Free Postmark Murder by Mignon G. Eberhart Page A

arrangement until the date when the estate is to be settled, which would be the normal time to do anything like that. That is, in January. The point is, Lieutenant Peabody, nobody stood to gain by the death of this man who came this afternoon. You’re looking for motives, of course, but that one is out, believe me.”
    The Lieutenant said quietly, “Somebody killed him.”
    There was another rather long pause. The traffic roar along the Drive had dwindled as it grew late. A heavier fog must be coming in from the lake for the foghorn near the Navy pier gave a low hoarse warning through the night. Presently Lieutenant Peabody shifted his position slightly. He said, “Now let’s go over this interview you had with this man, Miss March, again. First, did you have any doubt as to his claim?”
    “No,” Laura said. “At least not while he was here.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “It’s just as I told you, Lieutenant. When he saw Jonny he didn’t speak to her and Jonny didn’t speak to him. He then asked me to tell no one of his arrival, and went away. There was something about him that I believed. I wasn’t sure I was right, though, not to tell Matt and the others of his arrival. In any event it suddenly struck me that if Jonny had recognized him she would have shown some sort of reaction. Even if at the very moment when she saw him she had been startled or perhaps frightened, still it seemed to me that later on she would have shown some sort of feeling. So then I thought that the man must be an impostor. But when I took the Polish dictionary and went to question her—”
    The Lieutenant interrupted. “Did you question her?”
    “No. It was then that I found her crying. So I knew that she must have recognized him and that he was her father.”
    “But you did, at least for a moment, waver in your conviction that he was Stanislowski?”
    “Yes. But only for a moment.”
    “He gave you no hint as to what he intended to do during these few days when he wished his arrival to be kept a secret?”
    “No.”
    “You explained to him the entire situation—that is, that he would have to see Mrs. Stanley, Cosden, the other trustee?”
    “I intended to phone to Matt then. He asked me not to. He seemed—frightened.”
    “That’s an odd thing, isn’t it? Why should he be frightened? He merely came to see you, and to see that his child was safely here, in your care?”
    “He seemed frightened,” she said stubbornly.
    “Well,” the Lieutenant said, “that’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it? However, he did know all about this will.”
    “Yes, of course. He had the letter which Matt left at the orphanage.”
    “But he refused to show you the letter. In point of fact, he refused to show you any sort of identification.”
    “He said he would have everything in the way of identification we required in a few days.”
    “He didn’t say that he was going to see anybody?”
    “No. He only told me his address.”
    The Lieutenant said unexpectedly, “You are very young to be made a trustee for the Stanley will. You must have thought over your responsibilities very seriously. Cosden here”—he nodded at Matt—“and the other trustee, Stedman, must have warned you that there was a possibility that someone would hear of this very unusual will and attempt to claim the money.”
    “Oh, yes,” Laura said. “That’s why I questioned him about his identification. I didn’t want to; I wanted to take him to Jonny immediately.”
    The Lieutenant leaned forward slightly. “Miss March, are you sure that he was dead when you found him?”
    “Yes! There was no question of it. I felt his pulse. And then I got a little mirror out of my compact and held it to his mouth—” The Lieutenant interrupted. “Did you try to help him?”
    “No. No. There was nothing I could do. He was dead.”
    “Describe the room, please.”
    “The room? Why, it—it is just a room, small, not much in it. A bed, a writing table. He was on