“Yes, sir. I remember distinctly now. I even recall the peculiar way he had his legs drawn up under him.”
“You would swear to it,” asked Markham gravely, “knowing that a man’s life might rest on your testimony?”
“I’d swear to it, sir,” Sperling returned simply.
When the sheriff had escorted his prisoner from the room, Markham looked at Vance.
“I think that gives us a foothold.”
“Yes. The cook’s testimony was of little value, since Drukker merely denied it; and she’s the type of loyal stubborn German who’d back up his denial if any real danger threatened him. Now we’re armed with an effective weapon.”
“It seems to me,” Markham said, after a few moments of speculative silence, “that we have a good circumstantial case against Drukker. He was in the Dillard yard only a few seconds before Robin was killed. He could easily have seen when Sperling went away; and, as he had recently come from Professor Dillard, he knew that the other members of the family were out. Mrs. Drukker denied she saw any one from her window that morning, although she screamed at the time of Robin’s death and then went into a panic of fear when we came to question Drukker. She even warned him against us and called us ‘the enemy.’ My belief is she saw Drukker returning home immediately after Robin’s body had been placed on the range.—Drukker was not in his room at the time Sprigg was killed, and both he and his mother have been at pains to cover up the fact. He has become excited whenever we broached the subject of the murders, and has ridiculed the idea that they were connected. In fact, many of his actions have been highly suspicious. Also, we know he is abnormal and unbalanced, and that he is given to playing children’s games. It’s quite possible—in view of what Doctor Barstead told us—that he has confused fantasy and reality, and perpetrated these crimes in a moment of temporary insanity. The tensor formula is not only familiar to him, but he may have associated it in some crazy way with Sprigg as a result of Arnesson’s discussion with Sprigg about it.—As for the Bishop notes, they may have been part of the unreality of his insane games,—children all want an approving audience when they invent any new form of amusement. His choice of the word ‘bishop’ was probably the result of his interest in chess—a playful signature intended to confuse. And this supposition is further borne out by the actual appearance of a chess bishop on his mother’s door. He may have feared that she saw him that morning, and thus sought to silence her without openly admitting to her that he was guilty. He could easily have slammed the screen-porch door from the inside, without having had a key, and thereby given the impression that the bearer of the bishop had entered and departed by the rear door. Furthermore, it would have been a simple matter for him to take the bishop from the library the night Pardee was analyzing his game. . . .”
Markham continued for some time building up his case against Drukker. He was thorough and detailed, and his summation accounted for practically all of the evidence that had been adduced. The logical and relentless way in which he pieced his various factors together was impressively convincing; and a long silence followed his résumé.
Vance at length stood up, as if to break the tension of his thoughts, and walked to the window.
“You may be right, Markham,” he admitted. “But my chief objection to your conclusion is that the case against Drukker is too good. I’ve had him in mind as a possibility from the first; but the more suspiciously he acted and the more the indications pointed toward him, the more I felt inclined to dismiss him from consideration. The brain that schemed these abominable murders is too competent, too devilishly shrewd, to become entangled in any such net of circumstantial evidence as you’ve drawn about Drukker. Drukker has an amazing mentality—his intelligence and intellect are supernormal, in fact; and it’s difficult to conceive of him, if guilty, leaving so many loopholes.”