Part 14 (1/2)

”Those must have been rotten papers you read,” he answered. ”Ask me if Cain killed Abel. Treving's goings-on with Randall's wife have been common gossip. The boys blushed about it in the clubs up town. Listen, Garth. I've found out things you won't get from any papers. Randall and Treving met at their club last night. Seems Randall had overheard some of this conversation. I've had a few of the high-hat crowd down here to-day, and one of the hall boys who heard what went on between Randall and Treving. Randall warned Treving away with threats. Treving lost his head and offered to bet he'd spend last evening with Mrs. Randall.”

”Good Lord!” Garth exclaimed. ”Was he drunk?”

”Can't tell,” the inspector said. ”The boy thought he had been drinking, but he didn't believe he was drunk. That don't mean much. Nothing like a college education to teach a man how to carry his liquor. Anyway, Randall came back with his own conviction. Swore he'd shoot Treving if such a thing came off. Well! Randall found Treving late last night in the lady's dressing-room.”

”Pretty bad,” Garth agreed, ”but I've never thought threats were very satisfactory evidence.”

”Plenty of other evidence,” the inspector answered. ”Randall had stayed late in town. He must have driven up and found Treving's car by the verandah. They're both there now. Easy to understand how that sight fixed his resolution to kill. And the signs of the struggle are all over the room. He left in a hurry after he had shot him. He lost his hat off, rus.h.i.+ng down the stairs. It's lying by the newel post. Mark my words.

When we find Randall he'll have a new hat or none at all. He had enough sense not to try to make his getaway in his own machine or Treving's.

That's why I'm putting you on the case, Garth. You know what a pipe it is to round up these amateur criminals. I tell you this fellow's clever.”

Garth considered.

”That's clear enough evidence,” he said at last, ”if the woman--But I suppose she refuses to open her mouth.”

The inspector's rapid fingering of his paper-cutter confessed his annoyance. His small eyes narrowed.

”Wish I knew if she's acting. She's been practically off her head ever since that motor cop found her kneeling over the body, screaming fit to--to wake the dead. Nothing but hysterics all night and day. Jones reports she's had some nervous trouble--something about the heart. Her cousin, another doctor, is with her. You know I hate to make a wife testify. Got to be done though when she comes around. That's about all, Garth. Run out there and see if you can hit Randall's trail.”

Garth arose.

”Seems simple, chief. Any dope on the gun?”

The inspector shook his head.

”One of these deadly automatics it ought to be a felony to have around.

Natural enough for a doctor to carry one.”

He grinned.

”Got to kill their patients one way or another.”

”Nothing been disturbed?” Garth asked.

”No. They've taken Treving away, but the room's just as it was when they were found.”

Garth moved towards the door.

”I know you'll bring Randall in,” the inspector called.

”I'll do my best,” Garth answered.

He hurried through the outer office. Perhaps the inspector was right and the case promised no unusual excitement, but at least it possessed interest.

It was late in the afternoon when he reached the station near Elmford.

He inquired the way from the agent.

”It's about ten minutes' walk,” the man replied. ”Maybe you're a reporter or a cop? Say, there's no mystery about that case. Any word of the doctor?”