Skidder’s secretary said the note was habitually kept at the office and that she was very surprised when he took it home that evening.
Mundy declared he saw or passed no one on his hike, but under severe questioning admitted having been near Skidder’s house shortly after eleven o’clock.
A thorough investigation revealed that Skidder had no known enemies and no one, other than Mundy, had the slightest reason for wishing him dead.
Mundy was consequently arrested. As he knew Skidder lived with only an old man servant (who was out until after twelve that night), the police believed he had gone unobserved to the house, demanded the note, and, when refused, had murdered Skidder. No one but Mundy could possibly profit by the disappearance of the note. As it was due in ten days and he was in no position to meet it, they anticipated little difficulty in obtaining a conviction due to the strong motive and weak alibi.
Asked his opinion, Professor Fordney surprisingly said he DIDN’T believe any American jury would convict Mundy.
[He was right— Now, don’t argue! There’s only one answer. Don’t peek! Figure it out.]
69
The Perfect Crime
Peter Johannes had one burning ambition—to commit a perfect crime. After much thinking and careful planning, he chose burglary for his experiment and a large brownstone mansion for the scene of his action.
Learning its occupants had left town, he arrayed himself in a business suit of conservative cut, flung a light topcoat over his arm, picked up a Gladstone bag, covered with foreign labels, and set out.
He had ascertained, of course, when the policeman patrolling that beat was farthest away. At such a time he drove up in his swanky sport roadster, swung jauntily to the sidewalk, skipped up the steps, and fitted a skeleton key into the lock, which yielded easily. So far so good, he thought.