10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 99: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CRYSTAL CLUE——————_—______—_97 TSD name, showed particular interest at what he saw in the bathroom. “Dragged his clothes down when he fell,” he mused. “Say, doc, how long do you say the old boy has been dead ?” “Three or four hours. Hard to tell exactly. The water in the tub is cold, and the body is stiff. That would take place within a very few hours. Why?” “Oh, nothing.” Davis was inspect- ing the clothing. He drew out the watch with the shattered front, grunted, ‘Watch stopped at nine-fifty. Face broken when it fell.” Detective Davis got up, looked at York. ‘Where you been?” York told his story, putting in nothing to betray his guilty knowl- edge. This was to be the perfect crime. Nothing could—nothing would —go wrong. The detective continued his search. Henry York went into the parlor, sat by the fireplace, and moodily smoked his pipe. But instead of thinking about the death of his uncle, he was dreaming of tomorrow, when he would be his own boss, a rich man. Presently he dozed. Detective Davis’ stern voice wak- ened him. He was startled to see the three officers and the doctor about him, an unfriendly stare in each eye. ‘York, you’re under arrest for mur- der,” rasped Davis, “for killing old Walter York!” “Under arrest! Why—” Henry York controlled his wild thoughts, steeled himself to meet what might come. He could breast out the storm. They hadn’t a thing on him. There was nothing he had failed to do to safeguard his crime. They were merely bluffing. He had heard that the police did this to suspects—grilled them, cross- examined them, forced them to an- swer incriminating questions. Well, he knew his story, and he would stick to it. He smiled, glared about him defiantly. For murder! “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “No?” Davis smiled. “York, when did you leave this house tonight?” “I told you once—eight o’clock. Maybe a few minutes after.” “What was your uncle doing?” “Why reading, I think. I believe I can show you the exact book.” “You needn’t. York, your uncle was killed before eight-thirty. In fact, only a few minutes after eight. He couldn’t possibly have undressed, drawn his bath, washed himself be- fore you say you left him—reading !” Davis’ tone was heavy with sarcasm. “Why did you lie about this, if you didn’t kill him?” “I didn’t lie, I tell you! I—” “Tell him what will send him to the chair, doc,” ordered Davis. “Perhaps you know, York,” said Dr. Leeds, after clearing his throat, “that there is a chlorine disinfectant in the water? It was put in about ten minutes to eight. I was present, and I know. It was probably in all the mains within thirty minutes. And the water in your uncle’s bathtub hasn’t any chlorine in it. We tested it.” Suddenly ill, but yet unconvinced, Henry York blinked. “Chlorine? You tested? I don’t quite— Say, why did you go to all that trouble after you said uncle died by drowning?” “So you want to know where you slipped?” grated Davis. His glance searched York’s inscrutable face closely as he continued: “That watch in your uncle’s fob pocket had some dents on the edge—deep dents, show- ing that it had had some rough usage. Probably to make it stop. But the thing that did you up, York was—” “Yes?” Tight though his throat had suddenly become, York managed to hiss the single word. “You know how people wear their watches with the faces against them to protect the crystals? Well, when you replaced the watch after stop- ping it, you put it in with the face forward, instead of against the lining of your uncle’s trousers!” comiicbook CO