Murder in the Bookshop. Carolyn Wells

I’m disparaging the police,’ Sewell went on, ‘for I am not. They know their business, and they do it, but this Stone chap is a wizard for getting at the heart of a mystery. And to my mind, the death of Philip Balfour is more of a mystery than the theft of the book. They may be the work of the same criminal and they may not. I can’t help thinking there is some connection.’

      ‘So far as I am concerned,’ Ramsay said, ‘I’d welcome the help of Fleming Stone. I’ve heard a lot about him and he seems to me a wonder-man.’

      ‘Oh, he isn’t one of those story-book detectives, who startle you with their marvellous and often useless discoveries. But he is a deep thinker and a quick reasoner and, since I know his worth, I mean to ask his help. Of course, that means I should have to acquaint him with the details of this evening’s tragedy and he will, I’m sure, be interested. But nothing need be said about his coming in on it unless you want him, Mrs Balfour. Perhaps you prefer to talk it over with Mr Guy Balfour—’

      ‘No,’ said Alli, quickly. ‘I do want him, and there’s no reason why I should discuss it with Guy. I positively want to engage Mr Stone to investigate the murder of my husband and I ask you, Mr Sewell, to make arrangements with him, if possible. You’ve no objections, Keith?’

      ‘No, I haven’t. He will probably suspect me—as the police do, but if he is as clear-headed as Mr Sewell says, he can’t know the truth and still think I killed my employer and benefactor. I certainly approve of the plan and hope he can take up the case. Will the police mind?’

      ‘No,’ said Sewell, ‘they like him and he often works more or less with them.’

      ‘Call him up now,’ Alli suggested, ‘and ask him about it.’

      ‘Pretty late,’ said Keith.

      ‘Not for him,’ Sewell returned. ‘He’s up till all hours and it’s only a bit after midnight.’

      Alli urged it and so Sewell called the detective.

      He was at home and agreed to take any case at the request of his friend Sewell. He proposed that he come to the Balfour apartment at once and talk it over.

      ‘That’s the sort of man I like,’ Alli exclaimed, as Sewell relayed the conversation, ‘tell him to come right along, we’re all glad to see him.’

      ‘I think and I hope, Alli,’ Ramsay said, ‘that this man can help us. I haven’t yet told all I know, but I hesitated to do so until the inquiries have gone further. I suppose, Sewell, I must be entirely frank with Mr Stone?’

      ‘Oh, yes, you can trust him as you would yourself. I am sure you know more about the Taxation book than you’ve told, but that’s your own business. Just be utterly frank with Fleming Stone and I’m sure both crimes will be driven home. I would advise that we three see him alone, for though Mr Guy Balfour is one of the family, I don’t want to tell him about the missing book at this juncture. And if Stone is to be with us, I’m glad to talk to him before the police go further with their work.’

      ‘Is he a formidable man?’ asked Alli; ‘shall I be afraid of him?’

      ‘No; he is charming. You can’t help liking him.’

       CHAPTER IV

       FLEMING STONE TAKES THE CASE

      FLEMING STONE arrived at half-past twelve.

      Alli was somewhat surprised at his appearance. She saw a quiet, rather scholarly looking man, with a sympathetic face and correct manners.

      He spoke first to Sewell, shaking his hand and saying, ‘Hello, old chap,’ and then, as Sewell presented him to Alli, he expressed so courteously his appreciation of her tragic sorrow that she liked him at once.

      Keith Ramsay, too, felt quick confidence in the newcomer and after a few preliminary words Stone turned to the business in hand.

      ‘Am I to understand,’ he began, ‘that my activities are to include two crimes, or only one?’

      ‘I couldn’t make it very clear over the telephone,’ Sewell told him, ‘but there are two distinct matters to come to your attention which may be interdependent or may not. My part in the matter is of an exceedingly confidential nature, involving, as it does, the disappearance of a rare and valuable book. Mrs Balfour’s case concerns a much more serious crime, the killing of her husband.’

      ‘Let me make a suggestion,’ Alli offered, ‘there is a room to which I think we might better adjourn. It is a small room, one that Mr Balfour had made sound-proof in order that he might negotiate for valuable books without fear of being overheard.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Sewell, ‘let us go there. I know that room.’

      So they went to the little room in question and found it comfortable and pleasant, with the added advantage of sound-proof walls.

      ‘We are keeping nothing back from the police,’ Ramsay said, ‘but we don’t want their men who are still here to get information ahead of time.’

      The room they were now in was simply furnished with a table and writing materials, a small safe and a few chairs.

      They told their stories in turn, Ramsay first, as he was with Philip Balfour during his last hours; Sewell next, as coming in later, and Alli last, as knowing nothing of it all until they brought her the awful news.

      Fleming Stone listened attentively, making a few notes now and then.

      Finally he said: ‘I want to know all about this valuable book. It looks as if that might have brought about the murder, though I don’t, as yet, see just how. What is the book, Sewell?’

      ‘I’ll tell you. Remember it must not be mentioned in any way, or to anybody, without my knowledge and sanction. You’ve heard of Button Gwinnett?’

      ‘Yes,’ Stone said. ‘He was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.’

      ‘Exactly that. And he is one of two whose autographs are the most difficult to find. Many collectors, you know, strive to get a full set of autographs of the signers, but nearly all of them are unable to achieve the rare one of Gwinnett. His simple signature has sold for more than fifty thousand dollars, and a book that he had owned and had autographed and had annotated would easily be worth twice that. Now, I have obtained such a book. I got it through one of my London agents. Gwinnett was an Englishman who came over here to live, entered into our politics and became a signer of the Declaration. The next year he was killed in a duel—he was a hot-headed chap—and lived in Georgia.’

      ‘And what is the book?’ Stone asked.

      ‘It’s a small book, a pamphlet, but in fine condition. It is entitled Taxation Laws of Great Britain and U.S.A. Gwinnett was a student of Government and Politics and this was his book. He had not only autographed it on the fly-leaf but had signed it two other times and, moreover, had made annotations in his own hand on various pages. So you can grasp the importance of the book. Such finds do occur, but very seldom. Mr Balfour was prepared to pay a large price, although he and I hadn’t entirely agreed yet as to exact terms.’

      ‘And this book, worth a fortune in itself, is now your property, Mrs Balfour?’

      ‘If the purchase is completed,’ Alli said, looking uncertain. ‘Mr Balfour’s will is in his lawyer’s keeping, and I only know that he told me the library would be mine at his death. So I assume that is the case. The question of my buying that expensive book, now, is between Mr Sewell and myself; of course I cannot decide right away.’

      ‘Of course not,’ Stone agreed. ‘But, now, Sewell, where is the book?’

      ‘I’ll answer that question,’ Ramsay announced. ‘I have it.’

      ‘You have it?’ Sewell exclaimed,