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The Barnwell People-SentlneU Bernwcll. 8. C- TTmraday, March 25, 1937 THE GARDEN MURDER CASE SYNOPSIS Philo Vane*, famous detective, and John P. X. Markham, district attorney for New York county are dining in Vance's apart' meat when Vance receives an anonymous telephone message Informing him of a "dis turbing psychological tension at Professor Kphriam Garden's apartment" advising that he read up on radio-active aodium, consult a passage in the Aeneid and coun seling that ‘‘Equanimity is essential." Pro- Garden is famous in chemical re cti. The message, decoded by Vance, reminds him that Professor Garden's son Floyd and his puny cousin. Wood* Swift, are addicted to horse-racing. Vance says that “Equanimity" is a hors* running next gay in the Rivermont handicap. Vance la convinced that the message was sent by Dr. •Mart, the Gardens’ family physician. He arranges to have lunch next day at the Gardens' 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 a 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 the 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 race atarts. Miss Beeton. a nurse, and Vance bet on “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 sev eral minutes. Zalia Graem answers a phone call in the den. Soon after the an nouncement that "Azure Star" wins, the guests hear a shot. Vance 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 is sharply questioned by Vance, who finds he had not left the building. Vance orders Miss Bee* ton to guard the stairway and prevent Mrs. Garden and Zalia from viewing Swift's body. Floyd Garden admits the revolver belongs to his father. Further questioning by Vance reveals that the revolver had been found recently by Zalia in the presence of the fMbor guests. Floyd hints that Swift bet ao recklessly because of Zalia. Markham, Sergeant Health and two detectives arrive. Markham and Sergeant Heath scorn the murder theory. „ CHAPTER VI—Continued —— Markham meditated on this for Several moments. “Still, Vance,” he said at length, Reasonable objections could be raised to all the points you have brought up. They are based almost entirely on theory and not on dem onstrable facts.” “From a legal point of view, you’re right,” Vance conceded. “And if these had been my only reasons for believing that e crime had been committed, I wouldn’t have summoned you and the doughty sergeant. But, even so, Markham, I can assure you the few drops of blood, you see on the chap pie’s temple could not have thick ened to the extent they had when 1 first saw the body—they must have been exposed to the air for several minutes. And, as I say, I was up here approximately thirty seconds after we heard the shot.” “But that being the case,” re turned Markham in astonishment, “how can you possibly explain the fact?” Vance straightened a little and looked at the district attorney with unwonted gravity. “Swift,” he said, “was not killed by the shot we heard.” “That don’t make sense to me, Mr. Vance,” Heath interposed, scowling. “Just a moment, Sergeant.” Vance nodded to him in friendly fashion. “When I realized that the shot that wiped out this Johnnie’s existence was not the shot that we bad heard, I tried to figure out where the fatal shot could have been fired without our hearing it below. And I’ve found the place. It was in a vault-like store-room—prac tically sound-proof, I should say- on the other side of the passageway that leads to the study. I found the door unlocked and looked for evi dence of some activity there ...” Markham had risen and taken a few nervous steps around the pool in the center of the roof. “Did you find any evidence,” he asked, “to corroborate your the ory?” “Yes — unmistakable evidence.” Vance walked over to the still fig ure in the chair and pointed to the thick-lensed glasses tipped forward on the nose. “To begin with, Mark ham, you will notice that Swift’s glasses are in a position far from normal, indicatin’ that they were put on hurriedly and inaccurately by someone else—just as was the head-phone.” Markham and Heath leaned over and peered at the glasses. “Well, Mr. Vance,” agreed the sergeant, “they-certainly don’t look as if he had put ’em on himself.” Markham straightened up, com pressed his lips, and nodded slowly. “All right,” he said; “what else?” “Perpend, Markham.” Vance pointed with his cigarette. “The left lens of the glasses—the one furthest from the punctured temple —is cracked at the corner, and there’s a very small V-shaped piece missing where the crack begins— an indication that the glasses have been dropped and nicked. I can assure you that the lens was nei ther cracked nor nicked when I last saw Swift alive.” “Couldn’t he have dropped his glasses on the roof here?” asked Heath. “Possible of course, Sergeant,” Vance returned. “But he didn’t. I carefully looked over the tiles round the chair, and the missin’ bit of glass was not there.” ■ Markham looked at Vance shrewdly. “And perhaps you know where it bj S. S. VAN DINE Copjrrifht S. S. Via Dine WNU Service “Yes—oh, yes.” Vance nodded. “That’s why I urged you to come here. That piece of glass is at present in my waistcoat pocket.” Markham showed a new interest. “Where did you find it?” he de manded brusquely. “I found it,” Vance told him, “on the tiled floor in the vault across the hall. And it was near some scattered papers which could easily have been knocked to the floor by some one falling against them.” Markham’s eyes opened incredu lously. “I’m beginning to see why you wanted me and the sergeanl here,” he said slowly. “But what I don’t understand, Vance, is that second shot that you heard. How do you account for it?” Vance drew deeply on his ciga rette. “Markham,” he answered, with quiet seriousness; “when we know how and by whom that second shot —which was obviously intended for us to hear—was fired, we will know who murdered Swift ...” At this moment the nurse ap peared in the doorway leading to the roof. With her was Doctor Doremus, and behind the medical examiner were Captain Dubois and Detective Bellamy, the finger-print men, and Peter Quackenbush, the official police photographer. Miss Beeton indicated our pres ence on the roof and made her way back downstairs. Doremus acknowledged our joint greetings with a breezy wave of the hand. He made a cursory examination of the limp figure, scrutinized the bullet hole, tested the arms and legs for rigor mortis, and then swung about to face the rest of us. “Well, what about it?” he asked, in his easy cynical manner. “He’s dead; shot in the head with a small- caliber bullet; and the lead’s prob ably lodged in the brain. No exit hole. Looks as if he’d decided to shoot himself. There’s nothing here to contradict the assumption. The bullet went into the temple, and is at the correct angle. Furthermore, He Made a Cursory Examination of the Limp Figure. there are powder marks, showing that the gun was held at very close range—almost a contact wound, I should say. There’s an indication of singeing around the orifice.” Vance took the cigarette from his mouth and addressed Doremus. “I say doctor; speakin’ of the blood on the johnnie’s temple, what would you say about the amount?” “Two damned little. I’d say,” Doremus returned promptly. “But bullet wounds have a queer way of acting sometimes. Anyway, there ought to be a lot more gore.” “Precisely,” Vance nodded. “My theory is that he was shot else where and brought to this chair.” Doremus made a wry face. “Was shot? Then you don’t think it was suicide?” He pondered a moment. “It could be, of course,” he decided finally. “Find the rest of the blood and you’ll probably know where his death occurred.” “Thanks awfully, doctor.” Vance smiled faintly. “That did flash through my mind, don’t y’ know; but I believe the blood v as wiped up. I was merely hopin’ that your findings would substantiate my the ory that he did not shoot himself while sitting in that chair, without any one else around.” Doremus shrugged indifferently. “That’s reasonable enough as sumption,” he said. “There really ought to be more blood. He died instantly.” “Have you any other sugges tions?” asked Vance. “I may have when I’ve gone over the body more carefully after these babies”—he waved his hand toward the photographer and the finger print men—“finish their hocus-poc us.” Captain Dubois and Detective Bel lamy had already begun their rou tine, with the telephone table as the starting-point; and Quackenbush was adjusting his metal tripod. Vane* turned to Dubois. “I say, Captain, give your special attention to the head-phone, the revolver, and the glasses. Also the doon knob of the vault across the hall in* side.” Quackenbush, his camera having been set up, took his pictures and then waited by the passageway door for further instructions from the finger-print officers. When the three men had gone in side, Doremus drew in an ex aggerated sigh and spoke to Heath impatiently. “How about getting your corpus delicti over on the settee? Easier to examine him there.” “O. K., Doc.” . Two detectives lifted Swift’s limp body and placed it on the same wicker divan where Zalia Graem had lain when she collapsed at the sight of the dead man. Doremus went to work in his usu al swift and efficient fashion. When he had finished the task, he threw a steamer rug over the dead man, and made a brief report to Vance and Markham. “There’s nothing to indicate a vio lent struggle, if that’s what you’re hoping for. But there’s a slight abrasion on the bridge of the nose, as if his glasses had been jerked off; and there’s a slight bump op the left side of his head, over the ear, which may have been caused by a blow of some kind, though the skin hasn’t been broken.” “How, doctor,” asked Vance, “would the following theory square with your findings—that the man had been shot elsewhere, had fallen to a tiled floor, striking his head against it sharply, that his glasses had been torn off when the left lens came in contact with the floor, and that he was carried out here to the chair, and the glasses re placed on his nose?” Doremus pursed his lips and in clined his head thoughtfully. “That would be a very reasonable explanation of the lump on his head and the abrasion on the bridge ef his nose ... So this is another of your cock-eyed murders, is it? Well, it’s all right with me. But I’ll tell you right now, you won’t get an autopsy report tonight. I’m bored and need excitement; and I’m going to Madison Square Garden.” He made out an order for the re moval of the body, readjusted his hat, waved a friendly good-by which included all of us, and disappeared swiftly through the door into the passageway. Vance led the way into the study, and the rest of us followed him. We were barely seated when Captain Dubois came in and reported that there were no finger-prints on any of the objects Vance had enumerated. “Handled with gloves,” he finished laconically, “or wiped clean.” Vance thanked him. “I’m not in the least surprised,” he added. Dubois rejoined Bellamy and Quackenbush in the hall, and the three made their way down the stairs. “Weil, Vance, are you satisfied?” Markham asked. Vance nodded. “I hadn’t expect ed any fingerprints. Cleverly thought-out crime. And what Do remus found fills some vacant spots in my own theory. Stout fella, Do remus, understands his business. He knows what is wanted and looks for it. There can be no question that Swift was in the vault when he was shot; that he fell to the floor, brush ing down some of the papers; that he struck his head on the tiled floor, and broke the left lens of his glasses —you noted, of course, that the lump on his head is also on the left side— and that he was dragged into the garden and placed ip the chair. Swift was a small, slender man; probably didn’t weigh over a hun dred and twenty pounds; and it would have been no great feat of strength for someone to have thus transported him after death ...” There were footsteps in the corri dor and, as our eyes involuntarily turned toward the door, we saw the dignified elderly figure of Professor Ephraim Garden. I recognized him immediately from pictures I had seen. He was a tall man, despite his stooped shoulders; and, though he was very thin, he possessed a firm ness of bearing which made one feel that he had retained a great meas ure of the physical power that had obviously been his in youth. There was benevolence in the somewhat haggard face, but there was also shrewdness in hls gaze; and the con tour of his mouth indicated a latent hardness. He bowed to us with an old-fash ioned graciousness and took a few steps into the study. “My son has just informed me,” he said in a slightly querulous voice, “of the tragedy that has occurred here this afternoon. I’m sorry that I did not return home earlier, as is my wont on Saturdays, for in that event the tragedy might have been averted. I myself would'have been in the study here and would probab ly have kept an eye on my nephew. In any {vent, no one could then have got possession of my revolver.” “I am not at all sure, Doctor Gar den,” Vance returned grimly, “that your presence here this afternoon would have averted the tragedy. It is not nearly so simple a matter as it appears at first glance.” Professor Garden sat down in a chair of antique workmanship near the door and, clasping his hands tightly, leaned forward. (TO BE CONTINUED) UNCOMMON AMERICANS By Elmo Scott Watson • Western Newspaper Union Kitten Twins Pose For Your Pleasure \ The Kitten Twins, as much alike as peas in a pod, pose obligingly for your needle. Embroider this plump, cuddlesome pair and you’ll have the gayest wall panel ever— a panel that will be a delight in any room! Just single and outline She Modeled Lincoln IN THE rotunda of the United States Capitol at Washington stands a statue of Abraham Lin coln. Among all the sculptured like nesses of the Great Emancipator this one is unique. It is the only One which was modeled from life and it is the work of a young girl. Vinnie Ream was her name and she was born in Wisconsin in 1847. As a girl she amused herself by sketching the Indians whom she saw when her father, a surveyor, took her with him on his trips in the West. They were crude sketches but an old 4 Italian who saw them recognized her latent talent and en couraged her. When she was fourteen her father secured a position for hur as a copy ist in the post office department at $50 a month. She became ac- 1 quainted with Clark Mills, the fa mous sculptor, and while watching him at work, exclaimed, “Oh, I could do that if I had some clay!” Mills told her to help herself and he was delighted with the progress which she made. Then Vinnie Ream conceived the idea of modeling President Lincoln from life. When this was first sug gested to him he refused, but after talking to the girl and becoming impressed with her earnestness, he gave his consent with the under standing that she was to come to the White House every afternoon during his rest period. She was not to talk and he was to sit, walk, or lie down to take a nap, as his mood dictated. So for five months she spent part of every afternoon in his study. As he lay on the couch she took life masks of his face and hands. As he walked about or sat at his desk, she sketched his figure again and again. ^ After Lincoln’s assassination con gress decided to erect a statue in his memory and asked sculptors to submit sketches. Many famous art ists responded but the work of this sixteen-year-old girl was the one se lected. In 1869 congress advanced her $5,000 and she went abroad to study and complete the statue. After nearly two years of steady work she finished it and it was un veiled in 1871. When the statue was placed in the rotunda of the Capi tol an old servant who had lived in the White House exclaimed “the real Lincoln has returned to us.” Vinnie Ream later married Lieut. Richard L. Hoxie but continued her work as a sculptor until her death in 1914. She made many other stat ues and modeled medallions and busts of many notables, both here and abroad. But she is best re membered as the only sculptor who ever modeled Lincoln from life and the pioneer woman sculptor of America. Pattern 5766 stitch, in silk, cotton or angora wool and it’s ready to be lined and hung! In pattern 5766 you will find a transfer pattern of a wall hanging 14% by 18 inches; a color chart; material requirements; il lustrations of all stitches used; directions for finishing wall h§pg- ing. To obtain this pattern send 15 cents in stamps or coins (coins preferred) to The Sewing Circle Household Arts Dept.-, 259 W. Fourteenth St., New York, N. Y. Write plainly your name, ad dress and pattern number. OF IHTEREST TO THE HOUSEWIFE Soldier-Painter TF YOU think of a painter as an 1 impractical idealist, revise that view before applying it to Charles Willson Peale. Born in Maryland in 1741 he was apprenticed to a sad dler at the age of thirteen and was such a good workman that he won his freedom by the time he was twenty. Then he went into busi ness for himself and later formed a partnership with a chaisemaker who promptly absconded with all of the firm’s money. To get out of debt" Peale next tried clock and watch making and set himself up as a silversmith. ) Becoming interested^ui painting, Peale took lessons from a Swedish- American artist and paid for them with a saddle which he had made. Next he spent twj years studying under Copley in Boston and then went to England to learn more from the famous Benjamin West. Returning to this country a few years before the Revolution, he be gan painting portraits of Colonial celebrities, one of which was des tined to make him famous. It was the picture of a young colonel in the Virginia militia named George Washington. At the outbreak of the Revolu tion Peale, who was an ardent pa triot, organized a company of mi litia and became a captain. For the next three years he mixed painting and soldiering, winning distinction in both. Next he went into poli tics and in 1779 and 1780 served as a member of the Pennsylvania as sembly. After the war, Peale gathered to gether all of the portraits of Revo lutionary leaders he had painted- including several of Washington— and started a picture gallery in his home, which was so popular that he had to seek larger quarters. In 1802 he opened the famous Peale museum on the second floor of In dependence hail. There he exhib ited not«inly his paintings but also a remarkable collection of natural history specimens he had collected. At the age of eighty-one Peale turned ffom portraiture to paint re ligious pictures. When he died in 1827 he left behind him-a collection of 269 portraits and historical scenes as a memorial to one of America’s greatest painters and also one of her most versatile geniuses. Rugs should be turned around every six months. 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