“There’s the matter of the Blossom robbery, sir. Mrs. Blossom had — well, sir, to put it mildly, she had deceived her husband. She had told him she was going to visit her sister in Pittsburgh for a week. In place of that, she had gone somewhere else. She had quite a bit of cash, and some diamonds—”
“How old, Scuttle?” Lester Leith interrupted.
“You mean the diamonds, sir?”
“No, no, Scuttle. Damn it, the woman, Mrs. Blossom.”
“Thirty-three, sir, according to the newspaper account.”
“That means forty-two,” Lester Leith said with conviction. “When a woman enters the roaring forties, Scuttle, she becomes somewhat unpredictable. She certainly should be entitled to have her little fling. Why the devil couldn’t her husband have taken her word for it that she was at her sister’s in Pittsburgh?”
“Because she was robbed, sir.”
“And so what, Scuttle?”
“So she was forced to call the police.”
Lester Leith yawned. “Uninteresting, Scuttle,” he said. “Had the woman any real character, she would have either recovered her gems herself, have tricked the man who victimized her into some compromising position by which she could have regained her property, or else have kept entirely quiet about the matter. Doubtless she was vain enough to think that only her beauty was responsible for the interest of the dashing young blade who undoubtedly acted as a professional lure for a criminal organization. No, no, Scuttle, gems partake of the characteristics of the owner. I’m hardly interested in considering the gems of a fatuous woman who couldn’t stand up on her two feet and take it when the going got rough. Well, Scuttle, I’m afraid that you’ve overestimated the interest-compelling quality of the crime news.”
“Yes, sir,” the spy said eagerly. “I can understand that now you’ve pointed it out. It was because I lacked your quick ability to analyze that I blundered into the trap. Perhaps that’s why I wasn’t able to do more with the solution of the cases myself. But there’s just one more thing I’d like to call to your attention, the affair of the drugged guard.”
“Drugged, Scuttle?”
“Yes, sir, and while he was drugged, some one hundred thousand dollars in cash mysteriously disappeared.”
“What was he guarding,” Lester Leith asked, “the mint?”
“No, sir. It was a private safe.”
Lester Leith smiled and shook his head. “Just another newspaper story, Scuttle. Give it no thought. Newspapers are inclined to magnify the amount of loot in order to make the case sound more spectacular. People don’t keep one hundred thousand dollars in ordinary safes, Scuttle. It simply isn’t done. Banking institutions, yes; but private individuals, no.”
“Yes, sir,” the spy said, “and I wouldn’t, of course, presume to contradict you, sir, but the circumstances in this case are different.”
Lester Leith raised his eyebrows in silent interrogation.
“You see, sir, Karl Bonneguard was rather expecting—”
“Bonneguard, Bonneguard,” Leith interrupted. “I’ve heard the name before. Isn’t he interested in some way in a camp or something?”
“Not exactly,” the spy said. “Bonneguard is trying to interest people in the formation of a political party — a sort of cult, to change our form of government.”
“Oh, yes,” Leith said. “I remember now. There was some sort of investigation, wasn’t there, Scuttle?”
“The grand jury were about to act, and apparently Bonneguard had been tipped off.”
“What were they going to act on, Scuttle?”
“I don’t know exactly. Ostensibly, Bonneguard was simply trying to promote a sort of new political party. It was all done open and aboveboard in accordance with our principles of freedom of speech and the press.”
“Oh, yes,” Leith said. “I remember now. He insisted upon the right of freedom of speech so he could organize his party and deny freedom of speech to others. It was claimed he’d taken an oath of allegiance to some foreign organization. There was something of a stir about it, as I remember.”
“Yes, sir. So, you see, Karl Bonneguard, not knowing just what was going to happen, hardly dared to keep his funds in a bank.”
“One hundred thousand dollars, Scuttle?” Lester Leith asked.
“That’s the best information the police have been able to obtain, sir.”
Leith said: “Dammit, Scuttle. You’ve got me interested now. Tell me more about this drugged guard.”
“Yes, sir. Karl Bonneguard maintained headquarters at 924 Wilmeier Avenue. It’s a huge rambling house. Bonneguard’s private offices occupied the south wing. The windows are heavily barred. There are vicious police dogs roaming the grounds, and an armed guard was kept on constant duty in the corridor just outside the door of the room in which the safe was located. And the guard didn’t even have a key to that door.”
“The guard was there on account of the money, Scuttle?”
“Yes, sir, and because some cranks had threatened Bonneguard with personal violence.”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead, Scuttle.”
“The organization was nationwide. All funds were collected and forwarded secretly to a Job Wolganheimer. Ostensibly he was the national treasurer for the organization. Wolganheimer, however, was just a figurehead for Bonneguard. As soon as funds were received, he turned them over to Bonneguard.”
“And Bonneguard put them in the safe, Scuttle?”
“No, sir. Bonneguard kept them in various banking institutions under various names: the Bonneguard Cleaning & Dyeing Works, the Bonneguard Real Estate Investment Association, and accounts of that sort.”
“Why did he take them out of the bank, on account of this grand jury investigation?”
“Yes, sir. He was afraid that something might happen, and the funds of the organization would be impounded.”
“Proceed, Scuttle.”
“The money was reduced to one-thousand-dollar bills. There were quite a few of them. Some witnesses say a hundred. Some say more than that.”
“The organization must have been profitable, Scuttle.”
“It was quite mercenary. Regardless of what principles it espoused, it was strict in the matter of dues.”
“And the guard, Scuttle?”
“A man named Bettler, a Hanz Bettler, a man with a fine record. He had been employed by one of the large banking institutions as a messenger for many years and had given perfect satisfaction.”
“He was drugged, Scuttle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When did this happen?”
“Three nights ago. Bonneguard and Wolganheimer had been to the place and deposited another package of currency. No one except Wolganheimer and Bonneguard knows how much was in it, and neither of them will say anything. At any rate, they deposited the money. Wolganheimer drove Bonneguard to the office of the attorney who was handling Bonneguard’s affairs. Then Wolganheimer went to call on his flame of the moment, a young hula dancer who—”
“A what, Scuttle?”
“A hula dancer, a Hawaiian hula dancer.”
“Do you by any chance mean a professional hula dancer, Scuttle?”
“Yes, sir. Her name is Io Wahine. She’s a member of a troupe performing at night clubs and on the radio. She plays the ukulele, sings, chants, and dances.”
“One would say she was a very accomplished young woman, Scuttle.”
“Yes, sir. Yes, indeed, sir. I’ve seen her dance.”
“So Bonneguard went to see his lawyer, did he?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, let’s get to the drug business, Scuttle. That’s what interests me.”