The Garaucan Swindle

CHAPTER XX. MEN OF MURDER

IT was midnight. A group was still assembled in Tobias Hildreth’s study. Police Commissioner Wainwright Barth sat behind the desk. Beside him was Hildreth. Joe Cardona and Markham stood in one corner, while Gorton Jodelle was in another. Lamont Cranston — he had come with the commissioner — was by the side door.

Before this tribunal were two men, both handcuffed. Wally Wilking, nervous and restless, was in one chair. Dunwood Marrick, sullen and silent, occupied another. Important details had been garnered during the past few hours. Commissioner Barth was ready to begin his cross-examination.

“You, Dunwood Marrick,” pronounced Barth, in an austere tone, “were the brain behind this evil game. You were a swindler to begin with, for I know you backed the Garaucan bond scheme. You became a bank robber; as proof, we have found securities in your possession that were stolen from the Founders Trust Company. What have you to say for yourself?”

Marrick was silent. He had persistently refused to make a statement. Barth smiled sourly as the light gleamed on his bald head. He picked up some penciled notations and surveyed them through his pince-nez.

“Very well,” decided the commissioner. “We shall let you talk later. Your crooked game, Marrick, depended upon two aids. One was Dobey Blitz. He headed the actual robbery of Hildreth’s bank. He ordered two killers to murder Sigby Rund, the man who had worked in the bond swindle. He sent the same pair to slay Rudolph Zellwood.

“One of those killers is dead. We have his written confession. The other has been captured. He has substantiated the story. Both worked for Dobey Blitz, the lieutenant who served the brain: otherwise yourself, Dunwood Marrick.”

Barth paused emphatically. Marrick seemed unimpressed. Barth decided to continue.

“Your other aid,” he proclaimed, “was Wally Wilking. He established contact with Zellwood. We have proof to that effect. He was the one who learned the combination of the vault. He came here to-night to steal incriminating papers from this very room. He was trapped.

“We caught Wilking in the act of crime. But we have more on Wilking than that. Dobey Blitz was murdered to-night. Detective Cardona, positive that the man had not left his private room, ordered the walls torn down. He discovered a secret elevator by which Blitz could come and go. Also” — Barth’s eyes gleamed — “through which friends of Blitz could come and go.

“Dobey Blitz was killed by a bullet through the heart. It came from a .38 caliber revolver. The murderer did not have time to extract the bullet as was done at the time of the bank robberies. We have found the gun that was used in the slaying. Markham, let me have that revolver that you took from Wally Wilking.”

Wally stared white-faced as Markham produced the gun. Barth broke the weapon open and, pointed to an empty cartridge — the only one among a loaded group.

“After visiting Blitz through his secret elevator,” resumed Barth, “Wilking came here. We know that he was the man who had secret contact with Blitz; for the death bullet was fired from this gun. Wilking did not even trouble to replace the empty cartridge. Hence we are holding him for murder.”

BARTH glared at Wilking. The young man made no protest. He seemed numbed. He looked pleadingly toward Dunwood Marrick. The banker showed a grim smile upon his heavy-jawed face. Wilking tried weakly to regain confidence.

“I know why you smile, Marrick,” barked Barth. “You think that we cannot link Dobey Blitz with you, the man higher up. You think that our circumstantial evidence will not stand the test of a court trial. You shall see. Take them away, Cardona.”

“One moment.” Cardona stopped as he heard the quiet voice of Lamont Cranston. The millionaire was speaking from the corner. “Would you like more positive evidence, commissioner? Would you like to hear Dunwood Marrick and Wally Wilking talk? Would you like to definitely link Dobey Blitz with the brain behind these crimes, from the bond swindle to the bank robbery?”

“Certainly,” rejoined Barth. “Can you supply such evidence?”

“I can make it possible.”

“How?”

“By bringing up those questions that I asked you the other night. First: the death of Lucas, the patrolman; second, the mystery of the untouched vault; third, the premature murder of Rudolph Zellwood.”

“Preposterous riddles!” sneered the commissioner. “Forget them, Cranston. They have no bearing on the case as it now stands.”

“You never answered the three questions.”

“Can you answer them?”

“Yes.”

Barth nodded, like a school-master to a child. Indulgently, he waved his hand. It was a signal for Cranston to proceed. Barth had not forgotten those questions, even though he had pretended so. He was anxious to know if they really could be answered.

“First,” came Cranston’s slow, steady tone, “was the death of Lucas. The patrolman was off his beat. Therefore, he must have been taken from it. There was no need to railroad Lucas. The bank robbers came from the subway. Lucas would not have known they were in the bank. His removal from his beat caused more trouble than if he had been allowed to remain on the job. It brought a patrol car to the scene.

“Yet there must have been a reason for the murder of Lucas. Some reason pertaining to the Founders Trust Company. It must have been because of something that occurred prior to the robbery, such as the removal of certain objects from the bank. Is that plain?”

“It is,” admitted Barth. “This is a new angle, Cranston. Proceed.”

“What could Lucas have seen that no one else could have observed?” demanded Cranston. “Nothing that occurred during banking hours. He must have witnessed certain activities later in the afternoon. Something that he would have thought about after a robbery, but not before. Let us say, for example, the removal of suitcases, day after day.”

THERE was a chilling silence. Cranston’s even tone was like a steady, methodical drumming, beating to the point where it became a driving force.

“Something that no one else could have seen,” reminded Cranston. “That would have been impossible. There was another man who would have seen anything that Lucas saw. I refer to Rowley, the watchman. He was also murdered at the time of the robbery.”

“Jove!” exclaimed Barth. “That is a smashing point, Cranston! Most remarkable — most remarkable.”

“Therefore,” continued Cranston, “Rowley was murdered because he might have talked. We still have the mystery of the upstairs vault. It was untouched, even though Zellwood could have given the combination and told that it contained more funds than the lower. There is only one logical answer. The burglars were instructed to leave the upper vault alone.

“We knew that the upper vault contained funds that Zellwood knew were there. We do not know what the lower vault contained, for its records were stolen. We know only that it was supposed to contain funds.

“Yet the burglars were not after funds, for they neglected the upper vault that was loaded with cash and negotiable securities. Therefore, I present the theory that the lower vault was opened because it contained less than the upper. In view of the fact that I have proven that Lucas and Rowley might have seen something going out of the bank, I feel safe to state that whatever came out was taken from the lower vault. Therefore, I believe that the lower vault was empty.”

“Ridiculous!” blared Tobias Hildreth. “I have my lists showing exactly what was in that lower vault.”

“I understood,” returned Cranston, “that the actual records were stolen at the time of the robbery.”

“They were. But my lists—”

“Are worthless.”

“Then what was taken from the lower vault?”

“Worthless securities; stacks of papers — anything that was of no value. Junk that Dobey Blitz could have disposed of, or destroyed. Which brings me” — Cranston paused to address his remarks to Hildreth — “to the third question. The premature murder of Rudolph Zellwood.”

“What is the answer?” quizzed Barth, anxiously.

“Zellwood was killed,” replied Cranston, “because he knew too much — like Lucas and Rowley. He may have known more than either of them. He was on the inside. He was another who could have talked. Had he given the combination to the crooks, he would have been allowed to live until after the robbery, so they would be able to get the combination for a second attempt.”

“Then Zellwood did not give it?”

“No. His death — prior to the time of the robbery — adds proof to the fact that he did not give the combination. In fact, the early death of Zellwood was essential.”

“Why so?”

“Because with Zellwood dead, the burglary could be pushed through with the positive assurance that the matter of the combination could be blamed on Zellwood. The master crook made sure of having Zellwood for a goat before the final move was made.”

Barth was on his feet, pounding the desk. His eagle eyes gleamed. His bald head wagged in the light. The commissioner was loud in acclaim; eager with a final question.

“You are right, Cranston!” he bellowed. “Zellwood was the man upon whom they foisted the blame. The big brain blackened the name of a dead man, who could not speak. But tell me this” — Barth’s fist was emphatic — “where did the crooks get the combination, if not from Rudolph Zellwood?”

THE thin smile showed on the lips of Lamont Cranston. The reply that came from those lips was delivered with a steady nonchalance. It was an impersonal summary of the positive theory that the quiet speaker had built up.

“Some one,” came Cranston’s statement, “had reason to rifle the contents of that lower vault. The work was done before the night of the robbery. Lucas and Rowley could have testified — had they lived until after the robbery. Zellwood could have testified at any time; he was probably intimidated.

“None of those men realized that the robbery was coming. They died by violence. The robbery was a blind. It covered the previous rifling of the lower vault. It prevented a discovery of the actual securities which those trust funds contained. What is more: the funds that should have been in that vault were within the limit of the insurance which the Founders Trust Company carried.”

Silence followed these pointed remarks. Lamont Cranston picked up his coat from a chair. He placed the garment over his arm and paused, with hat in hand.

“I have given you a new theory,” he said to Barth. “It completely blasts your former opinions. Other ideas that you now hold will prove false if you use this new theory as your guide. I have said enough.

“There are others present who can speak. They will understand the full truth now that I have given you a fresh start. I promised you that I would make Dunwood Marrick talk. He is ready. Let him speak. Should you encounter new complications, commissioner” — there was a slight gibe in the even tone — “you will be able to reach me at the Cobalt Club. My car is waiting. It is time for me to leave.”

With that, Cranston strolled through the door into the hall. Wainwright Barth sat astounded as he looked about the group. A variety of expressions greeted him. Tobias Hildreth was staring, transfixed. Gorton Jodelle was looking toward the banker. Joe Cardona was pondering. Markham looked bewildered.

Wally Wilking was half ready to speak. Yet chaos still seemed to grip the young man’s brain. Dunwood Marrick, alone, was eager and ready for action. There was no reluctance in his expression. His jaw was thrust forward; his eyes were glaring from beneath their bushy brows.

Intense hatred seemed to grip the accused man. His face was vindictive. A fierce desire for revenge was paramount in Marrick’s attitude. Though still handcuffed, he clenched his fists as he rose to his feet and released a verbal outpour.

“I’ll talk!” rasped Marrick. “Listen to me, commissioner. I was blind. I could see but half the truth. Now I can tell the rest!”