The police had worked swiftly — so rapidly, in fact, that the newspaper was filled with a complete report.
Maurice Pettigrew had last been seen alive at midnight, when he had returned home with some friends.
These people, who had left in a group, had been interviewed. They agreed that Pettigrew had seemed eccentric, if not actually despondent.
A woman had come to clean the house just before noon. She had a key, and when she entered she had found the architect’s body in the study.
The case looked like suicide. Julius Selwick, retired business man and newly appointed safety director of Holmsford, had been there in person.
Death was due to poison, the safety director had declared. This poison, contained in a small vial, had been poured into a glass of cordial which Pettigrew had imbibed.
In a medicine chest, police had discovered other vials with the same poison. The inference seemed obvious. Maurice Pettigrew, after his conversation with his friends, had chosen this form of suicide.
Harry Vincent was thoughtful. He could see no connection between this death and that of Josiah Bartram, except that the two men — Bartram and Pettigrew — had once been associated. Nevertheless, Harry had been expecting the unexpected. His long service with The Shadow had trained him to observe such coincidences as these.
Suicide was the newspaper intimation. The evidence pointed strongly in that direction. All of Pettigrew’s visitors were sure that the architect had been alone. The front door had been found latched as Pettigrew had closed it on his guests.
A murderer — none was even suggested — could hardly have done such a deed. Furthermore, the items of evidence, the glass and the vials, were so obviously indicative of suicide.
Harry Vincent, himself, could hardly see murder in the case. It was another thought that dominated him — that of death alone.
Why had Maurice Pettigrew died?
To Harry, that question was all important. Through it, he could see a connection between the deaths of Pettigrew and Bartram.
WITH this thought, Harry acted on a hunch. He recalled that Willard Saybrook had shown an intensive interest in the death of Josiah Bartram. In fact, Saybrook had brought up that subject of his own volition.
Would Saybrook begin to talk about Maurice Pettigrew also?
Acting on his hunch, Harry headed toward Saybrook’s office. He reached the place within ten minutes, and as he entered the building, he felt confident that he was on a good trail. Saybrook, by this time, might also have heard of Pettigrew’s sudden death.
When he reached Saybrook’s outer office, Harry found it empty. The door to the inner office was ajar; and Harry could hear Saybrook talking to the stenographer.
“No call from Mr. Adams?” It was obvious from Saybrook’s tone that he had just come in. “Hm-m-m. I should have heard from him by now. I called his office while I was out at lunch. I left word for him to call here as soon as he came in. All right. Call his office if you do not hear from him within half an hour.”
The stenographer came out and saw Harry. She went back into Saybrook’s office to announce the visitor. Harry was ushered in, and Saybrook made him welcome. The tile man immediately began to discuss building construction. It was obvious to Harry that he wanted to avoid other subjects.
Harry played in with the policy. He noted that the newspapers of two days ago had been cleared from Saybrook’s desk, but that a copy of the Holmsford evening paper was at hand. From this, Harry knew that Willard Saybrook was cognizant of the death of Maurice Pettigrew.
There was worriment in Saybrook’s face, and Harry felt that he had come here on a good hunch.
Nevertheless, he did not want to bring up the matter of the architect’s death unless Saybrook commenced it. The situation was approaching a dilemma until a break occurred which worked in Harry’s favor.
The telephone rang on Saybrook’s desk. The young man eagerly seized the receiver, and Harry observed the gleam of excitement that appeared on his face. It was evident that Saybrook recognized the voice at the other end.
“Yes… Yes…” Saybrook was momentarily unrestrained. “Yes, Mr. Adams. I called your office… I wanted to ask you about” — Saybrook paused, and his eyes shot toward Harry — “er — the matter which we were discussing the other day. Do you think that — er — anything has occurred that might have a bearing on it?”
Harry could see Saybrook blink nervously. The receiver was clicking harshly as a voice came over the wire; but Harry could not distinguish the words.
“Yes” — Saybrook was talking again — “I — er — I cannot discuss matters at present, but it struck me very forcibly that there might be some connection… Yes, I think that I should see you… To-morrow, at your office… No?… Oh, I understand… Yes… Yes. At your home early to-morrow evening… Yes, I’ll be there.”
When Saybrook hung up the receiver, Harry Vincent, apparently unconcerned about the disjointed conversation, had picked up the evening newspaper, and was glancing idly at the front page. As Saybrook again turned his attention to his visitor, Harry chanced a remark.
“That’s a strange suicide!” he exclaimed. “Who is this man, Maurice Pettigrew?”
Saybrook took the newspaper with feigned indifference. His effort to appear composed seemed obvious to Harry.
“Maurice Pettigrew?” he asked. “Oh, yes. I noted that he had died. He was a fairly prominent architect here in town. Too bad that he is gone.”
This attempt to treat the architect’s death lightly was, to Harry Vincent, full proof that Willard Saybrook was concerned about Pettigrew’s supposed suicide. Corroborating Harry’s opinion, Saybrook nervously made a further tactical error by trying to explain his telephone conversation in an indifferent manner.
“I was just talking to Hurley Adams,” he said. “He’s the lawyer who handles Josiah Bartram’s estate. Lots of details in such matters. Women don’t understand them. Grace has been asking me to talk with Adams. He’s hard to get hold of. Appears to be very busy.
“By Jove!” Saybrook slapped the newspaper as though a thought had struck him. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if old Adams had been counselor for Maurice Pettigrew. He talked as though he had been very busy to-day. Said he would be tied up to-morrow.
“Well, lawyers have a great business when they get older. That’s when their clients begin to die and leave estates for them to settle.”
THE subject changed, and Harry Vincent soon found an opportunity to leave Willard Saybrook’s office.
The Shadow’s agent congratulated himself as he went back toward his hotel. Harry was sure that Saybrook wanted to confer with Hurley Adams regarding the death of Maurice Pettigrew.
Why?
That was a mystery; but it made Harry’s course obvious. The Shadow must be notified at once.
Harry could sense a purpose in Saybrook’s remarks after the telephone conversation. Anxious to talk with Adams, Saybrook had spoken quickly. He had feared — afterward — that he had given Harry some inkling to connect Adams and Pettigrew. Without a doubt, the lawyer was attorney for the dead architect. Saybrook, trying to cover up, had thought it best to mention that fact.
To-morrow night! There would be a meeting then between Hurley Adams and Willard Saybrook. It was scheduled to take place in the lawyer’s home.
Between now and to-morrow night, Harry must be both cautious and watchful. An idle cruise in his coupe would enable him to keep tabs on the Bartram home — to make sure that Willard Saybrook remained there this evening.
But to-morrow night!