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Updated: June 28, 2025
"It seems that Weintraub had conceived the idea that the least suspicious way of passing his messages to Metzger would be to slip them into a copy of some book a book little likely to be purchased in a second-hand bookshop. Metzger had been informed what the book was, but perhaps owing to the unexpected removal of the go-between did not know in which shop he was to find it.
Titania flushed a little. "It's in my bedroom cupboard," she said. She led the way upstairs, Metzger following, and Aubrey behind Metzger with his pistol ready. Outside the bedroom door Aubrey halted. "Show him the suitcase and let him pick it up," he said. "If he makes a wrong movement, call me, and I'll shoot him."
"They framed up that telephone call to get Mr. Mifflin out of town. The point in having Metzger come to the bookshop to get the suitcase was to clear Weintraub's skirts if possible. Apparently it was just a bag of old books. The bombed book, I guess, was perfectly harmless until any one tried to open it." "You both got back just in the nick of time," said Titania admiringly.
He sent him word, on the Friday, to come over to see him and bring the book. Metzger, meanwhile, had had a bad fright when I spoke to him in the hotel elevator. He returned the book to the shop that night, as Mrs. Mifflin remembers. Then, when I stopped in at the drug store on my way home, he must have been with Weintraub.
The census of 1880 gives the total figures at 1,300 to 1,400, and of these 800 inhabit Factory Island. Mr. J. M. Metzger, the civil and intelligent sub-collector and custom-house officer, a Sierra Leone man, reduced the number to 600, half of them occupying the easternmost of the three. In our older and more energetic colonial days we had a garrison on the Isles de Los.
J. Macdonnell, at Eden, saw a "shadowy nebulous ring" surround the whole disc when ingress was two-thirds accomplished; Mr. Tornaghi, at Goulburn, perceived a halo, entire and unmistakable, at half egress. Similar observations were made at Sydney, and were renewed in 1882 by Lescarbault at Orgères, by Metzger in Java, and by Barnard at Vanderbilt University.
"Inspector," I said, "I am fully convinced that the men in the black limousine are responsible for my brother-in-law's accident." "What makes you think that?" he demanded, eying me narrowly. "Because all of them had reason to hate and fear my brother-in-law. Zalnitch, since his release, has sworn he would get even with Mr. Felderson for putting him in prison. Metzger felt the same way.
Who were the others with him?" Robinson gazed at me with a stupid frown. "Two reporters from The Sun, a fellow by the name of Pederson, Otto Metzger and that Russian, Zalnitch, who just got out of prison." "Zalnitch!" I yelled exultantly. Zalnitch! The man Jim had sent to prison and who had threatened revenge. Metzger, who had been his accomplice all along.
Metzger, who was known as Messier at the hotel, was a very clever chef, and had fake passports as a Swiss citizen. He was another tool of the organization. By the original scheme there would have been no direct communication between Weintraub and Metzger, but the go-between was spotted by the Department of Justice on another count, and is now behind bars at Atlanta.
"The front alcove on the other side of the shop. We've both got you covered." Instead of taking the volume from the suitcase, Metzger picked up the whole bag, holding it flat. He carried it to the alcove they indicated. He placed the case carefully on the floor, and picked the Cromwell volume out of it. "Where would you want it to go?" he said in an odd voice. "This is a valuable book."
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