The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 214: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

200 he pleases, and he isn’t bothering about any steps that may be taken to stop him. “That’s what got old Poe so up in the air, you understand,” he went on. . He'd give up the $25,000 in a minute to get the book back, if that would end the matter; but he can’t help seeing that he’s at this chap’s mercy, and can be bled again and again, so long as there’s anything in here worth stealing. In short, his only hope is to get Mr. Thief behind the bars. “And,” Brady concluded with a sig- nificant shrug of the shoulders, “ there isn’t exactly what you might call a healthy chance of that.” “Why not?” questioned Ramsdell with his blandest, most vacuous expres- sion. “‘ Surely, two such experienced men as you, have hit upon some sort of working theory? ” They shook their heads. “ Nothing to it,” growled Schmitz: “Every way you turn, you run up against a blank wall.” “Well,” said the Columbia student modestly, “I, of course, am only an amateur, but one or two things seem reasonably plain to me. The person who stole the Wickliffe Bible knew the ins and outs of the place as well as Poe himself, and furthermore did not jimmy or force his way in after any cracksman fashion. He came through the door either with the old man’s keys or some duplicate of them. Therefore, the scope of inquiry must be limited to a very few persons.” He paused for comment or objection, but as neither of the detectives made any reply, decided that he must have hit upon their own line of reasoning. “We have already ‘eliminated old man Poe from consideration,” he went on. ‘ How, then, about the valet?” But Brady promptly negatived this suggestion. “Clean bill of health,” he returned. “ Been with Poe for twenty years and shown: himself absolutely trustworthy in every respect. Besides, it was a case of dog eat dog. If the old man THE ARGOSY. couldn’t stir without the valet hearing him, neither could the valet stir with- out the old man being hep. Both of them slept like cats, with one eye open.” “What about other members of the household? ”’ probed Ramsdell. “There is only a cook and extra maid—Poe has no family or relatives, you see—and there is absolutely no ground for suspicion against either of them. | ‘* Neither ’’—he anticipated the next inquiry—“ were there any. friends or associates who might have betrayed the old fellow’s confidence. He comes about as near being a recluse as any one you ever heard of.” “In short, then,” observed Rams- dell quietly, “ the possibilities sift down practically to the librarian, eh? ” Both Brady and Schmitz gave a start of surprise. “Who said anything about a li- brarian?”’ they demanded. ““ Nobody, which is a little strange in view of the commissioner’s instructions that I should be given all the facts. It leads me to believe that the librarian is the one you have picked for ‘ it.’ ” The two detectives flushed guiltily under the accusing stare of the other’s spectacles, but said nothing. “Who is the girl, anyhow? ” Brady shot a quick, suspicious glance at him. “How do you know the librarian is a girl at all?” The amateur stepped over to a small desk beside the card-catalogue case and picked up a little vase holding a carna- tion, a popular novel, and a wisp of cambric handkerchief. “Does that look like a man?” he asked derisively. “Now,” he continued, “ what’s the evidence against her?” “ Nothing,” muttered Brady sulkiiy. “ She’s got a perfect alibi.” Ramsdell smiled a shade cynically. “Come across with what you’ve got,” he said. “ Remember, McCon- nell promised I should have the entire dope sheet.” CoOMmicbook CO