Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 25, No. 2, August 13, 1927

“For twenty-five thousand pounds, Mr. Maffet, will not only keep you and your wife and family, if you have any, in comfort, but you will vastly relieve an old man who has never known very much peace, and who would like to enjoy, undisturbed, any happiness that may be coming to him.”

There are policemen who sell their coats, but Inspector Maffet was not one of the breed. In this case, however, he would be wronging no one. He was not shielding an offender against the law. Here was an offer to take or leave. Maffet, now cool-headed and master of himself again, reflected rapidly. There was not much difficulty; what little danger there was he was prepared to face. And — twenty-five thousand pounds? He looked thoughtfully at the man who had known so little happiness.

“It can be done,” he said.

“And you will do it?”

“I’ll do it,” said Maffet. “And — thank you, sir.”

He took the hand that was held out to him. John McKellar smiled.

“We rich men are very unscrupulous, are we not, inspector?” he said wistfully.

The sun was setting in amber and purple glory behind Ben Buie, glowing over the mauve floors of heather that stretched to Dunkillin gates. John McKellar lay comfortably in the deep armchair before the windows over the porch, drinking in the scene. Tommy sat on one arm of the chair, Delia on the other. Her arm was round the old man’s neck; he was beaming gently.

“Dad, dear,” said Delia, “you’re the most wonderful man in Scotland. Nobody else could have done it.”

“Not one,” said Tommy happily. “Dad has them all shinned.”

Mr. McKellar beamed again, as Delia stroked his cheek.

“You put me too high in the class, Delia,” he said. “I don’t know what Tommy would have done without you. But he’s done just what I wanted him to, anyway.”

“I put Tommy at the head of the class of cherubs,” said Delia. “Tommy did nobly all through. When he sheds his wings and flies off the handle, he’s magnificent in a scrap. Of course he’s young yet; he hasn’t your finesse.”

“He’s better without it,” said John McKellar. “Finesse is not a good thing in a husband. I want you two to get married at once. I shan’t be really happy till you are. Listen. Tuesday? United Free Church, Glasgow? By special license.”

“And then, dad, where do you want us all to go?”

McKellar laughed and closed his eyes.

“Much I care where we go — if I can be with you.”

“Don’t imagine you’re going to get away from us. Listen!” said Delia. “America?”

McKellar’s eyes opened again.

“Always wanted to go to America! Never had the chance yet. New York, Delia? You’ll show me round, will you?”

“Will I! I’ll be your gillie on Manhattan Moor, dad. We’ll give you the time of your life. I think I’ll take Neil Tull along too. We’ll be back to Dunkillin and the heather when the spring breaks.”

She bent down and kissed his forehead.

“Well,” said John McKellar, “it’s been a pretty full day, and I think I’ll go to bed. You bairns will have something to say to each other.”

The dusk had fallen, a silver moon hung high over the loch, and the armchair now held only two.

“Tommy, he’s just the dearest old man living,” said Delia. “My eyes go wet when I look at him. I’d never have let that woman get away. Still, of course — she was his wife. And the McKellars are like that.”

“Needn’t dwell on it now. All finished,” said Tommy.

“I’m not. I’m thinking of poor dear Maffet’s face when dad sprung it on him, ‘I am John McKellar!’ ” Delia laughed, and wiped her eyes. Then she became intensely grave.

“Tommy.”

“Yes, darling?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

He slid his arm a little farther round Delia’s waist and took a careful look at her. There was a warning gleam in Delia’s blue eye that he had seen before.

“What is it?” he said warily.

She laid her head on his shoulder.

“It’s about my children.”

“Eh!”

“When you get married the second time,” said Delia, shaking gently all over, “to a fascinating peroxide vampire — you won’t let her ill treat the dear little things, will you? Tommy, don’t shake me like that, you’re making me giddy! Oh, Tommy!”

The Complicated Case by Louise Rice

A Story of Fact

Here is the story of one of the most complex crimes that has ever been brought to light in this country

* * *

In considering a criminal case, we usually have the one chief figure or the two chief figures, and such difficulty with the case as exists is concerned with them.

In the case of Milton Bowers, afterward to be known as “Dr.” J. Milton Bowers, there are a lot of things which have never been explained, and which do not seem to “fit,” although we know that they do, somehow and some way.