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Robert Louis Stevenson - "The Master of Ballantrae"

Torquato Tasso - "Jerusalem Delivered"

Beatrix Potter - "The Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter"

Plato, translated by B. Jowett. - "Phaedrus"

The Poisoned Pen

A >> Arthur B. Reeve >> The Poisoned Pen




At once Kennedy became all energy. He arranged for a secret
conference in Senator Willard's house, the moment the artist was to
arrive. The senator and his daughter made a flying trip back to
town. Nothing was said to any one about Thurston, but Kennedy
quietly arranged with the district attorney to be present with the
note and the jar of ammonia properly safeguarded. Leland of course
came, although his client could not. Halsey Post seemed only too
glad to be with Miss Willard, though he seemed to have lost interest
in the case as soon as the Willards returned to look after it
themselves. Mrs. Boncour was well enough to attend, and even Dr.
Waterworth insisted on coming in a private ambulance which drove
over from a near-by city especially for him. The time was fixed
just before the arrival of the train that was to bring Thurston.

It was an anxious gathering of friends and foes of Dr. Dixon who
sat impatiently waiting for Kennedy to begin this momentous
exposition that was to establish the guilt or innocence of the calm
young physician who sat impassively in the jail not half a mile
from the room where his life and death were being debated.

"In many respects this is the most remarkable case that it has ever
been my lot to handle," began Kennedy. "Never before have I felt
so keenly my sense of responsibility. Therefore, though this is a
somewhat irregular proceeding, let me begin by setting forth the
facts as I see them.

"First, let us consider the dead woman. The question that arises
here is, Was she murdered or did she commit suicide? I think you
will discover the answer as I proceed. Miss Lytton, as you know,
was, two years ago, Mrs. Burgess Thurston. The Thurstons had
temperament, and temperament is quite often the highway to the
divorce court. It was so in this case. Mrs. Thurston discovered
that her husband was paying much attention to other women. She
sued for divorce in New York, and he accepted service in the South,
where he happened to be. At least it was so testified by Mrs.
Thurston's lawyer.

"Now here comes the remarkable feature of the case. The law firm
of Kerr & Kimmel, I find, not long ago began to investigate the=20
legality of this divorce. Before a notary Thurston made an affidavit
that he had never been served by the lawyer for Miss Lytton, as she
was now known. Her lawyer is dead, but his representative in the
South who served the papers is alive. He was brought to New York
and asserted squarely that he had served the papers properly.

"Here is where the shrewdness of Mose Kimmel, the shyster lawyer,
came in. He arranged to have the Southern attorney identify the
man he had served the papers on. For this purpose he was engaged
in conversation with one of his own clerks when the lawyer was due
to appear. Kimmel appeared to act confused, as if he had been
caught napping. The Southern lawyer, who had seen Thurston only
once, fell squarely into the trap and identified the clerk as
Thurston. There were plenty of witnesses to it, and it was point
number two for the great Mose Kimmel. Papers were drawn up to set
aside the divorce decree.

"In the meantime, Miss Lytton, or Mrs. Thurston, had become
acquainted with a young doctor in a New York hospital, and had
become engaged to him. It matters not that the engagement was
later broken. The fact remains that if the divorce were set aside
an action would lie against Dr. Dixon for alienating Mrs. Thurston's
affections, and a grave scandal would result. I need not add that
in this quiet little town of Danbridge the most could be made of
such a suit."

Kennedy was unfolding a piece=20of paper. As he laid it down, Leland,
who was sitting next to me, exclaimed under his breath:

"My God, he's going to let the prosecutor know about that letter.
Can't you stop him?"

It was too late. Kennedy had already begun to read Vera's letter.
It was damning to Dixon, added to the other note found in the
ammonia-jar.

When he had finished reading, you could almost hear the hearts
throbbing in the room. A scowl overspread Senator Willard's features.
Alma Willard was pale and staring wildly at Kennedy. Halsey Post,
ever solicitous for her, handed her a glass of water from the table.
Dr. Waterworth had forgotten his pain in his intense attention, and
Mrs. Boncour seemed stunned with astonishment. The prosecuting
attorney was eagerly taking notes.

"In some way," pursued Kennedy in an even voice, "this letter was
either overlooked in the original correspondence of Dr. Dixon or it
was added to it later. I shall come back to that presently. My
next point is that Dr. Dixon says he received a letter from Thurston
on the day the artist visited the Boncour bungalow. It asked about
a certain headache compound, and his reply was brief and, as nearly
as I can find out, read, 'This compound will not cure your headache
except at the expense of reducing heart action dangerously.'

"Next comes the tragedy. On the evening of the day that Thurston=20
eft, after presumably telling Miss Lytton about what Kerr & Kimmel
had discovered, Miss Lytton is found dying with a bottle containing
cyanide and sublimate beside her. You are all familiar with the
circumstances and with the note discovered in the jar of ammonia.
Now, if the prosecutor will be so kind as to let me see that note
- thank you, sir. This is the identical note. You have all heard
the various theories of the jar and have read the note. Here it is
in plain, cold black and white - in Dr. Dixon's own handwriting,
as you know, and reads: 'This will cure your headache. Dr. Dixon.'"

Alma Willard seemed as one paralysed. Was Kennedy, who had been
engaged by her father to defend her fianc=82, about to convict him?

Before we draw the final conclusion," continued Kennedy gravely,
"there are one or two points I wish to elaborate. Walter, will you
open that door into the main hall?"

I did so, and two policemen stepped in with a prisoner. It was
Thurston, but changed almost beyond recognition. His clothes were
worn, his beard shaved off, and he had a generally hunted appearance.

Thurston was visibly nervous. Apparently he had heard all that
Kennedy had said and intended he should hear, for as he entered he
almost broke away from the police officers in his eagerness to speak.

"Before God," he cried dramatically, "I am as innocent as you are of
this crime, Professor Kennedy."

"Are you prepared to swear before me," almost shouted Kennedy, his
eyes blazing, "that you were never served properly by your wife's
lawyers in that suit?"

The man cringed back as if a stinging blow had been delivered
between his eyes. As he met Craig's fixed glare he knew there was
no hope. Slowly, as if the words were being wrung from him syllable
by syllable, he said in a muffled voice:

"No, I perjured myself. I was served in that suit. But - "

"And you swore falsely before Kimmel that you were not?" persisted
Kennedy.

"Yes," he murmured. "But - "

"And you are prepared now to make another affidavit to that effect?"

"Yes," he replied. "If - "

"No buts or ifs, Thurston," cried Kennedy sarcastically. "What did
you make that affidavit for? What is your story?"

"Kimmel sent for me. I did not go to him. He offered to pay my
debts if I would swear to such a statement. I did not ask why or
for whom. I swore to it and gave him a list of my creditors. I
waited until they were paid. Then my conscience - " I could not
help revolting at the thought of conscience in such a wretch, and
the word itself seemed to stick in his throat as he went on and
saw how feeble an impression he was making on us - " my conscience
began to trouble me. I determined to see Vera, tell her all, and
find out whether it was she who wanted this statement. I saw her.
When at last I told her, she scorned me. I can confirm that, for
as I left a man entered. I now knew how grossly I had sinned, in
listening to Mose Kimmel. I fled. I disappeared in Maine. I
travelled. Every day my money grew less. At last I was overtaken,
captured, and brought back here."

He stopped and sank wretchedly down in a chair and covered his face
with his hands.

"A likely story," muttered Leland in my ear.

Kennedy was working quickly. Motioning the officers to be seated
by Thurston, he uncovered a jar which he had placed on the table.
The colour had now appeared in Alma's cheeks, as if hope had again
sprung in her heart, and I fancied that Halsey Post saw his claim
on her favour declining correspondingly.

"I want you to examine the letters in this case with me," continued
Kennedy. "Take the letter which I read from Miss Lytton, which was
found following the strange disappearance of the note from Thurston."

He dipped a pen into a little bottle, and wrote on a piece of paper:


What is your opinion about Cross's Headache Cure? Would you
recommend it for a nervous headache?

BURGESS THURSTON,
c/o Mrs. S. BONCOUR.


Craig held up the writing so that we could all see that he had
written what Dixon declared Thurston wrote in the note that had
disappeared. Then he dipped another pen into a second bottle, and
for some time he scrawled on another sheet of paper. He held it up,
but it was still perfectly blank.

"Now," he added, "I am going to give a little demonstration which
I expect to be successful only in a measure. Here in the open
sunshine by this window I am going to place these two sheets of
paper side by side. It will take longer than I care to wait to make
my demonstration complete, but I can do enough to convince you."

For a quarter of an hour we sat in silence, wondering what he would
do next. At last he beckoned us over to the window. As we
approached he said, "On sheet number one I have written with
quinoline; on sheet number two I wrote with a solution of nitrate of
silver."

We bent over. The writing signed "Thurston" on sheet number one
was faint, almost imperceptible, but on paper number two, in black
letters, appeared what Kennedy had written: " Dear Harris: Since
we agreed to disagree we have at least been good friends."

"It is like the start of the substituted letter, and the other is
like the missing note," gasped Leland in a daze.

"Yes," said Kennedy quickly. "Leland, no one entered your office.
No one stole the Thurston note. No one substituted the Lytton
letter. According to your own story, you took them out of the
safe and left them in the sunlight all day. The process that had
been started earlier in ordinary light, slowly, was now quickly
completed. In other words, there was writing which would soon fade
away on one side of the paper and writing which was invisible but
would soon appear on the other.

"For instance, quinoline rapidly disappears in sunlight. Starch
with a slight trace of iodine writes a light blue, which disappears
in air. It was something like that used in the Thurston letter.
Then, too, silver nitrate dissolved in ammonia gradually turns black
as it is acted on by light and air. Or magenta treated with a
bleaching-agent in just sufficient quantity to decolourise it is
invisible when used for writing. But the original colour reappears
as the oxygen of the air acts upon the pigment. I haven't a doubt
but that my analyses of the inks are correct and on one side
quinoline was used and on the other nitrate of silver. This explains
the inexplicable disappearance of evidence incriminating one person,
Thurston, and the sudden appearance of evidence incriminating
another, Dr. Dixon. Sympathetic ink also accounts for the curious
circumstance that the Lytton letter was folded up with the writing
apparently outside. It was outside and unseen until the sunlight
brought it out and destroyed the other, inside, writing - a change,
I suspect, that was intended for the police to see after it was
completed, not for the defence to witness as it was taking place."

We looked at each other aghast. Thurston was nervously opening
and shutting his lips and moistening them as if he wanted to say
something but could not find the words.

"Lastly," went on Craig, utterly regardless of Thurston's frantic
efforts to speak, "we come to the note that was discovered so
queerly crumpled up in the jar of ammonia on Vera Lytton's
dressing-table. I have here a cylindrical glass jar in which
I place some sal-ammoniac and quicklime. I will wet it and heat
it a little. That produces the pungent gas of ammonia.

"On one side of this third piece of paper I myself write with this
mercurous nitrate solution. You see, I leave no mark on the paper
as I write. I fold it up and drop it into the jar - and in a few
seconds withdraw it. Here is a very quick way of producing something
like the slow result of sunlight with silver nitrate. The fumes of
ammonia have formed the precipitate of black mercurous nitrate, a
very distinct black writing which is almost indelible. That is what
is technically called invisible rather than sympathetic ink."

We leaned over to read what he had written. It was the same as the
note incriminating Dixon:


This will cure your headache.
Dr. DIXON.


A servant entered with a telegram from New York. Scarcely stopping
in his exposure, Kennedy tore it open, read it hastily, stuffed it
into his pocket, and went on.

"Here in this fourth bottle I have an acid solution of iron chloride,
diluted until the writing is invisible when dry," he hurried on. "I
will just make a few scratches on this fourth sheet of paper - so.
It leaves no mark. But it has the remarkable property of becoming
red in vapour of sulpho-cyanide. Here is a long-necked flask of the
gas, made by sulphuric acid acting on potassium sulphocyanide. Keep
back, Dr. Waterworth, for it would be very dangerous for you to get
even a whiff of this in your condition. Ah! See - the scratches
I made on the paper are red."

Then hardly giving us more than a moment to let the fact impress
itself on our minds, he seized the piece of paper and dashed it
into the jar of ammonia. When he withdrew it, it was just a plain
sheet of white paper again. The red marks which the gas in the
flask had brought out of nothingness had been effaced by the ammonia.
They had gone and left no trace.

"In this way I can alternately make the marks appear and disappear
by using the sulpho-cyanide and the ammonia. Whoever wrote this
note with Dr. Dixon's name on it must have had the doctor's reply
to the Thurston letter containing the words, 'This will not cure
your headache.' He carefully traced the words, holding the genuine
note up to the light with a piece of paper over it, leaving out the
word 'not' and using only such words as he needed. This note was
then destroyed.

"But he forgot that after he had brought out the red writing by the
use of the sulpho-cyanide, and though he could count on Vera Lytton's
placing the note in the jar of ammonia and hence obliterating the
writing, while at the same time the invisible writing in the mercurous
nitrate involving Dr. Dixon's name would be brought out by the ammonia
indelibly on the other side of the note - he forgot" - Kennedy was
now speaking eagerly and loudly - "that the sulpho-cyanide vapours
could always be made to bring back to accuse him the words that the
ammonia had blotted out."

Before the prosecutor could interfere, Kennedy had picked up the
note found in the ammonia-jar beside the dying girl and had jammed
the state's evidence into the long-necked flask of sulpho-cyanide
vapour.

"Don't fear," he said, trying to pacify the now furious prosecutor,
"it will do nothing to the Dixon writing. That is permanent now,
even if it is only a tracing."

When he withdrew the note, there was writing on both sides, the
black of the original note and something in red on the other side.

We crowded around, and Craig read it with as much interest as any
of us:

"Before taking the headache-powder, be sure to place the contents
of this paper in a jar with a little warm water."

"Hum," commented Craig, "this was apparently on the outside wrapper
of a paper folded about some sal-ammoniac and quicklime. It goes on:

"'Just drop the whole thing in, paper and all. Then if you feel a
faintness from the medicine the ammonia will quickly restore you.
One spoonful of the headache-powder swallowed quickly is enough.'"

No name was signed to the directions, but they were plainly written,
and "paper and all" was underscored heavily.

Craig pulled out some letters. "I have here specimens of writing
of many persons connected with this case, but I can see at a glance
which one corresponds to the writing on this red death-warrant by
an almost inhuman fiend. I shall, however, leave that part of it
to the handwriting experts to determine at the trial. Thurston, who
was the man whom you saw enter the Boncour bungalow as you left
- the constant visitor?"

Thurston had not yet regained his self-control, but with trembling
forefinger he turned and pointed to Halsey Post.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," cried Kennedy as he slapped the telegram
that had just come from New York down on the table decisively, "yes,
the real client of Kerr & Kimmel, who bent Thurston to his purposes,
was Halsey Post, once secret lover of Vera Lytton till threatened by
scandal in Danbridge - Halsey Post, graduate in technology, student
of sympathetic inks, forger of the Vera Lytton letter and the other
notes, and dealer in cyanides in the silver-smithing business,
fortune-hunter for the Willard millions with which to recoup the Post
& Vance losses, and hence rival of Dr. Dixon for the love of Alma
Willard. That is the man who wielded the poisoned pen. Dr. Dixon
is innocent.



II

"THE YEGGMAN


"Hello! Yes, this is Professor Kennedy. I didn't catch the name
- oh, yes - President Blake of the Standard Burglary Insurance
Company. What - really? The Branford pearls - stolen? Maid
chloroformed? Yes, I'll take the case. You'll be up in half an
hour? All right, I'll be here. Goodbye."

It was through this brief and businesslike conversation over the
telephone that Kennedy became involved in what proved to be one of
the most dangerous cases he had ever handled.

At the mention of the Branford pearls I involuntarily stopped
reading, and listened, not because I wanted to pry into Craig's
affairs, but because I simply couldn't help it. This was news that
had not yet been given out to the papers, and my instinct told me
that there must be something more to it than the bare statement of
the robbery.

"Some one has made a rich haul," I commented. "It was reported, I
remember, when the Branford pearls were bought in Paris last year
that Mrs. Branford paid upward of a million francs for the
collection."

"Blake is bringing up his shrewdest detective to co-operate with me
in the case," added Kennedy. "Blake, I understand, is the head of
the Burglary Insurance Underwriters' Association, too. This will
be a big thing, Walter, if we can carry it through."

It was the longest half-hour that I ever put in, waiting for Blake
to arrive. When he did come, it was quite evident that my surmise
had been correct.

Blake was one of those young old men who are increasingly common in
business to-day. There was an air of dignity and keenness about his
manner that showed clearly how important he regarded the case. So
anxious was he to get down to business that he barely introduced
himself and his companion, Special Officer Maloney, a typical private
detective.

"Of course you haven't heard anything except what I have told you
over the wire," he began, going right to the point. "We were
notified of it only this noon ourselves, and we haven't given it
out to the papers yet, though the local police in Jersey are now
on the scene. The New York police must be notified to-night, so
that whatever we do must be done before they muss things up. We've
got a clue that we want to follow up secretly. These are the facts.

In the terse, straightforward language of the up-to-date man of
efficiency, he sketched the situation for us.

"The Branford estate, you know, consists of several acres on the
mountain back of Montclair, overlooking the valley, and surrounded
by even larger estates. Branford, I understand, is in the West with
a party of capitalists, inspecting a reported find of potash salts.
Mrs. Branford closed up the house a few days ago and left for a
short stay at Palm Beach. Of course they ought to have put their
valuables in a safe deposit vault. But they didn't. They relied
on a safe that was really one of the best in the market - a splendid
safe, I may say. Well, it seems that while the master and mistress
were both away the servants decided on having a good time in New
York. They locked up the house securely - there's no doubt of that
- and just went. That is, they all went except Mrs. Branford's
maid, who refused to go for some reason or other. We've got all
the servants, but there's not a clue to be had from any of them.
They just went off on a bust, that's clear. They admit it.

"Now, when they got back early this morning they found the maid in
bed - dead. There was still a strong odour of chloroform about the
room. The bed was disarranged as if there had been a struggle. A
towel had been wrapped up in a sort: of cone, saturated with
chloroform, and forcibly held over the girl's nose. The next thing
they discovered was the safe - blown open in a most peculiar manner.
I won't dwell on that. We're going to take you out there and show
it to you after I've told you the whole story.

"Here's the real point. It looks all right, so far. The local
police say that the thief or thieves, whoever they were, apparently
gained access by breaking a back window. That's mistake number one.
Tell Mr. Kennedy about the window, Maloney."

"It's just simply this," responded the detective. "When I came to
look at the broken window I found that the glass had fallen outside
in such a way as it could not have fallen if the window had been
broken from the outside. The thing was a blind. Whoever did it
got into the house in some other way and then broke the glass later
to give a false clue.

"And," concluded Blake, taking his cigar between his thumb and
forefinger and shaking it to give all possible emphasis to his words,
"we have had our agent at Palm Beach on long-distance 'phone twice
this afternoon. Mrs. Branford did no: go to Palm Beach. She did
not engage rooms in any hotel there. And furthermore she never had
any intention of going there. By a fortunate circumstance Maloney
picked up a hint from one of the servants, and he has located her
at the Grattan Inn in this city. In other words, Mrs. Branford has
stolen her own jewels from herself in order to collect the burglary
insurance - a common-enough thing in itself, but never to my
knowledge done on such a large scale before."

The insurance man sank back in his chair and surveyed us sharply.

"But," interrupted Kennedy slowly, "how about -"

"I know - the maid," continued Blake. "I do not mean that Mrs.
Branford did the actual stealing. Oh, no. That was done by a
yeggman of experience. He must have been above the average,
but everything points to the work of a yeggman. She hired him.
But he overstepped the mark when he chloroformed the maid."

For a moment Kennedy said nothing. Then he remarked: "Let us go
out and see the safe. There must be some clue. After that I want
to have a talk with Mrs. Branford. By the way," he added, as we
all rose to go down to Blake's car, "I once handled a life insurance
case for the Great Eastern. I made the condition that I was to
handle it in my own way, whether it went for or against the company.
That's understood, is it, before I undertake the case?"

"Yes, yes," agreed Blake. "Get at the truth. We're not seeking to
squirm out of meeting an honest liability. Only we want to make a
signal example if it is as we have every reason to believe. There
has been altogether too much of this sort of fake burglary to collect
insurance, and as president of the underwriters it is my duty and
intention to put a stop to it. Come on."

Maloney nodded his head vigorously in assent with his chief. "Never
fear," he murmured. "The truth is what will benefit the company,
all right. She did it."

The Branford estate lay some distance back from the railroad station,
so that, although it took longer to go by automobile than by train,
the car made us independent of the rather fitful night train service
and the local cabmen.

We found the house not deserted by the servants, but subdued. The
body of the maid had been removed to a local morgue, and a police
officer was patrolling the grounds, though of what use that could be
I was at a loss to understand.

Kennedy was chiefly interested in the safe. It was of the so-called
"burglar-proof" variety, spherical in shape, and looking for all
the world like a miniature piece of electrical machinery.

"I doubt if anything could have withstood such savage treatment as
has been given to this safe," remarked Craig as he concluded a
cursory examination of it. "It shows great resistance to high
explosives, chiefly, I believe, as a result of its rounded shape.
But nothing could stand up against such continued assaults."

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