“You’re talking in enigmas,” she said.
Zoom smiled at her.
“Don’t worry about methods,” he said, “simply leave the entire thing to me.”
Chapter IV
An Interview
Sidney Zoom prided himself upon his ability to fight the devil with fire so adroitly as to leave no backtrack.
Following Samson’s report that he had been curtly denied admission to the Finley Carter residence, despite the letter which he had produced, a letter which assuredly was signed by Carter himself, Sidney Zoom, attired in a neat-fitting, well-pressed business suit, presented himself at the door of the residence.
“I,” he said, “am from the Second National Affiliate. I desire to discuss a matter with Mr. Carter personally.”
The butler in the doorway eyed Sidney Zoom with cold suspicion.
“Do you,” he asked, “know Mr. Carter personally?”
Zoom appeared to notice nothing unusual in the question.
“I am familiar with his signature,” he said. “I have heard his voice over the telephone. I have never met the gentleman.”
The grim-faced hostility of the butler relaxed slightly.
“And what did you wish to see Mr. Carter about?”
“I merely wished to get his okay concerning certain withdrawals.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the butler with ponderous servility, “but I think that matter has been discussed with Mr. Carter over the telephone. He might become very much displeased if you took the matter up with him again.”
“That,” said Zoom gravely, “is a chance I will have to take on behalf of the bank. Please tell him that Mr. George Coleridge, from the bank, is here to interview him.”
Sidney Zoom gravely extracted a leather wallet from his pocket, took from it an embossed card, handed it, with something of a flourish, to the butler.
The butler examined the card.
“I see,” he said slowly. “George Coleridge, special investigator for the Second National Affiliate.”
“Exactly,” said Sidney Zoom. “And will you please tell Mr. Carter that if he refuses a personal interview, his refusal may lead to banking complications.”
Sidney Zoom’s smile was reassuring, but his eyes were steady.
“Please step in and be seated,” said the butler. “I will take the matter up with Mr. Carter.”
Zoom was ushered into a reception hallway, given a seat. The butler climbed a flight of stairs. Somewhere from the upper corridor, Zoom heard the deep-throated barking of a big dog, the slamming of a door. There followed an interval of silence, and then the thud of the butler’s returning feet became audible.
“If you’ll be so kind as to step this way, sir,” he said, “Mr. Carter will be glad to give you a few moments. He is not feeling well and wishes you to make your visit as brief as possible.”
Sidney Zoom surrounded himself with a cloak of banker-like dignity as he followed the butler up the stairs.
A big police dog lay in front of a closed door. As he saw Sidney Zoom, he twisted his lips back from his fangs and gave a deep-throated growl, but made no motion to leave the door.
The butler opened a door across the corridor.
“Mr. Carter,” he said, with something of a flourish.
A man, attired in bathrobe and pajamas, sat up in bed. Pillows were bolstered behind him. Both hands were concealed beneath the covers of the bed. His eyes were deep-set and glittered irascibly. When he spoke, his voice had the distinctive rasping harshness that Zoom had heard over the telephone.
“You’re Coleridge,” he said, “from the Second National Affiliate?”
Sidney Zoom bowed.
“What I want to know,” said the man, “is what the devil you folks mean by making so much commotion about a few ordinary withdrawals. I gave you an account some time ago. You thought it wasn’t large enough and kept asking me to give you more of my accounts. Recently I decided to do it. You’ve made so much commotion about it that one would think a check for more than one hundred dollars never went through your bank oftener than once a year.”
Zoom’s smile was reassuring.
“Hardly that, Mr. Carter,” he said, “but, you understand we’re a branch bank. The parent bank desired a report. I’m from the parent bank.”
“I don’t give a damn who you’re from,” the other said. “You’re making a confounded nuisance out of yourself. I’m putting money in your bank. I have a right to draw it out whenever I wish. I’m putting in some rather large deposits. I want to withdraw them whenever I want to.”
“The deposits are made only with a rubber stamp endorsement,” Sidney Zoom pointed out.
“That’s the way deposits are made in any active account,” Carter said. “That’s the way nine-tenths of your commercial houses make their deposits. The withdrawals are all made by checks that bear my personal signature.”
“I have here a list of withdrawals,” said Sidney Zoom. “Would you mind okaying them?”
The man sighed with annoyance.
“Very well,” he said, “but I’m playing a correspondence chess game, and you’re making me so mad I can’t concentrate on it the way I want to.”
He indicated a chess board on the table beside the bed, a chess board on which men had been arranged. A pawn or two had been moved. Aside from that, the men were arrayed in two rows on opposite sides of the board.
Sidney Zoom stared thoughtfully at the board.
“Rather a peculiar opening,” he said.
“It’s the opening I like to play,” the other told him.
Zoom handed over the list. The long, thin fingers of the other man checked off the withdrawals.
“All correct,” he said, “and all in order.”
“Would you sign it?” asked Sidney Zoom.
“No,” snarled the other, “I won’t sign it. I’ve given you enough of my time. You’ve had my okay over the telephone. You’ve got my signed checks. I’ve gone over this and okayed it. If you don’t like it, I’ll take my account out of your bank and put it somewhere where it’s appreciated.”
Sidney Zoom bowed.
“Very well,” he said, “and thank you.”
Turning, he walked toward the door with rigid dignity.
The rasping voice of the man on the bed called to him as he reached the door.
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate your interest, Coleridge,” he said, “I do. I know you’re just safeguarding my money, but I want the privilege of withdrawing checks from my own account in my own way.”
Sidney Zoom’s bow was grave.
“Thank you,” he said.
Chapter V
A Trap Is Baited
Sidney Zoom was never happier than when he was concentrating upon some mental problem.
He raised his long, thin legs to place his feet on the table in the dining salon. His eyes glittered with concentration. His fingers were interlaced across his thin stomach.
“An impostor,” he said, “a rank impostor. I find that there have been very few pictures of Finley Carter taken.”
“Yes,” Nell Benton said, “he was suspicious of cameras.”
“But I nevertheless located one,” Zoom said. “This man looks something like him, but he isn’t Carter. Moreover, Carter is a chess expert. The man who has engineered this crime knows nothing about chess. Knowing that Carter was a chess player, the man sought to impress me by having a chess atmosphere about the room. A chess board sat at the side of the table. Some men had been moved, but they weren’t in the position in which players would have moved them. Moreover, the white queen had been placed on the black square instead of the white.”