“One evening — this was April 2, a week ago last Friday — he was walking across One Hundred and Fourth Street on his way home from work, when a woman, coming in the opposite direction, stopped suddenly in front of him with a cry of surprise. It was his wife.
“Mount, of course, was staggered.
“He remembered afterward that she was very well dressed, even expensively, it seemed to him. She told him she had been searching for him for the past six months; she had discovered that she really loved him and no one else, and she wanted to come back to him. Mount called attention to his pitiable condition, physical and sartorial, but she said that she had a great deal of money, enough to last them a very long time, many years. Poor Mount didn’t even dare ask her where the money came from. He said he would take her back.
“She arranged to meet him the following night at nine o’clock at a drugstore on the corner of One Hundred and Sixteenth Street and Eighth Avenue. He begged her to go with him then, at once; but that she said she couldn’t do. Finally they separated. But Mount couldn’t bear to let her get out of his sight, and he followed her.
“She took the subway at One Hundred and Third Street, and he managed to get on the same train without being discovered. At One Hundred and Fifty-seventh Street she got off, and he followed her to an apartment house near Broadway. Soon after she entered he saw a light appear in the east flat on the third floor, so he supposed she lived there. He stayed around till after eleven, but she didn’t come out again.
“The next night Mount was at the drugstore ahead of time. She wasn’t there, nor did she arrive at nine o’clock. He waited nearly two hours. At twenty minutes to eleven he went uptown to One Hundred and Fifty-seventh Street. From the pavement he saw a light in her windows.
“He entered the building; the outer door was open.
“A man was standing in the lower hall. Mount barely glanced at him as he passed to the stairs; he doesn’t remember what the man looked like, only he has an indistinct recollection that he had a suitcase in his hand. Mount went upstairs to the third floor and rang the bell at the flat to the east. There was no answer, though he rang several times, and finally, finding the door unlocked, he pushed it open and entered.
“On the floor, with the electric lights glaring above her, was the dead body of his wife with the hilt of a knife protruding from her breast and blood everywhere. Mount screamed, leaped forward, and pulled out the knife; blood spurted on his hands and sleeves. His scream brought adjoining tenants to the scene. In ten minutes the police were there, and when they left, they took Mount with them.”
Mr. Leg took one foot down from the desk, reached in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes, and lit one.
“That’s Mount’s story,” said he, blowing a column of smoke into the air, “and I’m certain it’s a true one. The man has an appearance of honesty.”
A slight smile appeared on Dan’s lips.
“You know, sir, you believe everything people tell you,” he suggested diffidently.
“True.” Mr. Leg frowned. “Yes, I suppose it’s a fault not to be suspicious sometimes. But that’s what the man told me, and I’m his counsel. I don’t mind confessing to you, Dan, that I’m absolutely helpless. I haven’t the slightest idea what to do. I thought of several things, but they all seemed absurd on analysis. I had it in mind during luncheon. I’ve put a lot of thought on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But I arrived nowhere. As I said before, Dan, you’re a bright boy. Maybe you might suggest something—”
The youth’s eyes were alive with eager intelligence. “I could think it over, sir. It’s a mighty interesting case. There’s one curious thing about it — very curious—”
“What is it?”
“I wouldn’t like to mention it, sir, till I’ve examined it more. Maybe I can suggest something then.”
“All right, Dan. If you’re as good at detective work as you are at playing chess, Mount might do worse after all. Exercise your ingenuity, my boy. We’ll talk it over again tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
After Dan had returned to the other room Mr. Leg sat for some time thoughtfully regarding his inkwell. Presently he shook himself, heaved a sigh, and reached across the desk for a book bound in red cloth with a gilt title, The Fight on the Amazon.
He opened it at the first page and began to read. An expression of pure content appeared on his face. The minutes passed unheeded. His chin sank deeper in his collar and his hands gripped the book tightly as he came to the fourth chapter, “The Night Attack.” At the end of an hour he had reached the most thrilling point of the fight and his eyes were glowing with unrestrained joy.
“Mr. Leg.”
The lawyer looked up to find Dan standing before him.
“Well?”
“Why, this Mount case, sir.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve been thinking it over, sir, but before we can get anywhere we must obtain more information. Somebody ought to go up and examine the scene of the murder. I’d be only too glad to do it.”
“All right, that’s a good idea,” agreed Mr. Leg, whose fingers were twitching impatiently as they held the place in his book.
“And there are other things we must do, too, sir. Things absolutely essential. I’ve made a little list of questions, if you’d like to look it over.”
With a gesture of impatience the lawyer took the sheet of paper which Dan handed him. Evidently he had been making use of the stenographer’s machine, for it was covered with typewriting:
First, to verify Mount’s story:
1. Has he kept the letter his wife left when she ran away? If so, get it from him.
2. Where was he employed as bookkeeper during the four months previous to the crime? Verify.
3. Did he wait inside the drugstore at the corner of One Hundred and Sixteenth Street and Eighth Avenue on the night of April 3, or merely in its neighborhood? Find out if there is anyone in the store or near it who remembers seeing him.
4. Does he drink to excess?
5. Does he appear nervous and excitable, or stolid and calm?
Second, from the police:
1. With what kind of a knife was the crime committed? Were there fingerprints on it other than Mount’s?
2. Exactly at what hour were the police summoned to the scene, and how long had the victim been dead, according to doctor’s report, when they arrived?
3. Did they take any papers or articles of any kind from the flat? If so, examine them, if possible.
4. Has either Mount or his wife any criminal record?
5. Get a photograph of Mount.
6. Did the body show any marks of violence besides the wound in the breast?
Having reached this point, halfway down the sheet, the lawyer stopped to look up at his office boy with an expression of admiration.
“All this is very sensible, Dan,” he observed. “Remarkably sensible. These are serviceable ideas.”
“Yes, sir.” The youth smiled a little. “Of course, Mr. Leg, you won’t be able to see Mount again till tomorrow morning, but you can get the information from the police this afternoon. I suppose headquarters—”
“You mean for me to go to the police?” interrupted Mr. Leg in dismay.
“Certainly, sir. They wouldn’t pay much attention to me, and besides, I’m going uptown to the flat.”
“Well, but—” Mr. Leg appeared to be dumfounded to discover that there would actually be work for him to do. “All right,” he said finally, “I suppose I’ll have to. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”