The Luminous Face

“Exactly, and Manning Pollard’s was all that. But I can’t see how he managed it.”

“There’s only one way. He must have had a confederate who did the killing.”

“No; a clever criminal doesn’t have a confederate. No; Pollard killed Gleason himself. By the way, Zizi, I found Pollard’s fingerprints on the Barry letter.”

“But Dean Monroe did that.”

“Dean Monroe asked Barry to sign it, but – he told me himself – Pollard gave him the paper and asked him to get Barry’s signature. This, Monroe did, and gave the paper back to Pollard. Later, Pollard told Monroe the plan had been given up. I dug that all out, without speaking to Barry about it. I don’t want Pollard to imagine we suspect him. Now, my child, what was his motive?”

“A pretty strong one. It seems that Manning Pollard is an illegitimate child. He was born in Coggs’ Hollow, of unmarried parents. Later, his father and mother married, so he was legally legitimized. But of course, a stigma remains. Now, Mr Pollard is several years younger than Robert Gleason, so the assumption is that Robert Gleason, who lived all his boyhood in Coggs’ Hollow, knew this secret of Pollard’s birth, and had threatened to expose him, unless he desisted from trying to win Phyllis away from Gleason.”

Pennington Wise thought a few moments.

“That’s it,” he said, at last; “that’s it, Zizi. You’re a wonderful child for sure! How did you get it?”

“I went straight to the town clerk, and he not only showed me his books, but he told me the story. He knows nothing of the Gleason murder, and I didn’t tell him. Up in that little dot of a village they don’t know the news of New York.”

“But they must know of Gleason’s death. He was a foremost citizen, wasn’t he?”

“Of Seattle, yes. But when he left Coggs’ Hollow he was a young man of twenty-five or so, and I suppose they’ve forgotten all about him. Anyway, the town clerk didn’t remember him very clearly, but he remembered all about the Pollard family. Of course, it was a celebrated case up there.

“The fact of the couple’s marriage, five or six years after Manning Pollard’s birth, was a sensational affair, and though nobody could blame Mr Pollard, the fact remains that he was really an illegitimate child.”

“And, knowing this, Gleason probably was quite ready to tell it, and so – ”

“And so, Pollard made it impossible for him to tell. Now, Penny Wise, that’s a fine theory, a noble deduction – but, how did Pollard commit that murder when he was at home in his hotel? Like you, I can’t see him employing a gunman. Rather, I see him going there to plead with Gleason to spare him. Then, when Gleason refused, in the heat of passion, Pollard shot him.”

“But the carefully prepared letter from Barry proves premeditation.”

“That’s so. And, remember his threat to kill Gleason. Would he have said that, if he had really intended to kill him?”

“I think so. I’ve thought all along, that Pollard’s bravado was his hope of escape. He would argue that a man who made such a threat would not be suspected. And, quite as he calculated, everybody said, ‘oh, if he had meant to kill Gleason, he never would have advertised his intention.’ That was a bold stroke, but an efficacious one. Yet, we can’t be right, Zizi, for he was at home. I’ve been to the hotel again. I’ve tabulated all his movements. He did go home at six, he did go out again at seven-twenty-five, and during that time he was in his room, because he telephoned twice, and he talked to the bellboy. And these three circumstances were at intervals of twenty minutes or so, therefore, he couldn’t have been down in Washington Square at all. After he got into his taxi, the driver accounts for his every movement until he reached the Lindsay house at dinner time. So, there’s his alibi.”

“Perfect.”

“Yes, that’s the trouble – ”

“Now, don’t say, ‘distrust the perfect alibi,’ Penny, for that’s a platitude and a silly one, too. Your innocent man has a perfect alibi. He may or may not remember it, but it’s perfect all the same. Now, this alibi of Pollard’s is, to all appearances, the alibi of an innocent man. He has that secret of his past, Gleason did know it, that makes a motive. He did, as you say, fix up the Barry letter – though that may not be quite true – ”

“What do you mean by that, Ziz?”

“I mean perhaps somebody else worked the vanishing ink, and all that – ”

“But who would want to?”

“The murderer – if it turns out to be not Pollard. Look here, Penny, Pollard is either innocent or guilty. If guilty, all your deductions are correct, but if innocent they must be transferred to some one else.”

“Surely. But to whom?”

“Dunno yet. Me, I think it is Pollard – but how, how, how did he manage it?”

“Only by a confederate who did the deed.”

“Which is not the solution! I don’t know how I know it, but I know that didn’t happen. Why, a villain might get a gunman to shoot somebody, but not to put up all that elaboration. The fingerprints, the telephoning stunt – all that was the work of an artist in crime, the cleverest criminal in the world, as you’ve admitted. Not a hireling.”

“A hireling might be clever.”

“Not in that way. No, a wizard like that is not anybody’s hireling. He’s in business for himself.”

“Have it your own way. And I think you’re right. Well, then, how did Pollard get down there? Aeroplane?”

“No; there’s a simple explanation, only we haven’t got it yet. Incidentally, how did he get up to New Hampshire and back without being missed here in New York. Aeroplane?”

“He couldn’t have done it at all. You’re mistaken about seeing him there.”

“Maybe.” Zizi knitted her pretty brows. “What time did he leave the hotel in that taxi to go to Phyllis’ dinner?”

“Seven twenty-five. He had two errands on the way. He stopped – ”

“I know. For theater tickets and for flowers. How do they know so positively the exact time he left?”

“That’s a coincidence. The doorman happened to catch sight of Pollard’s wrist watch as he got into the cab. It has a luminous face – I’ve seen him wear it – and the doorman noticed it was just twenty-five minutes after seven.”

“What! Oh, oh, Penny! That explains it all! Oh, me, oh, my! To think of the simple solution! Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive! Oh, gracious goodness sakes! Be sure your sin will find you out!”

“For heaven’s sake, Zizi, don’t act like a wild woman! When you begin to quote things I know you’re luny! Sit down and tell me what you’re talking about!”

“Is this a dagger that I see before me? Oh, what a noble mind was here o’erthrown!”

“Don’t get your Shakespeare mixed up. That first quotation is from Macbeth, but the other is from Hamlet. You look more like one of the witches!”

“Oh, I am! I am! Double, double, toil and trouble!”

“Zizi, behave! Stop your foolishness!”

The girl was dancing up and down the room like a veritable witch-elf. She flung her long, thin arms about, and was really excited, her brain teeming with the sudden revelation that had come to her.

“Do you remember the Macbeth witches?” she demanded, pausing before him, poised on one foot, and looking like a Sibyl herself.

“Of course I do! Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble!”

“That’s it – that’s the answer! Oh, Penny Wise, it’s as plain as day – as Day! I see it all – all —all!”

“Might I inquire what enlightened you?”

“The radium watch! The luminous face! Oh, I’m onto the watch! I’m on the watch!”

“Zizi, you are crazy. I refuse to talk to you as long as you act so foolishly. Will you be quiet and tell me things?”