In the Onyx Lobby Part 49

The body had fallen at the base of one of the great onyx columns, near the side wall of the lobby. In fact, the head and shoulders had fallen against the wall, as if the victim had been driven back by his pursuers till he could go no farther.

And, after scanning the floor, Wise's eyes traveled on to the onyx wall itself, to the heavy surbase of wide, smooth onyx blocks, and on the pinkish, mottled surface his trained eyes descried a pencil mark.

"Gee!" he cried, explosively, "oh, I say!"

Quickly he ran for the paper the dead man left, stripped from it the protecting gla.s.s panes, and with the utmost care he laid the paper itself against the onyx block that showed a pencil mark.

His eyes bulged with surprise, his face flushed with excitement, and he jumped up from the floor, where he had pursued his quest unnoticed save for a disinterested pa.s.ser-by.

"Bates!" he cried, as he returned to the little reception-room and found the young man still there and still in deep dejection, "Oh, Bates!"

"What?" and Richard lifted his head to see the excited detective brandishing the paper in a wave of triumph.

"What do you think? Listen, man, put your whole mind on this! When Sir Herbert was stabbed he fell to the floor."

"Yes."

"He rolled over toward the wall,--or fell against the wall,--and he had just sufficient strength left to get a pencil and a sc.r.a.p of paper out of his pocket and write that message."

"Yes,--good heavens, Wise, I know all that!"

"Sure you do. Well, now hark. He didn't place that paper on the floor to write on it; he held it up against the wall."

"Well?"

"Well, and part of the writing,--the first part, fell on the wall and not on the paper----"

"What!" shouted Bates. "What was it? Does it change the meaning?"

"_Does_ it! Well, rather! The part on the wall is one letter,--the initial letter of what he wrote----"

"What was it? Tell me, Wise, don't keep me in suspense!"

"I don't mean to. It was a T,--a capital T."

"Well? I don't see----"

"Why, it makes the message read 'Two men did this,' instead of 'women did this.' The words are run together, for he couldn't lift the pencil----"

"He always did that,--his writing always shows connected words!"

"So, there's the message as clear as print! The T on the onyx just fits to the first mark on the paper,--any one can see that,--and we have the dying statement, 'Two men did this.' With what is undoubtedly the further instruction, 'get both'."

"What a revelation! Who can they be?"

"It ought to be easy to find out. They are, of course, some of the bakery men. And Sir Herbert's idea was that doubtless one would be apprehended, but for us to get both of them."

"And the women are out of it!"

"Ab--s--lute--ly! But we must go warily. You see, the guilty men have been glad to hide behind the idea of 'women' which came to their rescue by the merest chance. It's all so easily understood now. Sir Herbert, with dying effort and failing eyesight, wrote hurriedly, and efficient, though he was, his haste made him begin his writing off the paper instead of on it. His habit of connecting words, or his inability from weakness to lift his pencil, made the words 'Two men,' the capital missing, seem to be 'women.' Think how delighted the two men must have been at this! I doubt if they realized what did happen,--more likely they thought Sir Herbert denounced women for some reason of his own.

Now, to catch them we must walk delicately, like Scriptural Agag, and spring on them unawares."

"Which way shall we look?"

"Take the Bakery men in turn. Crippen first, I should say."

"Vail?"

"Vail's out of it. You see, he was in the elevator with Moore when it happened."

"Unless Vail and Moore were the two men, and trumped up the whole story."

"I don't think that. Moore's no criminal; he had no motive, and the whole weight of evidence and testimony goes to prove Moore truly interested in the solution of the mystery. He's worked harder on it than you know. I've watched him. No, Bob Moore is not the man! And that lets Vail out."

"Well, then--but I won't suggest. You can dictate."

"First let's get Zizi and tell her."

The girl was summoned and when Wise told her what he had found her big, black eyes danced with delight.

"Who's the criminal, Zizi?" asked Wise.

"The man who married Molly," she returned, promptly. "Also the man who hunted and found the recipe. Molly saw him doing that, and made him marry her or she'd tell. If he could contrive a mock marriage of course he did. Or it may have been a real one. That doesn't matter. It's his ident.i.ty that matters. Two men! That man, then, and another."

"Vail's out of it," Wise informed her, and told why. "Then, there's Crippen,----"

"No;" Zizi interrupted, "don't go further afield. It's--wait a minute,--get Bob Moore in here."

This was accomplished and Zizi did the interrogating.

Care was taken not to divulge the new evidence and when Zizi asked him to detail his actions at the exact time of the crime, the man wonderingly recounted his oft-told tale.

"Did Mr Vail seem about as usual when he was talking to you, going up in the elevator?" Zizi asked, casually.

"Yes, but very chummy and talkative, more so than I ever knew him to be before."

"Yes? And did he detain you at this floor,--or did _you_ keep _him_, talking about the detective story you were reading?"

"Why, I don't know. Come to think of it,--I should say he detained me,--for he was so interested,--and, too, I never would have presumed to talk to him so familiarly if he hadn't egged me on."

"Think back, now. Did he really keep you from going back by talking to you? Could you say he did that purposely?"

"I can say that may have been the case," Moore averred, thinking hard.

"But he seemed really interested----"

"As he never had been before," commented Zizi, and adding, "and as he never has been since?"

"No; he's never been so chummy with me since. I've tried to talk to him about the Binney murder case, but he almost snubbed me,--at least he shut me off mighty quick."