Doctor Von Blon now?” Markham asked Sproot.
“With Mrs. Greene, sir.”
“Tell him we’re here and would like to see him at once.”
The butler bowed and went out.
Vance was pacing up and down, his eyes almost closed.
“It grows madder every minute,” he said. “It was insane enough without those foot-tracks and that open door. There’s something devilish going on here, Markham. There’s demonology and witchcraft afoot, or something strangely close to it. I say, is there anything in the Pandects or the Justinian Code relating to the proper legal procedure against diabolic possession or spiritism?”
Before Markham could rebuke him Von Blon entered. His usual suavity had disappeared. He bowed jerkily without speaking, and smoothed his moustache nervously with an unsteady hand.
“Sproot tells me, doctor,” said Markham, “that you did not hear the shot fired in Rex’s room.”
“No!” The fact seemed both to puzzle and disturb him. “I can’t make it out either, for Rex’s door into the hall was open.”
“You were in Miss Sibella’s room, were you not?” Vance had halted, and stood studying the doctor.
Von Blon lifted his eyebrows.
“I was. Sibella had been complaining about——”
“A sore throat or something of the kind, no doubt,” finished Vance. “But that’s immaterial. The fact is that neither you nor Miss Sibella heard the shot. Is that correct?”
The doctor inclined his head. “I knew nothing of it till Sproot knocked on the door and beckoned me across the hall.”
“And Miss Sibella accompanied you into Rex’s room?”
“She came in just behind me, I believe. But I told her not to touch anything, and sent her immediately back to her room. When I came out into the hall again I heard Sproot phoning the District Attorney’s office, and thought I’d better wait till the police arrived. After talking over the situation with Sibella I informed Mrs. Greene of the tragedy, and remained with her until Sproot told me of your arrival.”
“You saw no one else up-stairs, or heard no suspicious noise?”
“No one—nothing. The house, in fact, was unusually quiet.”
“Do you recall if Miss Ada’s door was open?”
The doctor pondered a moment. “I don’t recall—which means it was probably closed. Otherwise I would have noticed it.”
“And how is Mrs. Greene this morning?” Vance’s question, put negligently, sounded curiously irrelevant.
Von Blon gave a start.
“She seemed somewhat more comfortable when I first saw her, but the news of Rex’s death disturbed her considerably. When I left her just now she was complaining about the shooting pains in her spine.”
Markham had got up and now moved restlessly toward the archway.
“The Medical Examiner will be here any minute,” he said; “and I want to look over Rex’s room before he arrives. You might come with us, doctor.—And you, Sproot, had better remain at the front door.”
We went up-stairs quietly: I think it was in all our minds that we should not advertise our presence to Mrs. Greene. Rex’s room, like all those in the Greene mansion, was spacious. It had a large window at the front and another at the side. There were no draperies to shut out the light, and the slanting midday sun of winter poured in. The walls, as Chester had once told us, were lined with books; and pamphlets and papers were piled in every available nook. The chamber resembled a student’s workshop more than a bedroom.
In front of the Tudor fireplace in the centre of the left wall—a duplication of the fireplace in Ada’s room—sprawled the body of Rex Greene. His left arm was extended, but his right arm was crooked, and the fingers were tightened, as if holding some object. His domelike head was turned a little to one side; and a thin stream of blood ran down his temple to the floor from a tiny aperture over the right eye.
REX’S BEDROOM.
Heath studied the body for several minutes.
“He was shot standing still, Mr. Markham. He collapsed in a heap and then straightened out a little after he’d hit the floor.”
Vance was bending over the dead man with a puzzled expression.
“Markham, there’s something curious and inconsistent here,” he said. “It was broad daylight when this thing happened, and the lad was shot from the front—there are even powder marks on the face. But his expression is perfectly natural. No sign of fear or astonishment—rather peaceful and unconcerned, in fact. . . . It’s incredible. The murderer and the pistol certainly weren’t invisible.”
Heath nodded slowly.
“I noticed that too, sir. It’s damn peculiar.” He bent more closely over the body. “That wound looks to me like a thirty-two,” he commented, turning to the doctor for confirmation.
“Yes,” said Von Blon. “It appears to have been made with the same weapon that was used against the others.”
“It was the same weapon,” Vance pronounced sombrely, taking out his cigarette-case with thoughtful deliberation. “And it was the same killer who used it.” He smoked a moment, his troubled gaze resting on Rex’s face. “But why was it done at just this time—in the daylight, with the door open, and when there were people close at hand? Why didn’t the murderer wait until night? Why did he run such a needless risk?”
“Don’t forget,” Markham reminded him, “that Rex was on the point of coming to my office to tell me something.”
“But who knew he was about to indulge in revelations? He was shot within ten minutes of your call——” He broke off and turned quickly to the doctor. “What telephone extensions are there in the house?”
“There are three, I believe.” Von Blon spoke easily. “There’s one in Mrs. Greene’s room, one in Sibella’s room, and, I think, one in the kitchen. The main phone is, of course, in the lower front hall.”
“A regular central office,” growled Heath. “Almost anybody coulda listened in.” Suddenly he fell on his knees beside the body and unflexed the fingers of the right hand.
“I’m afraid you won’t find that cryptic drawing, Sergeant,” murmured Vance. “If the murderer shot Rex in order to seal his mouth the paper will surely be gone. Any one overhearing the phone calls, d’ye see, would have learned of the envelope he was to fetch along.”
“I guess you’re right, sir. But I’m going to have a look.”
He felt under the body and then systematically went through the dead man’s pockets. But he found nothing even resembling
