“But when I don’t know, I certainly ought not to hazard a guess,” affirmed the Major. “I think it best that you solve this problem without me.”
Despite Markham’s importunities, he would say no more; and shortly afterward he excused himself and went out.
Markham, now profoundly worried, sat smoking restlessly, tapping the arm of his chair with his fingers.
“Well, old bean, a bit involved, what?” commented Vance.
“It’s not so damned funny,” Markham grumbled. “Everyone seems to know more about the case than the police or the District Attorney’s office.”
“Which wouldn’t be so disconcertin’ if they all weren’t so deuced reticent,” supplemented Vance cheerfully. “And the touchin’ part of it is that each of ’em appears to be keeping still in order to shield someone else. Mrs. Platz began it: she lied about Benson’s having any callers that afternoon, because she didn’t want to involve his tea companion. Miss St. Clair declined point-blank to tell you anything, because she obviously didn’t desire to cast suspicion on another. The Captain became voiceless the moment you suggested his affianced bride was entangled. Even Leander refused to extricate himself from a delicate situation lest he implicate another. And now the Major! . . . Most annoyin’.—On the other hand, don’t y’ know, it’s comfortin’—not to say upliftin’—to be dealing exclusively with such noble, self-sacrificin’ souls.”
“Hell!” Markham put down his cigar and rose. “The case is getting on my nerves. I’m going to sleep on it, and tackle it in the morning.”
“That ancient idea of sleeping on a problem is a fallacy,” said Vance, as we walked out into Madison Avenue, “—an apologia, as it were, for one’s not being able to think clearly. Poetic idea, y’ know. All poets believe in it—nature’s soft nurse, the balm of woe, childhood’s mandragora, tired nature’s sweet restorer, and that sort of thing. Silly notion. When the brain is keyed up and alive, it works far better than when apathetic from the torpor of sleep. Slumber is an anodyne—not a stimulus.”
“Well, you sit up and think,” was Markham’s surly advice.
“That’s what I’m going to do,” blithely returned Vance; “but not about the Benson case. I did all the thinking I’m going to do along that line four days ago.”