. He turned to flash an apprehensive glance over his shoulder, and so did not see the figure of Sid Bentley as it slid out from the shadows.

There was a thud, a tangled mass of arms and legs, and then Bentley, sitting up on the sidewalk, said: “I got him for you, officer.”

The plainclothesman ran up and grabbed Lamont by the collar. He jerked him to his feet, then said to Bentley: “That was fine work. I’m glad you stopped him.”

“No trouble at all,” Bentley said.

The officer said: “Come on back with me, and I’ll give you a courtesy card which may help you out some time.”

Bentley’s eyes glistened. “Now, that’ll be right nice of you, officer.”

The officer pushed the reluctant Lamont back toward the little group which had, by this time, became a small, curious crowd. “Here he is, Sergeant,” he said.

Sergeant Ackley said irritably: “All right, Lamont. You’d better come clean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lamont said.

Sergeant Ackley laughed. “Come on, Lamont, the jig’s up. You killed George Navin and got that ruby. Lester Leith hijacked it from you. Now, if you’ll give us the facts, you won’t be any worse off for it.”

Lamont said: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I... I took the custody of the ruby because—”

“Careful, Lamont,” Lester Leith said sharply. “Don’t put your neck in a noose.”

Sergeant Ackley turned and slapped Leith across the mouth. “Keep your trap shut,” he said, and to the plainclothes officer: “Go ahead and search him.”

“Oh, no,” Lamont shouted. “You can’t do it. Navin gave it to me to keep for him. I was going to turn it over to the estate.”

“Gave you what?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“The ruby.”

Ackley said: “Go head, Lamont, tell the truth. You took the ruby, and then Lester Leith took it from you.”

Lamont shook his head.

Sergeant Ackley ran his hands over Leith’s coat. Abruptly he shot his hand into Leith’s inside pocket and pulled out a chamois-skin bag. He reached inside of that bag, and the spectators gasped as the rays from the street light were reflected from a blood-red blob of brilliance.

“There it is,” Sergeant Ackley said gloatingly.

Lamont stared, clapped his own hand to his breast pocket, became suddenly silent.

Sergeant Ackley said triumphantly to the crowd: “That’s the way we work, folks. Give the crooks rope enough, and they hang themselves. You’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow morning. Sergeant Arthur Ackley solves the Navin murder, and at the same time traps a crook who’s trying to hijack the East Indian ruby. All right, boys. We’re going to the station.”

Leith said: “Sergeant, you’re making a—”

“Shut up,” Ackley said savagely. “I’ve been laying for you for a long time, and now I’ve got you.”