money, why should she marry again? I believe she planned to plant the crime on me, thinking she could get me off later and that she would then have me under her thumb for keeps. Or perhaps in her rage she was deliberately trying to send me to the chair. That would explain the gun."
"How did your gun get there?" asked Lee mildly. Al shrugged. "All I know is, it was stolen from me."
"When?"
"I can't tell you that. I didn't miss it until after this happened. It's a couple of months since I have seen it."
"Where did you keep it?"
"In a chest of drawers in my bedroom."
"Did Mrs. Gartrey know it was there?"
"She did."
"Has she ever been in your apartment?"
"Sure!"
"In the bedroom?"
"Yes." Al smiled suddenly. "But not with me! She went in to powder her nose."
"Has Robert Hawkins, her ex-butler, been to your place?" asked Lee.
Al looked at him quickly. "Why do you ask that?...Oh, I see, you are canvassing all the possibilities. Yes, Hawkins has been there on two occasions. The old boy had an interest in photography, and I told him to come around and get a few pointers on developing. The last time was about ten days ago. I left him in the kitchen, washing prints while I went into the dark room I have improvised. He could have gone into the bedroom without my knowing it."
"And the maid, Eliza Young?"
"She has been to my place three or four times with notes from Agnes. Agnes considered telephoning unsafe because the calls at her home went through a switchboard in the pantry. Eliza might have been in my bedroom--she's a sly one !--because sometimes I was busy with my work in the kitchen when she came and had to let her wait in the living room for a while."
"Have other people visited your rooms?"
"Oh, many others. It was a kind of hangout; there was always something to drink there. They made themselves free of the place; they would roam around. I was often busy in the dark room or kitchen...I'll make a list of everybody I can remember and send it to you."
"Thanks," said Lee dryly. "I have not yet promised to give my time to this matter."
Al smiled in his most ingratiating manner. "What have you got against me, Mr. Mappin?"
"Let's not go into that. Answer one question. If it is true you thought Gartrey had killed himself, it is not unnatural you should have thought only of getting out of the place; but next day, when you read the newspapers and learned that he had not killed himself, that, in fact, you were accused of the crime, why didn't you give yourself up? That's the natural impulse of an innocent man."
"Try to put yourself in my place, sir," Al said cajolingly. "Hawkins' story was enough to send me straight to the chair! And such an honest-looking old bozo; anybody would believe him. I could see that I was already convicted in the minds of the public. What kind of a defense had I? I could only clear myself by accusing Agnes. What would everybody have said then? Believing that we were lovers, they would say that I had allowed the woman to do the killing so we could come together, and was now accusing her to save my own skin. By God! I couldn't bear that. I would sooner..."
At this moment the bell of Lee's apartment sounded. Al jumped up all alert. "You'll have to go to the door," he said. "They know you're home."
Lee's first thought was regret that he had hung out his tick-tack so soon. He wanted to ask Al more questions. Somebody began to pound on his door and voices called for him. Al was already halfway through the dining room; Lee followed him. Through the pantry door he went; and into the kitchen. He opened the service door. With his hand on the door, smiling still, he said:
"Good-by, Pop. You're a good fellow! Sorry I couldn't win you over!"
The door slammed, and Lee stood staring at it blankly. A renewed uproar at the other door recalled him to himself. Running to it, he shouted to those on the other side. "This door is locked and the key is gone! Alastair Yohe is on his way down the service
"How did your gun get there?" asked Lee mildly. Al shrugged. "All I know is, it was stolen from me."
"When?"
"I can't tell you that. I didn't miss it until after this happened. It's a couple of months since I have seen it."
"Where did you keep it?"
"In a chest of drawers in my bedroom."
"Did Mrs. Gartrey know it was there?"
"She did."
"Has she ever been in your apartment?"
"Sure!"
"In the bedroom?"
"Yes." Al smiled suddenly. "But not with me! She went in to powder her nose."
"Has Robert Hawkins, her ex-butler, been to your place?" asked Lee.
Al looked at him quickly. "Why do you ask that?...Oh, I see, you are canvassing all the possibilities. Yes, Hawkins has been there on two occasions. The old boy had an interest in photography, and I told him to come around and get a few pointers on developing. The last time was about ten days ago. I left him in the kitchen, washing prints while I went into the dark room I have improvised. He could have gone into the bedroom without my knowing it."
"And the maid, Eliza Young?"
"She has been to my place three or four times with notes from Agnes. Agnes considered telephoning unsafe because the calls at her home went through a switchboard in the pantry. Eliza might have been in my bedroom--she's a sly one !--because sometimes I was busy with my work in the kitchen when she came and had to let her wait in the living room for a while."
"Have other people visited your rooms?"
"Oh, many others. It was a kind of hangout; there was always something to drink there. They made themselves free of the place; they would roam around. I was often busy in the dark room or kitchen...I'll make a list of everybody I can remember and send it to you."
"Thanks," said Lee dryly. "I have not yet promised to give my time to this matter."
Al smiled in his most ingratiating manner. "What have you got against me, Mr. Mappin?"
"Let's not go into that. Answer one question. If it is true you thought Gartrey had killed himself, it is not unnatural you should have thought only of getting out of the place; but next day, when you read the newspapers and learned that he had not killed himself, that, in fact, you were accused of the crime, why didn't you give yourself up? That's the natural impulse of an innocent man."
"Try to put yourself in my place, sir," Al said cajolingly. "Hawkins' story was enough to send me straight to the chair! And such an honest-looking old bozo; anybody would believe him. I could see that I was already convicted in the minds of the public. What kind of a defense had I? I could only clear myself by accusing Agnes. What would everybody have said then? Believing that we were lovers, they would say that I had allowed the woman to do the killing so we could come together, and was now accusing her to save my own skin. By God! I couldn't bear that. I would sooner..."
At this moment the bell of Lee's apartment sounded. Al jumped up all alert. "You'll have to go to the door," he said. "They know you're home."
Lee's first thought was regret that he had hung out his tick-tack so soon. He wanted to ask Al more questions. Somebody began to pound on his door and voices called for him. Al was already halfway through the dining room; Lee followed him. Through the pantry door he went; and into the kitchen. He opened the service door. With his hand on the door, smiling still, he said:
"Good-by, Pop. You're a good fellow! Sorry I couldn't win you over!"
The door slammed, and Lee stood staring at it blankly. A renewed uproar at the other door recalled him to himself. Running to it, he shouted to those on the other side. "This door is locked and the key is gone! Alastair Yohe is on his way down the service
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