(Tuesday, September 11; 8.30 a. m.)
It was barely half past eight on that momentous1 morning of September the 11th when Markham brought word to us of the event.
I was living temporarily with Vance at his home in East 38th Street—a large remodelled2 apartment occupying the two top floors of a beautiful mansion3. For several years I had been Vance’s personal legal representative and adviser4, having resigned from my father’s law firm of Van Dine, Davis and Van Dine to devote myself to his needs and interests. His affairs were by no means voluminous, but his personal finances, together with his numerous purchases of paintings and objets d’art, occupied my full time without burdening me. This monetary5 and legal stewardship6 was eminently7 congenial to my tastes; and my friendship with Vance, which had dated from our undergraduate days at Harvard, supplied the social and human element in an arrangement which otherwise might easily have degenerated8 into one of mere9 drab routine.
On this particular morning I had risen early and was working in the library when Currie, Vance’s valet and majordomo, announced Markham’s presence in the living-room. I was considerably10 astonished at this early-morning visit, for Markham well knew that Vance, who rarely rose before noon, resented any intrusion upon his matutinal slumbers11. And in that moment I received the curious impression that something unusual and portentous12 was toward.
I found Markham pacing restlessly up and down, his hat and gloves thrown carelessly on the centre-table. As I entered he halted and looked at me with harassed13 eyes. He was a moderately tall man, clean-shaven, gray-haired, and firmly set up. His appearance was distinguished14, and his manner courteous15 and kindly16. But beneath his gracious exterior17 there was an aggressive sternness, an indomitable, grim strength, that gave one the sense of dogged efficiency and untiring capability18.
“Good morning, Van,” he greeted me, with impatient perfunctoriness. “There’s been another half-world murder—the worst and ugliest thus far. . . .” He hesitated, and regarded me searchingly. “You recall my chat with Vance at the club the other night? There was something damned prophetic in his remarks. And you remember I half promised to take him along on the next important case. Well, the case has broken—with a vengeance19. Margaret Odell, whom they called the Canary, has been strangled in her apartment; and from what I just got over the phone, it looks like another night-club affair. I’m headed for the Odell apartment now. . . . What about rousing out the sybarite?”
“By all means,” I agreed, with an alacrity20 which, I fear, was in large measure prompted by purely21 selfish motives22. The Canary! If one had sought the city over for a victim whose murder would stir up excitement, there could have been but few selections better calculated to produce this result.
Hastening to the door, I summoned Currie, and told him to call Vance at once.
“I’m afraid, sir——” began Currie, politely hesitant.
“Calm your fears,” cut in Markham. “I’ll take all responsibility for waking him at this indecent hour.”
Currie sensed an emergency and departed.
A minute or two later Vance, in an elaborately embroidered23 silk kimono and sandals, appeared at the living-room door.
“My word!” he greeted us, in mild astonishment24, glancing at the clock. “Haven’t you chaps gone to bed yet?”
He strolled to the mantel, and selected a gold-tipped Régie cigarette from a small Florentine humidor.
Vance held his wax vesta poised27, and gave me a look of indolent inquisitiveness28. “Whose canary?”
“Margaret Odell was found strangled this morning,” amended29 Markham brusquely. “Even you, wrapped in your scented30 cotton-wool, have heard of her. And you can realize the significance of the crime. I’m personally going to look for those footprints in the snow; and if you want to come along, as you intimated the other night, you’ll have to get a move on.”
Vance crushed out his cigarette.
“Margaret Odell, eh?—Broadway’s blonde Aspasia—or was it Phryne who had the coiffure d’or? . . . Most distressin’!” Despite his offhand31 manner, I could see he was deeply interested. “The base enemies of law and order are determined32 to chivvy you most horribly, aren’t they, old dear? Deuced inconsiderate of ’em! . . . Excuse me while I seek habiliments suitable to the occasion.”
He disappeared into his bedroom, while Markham took out a large cigar and resolutely33 prepared it for smoking, and I returned to the library to put away the papers on which I had been working.
In less than ten minutes Vance reappeared, dressed for the street.
“Bien, mon vieux,” he announced gaily34, as Currie handed him his hat and gloves and a malacca cane35. “Allons-y!”
We rode up-town along Madison Avenue, turned into Central Park, and came out by the West 72d Street entrance. Margaret Odell’s apartment was at 184 West 71st Street, near Broadway; and as we drew up to the curb36, it was necessary for the patrolman on duty to make a passage for us through the crowd that had already gathered as a result of the arrival of the police.
Feathergill, an assistant District Attorney, was waiting in the main hall for his Chief’s arrival.
“It’s too bad, sir,” he lamented37. “A rotten show all round. And just at this time! . . .” He shrugged38 his shoulders discouragingly.
“It may collapse39 quickly,” said Markham, shaking the other’s hand. “How are things going? Sergeant40 Heath phoned me right after you called, and said that, at first glance, the case looked a bit stubborn.”
“Stubborn?” repeated Feathergill lugubriously41. “It’s downright impervious42. Heath is spinning round like a turbine. He was called off the Boyle case, by the way, to devote his talents to this new shocker. Inspector43 Moran arrived ten minutes ago, and gave him the official imprimatur.”
“Well, Heath’s a good man,” declared Markham. “We’ll work it out. . . . Which is the apartment?”
Feathergill led the way to a door at the rear of the main hall.
“Here you are, sir,” he announced. “I’ll be running along now. I need sleep. Good luck!” And he was gone.
It will be necessary to give a brief description of the house and its interior arrangement, for the somewhat peculiar44 structure of the building played a vital part in the seemingly insoluble problem posed by the murder.
The house, which was a four-story stone structure originally built as a residence, had been remodelled, both inside and outside, to meet the requirements of an exclusive individual apartment dwelling45. There were, I believe, three or four separate suites46 on each floor; but the quarters up-stairs need not concern us. The main floor was the scene of the crime, and here there were three apartments and a dentist’s office.
The main entrance to the building was directly on the street, and extending straight back from the front door was a wide hallway. Directly at the rear of this hallway, and facing the entrance, was the door to the Odell apartment, which bore the numeral “3.” About half-way down the front hall, on the right-hand side, was the stairway leading to the floors above; and directly beyond the stairway, also on the right, was a small reception-room with a wide archway instead of a door. Directly opposite to the stairway, in a small recess48, stood the telephone switchboard. There was no elevator in the house.
Another important feature of this ground-floor plan was a small passageway at the rear of the main hall and at right angles to it, which led past the front walls of the Odell apartment to a door opening on a court at the west side of the building. This court was connected with the street by an alley49 four feet wide.
In the accompanying diagram this arrangement of the ground floor can be easily visualized50, and I suggest that the reader fix it in his mind; for I doubt if ever before so simple and obvious an architectural design played such an important part in a criminal mystery. By its very simplicity51 and almost conventional familiarity—indeed, by its total lack of any puzzling complications—it proved so baffling to the investigators52 that the case threatened, for many days, to remain forever insoluble.
As Markham entered the Odell apartment that morning Sergeant Ernest Heath came forward at once and extended his hand. A look of relief passed over his broad, pugnacious53 features; and it was obvious that the animosity and rivalry54 which always exist between the Detective Division and the District Attorney’s office during the investigation55 of any criminal case had no place in his attitude on this occasion.
“I’m glad you’ve come, sir,” he said; and meant it.
He then turned to Vance with a cordial smile, and held out his hand.8
“Oh, quite,” murmured Vance. “How’s your induction57 coil working this beautiful September morning, Sergeant?”
“I’d hate to tell you!” Then Heath’s face grew suddenly grave, and he turned to Markham. “It’s a raw deal, sir. Why in hell couldn’t they have picked some one besides the Canary for their dirty work? There’s plenty of Janes on Broadway who coulda faded from the picture without causing a second alarm; but they gotta go and bump off the Queen of Sheba!”
As he spoke58, William M. Moran, the commanding officer of the Detective Bureau, came into the little foyer and performed the usual hand-shaking ceremony. Though he had met Vance and me but once before, and then casually59, he remembered us both and addressed us courteously60 by name.
“Your arrival,” he said to Markham, in a well-bred, modulated61 voice, “is very welcome. Sergeant Heath will give you what preliminary information you want. I’m still pretty much in the dark myself—only just arrived.”
Margaret Odell’s apartment was a suite47 of two fairly large rooms connected by a wide archway draped with heavy damask portières. The entrance door from the main hall of the building led into a small rectangular foyer about eight feet long and four feet deep, with double Venetian-glass doors opening into the main room beyond. There was no other entrance to the apartment, and the bedroom could be reached only through the archway from the living-room.
There was a large davenport, covered with brocaded silk, in front of the fireplace in the left-hand wall of the living-room, with a long narrow library-table of inlaid rosewood extending along its back. On the opposite wall, between the foyer and the archway into the bedroom, hung a triplicate Marie Antoinette mirror, beneath which stood a mahogany gate-legged table. On the far side of the archway, near the large oriel window, was a baby grand Steinway piano with a beautifully designed and decorated case of Louis-Seize ornamentation. In the corner to the right of the fireplace was a spindle-legged escritoire and a square hand-painted waste-paper basket of vellum. To the left of the fireplace stood one of the loveliest Boule cabinets I have ever seen. Several excellent reproductions of Boucher, Fragonard, and Watteau hung about the walls. The bedroom contained a chest of drawers, a dressing-table, and several gold-leaf chairs. The whole apartment seemed eminently in keeping with the Canary’s fragile and evanescent personality.
As we stepped from the little foyer into the living-room and stood for a moment looking about, a scene bordering on wreckage63 met our eyes. The rooms had apparently64 been ransacked65 by some one in a frenzy66 of haste, and the disorder67 of the place was appalling68.
“They didn’t exactly do the job in dainty fashion,” remarked Inspector Moran.
“I suppose we oughta be grateful they didn’t blow the joint69 up with dynamite,” returned Heath acridly70.
But it was not the general disorder that most attracted us. Our gaze was almost immediately drawn71 and held by the body of the dead girl, which rested in an unnatural72, semi-recumbent attitude in the corner of the davenport nearest to where we stood. Her head was turned backward, as if by force, over the silken tufted upholstery; and her hair had come unfastened and lay beneath her head and over her bare shoulder like a frozen cataract74 of liquid gold. Her face, in violent death, was distorted and unlovely. Her skin was discolored; her eyes were staring; her mouth was open, and her lips were drawn back. Her neck, on either side of the thyroid cartilage, showed ugly dark bruises75. She was dressed in a flimsy evening gown of black Chantilly lace over cream-colored chiffon, and across the arm of the davenport had been thrown an evening cape76 of cloth-of-gold trimmed with ermine.
There were evidences of her ineffectual struggle with the person who had strangled her. Besides the dishevelled condition of her hair, one of the shoulder-straps of her gown had been severed77, and there was a long rent in the fine lace across her breast. A small corsage of artificial orchids78 had been torn from her bodice, and lay crumpled79 in her lap. One satin slipper80 had fallen off, and her right knee was twisted inward on the seat of the davenport, as if she had sought to lift herself out of the suffocating81 clutches of her antagonist82. Her fingers were still flexed83, no doubt as they had been at the moment of her capitulation to death, when she had relinquished84 her grip upon the murderer’s wrists.
The spell of horror cast over us by the sight of the tortured body was broken by the matter-of-fact tones of Heath.
“You see, Mr. Markham, she was evidently sitting in the corner of this settee when she was grabbed suddenly from behind.”
Markham nodded. “It must have taken a pretty strong man to strangle her so easily.”
“I’ll say!” agreed Heath. He bent73 over and pointed85 to the girl’s fingers, on which showed several abrasions86. “They stripped her rings off, too; and they didn’t go about it gentle, either.” Then he indicated a segment of fine platinum87 chain, set with tiny pearls, which hung over one of her shoulders. “And they grabbed whatever it was hanging round her neck, and broke the chain doing it. They weren’t overlooking anything, or losing any time. . . . A swell88, gentlemanly job. Nice and refined.”
“Where’s the Medical Examiner?” asked Markham.
“He’s coming,” Heath told him. “You can’t get Doc Doremus to go anywheres without his breakfast.”
“He may find something else—something that doesn’t show.”
“There’s plenty showing for me,” declared Heath. “Look at this apartment. It wouldn’t be much worse if a Kansas cyclone89 had struck it.”
We turned from the depressing spectacle of the dead girl and moved toward the centre of the room.
“Be careful not to touch anything, Mr. Markham,” warned Heath. “I’ve sent for the finger-print experts—they’ll be here any minute now.”
Vance looked up in mock astonishment.
“Finger-prints? You don’t say—really! How delightful90!—Imagine a johnnie in this enlightened day leaving his finger-prints for you to find.”
“Oh, dear, no! They’d never be apprehended93 if they were. But, after all, Sergeant, even an authentic94 finger-print merely means that the person who made it was dallying95 around at some time or other. It doesn’t indicate guilt96.”
“Maybe so,” conceded Heath doggedly97. “But I’m here to tell you that if I get any good honest-to-God finger-prints outa this devastated98 area, it’s not going so easy with the bird that made ’em.”
Vance appeared to be shocked. “You positively99 terrify me, Sergeant. Henceforth I shall adopt mittens100 as a permanent addition to my attire101. I’m always handling the furniture and the teacups and the various knickknacks in the houses where I call, don’t y’ know.”
Markham interposed himself at this point, and suggested they make a tour of inspection102 while waiting for the Medical Examiner.
“They didn’t add anything much to the usual methods,” Heath pointed out. “Killed the girl, and then ripped things wide open.”
The two rooms had apparently been thoroughly103 ransacked. Clothes and various articles were strewn about the floor. The doors of both clothes-closets (there was one in each room) were open, and to judge from the chaos104 in the bedroom closet, it had been hurriedly searched; although the closet off of the living-room, which was given over to the storage of infrequently used items, appeared to have been ignored. The drawers of the dressing-table and chest had been partly emptied on to the floor, and the bedclothes had been snatched away and the mattress105 turned back. Two chairs and a small occasional table were upset; several vases were broken, as if they had been searched and then thrown down in the wrath106 of disappointment; and the Marie Antoinette mirror had been broken. The escritoire was open, and its pigeonholes107 had been emptied in a jumbled108 pile upon the blotter. The doors of the Boule cabinet swung wide, and inside there was the same confusion of contents that marked the interior of the escritoire. The bronze-and-porcelain lamp on the end of the library-table was lying on its side, its satin shade torn where it had struck the sharp corner of a silver bonbonnière.
Two objects in the general disarray109 particularly attracted my attention—a black metal document-box of the kind purchasable at any stationery110 store, and a large jewel-case of sheet steel with a circular inset lock. The latter of these objects was destined111 to play a curious and sinister112 part in the investigation to follow.
The document-box, which was now empty, had been placed on the library-table, next to the overturned lamp. Its lid was thrown back, and the key was still in the lock. In all the litter and disorganization of the room, this box seemed to be the one outstanding indication of calm and orderly activity on the part of the wrecker.
The jewel-case, on the other hand, had been violently wrenched113 open. It sat on the dressing-table in the bedroom, dinted and twisted out of shape by the terrific leverage114 that had been necessary to force it, and beside it lay a brass-handled, cast-iron poker115 which had evidently been brought from the living-room and used as a makeshift chisel116 with which to prize open the lock.
Vance had glanced but casually at the different objects in the rooms as we made our rounds, but when he came to the dressing-table, he paused abruptly117. Taking out his monocle, he adjusted it carefully, and leaned over the broken jewel-case.
“Most extr’ordin’ry!” he murmured, tapping the edge of the lid with his gold pencil. “What do you make of that, Sergeant?”
Heath had been eyeing Vance with narrowed lids as the latter bent over the dressing-table.
“What’s in your mind, Mr. Vance?” he, in turn, asked.
“Oh, more than you could ever guess,” Vance answered lightly. “But just at the moment I was toying with the idea that this steel case was never torn open by that wholly inadequate118 iron poker, what?”
Heath nodded his head approvingly. “So you, too, noticed that, did you? . . . And you’re dead right. That poker might’ve twisted the box a little, but it never snapped that lock.”
He turned to Inspector Moran.
“That’s the puzzler I’ve sent for ‘Prof’ Brenner to clean up—if he can. The jimmying of that jewel-case looks to me like a high-class professional job. No Sunday-school superintendent119 did it.”
Vance continued for a while to study the box, but at length he turned away with a perplexed120 frown.
“I say!” he commented. “Something devilish queer took place here last night.”
“Oh, not so queer,” Heath amended. “It was a thorough job, all right, but there’s nothing mysterious about it.”
Vance polished his monocle and put it away.
“If you go to work on that basis, Sergeant,” he returned carelessly, “I greatly fear you’ll run aground on a reef. And may kind Heaven bring you safe to shore!
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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remodelled
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| v.改变…的结构[形状]( remodel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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stewardship
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| n. n. 管理工作；管事人的职位及职责 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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degenerated
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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vengeance
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alacrity
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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motives
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embroidered
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astonishment
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levity
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blurted
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poised
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inquisitiveness
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Amended
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scented
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offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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determined
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resolutely
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gaily
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cane
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curb
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lamented
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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collapse
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sergeant
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lugubriously
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impervious
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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suites
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| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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alley
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visualized
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| 直观的，直视的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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investigators
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| n.调查者，审查者( investigator的名词复数 ) | |
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pugnacious
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| adj.好斗的 | |
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rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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induction
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| n.感应，感应现象 | |
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58
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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61
modulated
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| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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63
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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66
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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67
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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acridly
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| adj.辛辣的；刺鼻的；（性格、态度、言词等）刻薄的；尖刻的 | |
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71
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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73
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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74
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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77
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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79
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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81
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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82
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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83
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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84
relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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86
abrasions
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| n.磨损( abrasion的名词复数 )；擦伤处；摩擦；磨蚀（作用） | |
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platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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88
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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89
cyclone
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| n.旋风，龙卷风 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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crooks
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| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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combatively
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| adj.杀气腾腾地 | |
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apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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dallying
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的现在分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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100
mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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101
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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102
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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103
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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104
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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105
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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106
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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107
pigeonholes
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| n.鸽舍出入口( pigeonhole的名词复数 )；小房间；文件架上的小间隔v.把…搁在分类架上( pigeonhole的第三人称单数 )；把…留在记忆中；缓办；把…隔成小格 | |
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108
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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109
disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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110
stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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111
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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112
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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113
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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114
leverage
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| n.力量，影响；杠杆作用，杠杆的力量 | |
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115
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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116
chisel
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| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
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117
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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118
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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119
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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120
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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