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Updated: June 6, 2025
But the conclusion reached with relentless finality by that astute young man was far from being what Gard had feared. To the detective's mind the answer was plain his employer was guilty. The motive obviously concerned Mrs. Marteen. It was evident, from Mahr's efforts to gain access to that lady's safe, that she possessed something of which Mahr stood in fear or desired to possess.
He hesitated a moment, tossed it back, and squaring his shoulders strode from the room. Half an hour later he entered the spacious lobby of Victor Mahr's ostentatious dwelling. "Mr.
"Don't be angry," he stammered. "Don't be annoyed with me; it's all a mistake, you know. Are you are you feeling quite well? Do let me give you something a a glass of champagne, perhaps. I'll call a servant." Gard's smile was so cruel that Mahr's worst fears were confirmed. But the torrent of accusation that burst from Gard's lips bore him down with the consciousness of the other's knowledge.
Gard met their gaze gravely, without flinching. Field nodded slowly. "You're right; publicity can only harm," he said at last. "We will see what can be done. I'll take the proper steps. It can be done legally and verified by the other witnesses. The butler identifies her, you say. It's a curious case of retribution. I can't help imagining Mahr's feelings when he recognized her voice.
I'm greatly indebted to you, but I'm coming straight to the point. The fact is, we," and he swept an including gesture toward his companion, "have the whole story of Victor Mahr's death. Brencherly is a detective in my personal employ." Field bowed and turned again to his host. "The person of the murderer is in our care," Gard continued.
Oh, by the way, you are Victor Mahr's lawyers, aren't you?" As he had half expected, he surprised a flash of suspicion and knowledge in the other's eyes. "What makes you speak of him in that connection?" laughed the lawyer. "I don't," said Gard. "I happened to be playing bridge with him last night and from something he let fall I gathered your firm had been acting for him.
"I know absolutely nothing about the cause of Mahr's death. I do know that there was no love lost between us; also that I was the last person known to have been with him. Isn't that enough to show you how I am affected?" "And the motive of your quarrel?" The detective felt his heart thump and wondered at his own daring. "We were rival competitors for the Heim Vandyke he got it away from me."
There was a cut and contusion on the temple of the victim, evidently inflicted by a weapon lying upon the table, which was believed to be the cause of death, until the arrival of the coroner and Mr. Mahr's own physician, when it was discovered that the victim's heart had been pierced by a very slender blade or stiletto.
You are the nameless child of an outcast father, the whelp of a cur. I'll say in your own words, Victor Mahr: 'Obscurity is best, perhaps, even exile. Do you remember those words? Well, never forget them again as long as you live, or, by God, you'll have no time on earth to make your peace!" Mahr's face was gray; his hands trembled.
He, Marcus Gard, must dictate every word that might be said, foresee every possible form in which a meeting might come, and dictate the terms of Mahr's surrender. Words and sentences formed and shifted in his mind as he waited impatiently for his summons to be answered. The butler bowed, murmuring that Mr. Mahr was expecting Mr.
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