“The game’s up,” growled Deafy. “But he’s in it too. He opened Doc Porter’s safe himself.”
“So you’d snitch on an old pal as well as rob him, would you?” cried Goggles. “And you, Dummy, you little rat that I tried to be a friend to. You’d knife me, would you? Well, I’ll tell, and I’ll tell good. They may send me back to stir, but you’ll go to the chair. Hold him, you fellows. You’ve got the man that killed the grocer in that burglary last winter.”
“Shut up, you fool,” called Deafy.
“No, I won’t shut up. You were in it too. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t and I’ve got you two where you belong.”
The big body sagged at the knees and crumpled on the floor as the man sobbed hysterically.
Dr. Porter had finished stringing his pearls and held the restored necklace up to the light. With a sigh of satisfaction he placed it in the case he took from his pocket and laid it on the table. Turning, he pointed to a piece of bronze that stood on the mantel shelf.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I wish you would all look at this. It has a lesson for thieves, detectives, physicians and everyone else. It is a Japanese piece called the ‘Sacred Monkeys.’ There are three of them. One holds his hands over his ears, a second over his eyes and the third over his mouth. The inscription beneath reads, ‘Hear not, see not, speak not evil.’ I took the restraining hands away from the ears, eyes and mouth of these three men here. You see the result.”
Dr. Porter picked up his jewel case from the table, lighted a cigarette and walked from the room.
Fear
by Pettersen Marzoni
I
Hartley Brentwood, of Barnes, Brentwood and Company, was found in his apartment at 6 o’clock in the morning with a bullet wound in his head and a half-smoked cigarette in his fingers.
“Yes, I killed him,” John Barnes, senior member of the firm, told Inspector Thorne, of the police department, three hours later when that officer found him at his country place. “I am ready to go with you.”
The tragedy had shocked the world of finance and society. Barnes and Brentwood were the only members of the firm of Barnes, Brentwood and Company, bankers, which controlled the destinies of half the country’s industries. For fifteen years they had been business associates and leaders in finance.
Barnes had made no attempt to avoid arrest — none even to hide his crime. An elevator boy had seen him leave Brentwood’s apartment late the night before. The shot apparently had not been heard, because Brentwood’s body had not been discovered until that morning by his valet.
“Why did you do it?” Thorne asked the banker the usual question, but he did it with unusual interest. He had been searching for a motive on his way out, but he could vision none.
They were on the train then, returning to New York. Barnes offered to use one of his cars for the short ride, but Thorne was afraid to take a chance in spite of his apparent submission.
Before Barnes answered, he looked toward the gleam of metal under his sleeves where the handcuffs showed.
“Would you mind holding a cigar for me, Inspector?”
Thorne looked at him a moment, then leaned over and unlocked the cuffs.
“It’s a long story,” Barnes began, with a sigh of relief as he drew deep on his cigar.
II
Fifteen years ago my firm was Landis and Barnes. We were bankers and brokers of the old school. At least Landis was. Conservative, more conservative than there was any need for. We had a safe business, but there was nothing in it. When I had started in as a clerk for old man Landis my one ambition had been to get in the firm. He was a leader then and he looked like he had a grip on the world. But when I did arrive I saw it was only a beginning.
Landis wasn’t really old physically, but his ideas were old. Younger men all around him had passed him in the race for money. He really didn’t care an awful lot about making money. I liked him but I had to get ahead. It was just born in me. However, he controlled the business and poohpoohed every real idea I brought to him.
We went right on making money his way, but it wasn’t my way. I knew it was the time to cut loose for big things and I started planning on them. I couldn’t leave Landis, because I needed his help for a while.
Just about that time Brentwood came to work for me. I had insisted on a private secretary. Landis never could see the need of one. I even had trouble persuading him to hire enough stenographers. He wasn’t tight — he just couldn’t see the need of them. But I insisted on the secretary idea. I needed one; it wasn’t a question of style; so Brentwood came in with me from the main office.
You know what he looked like recently. Then he was only about 25, and he was handsome. He had played football at college — fenced, too, I believe. He showed the results of both in his size and manner. He was one of those men who look like statues or models for clothes advertisements. I believe that was one reason I took him. I didn’t go to college myself. Didn’t have time — had to make money.
Brentwood was always well-dressed. He wasn’t making much, but I believe he had a small income from some money an aunt had left him. Besides that I hadn’t heard then of any vices he had. Of course, he took a drink now and then and he smoked, but no one ever called him a spendthrift. He had a social position — I didn’t — and he went places then I couldn’t get in. I never wanted to. Don’t get the idea I was jealous about that.
I got everything in the world I wanted, even if I did have to pay for them. I wanted money, because money was power and power was my dream. I have both. At least I had them until last night.
Whatever had made me bring Brentwood into my office as private secretary, he justified my choice before he had been with me a week. He started right in taking minor details off my hands. I had more time for getting some of my big plans straightened out.
But the size of my plans didn’t help me any. Landis was a fool. If we made six per cent he was satisfied. If we made eight he thought we were beginning to speculate, and if we made ten, which happened as often as he let me have my way, he thought it was illegal. I wonder what the old man would say if he had lived until now.
I wasn’t going to be tied down to a rock like that, and by the time Brentwood had been with me a year I had too much time on my hands to stand it any longer. Then I hit on the scheme.
I would have preferred to do it with Landis. He had been good to me, but what I had in mind I couldn’t even talk to him about. He would have fixed it so I couldn’t get in with anyone else. I needed his money and other things he had. They made the thing possible so I went after someone else.
Even though Landis wouldn’t listen, other firms had been getting a line on me. Whenever the firm put over anything big they all I knew I did it.
You remember Old Tom King. Crooked as a snake, but he knew how to make money. I had met him at lunch once or twice, but he had kept track of me, I knew, from things he said. He never ate anything but crackers and milk. He saw me order the same one day, so he took more interest in me. I thought he would.
When I decided it was time to put over my scheme, I picked out King for the second man. It took two of us. I knew he would be the best I could find and he would be willing to do it, too. But I had to tie him up some way. I had made up my mind that I would double-cross Landis if I had to, but I was going to protect myself.
I went to King’s house one night and told him my plan. Not all of it, just enough for him to see that it would work if properly handled. He wanted to know everything, but I wouldn’t tell him unless he consented to sign an agreement to put the thing through.
That agreement was a risky thing, because what we were going to do would put us both in jail, if we were found out. He objected to putting his name to anything, but I convinced him of the big possibilities, and he said he would sign.