Ricardo Taonon made the thing sound so convincing that I felt certain taking twenty-five thousand dollars of the profits on the gold mine and investing it temporarily in me partnership business would give us just the added capital we needed to get over the hump and would enable us to turn what would otherwise have been a hundred-thousand-dollar loss into a half-million-dollar profit.
Either the man hypnotized me or I was crazy. I did as he suggested. That involved signing papers. I signed them — papers showing the whole gold mine was a partnership investment. Then I asked Taonon for an accounting. It was men he told me I could draw out any sum of money I wished to reimburse Miss Renton for her trust funds but that the documents I had signed were to the effect I had acted for the partnership in the mining deal. I was trapped in my own duplicity. True, Cynthia would sustain no impairment of her trust funds, but she had lost enormous profits. I decided to try again I put five thousand in an oil deal for her. This oil proposition looked better than the mining deal ever had. I convinced myself Taonon’s treachery had all been for the best. And then the oil deal failed to be profitable. It gives every sign of simply dying on the vine. But Cynthia Renton is asking for an accounting. I am satisfied that Edward Harold, to whom she is engaged and who has just called me, is suspicious and intends to make a detailed investigation.
The only way I can really make atonement is by a full confession. Cynthia Renton is the real owner of all my interest in the Eastern Art Import and Trading Company. Moreover, she is entitled to all the assets of that company. She is also the real owner of the contents of the envelope which I am leaving in plain sight on the desk. There is nothing I can add to this statement. I only wish to God that I could subtract from it. I have loved Cynthia Renton. I have been entrusted with her confidence. I have failed her, and I have failed myself. The only thing I can say by way of justification is that Ricardo Taonon is unspeakably evil. The man has a hypnotic influence upon those with whom he comes in contact. Under his suave, persuasive influence I have done that which has robbed me of the desire to live. I am taking the easy way out. I only hope that Cynthia will forgive me.
On the other hand, however, I have received money from the partnership. Taonon is evil, but the other partners are blameless. I leave a fair sum in insurance and no immediate relatives. I therefore give, devise and bequeath all of my individual estate, share and share alike, to George Gloster, Stacey Nevis and Ricardo Taonon as copartners transacting business under the firm name and style of Eastern Art Import and Trading Company.
“He killed himself,” Cynthia said breathlessly.
“I felt certain that he did,” Clane told her. “Edward Harold told me what had happened. I think that was the first time he ever told anyone the true story of what had occurred. He found Farnsworth very dejected, hinting at some dark secret. He went back to get that image I had given you. He wanted to use it to cheer Farnsworth up. Harold said it had helped him and... well, you can see what happened. All that the picture needed to be a complete case of suicide was this letter on the desk and the presence of a gun. Someone slipped into the room, removed the gun, and took this letter and the envelope of papers. That made it look like murder.”
“You mean Ricardo Taonon had...”
“No, no,” Clane said impatiently. “Don’t you see? There’s only one person. Once you look at the evidence properly, it points to — What’s that?” he asked, stopping abruptly.
“What?”
“I thought I heard a noise, a...”
A switch clicked, lights blazed into brilliance — a blinding illumination which left them dazed and blinking. Their eyes, having accustomed themselves to the darkness and the faint illumination of the fountain-pen flashlight which Clane had been using, failed for a moment to adjust themselves to the sudden burst of light.
Inspector Malloy’s voice was booming and genial. “Well, well, well, Clane. You did it again. You really did! I told you that you were more value to us running around loose and playing bird dog. You flushed some real game this time. Cynthia Renton! We’ve certainly been looking for you. I rather expected Clane would come back here and start snooping around; but to think that you... And what have we here, Mr. Clane? What’s this paper you were talking about?”
Wordlessly Clane handed him the paper.
Inspector Malloy glanced at it then gave it intense study.
“A plant?” he asked suspiciously.
Clane shook his head.
Malloy said, “This could be serious, you know, Clane. This will be subjected to scrutiny by the best handwriting experts in the country.”
“Scrutinize it all you want,” Clane said. “You can see now what happened. It’s the only thing that could have happened. Gloster found something that startled him, something that made it imperative that he meet with the others immediately. He couldn’t reach Nevis at once because Nevis was in a poker game. But he called Taonon and told him to come to the warehouse at once.”
“Go on,” Malloy said.
“Gloster had to get something here in the warehouse,” Clane went on. “He drove here. Harold was hiding here. He jumped out of the window as Gloster came in. Gloster phoned Taonon. While he was waiting for Ricardo Taonon, something made him decide to look around. He found this note.
“The note speaks for itself. Farnsworth committed suicide. Let’s examine the evidence in the light of that hypothesis. Farnsworth was despondent, trapped. He took the easy way out.
“Now let’s look at what happened after that — the only thing that could have happened. When the police arrived at Farnsworth’s house, they found a kettle of water on the electric stove, the water boiling rapidly. They found the oven hot, and Farnsworth’s wrist watch, bearing evidences of having been wet, drying in the oven. When Harold returned to the house, the back door was unlocked.
“Figure it out. Sam Kenyon must have returned from his afternoon off. He let himself in through the back door. He put on a kettle of water, turned on the oven, and then went in to see what Farnsworth wanted for supper. He found Farnsworth dead, this document on the desk, the gun lying where it had dropped from Farnsworth’s nerveless fingers.
“Kenyon evidently is an opportunist. He saw a chance to get rich. He took the gun, the envelope, the document, and he went to Ricardo Taonon or to Stacey Nevis. He made his demands. Whatever they were, they were met. He was instructed to return to the house and call the police.
“When he went back to the house he let himself in through the front door. He called the police, and then just before they arrived he went back to the kitchen. The water was boiling merrily away. The oven had been turned on and was now smoking hot — evidence that he had previously been to the house. Even if he had dumped out the water, he couldn’t have cooled off the oven. The police were driving up to the place even then. He thought fast. He rushed in, took Farnsworth’s wrist watch, snapped off the back, put water in it, put it in the oven, and then let the police in. Later on, when police looked around and found the boiling water and the wrist watch, it looked as though Farnsworth had put the water on the stove, had got water in his watch in the process and had put the watch in the oven to dry.
“The police never did explain that kettle of boiling water and the wrist watch. Because of the way Harold messed up his case, they didn’t have to. But when you put the whole thing together, there’s only one explanation.”
Malloy frowned as he studied the paper. “It sounds logical the way you outline it — and if this is genuine. But right now it looks like a plant to me. It smells fishy.”