“The first characteristic is really a point of identification. As explained to you last night, Mr. Edmund De Carlos—” here De Carlos choked, and Mr. Queen paused until he had swallowed the obstruction in his throat — “Mr. De Carlos by an oversight left behind him, when he called upon us disguised as Cadmus Cole three months ago, a fountain-pen. This pen was unique in possessing certain identifying marks which distinguished it from all other pens of similar design and manufacture... despite the fact that such pens were, and are, sold by the hundreds of thousand the world over.
“Let me explain that statement. The scratches, and dents — the entire series of little arced patterns on the cap of the pen — could only have been made by human teeth. Now human teeth are, in their modest way, an eloquent symbol of man: they are invariably imperfect. I’m not referring to dental caries or any other pathological manifestation. I’m referring simply to structure and design. No two sets of teeth, no matter how healthy, are identical. The shape of the arch, the size of the individual teeth, the way they lie in the arch in relation to one another, and so on — these all vary with individuals. Two sets of teeth might appear identical to the layman, but any dentist could show you dozens of points of difference after the most casual examination.
“It’s scarcely necessary to belabor the point. In the old days any one could spot a set of false teeth in a stranger’s mouth — the teeth were too regular. Unnaturally so. These days dentists hold a mirror up to Nature. They turn out dental plates which fool most laymen. And why are we fooled? Because modern dental plates exhibit teeth not only natural in color but irregularly aligned and imperfectly shaped as well.
“Criminological science has long recognized the value of teeth-marks as clues to identity. Where clear impressions of teeth can be found, they are as incontrovertible evidence as fingerprints. True, the teeth-marks on the cap of the fountain-pen in question are not the impression of a full set of teeth, or even the substantial number of a full set. The marks of, at most, two or three upper teeth and two or three lowers. But even that is sufficient for the careful observer.”
They were tightly, watchfully quiet, as if each had a deep personal stake in the least word being uttered by Mr. Queen. He glanced at his watch again.
“I must now confess,” he went on with a faint smile, “to have engineered an unquestionably illegal suppression of important evidence. How important I leave you to judge. But I did suppress it when Mr. Rummell and I found it beneath the radiator of Room 1726 only a short time after the murderer of Ann Bloomer fled from it. In short, it was a companion-piece of the fountain-pen — an automatic pencil of the same hard black rubber composition, with similar gold trimming.”
Inspector Queen glared at District Attorney Sampson, who glared back, then both glared at Mr. Queen.
The Inspector rose and roared: “You found what?”
“I’ll take my punishment later, please,” said Mr. Queen. “Meanwhile, may I continue? The facts were these: The room had been prepared for occupancy only a short time before, and was spotless. The pencil had fallen between the radiator and the window and had rolled under the radiator. Since the murderer stood at the window before and during the firing of the murder-weapon, it was obvious that the pencil had been dropped by that worthy accidentally during or directly preceding the commission of the crime. Incidentally, dad, the ashes, burnt match-stick, and cigaret butt were mine. I left them for you — I had to leave something in lieu of the pencil, didn’t I?”
Inspector Queen sank back, purple.
Mr. Queen continued in haste: “Examination of the pencil indicated that it was part of the writing set to which the pen belonged, that the same person had owned both implements, for the bite-marks on the pencil were identical with the bite-marks on the pen.
“Now that,” said Mr. Queen in a sharper tone, “is a scientific fact. I’ve verified that fact by applying for expert opinion since — a concession to legal considerations, for I was satisfied even before consulting authority that the teeth-marks were identical. The person who had the deplorable habit of chewing on his pen and pencil possesses a very long canine in a certain characteristic relation to the tooth below it and the teeth to either side. I could give you the technical picture as it was given to me, but I’m sure it would bore you.
“Just bear in mind that the dent bored by the point of that canine, and the impression of the teeth adjacent to that canine, make identification positive. The identical picture is presented by both pen and pencil. They must have been scarred by the same teeth.
“Now, who dropped that pencil in the room from which the shots were fired which killed Ann Bloomer? The person who occupied the room during the commission of the crime; in other words, the murderer. Or, in still other words — if we can establish the ownership of the pen-and-pencil set, we arrive at once at the identity of the murderer.”
De Carlos was struggling to express himself.
“Yes, Mr. De Carlos?”
“It’s not... it’s not mine,” he gasped. “Not mine!”
“No?” asked Mr. Queen softly. “Then perhaps we can eliminate a deal of gabble right now, Mr. De Carlos. If the pen and pencil aren’t yours, to whom do they belong?”
De Carlos looked about in a sort of bafflement. Then his chin sank, and his eyes, and he muttered: “I’m not talking. I’m not saying a word.”
“Perhaps the moment will come,” murmured Mr. Queen, “when you will feel more disposed to conversation, Mr. De Carlos.
“Second characteristic of the murderer: a very curious point that I almost overlooked. Unfortunately for our bashful marksman, I am a methodical creature. I went back over the ground and saw it — really for the first time — in its proper perspective and proportions.
“The police on the day following Miss Shawn’s and Mr. Rummell’s supposed marriage, received an anonymous tip by telegraph. The obliging tipster indicated that the marriage had been no marriage at all. This information, followed by immediate corroboration when investigation proved the marriage, as advertised, to have been a hoax, supplied the authorities with a perfect motive in the case they were building against Miss Shawn.
“Now who would be interested in copper-riveting the case against Miss Shawn? Obviously the person who had stolen her revolver, who had used it to kill Ann Bloomer, and who had then tossed it into this room across the angle of the court from 1726 — in other words, the thoughtful individual who was trying to frame Miss Shawn for the murder... the murderer in person. If any further corroboration of this deduction were needed, I should merely like to point out that the means employed in tipping off the police — telegraph message given to the telegraph office by telephoning from a pay-station — was exactly the means employed in reserving Room 1726 at the Villanoy on the night of the murder.”
Inspector Queen nodded guiltily, as if this indeed had occurred to him, and the District Attorney reddened, as if it had not.
“Which brings us,” continued Mr. Queen in dulcet tones, “to characteristic number three. On another and less memorable occasion I pointed out, through a strictly logical exercise, that the woman who posed as Margo Cole — that is, Ann Bloomer — must have had a partner... a silent, invisible partner who provided the notorious Miss Bloomer with the various proofs of identity which established her as one of the missing Cole heiresses.
“This silent partner had three motives for killing Ann Bloomer: revenge, if Miss Bloomer after being accepted as Margo Cole refused to split the loot — in the light of Miss Bloomer’s known character, a distinct possibility; fear that she might expose her partner, either deliberately if she should accidentally be discovered to be an impostor, or — as actually occurred — through a slip of the tongue in an unguarded moment; and a third motive which I must again,” Mr. Queen said with an apologetic smile, “hold back as a special tidbit for your future delectation.