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The Philo Vance Murder Cases: 2

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The Philo Vance Murder Cases: 2
Leonaur Original
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Author(s): S. S. Van Dine
Date Published: 2010/11
Page Count: 488
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-428-8
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-427-1

In the second volume of the Leonaur’s complete Philo Vance Murder Cases we join the famous New York detective at the family mansion where the Greene family is definitely not playing 'Happy Families'. In fact the numbers of the Greene family soon begin to be reduced in the most extreme way. Not surprisingly this, the third Vance story is called the 'Greene Murder Case' and more Greenes will die before the case is solved. The fourth story—‘The Bishop Murder Case’—draws its inspiration from children's nursery rhymes. First to die is Christopher Robbin, who just like the Cock Robin is found pierced with an arrow. New York District Attorney Markham knows there is just one man qualified to solve a case this complex, but more characters are doomed to die—including one with allusions to 'Mother Goose'—before Philo Vance can solve the case.

After lunch at the Elysée Markham and Heath continued down-town. A hard afternoon lay before them. Markham’s routine work had accumulated; and the Sergeant, having taken on the Sprigg case in addition to the Robin investigation, had to keep two separate machines working, co-ordinate all his reports, answer innumerable questions from his superiors, and attempt to satisfy the voraciousness of an army of reporters. Vance and I went to an exhibition of modern French art at Knoedler’s, had tea at the St. Regis, and met Markham at the Stuyvesant Club for dinner. Heath and Inspector Moran joined us at half past eight for an informal conference; but though it lasted until nearly midnight nothing of a tangible nature came out of it.<br>
Nor did the following day bring anything but discouragement. The report from Captain Dubois stated that the revolver given him by Heath contained no sign of a finger-print. Captain Hagedorn identified the weapon as the one used in the shooting of Sprigg; but this merely substantiated our already positive belief. The man set to guard the rear of the Drukker residence spent an uneventful night. No one had entered or departed from the house; and by eleven o’clock every window had been dark. Nor had a sound of any kind come from the house until the next morning when the cook set about her chores for the day. Mrs. Drukker had appeared in the garden a little after eight; and at half past nine Drukker went out the front door and sat for two hours in the park reading.
Two days went by. A watch was kept on the Dillard house; Pardee was put under strict surveillance; and a man was stationed each night under the willow trees behind the Drukker house. But nothing unusual happened; and, despite the Sergeant’s tireless activities, all promising lines of investigation seemed to be automatically closed. Both Heath and Markham were deeply worried. The newspapers were outdoing themselves in gaudy rhetoric; and the inability of the Police Department and the District Attorney’s office to make the slightest headway against the mystery of the two spectacular murders was rapidly growing into a political scandal.<br>
Vance called on Professor Dillard and discussed the case along general lines. He also spent over an hour on Thursday afternoon with Arnesson in the hope that the working out of the proposed formula had brought to light some detail that could be used as a starting-point for speculation. But he was dissatisfied with the interview, and complained to me that Arnesson had not been wholly frank with him. Twice he dropped in at the Manhattan Chess Club and attempted to lead Pardee into conversation; but each time he was met with the reticence of cold courtesy. I noticed that he made no effort to communicate with either Drukker or Mrs. Drukker; and when I asked him his reason for ignoring them, he answered:<br>
“The truth cannot be learned from them now. Each is playing a game; and both are thoroughly frightened. Until we have some definite evidence, more harm than good will result from any attempt to cross-examine them.”<br>
This definite evidence was to come the very next day from a most unexpected quarter; and it marked the beginning of the last phase of our investigation—a phase fraught with such sinister, soul-stirring tragedy and unspeakable horror, with such wanton cruelty and monstrous humour, that even now, years later, as I set down this reportorial record of it, I find it difficult to believe that the events were not, after all, a mere grotesque dream of fabulous wickedness.<br>
Friday afternoon Markham, in a mood of desperation, called another conference. Arnesson asked permission to attend; and at four o’clock we all met, including Inspector Moran, in the District Attorney’s private room in the old Criminal Courts Building. Arnesson was unwontedly silent during the discussion, and not once did he indulge in his usual flippancy. He listened with close attention to all that was said, and seemed purposely to avoid expressing an opinion, even when directly appealed to by Vance.<br>
We had been in conference perhaps half an hour when Swacker entered quietly and placed a memorandum on the District Attorney’s desk. Markham glanced at it and frowned. After a moment he initialled two printed forms and handed them to Swacker.<br>
“Fill these in right away and give them to Ben,” he ordered. Then when the man had gone out through the outer-hall door, he explained the interruption. “Sperling has just sent a request to speak to me. He says he has information that may be of importance. I thought, in the circumstances, it might be well to see him now.”<br>
Ten minutes later Sperling was brought in by a deputy sheriff from the Tombs. He greeted Markham with a friendly boyish smile, and nodded pleasantly to Vance. He bowed—a bit stiffly, I thought—to Arnesson, whose presence seemed both to surprise and disconcert him. Markham motioned him to a chair, and Vance offered him a cigarette.<br>
“I wanted to speak to you, Mr. Markham,” he began, a bit diffidently, “about a matter which may be of help to you. . . . You remember, when you were questioning me about my being in the archery-room with Robin, you wanted to know which way Mr. Drukker went when he left us. I told you I didn’t notice, except that he went out by the basement door. . . . Well, sir, I’ve had a lot of time to think lately; and I’ve naturally gone over in my mind all that happened that morning. I don’t know just how to explain it, but everything has become a lot clearer now. Certain—what you might call impressions—have come back to me. . . .”<br>
He paused and looked down at the carpet. Then lifting his head, he went on:<br>
“One of these impressions has to do with Mr. Drukker—and that’s why I wanted to see you. Just this afternoon I was—well, sort of pretending I was in the archery-room again, talking to Robin; and all of a sudden the picture of the rear window flashed across my mind. And I remembered that when I had glanced out of the window that morning to see how the weather was for my trip, I had seen Mr. Drukker sitting in the arbour behind the house. . . .”<br>
“At what time was this?” Markham demanded brusquely.
“Only a few seconds before I went to catch my train.”<br>
“Then you imply that Mr. Drukker, instead of leaving the premises, went to the arbour and remained there until you departed.”<br>
“It looks that way, sir.” Sperling was reluctant to make the admission.<br>
“You’re quite sure you saw him?”<br>
“Yes, sir. I remember distinctly now. I even recall the peculiar way he had his legs drawn up under him.” <br>
“You would swear to it,” asked Markham gravely, “knowing that a man’s life might rest on your testimony?”
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