Heath permitted himself a grin of satisfaction.
“Well, sir, Dubois nailed him up! His name ain’t Jessup at all. The William part is all right, but his real moniker is Benton. He was convicted of assault and battery in Oakland in 1909, and served a year in San Quentin when Skeel was a prisoner there. He was also grabbed as a lookout in a bank robbery in Brooklyn in 1914, but didn’t come to trial—that’s how we happen to have his finger-prints at Headquarters. When we put him on the grill last night, he said he changed his name after the Brooklyn racket, and enlisted in the army. That’s all we could get outa him; but we didn’t need any more.—Now, here are the facts: Jessup has served time for assault and battery. He was mixed up in a bank robbery. Skeel was a fellow prisoner of his. He’s got no alibi for Saturday night when Skeel was killed, and he lives round the corner. He quit his job suddenly Saturday afternoon. He’s husky and strong and could easily have done the business. He was planning his getaway when we nabbed him. And—he’s the only person who could’ve unbolted and rebolted that side door Monday night. . . . Is that a case, or ain’t it, Mr. Markham?”
Markham sat several minutes in thought.
“It’s a good case as far as it goes,” he said slowly. “But what was his motive in strangling the girl?”
“That’s easy. Mr. Vance here suggested it the first day. You remember he asked Jessup about his feelings for Odell; and Jessup turned red and got nervous.”
“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Vance. “Am I to be made responsible for any part of this priceless lunacy? . . . True, I pried into the chap’s emotions toward the lady; but that was before anything had come to light. I was bein’ careful—tryin’ to test each possibility as it arose.”
“Well, that was a lucky question of yours, just the same.” Heath turned back to Markham. “As I see it: Jessup was stuck on Odell, and she told him to trot along and sell his papers. He got all worked up over it, sitting there night after night, seeing these other guys calling on her. Then Skeel comes along, and, recognizing him, suggests burglarizing Odell’s apartment. Skeel can’t do the job without help, for he has to pass the phone operator coming and going; and as he’s been there before, he’d be recognized. Jessup sees a chance of getting even with Odell and putting the blame on some one else; so the two of ’em cook up the job for Monday night. When Odell goes out Jessup unlocks the side door, and the Dude lets himself into the apartment with his own key. Then Odell and Spotswoode arrive unexpectedly. Skeel hides in the closet, and after Spotswoode has gone, he accidentally makes a noise, and Odell screams. He steps out, and when she sees who he is, she tells Spotswoode it’s a mistake. Jessup now knows Skeel has been discovered, and decides to make use of the fact. Soon after Spotswoode has gone, he enters the apartment with a pass-key. Skeel, thinking it’s somebody else, hides again in the closet; and then Jessup grabs the girl and strangles her, intending to let Skeel get the credit for it. But Skeel comes out of hiding and they talk it over. Finally they come to an agreement, and proceed with their original plan to loot the place. Jessup tries to open the jewel-case with the poker, and Skeel finishes the job with his chisel. They then go out. Skeel leaves by the side door, and Jessup rebolts it. The next day Skeel hands the swag to Jessup to keep till things blow over; and Jessup gets scared and throws it away. Then they have a row. Skeel decides to tell everything, so he can get out from under; and Jessup, suspecting he’s going to do it, goes round to his house Saturday night and strangles him like he did Odell.”
Heath made a gesture of finality and sank back in his chair.
“Clever—deuced clever,” murmured Vance. “Sergeant, I apologize for my little outburst a moment ago. Your logic is irreproachable. You’ve reconstructed the crime beautifully. You’ve solved the case. . . . It’s wonderful—simply wonderful. But it’s wrong.”
“It’s right enough to send Mr. Jessup to the chair.”