“Sounds reasonable,” De Kane agreed. “Our police surgeon says shock and a bad heart. Damn weird kind of case. And it doesn’t look any too good for you, Henry. You being hired to keep cats out of his house!”
“No,” Henry said humbly. “It looks bad for me, I’m afraid.”
There was a rather awkward silence.
Doran stirred uneasily after a few minutes. “Saints alive!” he muttered. “I’ll never forget that old devil cat so long as I live!”
Chapter VII
The Cat Mystery Clears
They all stared solemnly at Doran.
Henry asked absently: “Did you get a good look at that cat, Doran?”
“I certainly did!”
“Could you describe it?”
“I certainly could. It’s that ugly black Tom that’s been haunting our house for two weeks. A devil if there ever was one. I’d know him any place by the crooked white scar across his head.”
“I’d give a lot to know how he got into this house,” Henry puzzled.
“Tell you what I think, Mr. Rood,” Doran volunteered. “Not meaning to criticize or nothing, but I think that cat slipped in past you when you went out. Stands to reason, because you was the last person that left the house. That’s how he slipped in.”
“God forbid!” Henry cried. “I could never forgive myself if that were true.”
The doorbell rang.
“I think,” said Henry, “perhaps that is some people I sent for. Will you have your man send them in, captain?”
“Sure,” De Kane agreed wonderingly. “Anything that will help this case along!”
A patrolman ushered in two visitors. The first was Milly Canby, whose eyes flew to Henry. Henry smiled wearily. “Please sit down and wait a minute, Milly,” he said.
The advent of the second visitor produced a noticeable awkwardness. The three servants stiffened and stared hard.
The newcomer was a round, conservatively dressed man of middle age. He had a sly, sober face with long nose and close-set little eyes. He bore an ultra conservative, church vestryman look about him, a look somehow belied by the sly twinkle of his eyes and a slight redness of his nose.
“Captain De Kane,” Henry said, “this is Mr. James Topping, a realty broker. I took the liberty of sending for him to help clear up some matters about Mr. Stuyvesant.” Henry explained rapidly to Topping the details of Stuyvesant’s death.
“Mr. Topping,” he said then, “you deal extensively in property in this locality?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know these five houses in this block owned by Mr. Stuyvesant?”
“Very well, indeed.”
“Very well, indeed! So well, in fact, that you have made numerous offers to purchase them from Mr. Stuyvesant? These offers were made on behalf of a realty syndicate which hoped to build a large apartment hotel on this property?”
“I don’t deny it,” Topping said, growing a little uneasy.
“No, you don’t deny it. I’m glad to hear that,” Henry agreed gravely. “In fact, Mr. Topping, your client, the realty syndicate, was so anxious to get hold of Stuyvesant’s land that a handsome bonus was promised in addition to the usual broker’s commission?”
“I don’t deny it,” the broker answered.
“Then I shall tell you something else, Mr. Topping. First, you received a call from me late this afternoon?”
“Yes, I did—”
“I represented myself as hopeful of influencing Mr. Stuyvesant to sell to your syndicate?”
“Correct—”
“And I bargained with you about what I would be paid if I swung this deal. Your final offer was a commission of twenty thousand dollars.”
“Correct,” Topping nodded. “Nothing criminal about that, I hope?” he demanded.
“Not at all,” Henry agreed. “You also informed me that others had been trying to influence Mr. Stuyvesant toward this sale, didn’t you? You informed me that the three servants in this house had been working for you for some time?”
“Correct again!”
“And that the servants had been promised a like reward, twenty thousand dollars, if they could induce their employer to sell out?”
“Why not? Nothing wrong about that. Just the usual way in our business,” Topping retorted uneasily.
“That’s all then, and thank you for your frankly given testimony,” Henry answered. “I don’t think we need any more of your valuable time.”
James Topping, with De Kane’s added permission, took himself out of the house.
Matthew Stuyvesant’s three servants had turned red and white during this examination. Gertie looked on the point of a shrill outburst. Mrs. Loos was biting her lips angrily. Doran sneered his defiance, being obviously tempered by qualms of uneasy doubt.
“Well, what are you getting at?” De Kane asked.
“Just a minute more,” Henry begged. “I hope to get somewhere. I’d like to speak to my assistant in private.”
Milly’s eyes had been signaling for Henry’s attention.
Watched by the others, Henry and Milly talked briefly in whispers. In the midst of this colloquy Henry uttered one audible gasp of surprise which he turned into a cough.
Presently Henry and Milly turned back to the group. “You know Miss Canby, my assistant, Captain De Kane? I want you to hear some testimony from her. But first I’ll tell you what I am driving at.”
Henry’s round, youthful face was very serious. He let his gaze dwell on Stuyvesant’s three servants.
“I think what Topping told us clears up the mystery of the cats which haunted this house, captain. These three people, Mrs. Loos, Gertie, and Doran, worked for Matthew Stuyvesant many years. They were paid starvation wages. But they lingered on because Mr. Stuyvesant put them down for a handsome remembrance in his will, provided they did not leave his employ.
“But Mr. Stuyvesant remained in good health and their expectations of a reward seemed very remote. And then another source of income appeared. That was the proposition — I won’t say how ethical it was — made by Topping. Topping’s customer wants this property badly. Topping was able to offer a small fortune to anybody who could induce Stuyvesant to make the sale. And three people who knew Stuyvesant like a book hit upon the plan of making his house so uncomfortable that he would be driven to sell out and move away. Do I make it clear?”
De Kane nodded, keenly interested.
The three servants made no denial.
“So long as it appeared to me that Mr. Stuyvesant’s death was due to fright, when he waked to find a cat on his bed, I realized that we could never bring a case against any person here,” Henry went on sternly, “To be quite frank with you, while I knew that these three actually conspired to haunt this house with cats, I was not sure but it was my own carelessness that was responsible for that cat which scared Stuyvesant into heart failure. But now I know something of far greater importance!”
Henry’s voice took on a stronger vehemence.
“Matthew Stuyvesant’s death was not caused by fear,” he said firmly. “Matthew Stuyvesant was murdered. And that murder was accomplished not by frightening a man with a weak heart, but by a deliberate, poisonous overdose of sleeping drops that would kill a horse. And one of these three old servants of Mr. Stuyvesant’s is the murderer!”
Chapter VIII
Not Cats, But Catnip
After a moment of stupefied silence Mrs. Loos sprang to her feet. “I want to say—” she began.
Captain De Kane roared: “Sit down, and keep quiet!”
The housekeeper subsided. De Kane ordered one of the patrolmen to watch the three of them. “Go ahead, Henry,” he said, “you’ve got the floor. But you’ll have to prove what you say a lot better than you have so far!”