Chapter 1

WITH A FOREWORD BY
LEWIS E. LAWES
_Warden of Sing Sing Prison_

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
_The Riverside Press Cambridge_
1932

TO
MY MOTHER

FOREWORD

The solution of criminal mysteries constitutes one of the most
absorbing, possibly the most intriguing forms of mental activity
existent. It calls for something more than mere cold intelligence and
reasoning ability, requiring in addition native perception, intuition,
and a natural understanding of human behavior under stress of emotion
and passion. Furthermore, some knowledge of pathological or abnormal
behaviorism is a requisite.

Mr. Ripley’s excellently thought-out series of mysteries might be said
to represent a very adequate cross-section of the problems perennially
confronting the law-enforcers and official crime-solvers of the nation.
The points of evidence are cleverly assembled and the _nuances_ of
incrimination are very subtly shaded.

It would be well for the reader interested in successfully solving these
problems to endeavor to think, not as a detective, but as the criminal
in the case would think, in order to arrive at a correct solution. I
have found that to deal adequately with the criminal after conviction,
and while in confinement, it is necessary to understand his personal
problems. To accomplish this, one must first think as does the criminal,
discover the sequent conclusions upon which he based his anti-social
activities, and thereupon make use of these findings to assist him
toward rehabilitation.

In this novel challenge to amateur criminologists, who suffer from a
dearth of laboratory specimens upon which to experiment, Mr. Ripley
offers an excellent opportunity—that of examining and forming
conclusions upon the more elemental, vital, and dramatic aspects of
various typical criminal situations, without the drawback of fantasy and
concocted sordidness, which, for the practical criminologist, takes the
glamour and color out of this thing called—Crime.

Lewis E. Lawes

AUTHOR’S PREFACE

Chief Inspector Kelley, that grizzled veteran of the Detective Bureau,
was talking to his nephew, Jim Barry, who had indicated a desire to
enter the uncrowded field of criminology.

‘The average policeman,’ he said, ‘looks upon the lay criminologist in
much the same manner as the professional in any field regards the
amateur. Generally speaking, that attitude is justified.

‘In thirty years of police work, however, I have met no one in detective
circles, in or out of the force, who so effectively combines theoretical
knowledge with practical application as Professor Fordney.

‘A man of definite scientific attainments and recognition, he yet
appreciates that the simple fundamentals of crime detection are
effective in ninety per cent of all criminal cases. While he has
unraveled by scientific means some amazing and extremely baffling crimes
that otherwise would have gone unsolved, he puts his greatest reliance
on those basic principles upon which rests the whole structure of crime
detection.

‘His major theory is that most crimes are simple; that their solution
calls only for the exercise of ordinary talents developed to an
extraordinary degree; that the stupidity of the average criminal
himself, and not the brilliance of the detective, is responsible for his
detection.

‘In that, I might tell you, he finds complete corroboration in the
experience of such an outstanding detective of world-wide reputation as
Sir Melville L. Macnaghten, C.B., late Chief of the Criminal
Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. Commenting on the capture of
a particularly vicious murderer, he remarked, “But for the fact that the
student of criminal history is constantly faced with the stupidity of
the criminal, there would be nothing more remarkable in this case than
the fatuity of the man who, having murdered solely for personal
gratifications, and taken every precaution, as he thought, to avoid
discovery, immediately wrote blackmailing letters in which he showed
guilty knowledge of a secret murder.”

‘Fordney could undoubtedly explain such an inconsistency as this by his
uncanny knowledge of criminal psychology,’ continued Kelley. ‘Among
psychologists his insight into the criminal mind and its reactions is
appreciated as being authoritative.

‘His greatest interest is his class in criminology at the University. He
still finds time, however, to assist actively the police of many cities
who frequently consult him on cases they find unusually puzzling.

‘There are instances also in which his part has been that of a
bystander, where a word of suggestion, modestly given, has frequently
disposed of cases before they were brought to the attention of the
police.

‘If the Professor is convinced you have the natural qualifications, Jim,
and a real inclination for work, I can get you into his class. He will
take not only a personal, but a fatherly, interest in you, as in the
rest of his students. You will receive the finest possible training
given by a man of broad understanding and great human sympathies. Out of
his vast experience and knowledge, gained in studying crime in all parts
of the world, he will develop in you those qualities essential to
success in this field.

‘You will find him a genial, ruddy, kindly man of fifty, with a
waistline of forty. There is nothing subtle in his face or manner. A
characterful nose rises above a strong and determined mouth, adorned by
a blond mustache. A pair of keen but smiling blue eyes completes a
commonplace face. Although he refuses to admit it, his rapidly thinning
hair causes him great concern. A bit vain, the old codger, but don’t
tell him I told you so,’ laughed the Inspector.

‘Scrupulously dressed, he looks like an amiable and highly successful
business executive. He’s a mixer and thoroughly enjoys the good things
of life. He views the passing parade with a keen sense of humor, few
illusions, and a genuine interest in his fellow man. Detests hypocrisy;
would rather see ten guilty men acquitted than one innocent man
condemned. Recognizes his own fallibility, but knows his own worth and
does not suffer from that abominable social vice, false modesty.

‘You might be interested in knowing his only hobby is that of designing,
making, and repairing toys for children. He’s known to hundreds of them
as the Toy Man.

‘Though a bachelor, he looks with favor on the ladies, enjoys their
company and is thoroughly sociable.

‘It’s a pleasure and an education to know him. More than once he’s
helped your old uncle and absolutely refused the credit that was his,’
concluded Inspector Kelley.

In the following pages you will find some interesting experiences taken
from the Professor’s case book. They illustrate forcibly his contention
that crime is simple and that most criminals are caught, not by any
superhuman qualities of the detective, but by their own ignorance,
stupidity, or carelessness.

In these accounts every fact, every clue necessary to the solution is
given. The answer is in the story itself. You need look nowhere else but
there. Each problem has only one possible solution.

Written in less than two hundred and sixty words, these little stories
can be read in a minute.

Here is your chance to work on an absolute equality with the Professor;
to match your wits with his and the criminal’s. You know as much as the
Professor does. Now you have an opportunity of proving just how good a
detective you are and what poor detectives your friends are.

The author hopes you will find them as fascinating reading as they were
in the telling by the Professor.

H. A. Ripley

CONTENTS

Foreword by Lewis E. Lawes vii
Author’s Preface ix
It Stands to Reason! _A New National Game_ xix
1. A Crack Shot 1
2. On the Scent 3
3. Fatal Error 5
4. The Poison Murder Case 7
5. A Strange ‘Kidnaping’ 9
6. A Valuable Formula 11
7. Strangled 13
8. Death in the Office 15
9. They Usually Forget Something 17
10. The Professor Gives a Lesson 19
11. Upstairs and Down 21
12. Class Day 23
13. A Hot Pursuit 25
14. A Question of Identity 27
15. A Yachtsman’s Alibi 29
16. Murder at Coney Island 31
17. Too Clever 33
18. Bloody Murder 35
19. Death Back-Stage 37
20. An Easy Combination 39
21. A Modern Knight 41
22. The Jewel Robbery 43
23. Before the Coroner’s Inquest 45
24. The Fifth Avenue Hold-Up 47
25. Behind Locked Doors 49
26. Lost at Sea 51
27. A Suave Gunman 53
28. Accidental Death 55
29. Easy Money 57
30. Robbery at High Noon 59
31. The Wrong Foot Forward 61
32. Death Attends the Party 63
33. No Way Out 65
34. Midnight Murder 67
35. Speakeasy Stick-Up 69
36. Behind Time 71
37. A Broken Engagement 73
38. The Holden Road Murder 75
39. Fisherman’s Luck 77
40. The Unlucky Elephant 79
41. The Professor Listens 81
42. Ten-Fifteen 83
43. Rapid Transit 85
44. The Professor is Disappointed 87
45. A Dramatic Triumph 89
46. Murder at the Lake 91
47. The Professor Studies a Coat 93
48. Too Late 95
49. Sergeant Reynolds’s Theory 97
50. Daylight Robbery 99
51. A Simple Solution 101
52. Who? 103
53. Murder in the Swamp 105
54. Death by Drowning 107
55. Tragedy at the Convention 109
56. A Murderer’s Mistake 111
57. Babe Comes Through 113
58. A Soldier of Fortune 115
59. Number Twenty-Six 117
60. The Pullman Car Murder 121
61. Forgery 123
62. The Christmas Eve Tragedy 125
63. A Knight of the Bath 127
64. Murder in the First Degree 129
65. A Rendezvous with Death 131
66. A Rum Regatta 133
67. Who is the Heir? 135
68. The Professor Stops a Blunder 137
69. The Perfect Crime 139
70. The Professor Sees Through It 141
71. The Kidnapers’ Cleverness 143
Solutions 145

IT STANDS TO REASON!
A NEW NATIONAL GAME

Here is a fascinating game of wits for a party of any size. It can be
played in either of two ways.

1. Select one or more stories from the _Minute Mysteries_ that
particularly appeal to you. Make as many copies of each as there are
guests at the party. Then pass the copies around and allow three
minutes, say, for your guests to study them. At the end of this time
each must hand you a written solution, giving the line of reasoning
which was used. You compare these with the solutions at the back of the
book; the one who is most often correct is the winner.

2. Instead of making copies of each story, you may read it aloud, slowly
and carefully. If any of the listeners so desire, it may be read a
second time. But after this no questions may be asked.

After the period agreed upon has elapsed, each guest writes out his
solution as in (1), and hands it to you for comparison with the book.

Method number 1 puts the emphasis on one’s powers of reasoning and
analysis; method number 2 adds to these a premium on an accurate memory.

MINUTE MYSTERIES

1
_A Crack Shot_

Professor Fordney was hunting in the Rockies when informed of a tragedy
at one of the camps. Thinking he might be of some help, he went over,
and, after introducing himself, Butler, the victim’s companion, told him
of the accident.

‘When Marshall hadn’t returned to camp at nine o’clock last night, I was
a bit worried because he didn’t know these mountains. There wasn’t a
star out and it was dark and moonless, so I decided to look around for
him. We’re five miles from anyone, you know.

‘Putting more wood on the fire, I set out. After searching for an hour,
I was coming up the slope of a ravine when I saw a pair of eyes shining
out at me in the dark.

‘Calling twice, and getting no answer, I fired, thinking it was a
mountain lion. Imagine my horror when I reached the spot, struck a
match, and saw I had nearly blown the head off Marshall. A terrible
experience!

‘I carried his body back to camp and then walked to the nearest house to
report the accident.’

‘How far from camp did you find Marshall?’ asked Fordney.

‘About a quarter of a mile.’

‘I see your right hand is bandaged. How do you manage to shoot with it?’

‘Oh, I use either hand.’

‘Mind if I look at the gun?’

‘Not at all,’ said Butler, handing it over.

‘H’m, European make, I see. Had it long?’

‘No, it’s rather new.’

‘Why did you deliberately murder Marshall?’ demanded Fordney abruptly
... ‘for that’s what you did.’

How did the Professor know Butler had murdered his companion?

2
_On the Scent_

‘I couldn’t wait to be announced,’ said George Collins, Florida’s
foremost prohibition agent, and a great wit, as he stepped into the
Professor’s office.

‘How long are you going to be in New York?’ asked Fordney, as the two
friends shook hands.

‘I’m due back in Miami now,’ replied Collins, ‘but I wanted to
congratulate you on your success in the Hicks murder case. I wish
interesting things like that would happen in my game. However, I did
have an amusing experience last December.

‘Sneaky Joe, a stool-pigeon, tipped me off to a huge still he said was
working about forty miles from headquarters. A narrow road through dense
woods led to the spot. Arriving there, I found an old dilapidated shanty
screened by trees. As I entered the woods, I smelled alcohol. Sneaky Joe
was right, after all, I thought, as I drove up to the shanty.

‘I got out and peered cautiously around, but the place seemed deserted.
After opening the door and entering the house, however, I knew liquor
was not being made there. I searched the woods, but found nothing. As I
was driving back along the road at a good rate, I discovered the alcohol
I smelled was coming from my own radiator! Imagine my chagrin!’

The Professor laughed heartily and said to his friend, ‘Stay over for my
birthday party tonight, the ladies would love to hear that yarn of
yours.’

What did the Professor find preposterous in Collins’s story?

3
_Fatal Error_

‘Crowley was an eccentric and taciturn old fellow, but I liked him,’
remarked Fordney. ‘When he was found dead last December, I took a
personal interest in the case. Harold Bronson, his last known caller,
had this to say of his visit:

‘“After leaving word at my hotel where I might be reached if wanted, I
arrived at Crowley’s suburban estate shortly after five o’clock. I found
him seated in the dusk at the end of his library table. Courteously
enough for him, he waved me into a chair at the other end and invited me
to dine with him at eight o’clock. Reaching for my cigarettes, I
remembered that Crowley did not permit smoking.

‘“His principal contributions to our discussion were his usual nods of
approval, grunts, and monosyllables. Very sparing of words, was Mr.
Crowley.

‘“About seven o’clock the telephone rang and he asked me to answer it.
It was my wife asking me to return at once to see an unexpected visitor.
Finishing the conversation, I returned to my chair and, after I
explained the call, Crowley nodded assent to my request to leave
immediately.

‘“On the way out, as the lights had not been turned on, I bumped my
head, which explains this bruise. Just as I reached the door, he called
after me—‘See you tomorrow at ten.’ He was certainly all right when I
left him shortly after seven.”

‘Although Bronson’s telephone alibi was later proved sound, he had
hardly finished his story before I was convinced he was implicated,’
concluded Fordney.

What directed suspicion to Bronson?

4
_The Poison Murder Case_

‘I’m going to the theater now,’ Bob Kewley told Professor Fordney at
their club. ‘I wish you’d spend the evening with Uncle John. He’s been
worried lately.’

Upon reaching the Kewley home an hour later, Fordney found the butler in
an agitated state.

‘After ordering coffee, Mr. Kewley locked himself in his library an hour
ago, sir. When I rapped on the door just now, he didn’t answer.’

The two men forced the lock and found John Kewley on the floor, an empty
strychnine bottle at his side. The terrace door was open. After a
careful examination, Fordney returned home. A few hours later, Bob
Kewley entered his living-room.

‘Thought I’d stop in on my way home. Don’t you think Uncle John looks
worried?’

‘Your uncle, Bob, is dead. Strychnine. Your butler and I found him lying
on the floor, but were too late to save him.’

‘How horrible, Fordney! Why was the library door locked, do you
suppose?’

‘That puzzles me. Has your butler been with you long?’

‘For years,’ replied Bob, his head buried in his hands.

‘Well, you’re a wealthy man now.’

‘What of it? Uncle John meant more to me than all the money in the
world.’

‘I wish I could believe that,’ replied Fordney. ‘You’ll need a better
alibi than those,’ pointing to the ticket stubs Bob was nervously
fingering.

How had Kewley aroused the Professor’s suspicions?

5
_A Strange ‘Kidnaping’_

‘I haven’t the faintest idea why I was kidnaped,’ said Johnson to
Professor Fordney, an hour after he returned home. ‘I never miss Sunday
evening services, you know, so I’m afraid I haven’t much time to discuss
it now.’

‘Oh, just a brief account of your experience is all that is necessary,’
remarked the Professor.

So Johnson proceeded.

‘I was walking along Burnham Street about 2 A.M. Friday when two masked
men, with drawn guns, ordered me into a blue sedan. I was blindfolded
and gagged. After driving for about an hour, I was led into a house and
down some stairs to a small room, where they removed my blindfold and
gag. They took off my outer clothing and hung it on a chair. Then they
questioned me at length about the Shirley case and refused to believe I
knew nothing of it.

‘Exasperated, they threatened to kill me, and when I remonstrated, one
of them hit me on the head with a black-jack and I went down
unconscious.

‘The next thing I knew was when I came to with a terrific headache. I
lay still for a few minutes and, hearing nothing but the ticking of my
watch, I cautiously got to my feet and groped for the door, as the room
was in darkness. Before I could locate it, two men, still masked,
entered, turned on the light, apologized profusely for the treatment I
had received, and said they had mistaken me for someone else. Then they
gave me something to eat, blindfolded me again, and drove me to within a
block of my home, still apologizing for the mistake. Before I could
remove my blindfold after getting out of the car, it had sped away.

‘It’s all very mysterious to me. I can’t make anything of it.’

‘I won’t give you away, Johnson,’ smiled the Professor. ‘Your wife
undoubtedly believes your yarn, but you’d better think up a better one
the next time.’

What flaw did the Professor find in Johnson’s story which proved the
‘kidnaping’ was a fake?

6
_A Valuable Formula_

‘I had just stepped behind that screen near the door to wash my hands
when a man, gun in hand, entered the room and stood motionless for a few
seconds,’ said Hyde. ‘Apparently satisfied no one was here, he walked to
the desk over there by the window. As he rummaged through the papers in
the drawer, I hastily dialed headquarters, leaving the receiver off the
hook, trusting you would trace the call. I was afraid to talk because I
was unarmed and he looked like a desperate fellow.’

‘You say he took nothing but a valuable formula from your desk?’
inquired the Professor.

‘That’s all; he touched nothing else.’

‘Rather careless to leave such an important paper lying about like that,
wasn’t it?’

‘Well, I suppose so, though it was only a copy. I sold the original to
Schmitz yesterday for twenty thousand dollars and I intended to destroy
the duplicate tonight.’

‘Would that formula be valuable to anyone else?’

‘Yes, it would be worth twice as much to Schmitz’s competitors.’

‘Why didn’t you sell it to them in the first place, then?’

‘Schmitz financed me while I was perfecting the formula, so I thought it
only right to sell it to him, even though I could have got more for it
from the other firm.’

‘As this is such a small, bright room and you observed so much through
that crack in the screen,’ said Fordney sarcastically, ‘you should be
able to give us a _very_ good description of the intruder.’

‘Oh, I can do that,’ Hyde replied, with assurance. ‘He was a big fellow
about six feet tall and weighed around two hundred pounds. He had
jet-black hair, swarthy complexion, an unusually large nose, and a
vicious-looking mouth. As he left obviously unaware of my presence, I
noticed he had a big rip in the back of his blue coat.’

‘Well, Hyde, as part of your story is incredible, you can’t expect me to
believe any of it.’

Why did the Professor say this?

7
_Strangled_

‘Twenty-two days of this hot, dry spell,’ groaned Professor Fordney. ‘I
can’t remember a stretch like it.’

‘Tell us about the Greer case, Professor,’ urged the rocking-chair
brigade. ‘It’ll take your mind off the heat.’

‘Well, you know the salient facts. The body of Irene Greer, lying on the
railroad right-of-way, was found half a mile from here by a fishing
party at 6 A.M. day before yesterday. It could be seen that she was a
beautiful girl despite the tousled hair matted with mud and a nasty
bruise on her cheek. Her flaming red dress was torn and dirty. She had
on shoes, but no stockings. Incidentally, her clothes were of the finest
quality. Her body indicated that she had received a terrific beating,
poor girl.

‘From appearances she had been placed on the track with the expectation
that she would be struck by a train and identification made impossible.
No doubt she was unconscious when this was done, but she must have
revived temporarily and crawled to the gravel right-of-way before a
train came along. There she died.

‘A peculiar circumstance is that, while her body was bruised and
twisted, there were no marks on her throat to indicate strangulation,
yet Dr. Bridewell says that was the cause of death.

‘She was found in a desolate spot. Oh, yes, she was probably strangled
with a scarf which, employed in a certain manner, would leave no outward
trace.

‘Now you folks should know how I learned Irene Greer was attacked
elsewhere and then brought to the vicinity where she was found,’ smiled
the Professor.

Do you?

8
_Death in the Office_

When Professor Fordney reached Gifford’s office, he found a policeman
already there.

‘Gifford’s dead,’ he was told. ‘What brings you here?’

‘He telephoned me a few minutes ago; said he had been shot; then I had a
hard time understanding him. This street is on your beat, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I heard the shot when I was in Smith’s cigar store. It took me a
while to locate it. The door was locked and I had to break in.’

As they walked into an inner office, they saw Gifford’s body, a bullet
through the heart, lying in a pool of blood.

Fordney stooped to pick up a revolver.

‘It’s an easy jump to the ground,’ observed the policeman, who was
standing by an open window.

‘Did you know, sir,’ he added, ‘that Gifford has been troubled lately by
blackmailers?’

‘Yes. The last time I saw him, he told me he had been shot at a couple
of weeks ago.’

Fordney walked over to the door and found the lock was sprung, but the
key still in it.

‘I suppose,’ ventured the policeman, ‘that the blackmailers got him.
They must have locked the door from the inside when they entered, shot
him, and then jumped out the window.’

‘No,’ said Fordney, who was examining the key he had removed from the
lock. ‘There weren’t any murderers in here. Gifford committed suicide.’

Why was the Professor sure that it was suicide?

9
_They Usually Forget Something_

‘Here is a good illustration of the old bromide that the smartest
criminal leaves some clue in even the most carefully planned crime,’
mused Professor Fordney.

‘While in Colshire, a beautiful little English village, I was asked by
the local police to assist them in a rather puzzling affair.

‘Suspicion of a particularly brutal murder had been directed toward an
illiterate underworld character. He was accused of sending the following
note found in the murdered man’s pocket:

_sir john when i last seen you i sed i will kill you if the muney
ain’t here by mundy; all of it_

_yurs truly,_
_XX_

‘When Wellington, the Chief Constable, asked my opinion, I told him the
writer of the note, and therefore probably the murderer, was obviously
an educated man. After explaining why I was sure of that, he agreed with
me.

‘An odd sort of case. The murderer was found to be an extremely wealthy
American whose sister had married the murdered man’s brother.’

‘Well,’ laughed Bill Cargo to whom Fordney had been speaking. ‘It’s
getting too involved for me. I can’t figure it out.’

How had Fordney determined the American was an educated man?

10
_The Professor Gives a Lesson_

‘Cardoni came into Inspector Kelley’s office yesterday,’ said Fordney to
his Criminology Class.

‘“I want to speak to you alone, Chief,” he said, eyeing me with frank
suspicion.

‘“It’s all right. Go ahead,” said Kelley.

‘“I’ve got some information on the Curtis kidnapers. How much is it
worth?”

‘“That all depends. Let’s hear the story.”

‘“They’re in one of my old buildings, down on the East Side. Three men
and a woman. All you’ve got to do, Chief, is to take this, walk in an’
surprise ’em,” said our informer, tossing a Yale key on Kelley’s desk.
“They rented a room from me about a week ago.”

‘“Sounds much too easy, Cardoni. I want something more definite than
that. What makes you think they’re the kidnapers?”

‘“I heard them having an argument as I was doing some repair work in the
hall. One of the guys threatened to squeal if he didn’t get a bigger
cut. It sounded interestin’, so I peeked through the keyhole. They were
sittin’ at a table in the middle of the room on which there was a stack
of money.”

‘“Your story doesn’t yet show they had any connection with the Curtis
kidnaping,” Kelley said.

“NO? Well, last night I heard them mention ‘Curtis’ several times. And
that ain’t all,” continued Cardoni, with a triumphant air. “Here’s a
code message one of them must have dropped. Well, Chief, how much do I
get?”

“Get out!” hollered Kelley as he made a pass at Cardoni.’

Why was the informer treated so rudely?

11
_Upstairs and Down_

‘Let’s hear your story,’ said Inspector Kelley to Policeman Kirk, as
Fordney dropped into a comfortable chair at Headquarters.

‘The neighbors were worried because they hadn’t seen old lady Brill
about for a couple of days and asked me to investigate.

‘Getting no answer to my ring, I broke open the front door, ran
upstairs, and, not seeing her, ran down and through the hall, unlocked
the kitchen door, and found her on the floor, a bullet through her heart
and a gun beside her. The windows and the doors to the porch and cellar
were locked on the inside and nothing seemed to be disturbed.

‘Looked like suicide to me. However, I learned her nephew was at the
house yesterday about the time the doctor said she died, so I brought
him in,’ concluded Kirk.

‘Why did you run upstairs before examining the lower floor?’ asked
Kelley.

‘Thought I heard a noise up there, sir,’ replied the policeman.

‘Any finger-prints on the gun?’ inquired Fordney.

‘Just those of the old lady,’ answered Kelley.

‘I have a key to the house,’ interrupted the nephew. ‘I went in
yesterday, called to her, but she didn’t answer, so I thought she’d gone
out.’

‘Did you go upstairs?’ asked the Professor.

‘Yes, I ran up there, calling her name, but came right down again and
left immediately.’

‘Well, Kelley, of course it’s murder—as you probably know. I suppose
you’ll hold this fellow?’

‘I certainly intend to,’ replied the Inspector.

How did Fordney know the old lady had been murdered?

12
_Class Day_

‘Baklioff, in person, combined with “Grand Hotel,” had packed the
Paramount,’ said the Professor. ‘Every seat was occupied and
standing-room was at a premium. What an opening it was!’ he continued.

‘As the picture neared its end and the orchestra, under the magnificent
leadership of Baklioff, reached the climax of Mascagni’s “Cavalleria
Rusticana,” a shot rang out.

‘Inspector Kelley who accompanied me, was immediately on his feet
bellowing, “Lights!” They were quickly turned on and the picture
stopped. Warning everyone to keep his seat, we started for the back of
the theater, when a man’s body slumped out of a seat and fell almost at
our feet. A hurried examination disclosed he had been shot in the back
of the head and that he was an extremely tall man.

‘Leaving Kelley to look after things, I hurried to the operator’s booth.
When almost there, I heard another shot and knew I was too late.
Entering the small compartment, hung under the balcony, I found the
operator with a bullet through his temple and a smoking revolver by his
side.

‘“Not much to this,” I remarked, as Kelley joined me.

‘“I wonder if he got the right man,” commented the Inspector. “I don’t
understand how he could have made such a splendid shot under the
circumstances. Amazing!”’

‘Was the dead man sitting in an aisle seat?’ interrupted one of the
class.

‘Yes,’ replied Fordney.

‘Gee, that’s a good one, Professor, but I know now the one thing wrong
with your story,’ said the student.

Do you?

13
_A Hot Pursuit_

‘Hello, Smith,’ said Professor Fordney as he opened the door. ‘What’s
up?’

‘Uncle Fred’s house has been robbed. He had some negotiable bonds in the
library safe and told me to stick close to home until he returned from
New York.’

‘Were they stolen?’ interrogated Fordney.