“Doc,” he said, as soon as the bandage was drawn tight and a tourniquet applied, “see what kind of a fist Piggy Bill writes. If it’s the literature the little lady says, I’ll bet it against Shakespeare.”
Doctor Jarvis then spread the paper Tessie had given him on the counter, while Tessie and the inspector leaned over his shoulder.
“The first paragraph calls for morphine and scopolamin,” said he. “But scopolamin has no virtue in a surgical case. But wait,” he added, “there is more. My God, what infamy!”
For a moment he was speechless, then began reading words incomprehensible to his hearers.
“Monsieur et cher ami:” was the salutation, then came the following words: “C’est bien drôle que le mot ‘scopolamin’ et le mot qui exprime l’extrait de la noix vomique ont la meme total; il serait bien dommage si l’on prendrait l’un pour l’autre.”
“What does it all mean?” asked Inspector Craven.
“Well,” answered the doctor, “it is not medical Latin nor any other kind of Latin. It is written in fairly good French, not at all difficult to follow. This is how it reads: ‘My dear friend: it is very curious that the word “scopolamin” and the word which signifies the extract of nux vomica have the same number of letters. It would be sad if one mistook the one for the other.’
“That was why he told Tessie scopolamin would help Craighead. It happened to have the same number of letters the way he spelled it (without the ‘e’) as strychnine. Strychnine is an alkaloid of nux vomica. He knew Tessie was ignorant of French—the rest was easy. But I don’t understand what he hoped to gain by it.”
“What, a hard-boiled guy like that?” shouted the inspector. “Hell, he needed $10,000. If Tessie got married he would send for her and tell the story counting on her fear to see that he got enough to pay the lawyer who guaranteed to get him out. Why, this bunch saw Tessie paying blackmail for murder the next ten years.” Then turning to the girl, he continued:
“Tessie, you have our compliments. I hope fortune will smile on you. This has been a terrible ordeal for a young girl.”
“Indeed,” sobbed the girl, as reaction set in, “I do not care about fortune, now. How can I live, knowing that I helped kill my benefactor, the one who was as much a father to me as my own might have been had he lived.”
The doctor took the bundle of prescriptions and with a number of vials containing prohibited drugs, narcotics and toxic substances, they returned to the car, the doctor forcing the hideous looking dwarf to walk beside him. They found his name to be Timothy Clegg, from one of the prescriptions. He was bundled into the car and the return journey to the metropolis began. At Tarrytown, the inspector stopped long enough to have a couple of officers sent to guard the drug store hidden in the woods, so that no evidence might be destroyed. In the prescriptions were enough orders for deadly poisons, signed by Piggy Bill Hovey, to damn him many times over. The proof in the Craighead case was convincing.
Inspector Craven then telephoned the coroner of the success of their mission. Beronio returned to town in more leisurely fashion. When they arrived at the Coroner’s Court with their prisoner and the inspector showing the evidences of a battle, the scene that followed beggared all description. Handcuffed and heavily guarded, the dwarf sullenly glared at his captors. Inspector Craven, despite his wound, took the stand. He described their journey in complete detail, verifying Tessie’s story. Calls for order failed to check the applause for the girl.
Dr. Jarvis followed the inspector. He identified the prescription, and gave its hideous import so vividly that the spectators shuddered. The jury took but a few minutes to render a verdict.
As the verdict was announced, a finely dressed woman murmured audibly:
“What a monstrous injustice! That young man inherits all his father’s wealth, although he helped to kill him.”
She was one of Jim Craighead’s numerous cousins and chagrined that his big estate was beyond her reach. Ross Craighead was too far away to hear her remark, but she heard his reply breathlessly, for he rose to his feet, before the crowd, dazed by the rapid turn of events. He took hold of Tessie’s arm, and stood near the coroner.
“I want to say to you, Mr. Coroner, publicly,” he began, “to Dr. Jarvis and to Inspector Craven, that after what has been revealed here today, it is impossible for me to take one penny from my father’s estate. His will makes Dr. Jarvis executor and gives him certain powers of distribution, in case I, for any reason, do not succeed to the property. Since I, however innocently, was, with Tessie, the instrument of his death, the money would come to me stained with blood. Yet this tragedy has knitted the fate of Tessie and myself in an indissoluble way. With what we have, we leave this city tonight—we shall be married at once. Then we shall go far from this place of dreadful memories to live as best we can, what life has in store for us. If we are free, we will go at once.”
“You are free,” said the coroner. “All the evidence is now on record.”
The crowd moved aside to let them pass. As they moved toward the door, the girl clutched with both hands, the arm of her partner in crime. Unwilling criminals!
The dwarf was never tried. He was found dead in his cell the next morning, despite the careful guard set to prevent his suicide. A small capsule in his mouth showed that he was always prepared for the possibility of capture. Piggy Bill died mysteriously before any charge was presented against him. “Suicide,” remarked Inspector Craven, “as Webster once said, is confession.”
A year later, Dr. Jarvis received an announcement from Sydney, Australia, telling of the birth of “Jim Craighead, Second,” “a wonderful, blond boy, healthy and noisy.” The doctor smiled as he recalled that his power of appointment had not been exercised.
THE END
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the August 1927 issue ofAmazing Stories Magazine.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the August 1927 issue ofAmazing Stories Magazine.