“There was the affair of Mrs. Maybern’s diamonds, sir. Missing.”
“Robbery?”
“Yes, sir; she had been at a night club, dancing with one of the most attractive...”
“Pass it, Scuttle. It’s probably blackmail.”
“Very well, sir. How about the Greenwell murder?”
“Motive, Scuttle?”
“Robbery and, perhaps, revenge.”
“Pass it, Scuttle. Is there, by any chance, a crime with a dash of imagination, with a touch of the bizarre, Scuttle?”
The heavy thumb of the police spy ran through the clippings.
“There’s one, sir, but it’s a cold trail.”
“Tut, tut, Scuttle. You mustn’t get the idea I’m seeking to trail these criminals. My interest is purely academic. Let’s have the cold trail.”
“The Demarest reception, sir.”
“Mrs. De Lee Demarest?”
“The same, sir.”
“Her reception was quite an affair, Scuttle. Seems to me we received an elaborately engraved invitation, did we not? The body of the invitation was engraved, the name scrolled in by hand. Rather on the ornate side.”
“Yes, sir. And you perhaps remember reading of what happened, sir? The gems, the cash, all looted clean — the most carefully planned robbery in the past five years, sir.”
Lester Leith poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, creamed and sugared it, lit a fresh cigarette, and sat back in the chair. There was a flickering gleam of real interest in his eyes.
“I never read the newspapers, Scuttle. You should know that. The crime news is all that interests me, and I have you to clip that. But a robbery of that nature interests me. It’s a wonder our zealous friend Sergeant Ackley didn’t suspect me of the job. Being a society robbery, I presume his first thoughts would be of me. And I suppose the robbers were attired in evening clothes, Scuttle?”
Scuttle, the police spy, refrained from telling Leith that he had been suspected of having a hand in that affair, that all that prevented a severe grueling at headquarters was that the police spies could account for every minute of Leith’s time on the day in question.
“No, sir, they were not in evening clothes. In fact, it’s quite a story.”
“Tell it to me, Scuttle.”
“It began with a Mrs. Pensonboy Forster—”
“What a ponderous name, Scuttle! She sounds like a mountain of respectability. One feels instantly that one should know Mrs. Pensonboy Forster, yet I don’t remember having heard of her.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed the valet. “That’s the very point. It was the name that enabled her to get into the reception.”
“Tell me, Scuttle, was she fat?”
“Was she fat? Why, the woman was a mountain! She weighed three hundred and fifty pounds if she weighed an ounce. And she had a cold, fishy eye that sent chills through everyone she looked at.”
Lester Leith pushed back the empty coffee cup, blew a smoke ring.
“Scuttle, I am going to like this case. Tell me more.”
“Well, sir, you remember the elaborate invitations. They were printed by Garland. That is, the engraving was done by him. The names were lettered in by some artist that Mrs. De Lee Demarest secured. I understand he charged two thousand dollars.”
“Never mind the charge, Scuttle. Mrs. Demarest has plenty of money. Give me the facts.”
“Well, sir, the invitations were most distinctive. Each guest had one, and the invitation was in the form of a card, to be presented at the entrance. This Mrs. Pensonboy Forster drove up in a magnificent car, was assisted to the ground, sailed up the stairs, and presented an invitation. The police have it now, sir. It seems to be most regular in form, but the lettering of the name shows little distinctive mannerisms which prove it was not done by the artist engaged by Mrs. Demarest.”
“In other words, Scuttle, the invitation was a forgery.”
“Precisely so, sir. But the woman who presented it was so substantial, so portly, so — er — so fat, sir, that she was admitted without too close a scrutiny of the invitation.”
“But how could a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound woman pull a holdup and get away with it? Her escape, Scuttle, would be quite a problem, even for a resourceful brain.”
“She fainted, sir.”
“Fainted!”
“Yes, sir. And, of course, there’s the key to the whole scheme.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The fat woman fainted, and fell downstairs, from the top to the very bottom, sir.”
Lester Leith sighed. “What then?”
“Well, sir, you see the reception was in the nature of an announcement party. The daughter of Mrs. Demarest had been married in Europe, and the marriage was kept secret. There was quite a romance.”
Lester Leith sighed again, patiently.
The valet flushed.
“It all fits together, if you’ll just listen, sir. The marriage was performed in Europe. It was announced at the reception, given in honor of the husband. And there were presents displayed, sir. They were grouped in one of the front rooms and two detectives were employed to watch them. And, of course, the guests wore plenty of gems, sir.
“Therefore, when the woman fainted and fell downstairs, she fell right into the front room where the detectives were guarding the presents. They tried to lift her onto a couch, sir... but three hundred and fifty pounds! They just couldn’t do it. She was a mountain of flesh, and she groaned frightfully.
“Then there was the clanging of an ambulance gong. Of course, everyone thought one of the other guests had summoned the ambulance, sir. It came to the curb with a big sign on the side: Proctor & Peabody — Emergency Ambulance. You know the type of car, sir. But on this one the sign was so big it was almost an advertisement.”
Lester Leith nodded.
“They carried this fat woman away in the ambulance, Scuttle?”
The valet shook his head.
“Three stretcher bearers, all clad in white, came into the room. They tried to lift the woman and failed, and they sent out for the driver.”
“Then what?”
“Then it happened, sir. The guests were all bunched together. The detectives were bending over the woman, trying to get her on the stretcher. The ambulance men were at very strategic positions. Then the woman sat upright and conked the detectives on the bean!”
“Conked, Scuttle?”
“Yes, sir. That is, tapped them with a heavy object. In this case it was the barrel of a gun. The detectives went to the mat, sir, and the woman swung the business end of the gun toward the guests. The ambulance men got guns out and herded the guests against the wall. They piled all the jewelry and cash on the stretcher, took the most expensive of the gifts, piled them on the stretcher, loaded the stretcher in the ambulance and all drove away.”
Lester Leith sighed, a long drawn sigh of utter satisfaction.
“Scuttle, it is perfect!”
“Yes, sir. The loot was worth two hundred thousand — perhaps more.”
Lester Leith nodded. “Yes, indeed, Scuttle. It would be. Of course, the success of the whole scheme depended on the fat woman. They couldn’t lift her. They couldn’t do a thing with her. And a fat woman who has fainted is such an awkward thing to handle. A gentleman is supposed to scoop the delicate form of a lady into iron-muscled arms and convey her to a couch. But in this case it would take a block and tackle.”
The valet nodded.
“Yes, indeed, Scuttle. It was artistic. I presume they telephoned the police at once, Scuttle?”
“Yes, sir, and that’s the peculiar part of it, sir. You see the ambulance was distinctive. It couldn’t have escaped discovery, sir. It had the sign painted right on its side — a very large sign, almost distastefully large. The police realized at once that the ambulance was the point they should concentrate on. They dispatched police cars to form a cordon about the district; but no ambulance left the district. That’s why the police feel certain the ambulance drove into a nearby garage.”