“This isn’t the first man I’ve arrested, Mr. Vance—with many thanks for your advice. And what’s more, the Major isn’t that kind; he’s too nervy.”
“Have it your own way,” replied Vance indifferently. “But I’ve warned you. The Major is cool-headed; he’d take big chances, and he could lose his last dollar without turning a hair. But when he is finally cornered, and sees ultimate defeat, all his repressions of a lifetime, having had no safety-valve, will explode physically. When a man lives without passions or emotions or enthusiasms, there’s bound to be an outlet some time. Some men explode, and some commit suicide,—the principle is the same: it’s a matter of psychological reaction. The Major isn’t the self-destructive type,—that’s why I say he’ll blow up.”
Heath snorted.
“We may be short on psychology down here,” he rejoined, “but we know human nature pretty well.”
Vance stifled a yawn, and carelessly lit a cigarette. I noticed, however, that he pushed his chair back a little from the end of the table where he and I were sitting.
“Well, Chief,” rasped Phelps, “I guess your troubles are about over—though I sure did think that fellow Leacock was your man. . . . Who got the dope on this Major Benson?”
“Sergeant Heath and the Homicide Bureau will receive entire credit for the work,” said Markham; and added: “I’m sorry, Phelps, but the District Attorney’s office, and everyone connected with it, will be kept out of it altogether.”
“Oh, well, it’s all in a lifetime,” observed Phelps philosophically.
We sat in strained silence until the Major arrived. Markham smoked abstractedly. He glanced several times over the sheet of notations left by Stitt, and once he went to the water-cooler for a drink. Vance opened at random a law book before him, and perused with an amused smile a bribery-case decision by a Western judge. Heath and Phelps, habituated to waiting, scarcely moved.
When Major Benson entered Markham greeted him with exaggerated casualness, and busied himself with some papers in a drawer to avoid shaking hands. Heath, however, was almost jovial. He drew out the Major’s chair for him, and uttered a ponderous banality about the weather. Vance closed the law book and sat erect with his feet drawn back.