The Dime Museum Murders (11 page)

Mr.
Graff broke in. "A little less than medium height, I would have
said."

"Shorter
than I, then?"

"Well..."

"And
would you say his features were handsome?" Mr. Graff hesitated
and glanced at me. "Ehm ..."

I
made a note on my pocket pad. "Perhaps not quite as handsome as
Harry, Mr. Graff?"

"No,
indeed."

"My
dear sirs," came the voice from the opposite cell. "It has
come to our attention that the volume of conversation remains at a
level which prohibits a normal and healthful sleep. If such
confabulation persists, we shall have no recourse but to consult
management. Yours sincerely ..." The voice trailed off again.

"And
what else did your striking visitor have to say, Mr. Graff?" I
continued.

"He
told me that he represented a gentleman who possessed items from the
Robert-Houdin collection. Naturally I questioned him closely in the
matter. From time to time one comes across a handbill from the Palais
Royal, and I've handled quite a few leaflets from his London
appearances, but this gentleman was quite precise."

"The
Blois collection?" I asked. "The one that's supposed to
have been destroyed by fire?"

"Exactly.
But he offered no documentation and naturally I regarded the claim
with some suspicion. My doubts vanished when he removed
Le
Fantôme
from
its wooden case. I have seen a great many treasures in my day. It was
I, you will recall, who brokered the sale of Signor Blitz's diaries.
It was I who verified the provenance of Anderson's 'Inexhaustible
Bottle.' But this was something else again. I don't know how long I
marvelled over the figure. I was aware that my visitor was growing
impatient, but I could not help myself. A Shakespeare folio could not
have interested me more. When I had satisfied myself that the figure
was genuine, Mr. Harrington asked if I might be able to find a
buyer."

"I
can think of dozens of magicians who would be interested," Harry
said.

"So
can I," Mr. Graff agreed, "but only one or two who could
afford it. I offered Mr. Harrington a few names, but he suggested
that we might do better to deal with wealthy collectors, rather than
magicians, as he might have one or two other items for disposal."
"How many other items?"

"Forty-three."

"All
from the Blois collection?"

"Every
one."

Harry
and I looked at each other. "Then it's true," he said.

"Yes,"
Mr. Graff said quietly. "The collection exists, and Mr.
Harrington wanted me to arrange the sale."

"What
did you do?"

"Naturally
I sent a message to Harry Kellar. After all, the man is the greatest
magician in the entire world—''

"With
one notable exception," Harry said. "Well, Ehrich, you must
admit that Kellar is certainly the most successful magician working
today. Your own talents have yet to find their proper audience."

"This
is so."

"Unfortunately,
Mr. Kellar found himself unable to entertain the possibility of
purchasing the Blois collection. He has not always had the best of
luck with his investments, and it seems his resources are not what
they might be just now." Mr. Graff walked to his bunk and sat
down. "So naturally I decided to approach my two wealthiest
customers—''

"Branford
Wintour and Michael Hendricks," Harry
offered.

"You
know Mr. Hendricks as well?" "We met him this evening."

"A
fascinating man. As I said, only he and Mr. Win-tour possess the
funds required for such a transaction." I looked up from my
notepad. "Surely this would also have occurred to Harrington?''

"Obviously,"
Mr. Graff said. "But Mr. Wintour and Mr. Hendricks do not open
their doors to every passing dealer with a knick-knack to sell. I
have dealt with both men many times. They trust my judgement, and
prefer to make their acquisitions through me. Mr. Wintour, you may
have heard, is especially careful in this regard. He is—was, I
should say—considered something of a recluse."

Harry
gripped the bars of his cell. "When we spoke to Mr. Hendricks,
he made no mention of having been approached by you."

"I
did not approach him. Mr. Harrington suggested that I meet with Mr.
Wintour first to hear what he was prepared to pay for the lot. Then I
was to call on Mr. Hendricks and see if he would be willing to raise
the offer."

"A
bidding war," Harry said. "Who knows how high the price
might have gone?"

"Indeed.
And having set my commission at three per cent, I was naturally eager
to find out. I arranged a meeting with Mr. Wintour at four o'clock
this afternoon."

"The
last to see him alive," Harry murmured.

"Certainly
not," Mr. Graff said with some heat. "The man who killed
him would have been the last to see him alive."

"Of
course," Harry said quickly. "It is merely an expression.
How did Mr. Wintour respond when you showed him
Le
Fantôme?"

"He
received me with the greatest possible courtesy, as always. He
arranged for tea and a platter of herring
canapes
which he knows I especially enjoy. A true gentleman."

"No
doubt, but—"

"1
believe the herring is cured in aspic, which is what makes it so
delicious."

"But
the automaton? How did he react to
Le
Fantôme?"
'

"He
was besotted. He thanked me extravagantly for having brought it to
him, and expressed the greatest possible eagerness to acquire the
rest of the collection." "Did he make an offer?"

"A
most generous one, in my view. I would be very surprised if even Mr.
Hendricks could have matched it. Of course, I did not even have the
chance to contact him before"—he gestured at the dank
walls of the cell block—"before I found myself here."

"Was
it your impression that Mr. Harrington would accept Mr. Wintour's
offer?" Harry asked.

"I
did not have any means of communicating with him. It seems he had
travelled up from Philadelphia, and came directly to my shop from the
train station. He had not yet even taken a hotel room. He told me he
would return to hear Mr. Wintour's offer on Wednesday evening at the
same time." "Tomorrow," Harry said.

"Indeed."
Mr. Graff cast a forlorn eye at his surroundings. "I do not
expect to be able to keep our appointment."

"You
have told all this to the police?" "Of course, but I'm not
certain they believed me. I was not able to supply much in the way of
useful information concerning Mr. Harrington. The police said they
would send a man 'round to check the hotel registers, but I doubt if
they will locate him."

"Why
is that?" I asked.

"In
my business, one's clients are sometimes less than candid about their
circumstances. Mr. Harrington is not the first client I have ever
dealt with who appeared late at night, so as to avoid unwanted
attention. Often they are financially embarrassed, and do not wish to
attract the attention of their wives and their creditors. I do not
think the police will find Mr. Evan Harrington's name on any hotel
register."

"Evan
Harrington?" I closed my notebook.

"Yes.
Do you know him, Theodore?"

"It's
the title of a novel by George Meredith."

Mr.
Graff sighed heavily. "It was probably the first thing that came
into his mind. Too bad he was not a fan of Mr. Twain. Those names I
would have recognized." He took out a pocket square and dabbed
at his eyes. "And I am likely to remain here until the police
locate this man, whomever he might be."

"Dash
and I will find him, Mr. Graff," Harry said. "You may rest
assured of that."

"Thank
you, Ehrich. You are a good boy."

"What
time were you supposed to meet with him?"

"Eleven
o'clock, but if he's involved in this business, I don't expect he
will keep the appointment."

"We'll
find him in either case," Harry promised.

"One
last thing," I said. "When you left Mr. Win-tour,
Le
Fantôme
remained
in his possession?"

"He
insisted on it. He indicated that he was going to have it examined to
confirm its authenticity. I arranged to collect it from him in the
morning."

"Did
Mr. Wintour give you any reason to feel that he might be afraid in
any way? Looking back, do you have any reason to imagine he might
have feared for his life?"

Mr.
Graff stroked his beard before responding. "I do not know if it
is significant, but there was a phone call while we were talking. I
offered to excuse myself, but Mr. Wintour asked me to wait. I walked
away from the desk to give him some privacy. He has a marvelous
collection of books, which I took the occasion to admire. I did not
hear all of what was being said, but his tone made it clear that it
was not entirely pleasant."

"Perhaps
someone was threatening him?"

"I
did not get that impression. Mr. Wintour was a very powerful man.
Such men make enemies. When he finished the telephone call, however,
he said a curious thing."

"Oh?"

"He
said, 'Graff, my friend, never do business with
family."'

"Good
advice," I said, with a sidelong glance at
Harry.

"Possibly,"
Mr. Graff said. "But whom can one trust
if
not family?"

"Very
true," Harry agreed. "And now, if you will excuse us, Mr.
Graff, my brother and I should be getting along."

"Thank
you for your time, sir," I said. "Harry, do
you
want me to bang on the bars for Sergeant
O'Donnell?"

"I
don't think that will be necessary, Dash."

"No?
I don't see that the lock has moved any closer
while
we've been talking."

"Has
it not? I think perhaps it has." He began to
unfasten
his trousers.

"Harry?
I don't mean to be indelicate, but what—?"

"I
have a length of coiled watch-spring strapped to
my
leg. It should extend my reach just enough to reach
the
lock, and give me enough flexibility to work the pick."

"Suppose
O'Donnell had searched you?"

"He
would have found it easily," Harry admitted. "That is a
problem for tomorrow. First, I must conquer the lock, then I will
worry about concealing the spring." Hugging the wall closest to
the lock, Harry extended his right arm through the bars as far as he
could reach, which left his fingertips a good yard or so from the
lock. He pulled his arm back and coiled one end of the watch spring
around the end of a stout, double-diamond lock-pick.