Death Points A Finger Part 24

Professor Brierly was sitting at the desk mentally going over the tangled threads of the case. He was rejecting one by one the many fanciful hypotheses that imaginative newspaper writers had woven about the case. With cold, precise logic, he was fastening link to link in his strange chain of evidence. Such was his impersonal absorption in the case that the attack on him with its possible consequences, was now forgotten.

The telephone bell tinkled. Orders had been given the operator not to disturb Professor Brierly and to ring the phone in the managing editor's office only if the call was for the old scientist. He picked up the instrument; this might be the answer he was awaiting to a telegram.

He was hanging the instrument back in its p.r.o.nged cradle with a shade of disappointment, when the door was thrown open. Hite came in.

"Professor, they got the bird who b.u.mped off Schurman. The D.A.

was on the phone about it, up in that camp of his. He gave orders that you be permitted to cross-examine this bird. He told 'em to hold him for you."

Professor Brierly scrambled to his feet.

"Indeed, I shall be glad to see him. How interesting."

He was taken to the office of the district attorney, where an a.s.sistant and a sergeant of police met him. Sergeant Conners, who had met Professor Brierly on previous matters, said to the scientist.

"We should 'a' had this bird sooner, but it seems he was sleepin'

off a drunk somewhere and no one knew where he was. 'Fingy' Smith is his name, Professor. We got his record. His finger prints are the ones we found on the file. And he is the bird who always eats a lot whenever he does a job, specially eggs. How this bird can put away eggs is a wonder; he's a little feller, too." The monologue was cut short by the entrance of the prisoner who was chained to a burly headquarters man, accompanied by another officer in civil clothes.

'Fingy' Smith was a small, dark man who greeted the a.s.sembly cheerfully. Professor Brierly looked at him curiously. The little finger on his left hand, was missing; it had been shot away in a brawl. The lobe of his left ear was also missing. Jimmy later learned that it had been chewed off in a rough and tumble fight in a Chinese joint on the Pacific coast.

Sergeant Conners greeted him pleasantly, the a.s.sistant district attorney, somberly. He did not hold with being on pleasant terms with criminals. Conners said:

"'Fingy', this is Professor Brierly, he is gonna ask you some questions."

"How de do, Prof. I heard about ye. You got a reputash. Don't get too intimate with the d.i.c.ks.

His response to Heath's steady look was a cheerful smile.

Professor Brierly asked:

"Do you know what you were arrested for, Mr. Smith?"

"Naw! Somebody must be makin' a holler about a crime wave.

Whenever they do that the cops get busy and make a pinch. They got it easy with a guy like me. I'll be frank with you, Prof, I got a record. But what of it? I been runnin' straight, lately."

Professor Brierly did not try to interrupt him. He was enormously interested in this first-hand contact with a prominent member of the criminal cla.s.ses. He said, gently:

"I will tell you what you were arrested for, Smith. You are charged with murdering August Schurman."

Smith's mouth opened wide, as did his eyes. If this was acting it was very well done. The look of surprise faded and the smile, a little forced perhaps, was once more in evidence.

"Don't give me a laugh, Professor. You got a reputation for bein'

on the level. Don't let the police bull you into lettin' 'em frame me. Me commit murder? Ask the police and if they're honest, they'll tell you I never carried a rod or anything else with me.

Ain't that so, Sarge?" he asked.

The police officer merely stared at him, he did not answer.

Professor Brierly was looking intently at the prisoner. He arose and asked the prisoner to sit in a chair where he would face the light that came in from a tall window. Here, Professor Brierly stepped close to him and, in the manner of a dentist, asked him to open his mouth.

Everybody, including the prisoner, looked at the old scientist with surprise. 'Fingy' had recovered his composure by this time.

He asked Professor Brierly:

"What is it, Prof, is it me tonsils or me teeth? I had me tonsils out and a tooth carpenter recently socked me a h.e.l.l of a wad for fixin' up me grinders."

When the old man did not respond to this humor, he said, resignedly:

"Oh, all right, Prof, you're the doctor. I don't know what the h.e.l.l this is about but--"

He threw his head back and opened his mouth wide. Professor Brierly peered intently into the mouth of the prisoner. He stepped back and said to Conners and the a.s.sistant district attorney:

"I am through with Mr. Smith; I have no further questions to ask.

I should be glad, however, to stay here and--"

Conners turned to the prisoner savagely. His apparent good humor was gone. This was the kind of business he understood; he was at home cross-examining prisoners. He would show Professor Brierly how to make a crook wilt.

"'Fingy,' where was you on the night of July third and early mornin' July fourth?"

The prisoner wrinkled his brow in thought. He had regained his composure entirely, although he was not now in the jovial mood he presented when he came in.

"The night of July third? Lemme see." His brows drew together.

"Well, that night, I was givin' a little party to some friends in me apartment."

"Who all was there, 'Fingy'?"

The prisoner gave the names of four men and two women, Conners jotting down the names on a slip of paper.

"That little job, o' yours four years ago in Rye, 'Fingy' you wasn't framed on that was you?"

"Well, I guess they had the goods on me all right. But what of that? I done my bit, didn't I?"

"I ain't talkin' about that, 'Fingy,' I jest wanted to get it straight. You got in like the police said and you opened the safe like they said too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"And you ate a lotta food, didn't you, 'Fingy', some seven or eight eggs on that job?"

"Yeah, I'm always hungry on--I mean for a little guy, I can eat an awful lot and I sure do like eggs."

"Well, 'Fingy,' the guy that b.u.mped off Schurman ate a big meal; he ate six eggs; he opened the safe like you do, he entered the apartment like you do. What you got to say about that?"

"What of it? I ain't got nothin' to say about it. I was givin' a party to some friends, I'm tellin' you. You can ask 'em."

"Yeah, we'll ask 'em all right, 'Fingy'. What time did your friends come to the party?"

"They began droppin' in about eleven o'clock."

"And where was you about two or three hours before that?"

"I was home in my apartment."

"Anybody with you there during that time?"