Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

“Maybe this reformed crook didn’t get a good dose of it,” I thought. “Have to be vaccinated again. He must have stood in the bush this evening, else he’d surely have cleaned these shoes. Allowing that the tracks were made last night, there would have been an entire day for cleaning them. Must have been to-night. In that case the gardener did not discover them today while raking leaves. I may be wrong, but darned if I believe it.”

My meditations were interrupted just as I replaced the shoes and closed the closet. The room door opened, and the butler, followed by Cato, walked in. Both stopped, looking me over in surprise that wasn’t faked.

“What the—” the butler began.

“I don’t understand your tactics, Mr. Norton,” Cato broke it.

I broke in on Cato. “Come inside and close the door,” I ordered — and I mean just that. Ordered. They obeyed.

“And I don’t understand your tactics, uncle,” I told Cato. “Which is a damned sight more to the point than your failure to understand mine. Questions and answers, with you doing the answering, please.”

“What’s the idea, you being in my room?” the butler demanded angrily, advancing toward me.

“Back up, big boy,” I shot at him. “Back up and subside, or I’ll have to ruffle you up some. Your turn will come presently.”

“You forget yourself, Spence!” Uncle Cato admonished sternly. “Mr. Norton,” he went on, when Spence had sullenly retired to a chair — but holding it by the back, instead of sitting in it, “please explain your conduct, and the remark just addressed to me.”

“Right!” I agreed heartily. “But you’ll do some explaining first. I asked you to scatter the servants over the place. You didn’t scatter. Why?”

The old man looked a bit disturbed, but answered. “I really did not think it necessary to do so until later,” he offered.

“You went off hurriedly,” I reminded. “Must have changed your mind hurriedly, too. Why didn’t you give instructions to your servants to search the lawns later, then?” I demanded.

“I... I am sure I did,” he stammered.

“And I’m sure you didn’t!” I snapped.

“How do you know?” he demanded, bristling.

“Because I inquired,” was my reply. That was a lie, but it worked.

“Well,” Cato admitted, “I said nothing to them at the moment. I shall see to the matter directly, however.”

“You needn’t bother,” I told him. “He won’t come back, that prowler. Because,” I turned suddenly toward the butler, “he knows better than to do any sneaking to-night. He’s been caught — with the goods on him. Rather, on his shoes. What about it, big boy? Got anything to say?”

He drew himself up haughtily, butler-like, but before he could utter the cold words on his tongue, I wheeled back to Uncle Cato.

“And that reminds me,” I barked accusingly, “that you have disobeyed instructions a second time to-night! Instead of sending Spence to search the grounds for half an hour, you brought him here! Why?”

Before the startled old mail could frame an answer, Flash Santelle entered the room quietly and closed the door behind him.

Chapter XI A Woman in Red

“I was looking for Spence, heard voices and— What’s the trouble?” he broke off to inquire, appearing to sense the tenseness of the situation he had walked in on.

“No trouble at all,” I replied. “Unless mutiny in the garrison can be called that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps Uncle Cato will explain,” I said. “Go right ahead, uncle,” I told him. “The question and answer game is not over yet. Never mind Flash. He’s just a listener — now. Why did you bring Spence here, when I instructed you to have him make a search of the front lawn?”

“I meant to have him do that later,” was the weak explanation.

“As in the case of the servants,” I commented sarcastically. “You’re pretty deeply interested in protecting your nephew, aren’t you? Your actions show remarkable concern.”

“Explain this thing!” Flash demanded, hands folded behind his back, leaning against the door. “I’ve a right to know!”

I listened while Uncle Cato made his explanation, then nodded to Spence to tell his tale.

“Mr. Santelle told me to come to my room with him,” the butler explained. “When we entered we found this,” he hesitated, caught my eye, then resumed, “this gentleman here. That is all I know about it, sir.”

Flash looked me over calmly, then asked: “What’s the idea, Norton?”

“The idea is to have my instructions obeyed after this!” I snapped heatedly. “I’m here to see after your safety,” I went on to remind him, “and not to have my directions in the matter questioned or ignored. That’s the idea!”

“Quite correct, Norton,” he agreed. “You are in command. Still, I don’t quite understand your coming up to Spence’s room, after thinking you had disposed of him for half an hour by a — shall I call it a pretext?”