The Barnwell people-sentinel. (Barnwell, S.C.) 1925-current, March 11, 1937, Image 6
Tht Barnwell People-Sentinel. Barnwell. S. C. Thursday, March 11, 1937
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THE GARDEN MURDER CASE
SYNOPSIS
Philo Vance, famous detective, and John
P. X. Markham, district attorney for New
York county art dining In Vance’s apart-
ment when Vance receives an anonymous
telephone meitsage Informing him of a “dis
turbing psychological tension at Professor
Ephrlam Garden's apartment" advising
that he read up on radio-active sodium,
consult a passage In the Aeneld and coun
seling that "Equanimity Is essential." Pro
fessor Garden is famous In chemical re
search. The message, decoded by Vance,
reminds him that Professor Garden’s son
Floyd and his puny cousin, Woode Swift,
are addicted to horse-racing. Vance says
that "Equanimity" is a horse running next
day in the Rlvermont handicap. Vance is
by S. S. VAN DINE
Copyright S. g. Vsa Dias
WNU Service
‘It may be Just as well that your
father doesn’t learn of the tragedy
till later.” He smoked for a moment.
‘‘But to get back to the revolver:
where was it usually kept?”
“In the center drawer of the desk
upstairs,” Garden told him prompt
ly.
“And was the fact generally
„ known to the other members of the
convinced that the message was sent by Dr.- -household, OT to Swift hlmself?”
of the head, strode toward tht
archway.
The nurse, obviously embar
rassed, turned to resume her post,
but Vance stopped her.
“Were you upstairs. Miss Bee
ton?” he asked in a kindly tone.
She was standing very erect, hei
face slightly flushed. She lookec
Vance frankly and firmly in th<
eye and slowly shook her head.
“I haven’t left my post, Mr.
Vance,” she said quietly. “I un
derstand my duty.”
Experiences of . Life—
Their Significant Interest and
Some Ways to Meet Them
T HE journey through life is
filled with experiences from
the time we are born to the day
we die. Without them life would
be dull and uninteresting. The
more experiences are crowded in
to our lives the fuller and more
interesting they become
When we are in the midst of
Slefert, the Gardens’ family physician. He
arranges to "have lunch next day at the
Gardena' penthouse. Vance is greeted by
Floyd Garden and meets Lowe Hammle, an
elderly follower of horse racing. Floyd ex
presses concern over Swift's queer actions.
Mrs. Garden, supposedly ill, comes down
stairs and places a |100 bet on * horse.
Gathered around an elaborate loud speaker
service, listening to the racing are Cecil
Kroon, Madge Weatherby and Zalia Graem,
who bet varying amounts on tha race.
There is tension under the surface gaiety.
Zalia and Swift are not on speaking terms.
Kroon leaves to keep 'an appointment be
fore the rage starts. Miss Beeton, a nurse,
and Vance bet oq "Azure Star.” Swift reck
lessly bets $10,000 on "Equanimity" and
goes to the roof garden to hear the results.
Floyd follows Swift, remaining away from
the group several minutes. Zalia goes
to the den to answer a telephone call.
Soon after the announcement that "Azure
Star” wins, the guests hear a shot.
Vanca finds Swift dead, shot through the
head with a revolver nearby. He says
Swift has been murdered. After calling
the police, he finds the door of a vault ajar.
Kroon returns and la sharply questioned by
Vance, who finds he had not left the build
ing. Vance orders Miss Beeton to guard
the stairway and prevent Mrs. Carden and
Zalia from viewing Swift’s body.
CHAPTER IV—Continued
—7—
“Gafden,” he began, “there are
a few things that I’d like to have
Cleared up before the district at
torney and the police arrive.” He
turned about leisurely and sat down
at the desk, facing Garden.
“Anything I can do to help,” Gar
den mumbled, lighting his pipe.
“A few necess’ry questions, don’t
y' know,” Vance went on. "Hope
they won’t upset you, and all that.
But the fact is, Mr. Markham will
probably want me to take a hand
in the investigations, since I was a
witness to the preamble of this dis-
tressin’ tragedy.”
“I hope he does,” Garden re
turned. “It’s a damnable affair,
and I’d like to see the axe fall, no
matter whom it might beheau.” His
pipe was giving him trouble. “By
the way, Vance,” he went on quiet
ly, “how did you happen to come
here today? I’ve asked you so often
to join our racing seance—and you
pick the one day when the roof
blows off the place.”
Vance kept his eyes on Garden
for a moment. *
“The fact is,” he said at length,
“I got an anonymous telephone mes
sage last night, vaguely outlining
the situation here and mentioning
Equanimity.”
* Garden jerked himself up to keen
er attention.
“The devil you fay!” he ex
claimed. “That’s a queer one. Man
or woman?”
“Oh, it was a man,” Vance ro-
plied casually.
Garden pursed his lips and, after
a moment's meditation, said quiet
ly:
“Well, anyway, I’m damned glad
you did come . . . What can 1 tell
you that might be of help? Any
thing you want, old man.”
“First of all, then,” asked Vance,
“did you recognize the revolver? I
saw you looking at it rather appre
hensively when we came out on the
roof.”
Garden frowned, and Anally an
swered, as if with sudden resolu
tion:
“Yes! I did recognize it, Vance.
It belongs to the old gentleman—”
“Your father?”
Garden nodded grimly. “He’s had
it for years. Why he ever got it in
the first place, I don’t know—he
probably hasn’t the slightest idea
how to use it . . .”
“By the by,” Vance put in, “what
time does your father generally re
turn home from the university?”
“Why—why—” Garden hesitated
and then continued: “on Saturdays
he’s always here early in the after
noon—rarely after three. Gives
himself and his staff a half-holiday
. . . But,” he added, “father’s
very erratic ...” His voice trailed
off nervously.
Vance took two deep inhalations
on his cigarette: he was watching
Garden attentively. Then he asked
in a soft tone:
“What’s on your mind?—Unless,
of course, you have good reason for
not wanting to tell me.”
Garden took a long breath and
stood up. He seemed to be deeply
troubled as he walked across the
room and back.
“The truth is, Vance,” he said,
as he resumed his place on the dav
enport, “I don’t even know where
the pater is this afternoon. As soon
as I came downstairs after Woody’s
death, I called him to give him the
news. I thought he’d want to get
here as soon as possible in the cir
cumstances. But I was told that
he'd locked up the laboratory and
left the university about two
o’clock.”
CHAPTER V
I could not understand the man’s
perturbation; and I could see that it
puzzled Vance as well. Vanca en
deavored to put him at his ease.
“It rosily doesn’t matter,” ha
. aaid, as if diamtoting tha subjact.
Garden nodded.; “Oh, yes. There
was no secret about ,it. We .often
joked with the old gentleman about
his ‘arsenal.’ ” #
“And the revolver was always
loaded?”
“So far as I know, yes.”
“And was there an extra supply
of cartridges?”
“As to that, I cannot say," Gar
den answered: “but I don’t think
so.”
“And here’s a very important
question, Garden,” Vance went on.
“How many of the people that are
here today could possibly have
known that your father kept this
loaded revolver in his desk? Now,
think rarefully before answering.” 1
Garden meditated for several mo
ments. He looked off into space and
puffed steadily on his pipe.
“I am trying to remember,” he
said reminiscently, “just who was
here the day Zalia came upon the
gun—”
"What day was that?” Vance cut
in sharply.
“It was about three months ago,"
Garden explained. “You see, we
used to have the telephone set-up
connected upstairs in the study. But
some of the western races came in
so late that it began to interfere
with the old gentleman’s routine
when he came home from the uni
versity. So we moved the parapher
nalia down into the drawing room.
As a matter of fact, it was more
convenient; and the mater didn’t
object—in fact, she rather enjoyed
it—”
“But what happened on this par
ticular day?” insisted Vance.
“Well, we were all upstairs in the
study, going through the whole silly
racing rigmarole that you witnessed
this afternoon, when Zalia Graem,
who always sat at the old gentle-
man’a desk, began opening the
drawers, looking for a piece of
scratch paper on which to figure
the mutuels. She Anally opened the
center drawer and saw the revolv
er. She brought it out with a flour
ish and, laughing like a silly school
girl, pointed it around the room.
I reprimanded her—rather rudely.
I’m afraid—and ordered her to put
the revolver back in its place, as
it was loaded—and just then a race
came over the amplifier, and the
episode was ended.”
“Most interestin’,” murmured
Vance. “And can you recall how
many of those present today were
likewise present at Miss Graem's
little entr’acte?”
“I rather think they were all
there, if my memory is correct.”
Vance sighed.
“A bit futile—eh, what? No pos
sible elimination along that line.”
Garden looked up, startled.
“Elimination? I don’t understand.
We were all downstairs here this
afternoon except Kroon — and he
was out—when the shot was flred.”
At this moment there was a slight
commotion in the hallway. It sound
ed as if a scuffle of some kind was
in process, and a shrill, protesting
voice mingled with the calm but
determined tones of the nurse.
Vance went immediately to the door
and threw it open. There, just out
side the den door, only a short dis
tance from the stairway, were Miss
Weatherby and Miss Beeton. The
nurse had a firm hold on the other
woman and was calmly arguing
with her. As Vance stepped toward
them, Miss Weatherby turned to
face him and drew herself up arro
gantly.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
she demanded. “Must I be mauled
by a menial because I wish to go
upstairs?”
“Miss Beeton has orders that no
one is to go upstairs,” Vance said
sternly. “And I was unaware that
she is a menial.”
“But why can’t I go upstairs?”
the woman asked with dramatic em
phasis. "I want to see poor Woody.
Death is so beautiful; and I was
very fond of Woody. By whose
orders,- pray, am I being denied
this last communion with the de
parted?”
“By my orders,” Vance told her
coldy. “Furthermore, this particu
lar death is far from beautiful, I
assure you. And the police will be
here any minute. Until then no one
will be permitted to disturb any
thing upstairs.”
“Then why,” she demanded with
histrionic indignation, “was this—
this woman”—she glanced with ex
aggerated contempt at the nurse—
“coming down the stairs herself
when I came into the hall?”
Vance made no attempt to hide
a smile of amusement.
“I’m aqre ,1 don’t know. I may
ask her later. But she happens to
be under instructions from me to
let no one go upstairs. Will you bo
so good, Miss Weatherby,” he add
ed, almost harshly, “as to return
to tha drawing room and remain
there until the officials arrivo?”
The woman glared superciliously
at the nurse, and then, with a teas
moment, and then bowed his head
slightly.
“Thank you, Miss Beeton,” hr
ger or"when they are of momen
tous proportions with matters at
stake that may be disastrous.
ences come through our way of
taking them, and on our wisdom
of decisions when these require
our consideration. If we think of
ourselves only we become selfish,
hard, and difficult. If we decide
with a larger vision of results, and
of the best good to others as well
as to ourselves, we become fine
id strong characters. By the ex
ercise of good judgment and by
making the best of things we
learn to develop well by experi-
said.
He came back into the den, and
closing the door* addressed Garder
again.
“Now that we have disposed tem
porarily of the theatrical queen,”
—he smiled somberly—“suppose we
continue with our little chat.”
Garden chuckled mildly and be
gan repacking his pipe.
“Queer girl, Madge; always act
ing like a tragedienne—but I don’t
think she’s ever really been on the
stage.”
“You heard her tell me she was
particularly fond of Swift,” re
marked Vance. “Just what did she
mean by that?”
Garden shrugged. “Nothing at
all, if you ask me. She didn’t know
that Woody was on earth, so to
speak. But dead, Woody becomes a
dramatic possibility.”
“Yes, yes — quite,” murmured
Vance. “Which reminds me: what
was the tiff between Swift and Miss
Graem about? I noticed your little
peace-maker advances this after
noon.”’
Garden became serious.
“I haven’t been able to figure
that situation out myself. Woody
was pretty deep in the new-mown
hay as far as Zalia went. Hovered
round her all the time, and took
all her good • natured bantering
without a murmur. Then, sudden
ly, the embryonic love affair—or
whatever it was—went sour. Ob
viously something had happened,
but I never got the straight of it
It may have been a new flame on
Woody’s part—I rather imagine it
was something of the kind. As for
Zalia. she was never serious about
it anyway. And I have an idea
that Woody wanted that extra twen
ty thousand today for some reason
connected with Zalia ...” Garden
stopped speaking abruptly and
slapped his thigh. “By Georgel 1
wouldn't be surprised if that hard
bitten little gambler had turned
Woody down because he was com
paratively hard up. You can’t tell
about these girls today. They're as
practical as the devil himself.”
Vance nodded thoughtfully.
“Your observations rather fit with
the remarks she made to me a little
while ago. She, too, wanted to
go upstairs to see Swift. Gave as
her excuse the fact that she felt
she was to blame for the whole
sordid business.”
Garden grinned.
"Well, there you are.” Then he
remarked judicially: “But you can
never tell about women.”
“I wonder.” Vance smoked In si
lence for a moment. Then he went
on: "There’s another matter in con
nection vrith Swift which you might
be able to clear up for me. Could
you suggest any reason why, when
I placed the bet on Azure Star for
Miza Beeton this afternoon. Swift
should have looked at me as if he
would enjoy murdering me?”
“I saw that too,” Garden nodded.
"I can’t say it meant anything
much. Woody was always a weak
sister where any woman was con
cerned. It took little to make him
think he’d fallen in love. He may
have become infatuated with the
nurse—he’d been seeing her around
here for the past few months. And
now that you mention it, he's been
somewhat poisonous toward me on
several occasions because she was
more or less friendly with me and
ignored him entirely. But I’ll say
this for Woody: if he did have ideas
about Miss Beeton, his taste is im
proving. She’s an unusual girl—
different ...”
Vance nodded his head slowly
and gazed with peculiar concentra
tion out the window.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Quite dif
ferent.” Then, as if bringing him
self back from some alien train of
thought, he crushed out his ciga
rette and leaned forward. “How
ever, we’ll drop speculation for the
moment . . . Suppose you tell me
something about the vault upstairs.”
Garden glanced up in evident sur
prise.
“There’s nothing to tell about that
old catch-all. It’s neither mysteri
ous nor formidable. And it’s really
not a vault at all. Several years
ago the pater found that he had ac
cumulated a lot of private papers
and experimental data that he didn’t
want casual callers messing in. So
he had this fire-proof storeroom built
to house these scientific treasures
cf his. The vault, as you call it,
was built as much for mere privacy
as for actual safe-keeping. It’s just
a very small room with shelves
ground the walls.”
y “Has everyone in the house ac
cess to it?” asked Vance.
“Anyone so inclined,” replied
Garden. “But who in the name of
Heaven, would want to go in there?”
“Really, y* know, I haven't the
groggiest notion,” Vanca returned,
“except that I found the door to it
unlatched when I was coming
downstairs a little while ago.”
(TO BK CONTINUED)
should things turn out differently
from our wishes, the mind is too
excited or too much engrossed
with results to grqsp inything but'
the immediate moment.
Reviewing Experiences.
However, on looking back over
the past, we discover what thrill
ing times we went through, and
how the experiences stand out as
dramatic and of significant inter
est. Often we find ludicrous fea
tures entered into the experience
but we had no eyes to see them
at the time.
No Age Limit.
Since life is so full of experi
ences some of which turn out fe
licitously, and others not so sat
isfactorily, there must be a good
reason for our having to go
through the events. I remember
when I was a little girl and there
was something which, to me,
seemed very important to decide
rightly, how I envied grown-ups.
They always knew just what to
do! The fallacy of this assump
tion we all know, but we do not
all appreciate how dull life would
be if it were true, and how de
velopment would be retarded.
There is no age limit to the series
of experiences.
The benefits of our life experi-
ences.
G Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
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