Bagley wanted to remain and talk, but Karg escorted him out. They closed the door and waited some five minutes for Symmes. Karg’s eyes were singularly unenthusiastic.
“Hope you don’t think you’re getting anywhere with this stuff, Snowy,” he observed.
Snowy Shane shrugged his huge shoulders.
There was an impatient knock at the door. He opened it to admit Symmes. Snowy Shane sat him in the same chair, facing the window, dropped to his knees and pointed to the broken match.
“Symmes,” he said, “you were a ranger in the dry southwest. Did you, by any chance, learn to break matches into two pieces before you threw them away?”
Symmes looked at the match, laughed good-naturedly
“Hell no. I’ve heard of fellows who did that. I never did.”
Snowy Shane got to his feet, dusted the knees of his trousers.
“Thanks,” he said. “That’s all. I guess I pulled a boner, Karg. None of these men had anything to do with it.”
Symmes grinned, extended his hand.
“No hard feelings,” he said. “You detectives have got to do your duty. Call on me any time.”
He left the office. Joe Karg’s face showed hostility. “The next time I let a private dick horn in and sell me on a wild theory, you’ll know it!” he snapped.
Snowy Shane nodded, gloomily.
“Sorry, Joe.”
“And the next time you catch me wasting time on a wild goose chase—” began Sheridane, but Snowy Shane’s eye transfixed him with disdainful hostility.
“That’ll be about all, Frank. You make mistakes yourself. Come on. You’ve got one more job.”
He led the way to the elevators. Sydney Symmes was standing before the shaft which showed a red light.
“Just in time,” he said.
Shane grinned.
“Figured we’d be,” he said.
They rode to the Street.
“Come up to my office a minute,” invited Shane.
Symmes looked at his watch, frowned.
“Only take a few minutes,” said Shane.
Symmes consented with a very apparent lack of enthusiasm. Once in the office, Snowy Shane began to talk.
“I got a theory about this case,” he said. “Robb didn’t cop that coin without some split. The guy he split with was a friend. And he didn’t write that confession when Molly O’Keefe was in the office. Remember, she was a secretary, and he’d been dictating to her. If he’d been goin’ to make a confession while she was there he’d have dictated it to her, an’ made a long statement.
“That’s the way those guys do when they kick through. They write a regular smear. I’ve seen ’em before. But Robb’s confession was awfully brief, too brief. And it put too much stress on the fact that he was the only goat. I have an idea somebody made him write out that confession, put the screws on him somehow.
“Then, after the confession was written, the guy croaked him, telephoned to the messenger service and told them to come and get the envelope for delivery.”
Symmes smiled, nodded.
“It’s good to see someone who really runs trail on a case,” he said. “That’s the way we used to do it in the forestry service, just run down trail until we got to where we were headed. But how about the time of the murder? The wrist watch shows that it was right about the time Miss O’Keefe left, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Snowy. “The guy that croaked him set the wrist watch back, and then smashed it. That was done after the murder, not before.”
He took out a cigarette case from his pocket, extended it to Symmes. Symmes took a cigarette, struck a match, dropped it to the floor, still burning, picked it up and blew it out.
Snowy Shane beckoned to Sheridane.
“I want to see you a minute,” he said. “We’ll be right back, Symmes. Just wait here.”
Sheridane followed Snowy Shane into the corridor.
“What’s the idea?” he asked.
Shane grinned at him.
“That cigarette I gave him was awful. It’ll just arouse the tobacco appetite, but he can’t smoke it. He’ll start in smoking one of his own, maybe three or four, if we wait long enough.”
“What’ll that do?” asked Sheridane.
“Make a smoke screen,” said Shane, and grinned.
“You think he’s guilty?”
Shane shrugged his shoulders.
“He’ll leave if we keep him waiting,” protested Sheridane.
“He can’t. The door’s locked. There’s a night latch that’s rigged just opposite from most of ’em. It spring-locks a man in, instead of out.”
“But I don’t get the idea!”
“You said if you could prove some member of the advisory committee was in that room during the night you’d do the rest, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and I meant it. That’s all the break I want before a jury.”
Shane grinned.
“Let’s go down and buy some pipe tobacco, I been smokin’ odds and ends until my throat tickles.”
They went to the tobacco store, took plenty of time. Then Shane almost forcibly restrained Sheridane from returning to the office until another ten minutes had passed.
He opened the door of the private office. Sydney Symmes glowered at them. His face was dark with wrath.
“What the hell’s the idea of locking me in here and disconnecting the telephone? I couldn’t get out, and—”
Snowy Shane walked past him to the ash tray.
It was littered with cigarette stubs. The detective started fingering through stubs until he found a charred match. It was straight, unbroken. He found other and another, but the third had been broken, then straightened.
“Well?” said Shane.
Symmes laughed nervously.
“To tell you the truth, you got me pretty well flustered up there in that room. I’m going to tell you chaps the truth. I was there last night.
“I got there around eleven fifteen. Miss O’Keefe had been taking dictation, but she’d stepped into the ladies’ room to put on a little make-up. Robb told me he was finished dictating. But be seemed all nervous, wrought up over something, so I didn’t stay.
“When I heard of the murder I determined to say absolutely nothing about having been there, for fear someone might think I’d come to see him, found out Miss O’Keefe was there, and then gone out, waited for her to go, and then gone on in again.”
“As a matter of fact I do break matches. All the rangers in that section of the country do — or used to when I rode it. You flustered me when you dug up that match. I knew I must be careful.
“But you got me shut up here, and I was nervous, and I got to smoking and breaking matches before I thought of it. I straightened ’em again as well as I could. I’d have burnt ’em up, but I knew wood ash is distinctive, and I had an idea you chaps were watching me through some sort of a peep-hole.
“What I’m telling you fellows is the absolute truth, and I want you to believe it.”
He looked at them with steady, pleading eyes.
Snowy Shane nodded his head solemnly.
“You’ve got me sold,” he said.
Symmes heaved a sigh.
“I thought you’d see how it was.”
Shane nodded again, smiled.
“Glad you explained, Symmes. You can go. I’ll have to report to the officer in charge, but there’ll be nothing to it. They may ask you a question or two.”
Symmes lunged for the door.
“Good-bye Symmes.”
“Good-bye!”
The door closed. Sheridane glowered at the detective.
“Of all the damned fools! What if he was telling the truth? We could have browbeat him, called in the police, got the newspaper reporters, got Symmes admitting he had told a false story— Hell, with that much of a break I could give this jane a chance at a hung jury, or a cinch on copping a plea.”
Shane smiled.