Hamilton Craigie - The Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 2, No. 2 — November 1920)

“Yes, yes, he had one or two attacks. Once in the bank he almost collapsed. Mr. Jacobsen knows about that.”

“We’ll not bother you much longer, Mrs. Lewis. There’s just one thing more. Do you object to the body being held for a few days before burial? Perhaps a post-mortem may throw a little light on the case.”

“No. I have no objections.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best to clear this up. Two mysterious deaths here — it is very unusual. Good-day.”

The party tiptoed from the house. Prosecutor Thornton said he was glad that was over.

As they walked away he asked Dorgan what he thought of the situation. Jim merely replied he didn’t know what to think. It was obvious he did not wish to express an opinion so publicly.

Back at the bank, Thornton inquired of Mr. Jacobsen concerning Harley’s antecedents and was informed by the cashier that he knew little of Harley’s history. In fact, almost nothing. Mr. Lewis had engaged him in Cleveland, he believed, although he could not be certain. Harley had talked of many places he had been, without attaching himself to any one particularly. He had come to Georgetown a little more than a year ago, and had always been on good terms with his employer. Mr. Jacobsen declared he was a very likable and upright young man, and resented any inference from the prosecutor that he might have been responsible for the disappearance of the five thousand dollars.

“Do you suppose he might have had friends in another city—Cleveland, for instance—who helped him rob the bank?” Dorgan pressed.

“Ah, no,” Mr. Jacobsen replied, dismissing the thought. “He could not have done it. No, certainly not.”

“Well, boys,” Thornton said when they left the bank the second time, “the case resolves itself into this: Was Harley murdered, and who got the money? Evidently, as Dr. Carter says,'Lewis died of heart disease in his car. He was getting well beyond fifty, and that’s very probable. But something very unusual must have happened to Harley to break his neck, and the money of course did not walk away from the bank unassisted. What caused Harley’s death and who took the money? — that’s for us to find out. What’s the answer, Dorgan?”

Jim flung up his hands in meaningless gesture.

After visiting the house where Harley had roomed and where they found the landlady in sincere mourning at Harley’s death, the party returned to Rockland.

“Well, Mr. Sphinx, what do you make of it?” Thornton wanted to know when he was alone with Dorgan that evening in his office. “Has there been a murder committed? Or two murders? What in your opinion should be the course of the commonwealth?”

The “Bulldog” did not answer at Once, but stood looking out over the public square of Rockland where the autos were massed.

“We have cars nowadays where we used to have horses and buggies and hitchracks,” he said irrelevantly.

“Yes,” Bill answered.

“But we have people down here as always, the same people, with pretty much the same habits and beliefs and prejudices and loves and longings.”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Human nature does not change a great deal regardless of the advance of civilization, does it?”

“No. But what’s that got to do with Georgetown?”

“I don’t know, Bill. Perhaps nothing. What do you think?”

Thornton sat staring at him and seemed to interpret his thoughts.

“You’re wrong, Jim,” he declared suddenly; “you’re wrong.”

“Well, perhaps I am. But that ancient situation—an old husband, a young wife and a young man. Why, the man who would overlook that angle of this case would be a fool. An absolute fool, Bill; an absolute fool.”

“How old do you say she is, Jim?”

“A little over thirty. Do I miss it far?”

“No, I guess not. I recall that she married him five or six years ago, and she could not have been very old then. She’s just two or three years younger than you and I.”

“What were the circumstances—the reason, if I might put it that way?”

“No particular reason, to my knowledge. Probably because she had no other offer of marriage, Jim. Such things do happen, you know.”

“That’s probably true. Plain sort of woman, isn’t she?”

“Yes, plain. Too plain, Jim, to bear out what you’re hinting at. That’s my idea. Why, I know her as I know every one else in the county, perhaps a little better than some, and I know she has been very dutiful. Her nature to be so. It’s rather ridiculous, Dorgan, to jump at conclusions like that. Preposterous! A church worker, the Associated Charities of the village, the personification of kindness. No, Jim, it could not be.”

“But you do not intend to take it for granted, do you, Bill? You’re surely going to investigate her thoroughly. If I may offer a suggestion, I’d keep the coroner’s verdict open for a while, and — and put her through a severe examination.”

Thornton thrummed his desk with a letter opener. His face flushed.

“Look here, Jim,” he said, shaking the instrument at Dorgan with the manner he might use in addressing a jury. “I’ve a little sense of human nature as well as you. You have worked among people where that sort of thing exists. It does not exist in this county. It does not, I tell you!”

“Well, that’s the chivalrous way of looking at it.”

“I’ve got some sense of human nature, as I said,” Thornton continued, his eyes narrowing, “and I insist that I know an honest and decent woman when I see one. I did not indicate it today, but I have known Helen Lewis for a great many years. We once went to school together down in the country before I met you. That girl was wholesome, a romping, open-souled sort of person; that woman is wholesome, and decent, today.”

“But, Bill, it is the wholesome woman that often turns out to be the most unwholesome. She’s forced to it. The lack of attention drives her to seek attention. Haven’t I seen it proven scores of times? I wasn’t born yesterday.” There was a recalcitrant note in his voice.

“Yes, that’s the fine professional way of looking at it. But it’s the brutal, cold way, too. Why, Dorgan, I’d as soon cut off that little finger as to consider such a thing seriously. What do we know to indicate such an amour as you insinuate, getting down to brass tacks? What evidence have we got that such an affair ever existed? None, absolutely none. They were never seen together, and Harley very, very seldom was at the Lewis home. Jacobsen told me privately he knew that neither had been farther away from Georgetown than Rockland within the year. Why, man, there’s not a scintilla of fact to back you up!”

Dorgan laughed softly.

“Very well, my dear sir,” Thornton flung at him. “But perhaps you can explain the disappearance of the money on your hypothesis? Possibly the five thousand had an affinity.”

“Oh, I won’t quarrel about it, Bill. Of course I cannot explain at this stage how the money disappeared. But somebody who had a key to the bank and knew the safe combination must have got it. That’s almost a foregone conclusion.”

“Yes. But where did it go? Three persons had keys to the bank—Harley, Jacobsen and Lewis. I think you will agree with me that Jacobsen may almost be eliminated from suspicion. However, I intend to have accountants go over the books and affairs of the bank generally. Just before you came in tonight I had the bank at Winton on the phone to see if I could find any clew to Lewis’ taking the money there. But there was none. It was some real estate business that took him to Winton, I learned, and there was no money passed. That brings us down to Harley. If he stole the money, what did he do with it? It was not at the house where he roomed, as you know our investigation proved. If he took it, would he hide it, knowing that the theft of so large an amount would be discovered immediately? And he mailed nothing, nor telegraphed. There is the possibility that he had outside help. Jacobsen spoke of his having come from Cleveland; at least he thought so. He might have engineered the haul and had a gang from Cleveland to aid him. We’ll get in touch with the police there and in other cities and have them on the lookout. There are several possibilities—plausibilities, Jim, you might say—but nothing definite. I think you will agree with me, that it is a very deep mystery to which the key is not visible. So what’s the answer, Jim?”