The clue of the new pin

by Edgar Wallace

“Which brings us back to the question of the duplicate key.”

“There was no duplicate key, you can cut that idea right out,” said Carver, getting up and dusting his knees. “I have been into the matter very thoroughly with the manufacturers, and although they each claim to have the best kind of lock and are naturally inclined to take an uncharitable view of their rivals, they say that the maker of our particular key is reliable and he says that it was in the hands of his most trustworthy man, and that no second key was ever made. Not only that, but no drawing of the key was kept. In fact, the lock, just before it was fitted, was altered by the manufacturer’s expert, here on the premises. I am seeing him tomorrow, but from what I learn on the telephone he says that we can dismiss from our minds the possibility of there being a duplicate.”

“But Walters was making—”

“Walters hadn’t finished his job, and even if he had, he could not have fashioned a key that would have unlocked this door, clever as he was. No, the blood-stained key is the key that locked the door. What is more, it is the key which the old man carried on a thin silver chain round his neck. We found the broken ends of the chain in his clothing after the body was searched. Then again, there are the bloodstains, both on the inside and on the outside of the door. That is the most remarkable feature of the case, that after the murder, the door was locked both from the inside and the outside. At one period, after the death of Trasmere, the murderer must have been locked in this vault with him. If I did not know it was an absolute impossibility, I should say that it was locked finally from the inside, the key was placed on the table and the murderer disappeared through some secret entrance, which we know very well does not exist.”

“Have you tested the roof?”

“I have tested everywhere—roof, walls, floor and door,” said Carver. “A fact, which may or may not be important, is that there is about an eighth-of-an-inch of space between the bottom of the door and the floor. If the key had been found on the floor there would be no mystery about the matter, because the murderer could have pushed it under and, with a flick of his finger, sent it into the middle of the room. Here is the situation in a nut-shell.” He ticked off the points on his finger. “Trasmere is murdered in a vault, the door of which is locked. The murderer is either Brown, who has threatened him, or Walters who has been robbing him. Inside the locked vault is found the only key which could open or close it. Note this particular, that Trasmere was shot in the back.”

“Why is that important?”

“As proving that at the moment of his murder Trasmere was in no fear. He was not expecting either to be shot or hurt. And now we add to the situation, which is sufficiently baffling, the discovery in the vault of a jewel-case belonging to an eminent actress, from whom it has been stolen on the very day of the murder. This is the case which I must take to a coroner’s jury. It doesn’t look very good to me.”

It did not “look very good” to the coroner’s jury, which contented itself a week later with returning a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, and added a rider expressing its dissatisfaction with the inefficiency of the police.

The day that verdict was returned, Ursula Ardfern fainted twice in the course of her performance and was carried home to her hotel in a condition of collapse.