“Did he name the other lawyer?”
“No. I assumed that he mentioned the fact purely to impress me that my actions would be watched.”
Commissioner Weston settled back in his chair. His smile broadened. He turned toward Joe Cardona. The acting inspector was displaying a perplexed expression.
“Don’t you get it, Cardona?” questioned Weston.
“No,” responded the sleuth.
“It’s simple,” explained Weston. “Markin, here, was duped by a scheme to avoid the inheritance tax. His possession of the key gave him access to the funds from the time when Gilwood visited his office.”
“I expected Gilwood to return,” added Markin. “He did not. When I learned that he had died, I was bound to deliver the gift funds to the proper recipients. The transaction was entirely clear of Gilwood’s estate. There was no conspiracy on my part. Naturally, I decided to go through with the bargain.”
“So you went to the safe deposit box,” prompted Weston. “How much money did you find there?”
“You have struck the point of my story,” replied Markin, solemnly. “When I opened the safe deposit box, I found a small iron coffer. I opened it. The coffer was empty!”
“A hoax?” demanded Weston.
“Hardly,” responded Markin. “Gilwood had paid me a thousand dollars, a high price for a hoax. No, commissioner. I knew the truth. That coffer had been rifled of its contents!”
“I see,” nodded Weston. “I see the game now.”
“Some lawyer,” asserted Markin, “played Rufus Gilwood false. He had Gilwood put funds into that box. Probably the lawyer placed them there for him. Gilwood brought me the key. I found nothing after his death. The swindler had gained ill-gotten wealth. It was useless for me to tell my story. Such a deed would only have placed suspicion on myself. I could not describe the funds that had been taken from the safe deposit box.”
“A smooth game,” clucked Weston.
“One that made me fearful,” added Markin. “I preserved silence; but I thought a great deal. I learned the name of the lawyer who had handled Gilwood’s estate.”
“Lester Dorrington!”
“Yes. But I could make no statement against him. I had no proof. The matter of Rufus Gilwood’s empty coffer became a canker that troubled me. In fact, it was hopeless worry over the situation that brought about my retirement from active practice.”
“I can understand it,” agreed Weston, sympathetically. “Gilwood had relied upon your integrity. You felt yourself to blame; yet you were helpless.”
“More than that,” declared Markin, in a sober tone. “I realized that the swindler, with one soft game to his credit, would not have stopped with one scheme. I visioned other helpless attorneys like myself, holding keys to empty safe deposit boxes, all afraid to speak!”
“But if you had spoken—”
“I could not have proven my statements. Nor could others who might have risen with the same story. No, commissioner, the swindler who planned that game chose an ironclad proposition. The men whom he swindled were dead; the duped attorneys were helpless.”
“But you are speaking now—”
“Because circumstances demand it. The schemer has struck a snag; one that he overcame only through the aid of some killer. Commissioner, I have kept track of the estates which Lester Dorrington has handled during the past year. My eyes were opened when I learned that he is handling the affairs of the dead oil magnate, Torrence Dilgin.
“A lawyer named Edwin Berlett went to Rio de Janeiro to see Dilgin. Why? Because Berlett was the corporation lawyer who handled the affairs of Dilgin’s company. Why did Berlett go to Rio? Probably to discuss financial matters.
“Dilgin died about the time that Berlett arrived. Berlett disappeared from the Steamship Southern Star on the way home. When I read the news, I realized the truth. Torrence Dilgin was another man of wealth who had been swindled!”
AS Weston nodded, Joe Cardona joined in the sign of affirmation. Kelwood Markin licked his parched lips and resumed his theory.
“Dilgin must have told Berlett that certain funds had been stowed in a safe deposit box. Berlett was on his way to gain them. He was murdered by hired assassins. Then came the huge stories in the newspapers. They unquestionably brought doubts to a certain man — namely, the lawyer to whom Dilgin had given the key of a safe deposit box.”
“You mean Hugo Verbeck!”
“Certainly. Verbeck went to the bank. He found an empty coffer. He was in the same dilemma that I had encountered. Ordinarily, he would have maintained silence; with murder involved, he probably intended to make the matter public. He was slain before he could do so.”
“He was going to call Lester Dorrington,” blurted Cardona. “I’m sure of it, commissioner!”
“Verbeck was murdered,” continued Markin, ignoring Cardona’s interruption. “But his death has only added fuel to the flames. It has roused me to action; it has probably excited the suspicion and the fears of other attorneys whom Dorrington duped when he swindled his clients.
“I can picture it, commissioner. Dorrington — talking to a client — persuading the man to entrust a key to a certain lawyer named by Dorrington — a way to avoid a tremendous inheritance tax.
“And I can see lawyers now — pitiful men like myself — realizing that Verbeck’s death was a safety measure that may be applied to themselves. Perhaps they also know that Dorrington is the murderer.”
“How can we find them?” questioned Weston.
“Only by waiting until they die,” returned Markin, solemnly. “Unless they choose to speak, as I have spoken. Unless they call for protection and plead with you to apprehend a fiend who deals in murder.”
“You shall have protection,” asserted Weston. “Cardona, put two men on duty outside of this house. We will forestall any attempt upon Mr. Markin’s life.”
“You are protecting me alone,” warned Markin, “but not the others whose lives may be at stake.”
“We do not know who they are.”
“But you know who seeks to kill them.”
“This is in your hands, Cardona,” decided Weston. “It’s up to you to watch Lester Dorrington. Use all the men you need. If you gain sufficient evidence against him, we shall issue a warrant for his arrest!”
Rising, the commissioner waved Cardona to the telephone and instructed him to call headquarters to get two men for guards at Markin’s house. Striding across the living room, Weston pulled aside draperies. The action revealed windows, closed with iron shutters.
“These look safe enough,” declared the commissioner. “No one will come in by that route.”
He opened a door at the rear of the room. It showed a small bedroom. Kelwood Markin, at Weston’s side, explained that he could use the little room as sleeping quarters. He pointed to a window that was also shuttered.
“Very good,” decided Weston. “What about your servants?”
“I have only one,” returned Markin. “He is my secretary and attendant — Howland is his name — and he can be trusted.”
“Where is he now?”
“In a little room at the end of the hall. I used to use it as a study. Ordinarily, Howland and I sleep on the second floor.”
“Is there a telephone in the study?”
“Yes. This one is an extension.”
“All right. Howland can occupy the study. What about visitors? Do you have many?”
“One only. Tharxell — my partner — comes here frequently in the evening.”
“Can he be trusted?”
“Tharxell? Certainly.”