“So far,” Drury Lane went on, “the theory checked in all particulars. Were there confirmations that the murderer was a conductor on the railroad train? One very excellent psychological confirmation. For the conductor on a train is virtually invisible; that is, his presence anywhere on the train is accepted without question, and no one has reason to notice and remember his movements. While the movements of the other members of the party might have, and in some instances were observed - the conductor could have, as he did, moved through the coaches and into the dim car without leaving a recollection or a trace. In fact, I myself did not observe him, and I was presumably on the alert. He must have passed me to get into that dim coach after Collins left; and yet to this moment I have no recollection of his passing.

  “Another confirmation. The disappearance and ultimate recovery of the weapon. The revolver was not found on the train - it was found in a stream over which the train passed about five minutes after the murder. Was it mere chance that dictated waiting five minutes after the murder to throw away the gun - purely by accident, so that it landed most fortuitously in one of the bodies of water along the route? It would have been much safer for the murderer to have thrown the revolver from the train immediately after the commission of the crime. Yet he waited - why?

  “The theory that he knew, despite the darkness, the exact location of the stream - the best hiding-place for the weapon thrown off the train - indicated that the thrower, to have waited for five minutes and to have had knowledge of the stream’s location, must have been extremely familiar with the terrain. Who among the train’s occupants was most apt to have had such familiarity? Certainly an employee of the train, which every night passes over the same route at the same time. Engineer, brakeman, conductor… A conductor… A conductor, of course I More confirmation of the conductor theory, though purely a psychological one.

  “There was still another confirmation, the most convincing of all, one which definitely pointed to the criminal. But I shall come to that shortly.

  “Naturally at the time of the crime, I worked out the reasoning concerning the weapon inversely. I asked myself: If I had been the conductor-murderer, how would I have disposed of the revolver? In such a way as to minimize the chances of its being found? The obvious places - at the side of the track along the roadbed, or on the roadbed itself - I should have discarded, as they would be the first places searched by the police. But, I should have said, the route offers a natural hiding-place which would not only dispose of the weapon but keep it out of sight with no extra effort on my part. The stream!… I examined a map of the train-route, spotted all bodies of water within the possible area of disposal, and led the successful search for the weapon.”

  Lane’s voice took on a fresh note. “Now, which of the two conductors had committed the crime - 1Thompson or Bottomley? Aside from the fact that this part of the train was Thompson’s, there was no direct evidence pointing to either man in preference to the other.

  “Ah, but wait! For I had deduced a conductor as the murderer in the third crime, and the murderer in the first crime was also a conductor. Was it possible that both conductors were one and the same - that is, Wood? Yes, a very fair possibility. For the murders of Longstreet, the unknown of the ferry, and DeWitt were undoubtedly the work of the same hand.

  “But what were the physical characteristics of Wood? Forgetting the red hair and the scar, the first of which could easily have been artificial, and the second of which was unquestionably so - I knew that Wood at least was tall and burly. The old conductor, Bottomley, was small and frail. Thompson was tall and burly. Thompson, therefore, was our man.

  “I had arrived then at this point: DeWitt was murdered by Thompson, who, I had every reason to believe, was Charles Wood.

  “But who on earth was this Wood-Thompson person? Evidently all three murders had been animated by the same motive, and that motive was a minimum of five years old, probably much older. The next step was plain - to examine the back history of both DeWitt and Longstreet in an effort to uncover someone who had sufficient motive to desire the death of both and plan for years to that end.

  “You know now who Stopes was, but bear in mind that at that time I had not the faintest idea of the back history. I did know, from questioning DeWitt’s butler Jorgens, that there had been a mysterious visitor from South America stopping at the DeWitt home shortly before - there’s a lead, Inspector, in which you must confess to have been outwitted… It seemed a productive trail, and I sought quietly among the South American consuls, ultimately discovering the story from Juan Ajos, consul to New York from Uruguay. That story you know now, but for the first time, to me, it linked Longstreet and DeWitt with two other men - Martin Stopes, escaped convict, and William Crockett, who turned out to be a silent third partner of DeWitt and Longstreet. Of the two, Stopes must be Wood-Thompson. His motive was plain - revenge, and was directed equally against all three of the others. So Stopes, I concluded, was the conductor; and Crockett was the man killed on the ferry - a man whom for five years Stopes had been preparing for the slaughter by the device of simulating his red hair and calf-scar so that, when Crockett was found dead, other means of identification being frustrated by the crushed condition of his body, he would be taken for Wood.

  “The reason I requested Missing Persons reports, long before I heard the Ajos story and after I had deduced that the body was not Wood’s, was that Wood had killed some unknown, and there might be a clue to the unknown’s identity in one of these reports. After hearing Ajos’s tale, however, I knew the unknown was Crockett. The unknown could not have been a mere human tool unconnected with the other crimes and used merely for his body; for Wood for five years at least had prepared the way by simulating the man’s scar and hair. How Crockett was decoyed by Stopes into a position to be murdered, I could not, and still do not, know. Did Stopes explain, Mr. Bruno?”

  “Yes,” said the District Attorney huskily. “Stopes, who had never written Crockett threat-letters for the specific reason that he wanted Crockett to be ignorant of his handwriting, keeping him unsuspecting, communicated with Crockett in the guise of a discharged bookkeeper of DeWitt & Longstreet, writing that Crockett was being defrauded of a large part of his rightful one- third share of the firm’s net, despite the large checks sent Crockett by the two men twice a year. For Crockett, when the three originally returned to the States, insisted on sharing whatever success the other two attained; and rather than have Crockett, a reckless, brutal, irresponsible sort, spill the story of the Uruguayan frame-up, Longstreet and DeWitt consented to his investing one-third of the capital required to swing the business and giving him a third share of their profits. I take it that only DeWitt’s insistence prevented Longstreet from reneging through the years. At any rate, the letter went on to say that he, the bookkeeper, had proof of this fraudulency and was willing to sell the proof to Crockett if Crockett would come to New York. He hinted something dire in the wind - evidently to make Crockett believe that his two partners were contemplating giving him up on the old murder-charge. He asked Crockett to watch the personal columns of the Times on his arrival. Crockett fell for the story, came to New York angry and afraid at the same time, found his instructions in the Times - namely, to check out of the hotel without fanfare and meet the writer of the letter on the 10:40 ferry to Weehawken, upper deck, north side, being careful to keep under cover. The murder of course took place there.”

  “Not only that,” put in Inspector Thumm, “but Stopes, the cunning devil, told us how he fooled DeWitt. Because it was Stopes who telephoned DeWitt that Wednesday morning posing as Crockett, and commanding DeWitt to be on the lower deck of the 10:40 ferry that night, on the excuse of an urgent matter and accompanied by threats. He cautioned DeWitt to ‘be careful’ not to be seen - thereby minimizing the chances of DeWitt and Crockett meeting, since he had also cautioned Crockett.”

  “Interesting,” murmured Lane, “for that explains why DeWitt refused to tell with whom he had his appointment; he had to keep quiet about Crockett for fear that Crockett would reveal, in a panic, the sordid details of the Uruguayan back history; and Stopes knew he would keep quiet - a subtle touch to his implication of DeWitt.

  “As a matter of fact,” continued Lane thoughtfully, “I am continually startled by the extreme versatility and daring of this man Stopes. Remember that these were not crimes passionels, impulsive and strictly emotional; they were cold, calculated crimes induced by a motive steeled by years of suffering. The man possesses the seeds of greatness. Examine what he had to do in that second crime. He had to meet Crockett on the upper deck as Wood; to lure him near that cubicle, blackjack him with the blunt instrument from the handbag; to change clothes, putting his own on Crockett and arraying himself with a new outfit - Nixon’s - from the bag; to throw Crockett’s original clothes overboard by the weights from the bag; to wait until the Mohawk was pulling into the Weehawken pier and then hurl Crockett’s unconscious body overboard, to be ground and crushed against the pilings; to hurry down to the lower deck, unnoticed, as Nixon, and join the hue-and-cry of ‘Man overboard!’; all this was the work of a brave man, a brilliant thinker and planner. Of course, the precarious business of changing clothes was simplified by the fact that he took four trips, up and back across the river, to commit the murder, probably using the first three for stunning Crockett, changing clothes, disposing of Crockett’s, and so on; and the fact that it was late at night and dark and foggy; and the fact that on the Forty-Second Street- Weehawken ferry, passengers rarely go to the upper deck because of the abbreviated trip across the river; and the fact that he could have worked as slowly as he wished, since he could take eight trips, if necessary, and the police would still be waiting on the Weehawken side.”

  Lane touched his throat wryly. “I find myself considerably staled; there was a time when I could give a continuously oratorical performance for hours without feeling the effects… To resume with the reasoning.” Briefly, Lane told of finding in West Englewood, on the night of DeWitt’s murder one of the threat-letters Stopes had sent to DeWitt a few months before. Lane produced the letter and handed it to his guests for their examination.

  “Of course,” he said, “I had already solved the case before I found this; had I not found it, I should still have achieved my solution. For I knew already that Wood and Thompson were the same.

  “But the letter was important from a legal standpoint. A glance sufficed to show that the handwriting of Stopes was identical with that of Wood, which I remembered from seeing Wood’s note and signature on his streetcar identification card. The fact that the handwritings coincided, I must repeat, was not necessary to the deductive solution; it was merely legal confirmation.

  “But now I was faced with the prosecutor’s aspect of my solution. Knowing that Wood, Stopes, and Thompson were the same man was one thing, but proving it was another. I thereupon requested Juan Ajos to cable his government for a telephotograph of Stopes’s fingerprints. When Thompson was apprehended, the first thing I asked you, Inspector, was to take his fingerprints. You did, and Thompson’s matched exactly with the telephotographic prints of Stopes. Therefore I had legal proof that Thompson was Stopes, and from the identical handwritings, that Wood was Stopes. Therefore, in the elementary algebraic conclusion, Thompson was also Wood. The case was complete.”

  He went on with renewed vigor. “There were some loose ends, however. How had Stopes arranged his three personalities - Wood, Nixon, Thompson - so that he was physically able to keep them separate? I confess I am still somewhat at sea on this point.”

  “Stopes cleared that up, too,” said the District Attorney. “In the first place, it wasn’t as hard as it looks. As Wood he worked from 2:30 to 10:30 P.M., and as Thompson from 12 to 1:40 A.M. on the short railroad shift, a special job. As Wood he lived in Weehawken for convenience in changing his clothes and disguise before taking up his train duties; as Thompson he lived in West Haverstraw, the last stop of his run, sleeping there the rest of the night and returning to his Weehawken lodgings as Wood by a late morning train. The Nixon personality was flexible, and he used it rarely. As far as the night of the ferry-murder was concerned, Stopes selected that particular night because it was his night off as Thompson! As simple as that!… Incidentally, this business of disguise wasn’t so terribly complicated, either. He’s bald, as you know. As Wood he wore a red wig. As Thompson he was really himself. The Wood personality, a few touches here and there… But you know yourself how easy it is. With the Nixon get-up he had more time and could do what he pleased. As I say, he used the personality of Nixon only rarely.”

  “Did Stopes explain,” asked Lane curiously, “how he managed to secure the cigar which he planted on Crockett’s body to incriminate DeWitt?”

  “That guy,” growled Thumm, “explained everything. Except how you solved these damned crimes, and I can hardly believe that yet. He said that a short time before the Longstreet kill, DeWitt had handed him - as Thompson, the train-conductor - a cigar. The way some of these big mucks do. Doesn’t mean a thing to ’em - they just hand ’em out. One-buck cigars, too. Stopes kept it fresh.”

  “Of course,” Bruno added, “Stopes wasn’t able to explain a good many things. For instance, the cause of the incessant quarrels between Longstreet and DeWitt.”

  “I fancy,” said Lane, “that the proper explanation is simple enough. DeWitt was a reputable enough character with one weak spot in his moral armor. In his younger days he was probably dominated by Longstreet, and came to regret the conspiracy against Stopes into which he had been coerced. I should say that DeWitt tried persistently to break away from Longstreet, in business as well as in social life; and that Longstreet, because of some quirk of sadistic psychology, perhaps, and because DeWitt was a reliable source of extra income, refused, holding the old dreary bloody conspiracy over DeWitt’s head. I should not be surprised if Longstreet made it a point to threaten a disclosure of the old story to Jeanne, the apple of her father’s eye. In any event, this is undoubtedly the explanation of the two men’s bickering, of DeWitt’s willingness to finance Longstreet’s dissipations, and of DeWitt’s acceptance of Longstreet’s open insults.”

  “Rings true,” admitted Bruno.

  “As for Crockett,” continued Lane, “the nuances of Stopes’s plot were self- evident. It must have been Crockett who had murdered Stopes’s wife; since for Crockett Stopes reserved the most horrible of the three deaths. Although it is true that the crushing of Crockett’s features was necessary to Stopes’s plan to make the corpse seem his own, or Wood’s.”

  “You remember,” said Thumm thoughtfully, “when the telephoto arrived at The Hamlet here, Mr. Lane? That was the first time I heard the name Martin Stopes, and I asked you who the devil the man was. You said that Martin Stopes was responsible for removing Longstreet, Wood, and DeWitt, or something like that. Now, weren’t you misleading me when you included Wood in that statement? How in hell could Stopes have killed Wood when he was Wood himself?”

  Lane chuckled. “My dear Inspector, I did not say that Stopes killed Wood. I said he was responsible for removing Wood from the face of the earth, which is literally true. By killing Crockett and dressing him in Wood’s clothes, he permanently rid himself and the world of the personality of Wood.”

  The three men sat in silence, ruminating. The fire leaped higher and Bruno saw that Lane’s eyes were pacifically closed. Bruno started at the slapping sound of Thumm’s great palm against his thigh. “By God!” exclaimed the Inspector. He leaned over and touched Lane’s shoulder; Lane opened his eyes. “I knew you left something out, Mr. Lane. Yes, sir! There’s one thing I still don’t understand, and you haven’t cleared it up. That hocus-pocus of DeWitt’s fingers. You said a while ago that you never believed the overlapping fingers had anything to do with superstition. Well, what did they mean?”

  “Careless of me,” murmured Lane. “A good point, Inspector, and I am delighted to be reminded of it. A good point, indeed. In many ways the most curious element of the entire affair.” His clean profile sharpened, and his voice grew animated. “Until I deduced that Thompson murdered DeWitt, I had absolutely no personal explanation for the overlapping fingers. Of only one thing was I certain: that DeWitt, remembering my story in that last flashing moment of life, had deliberately left the sign as a clue to his murderer’s identity. Therefore the sign must have had something to do with Thompson, or my nice little logical structure would collapse. And it was not until I had satisfied myself that I had the true meaning of the sign that I brought myself to arrange Thompson’s arrest.”

  He rose from the armchair in his characteristic way - quickly, smoothly, with no apparent muscular effort. The two men looked up at him. “Before I explain, however, I should like to know if Stopes related exactly what occurred between him and DeWitt before he fired the shot that ended DeWitt’s life.”

  “Well,” said Bruno, “his confession made that point clear enough. It seems that he kept his eyes open from the moment the DeWitt party got on the train. He was looking for an opportunity, remember, to catch DeWitt alone. If necessary, he could have waited a year for the precise situation in which he could murder DeWitt unobserved. But when he saw Collins go back with DeWitt and caught sight of Collins, from the car-door ahead, slipping off the train, he knew his opportunity had come. Then he walked through the car in which you were sitting and immediately spied DeWitt sitting where we found him, in the dim coach. He went in. DeWitt looked up, saw the conductor, and instinctively took out his new ticket-book; but in the heat of the moment Thompson did not notice from which pocket DeWitt produced the book. On fire with the realization that here was the final measure of his revenge, Thompson whipped out his revolver and, before DeWitt’s horrified eyes, revealed his true identity - Martin Stopes. He gloated, taunted DeWitt, told him what he was about to do, while DeWitt, Stopes said, seemed fascinated by the nickel ticket-punch swinging from a leather cord at Stopes’s (or Thompson’s) waist. DeWitt had become as white as death, sitting very still, saying nothing (he must have been thinking with lightning rapidity, and left the sign at the moment), whereupon Thompson in an uncontrollable outburst of fury, fired. The spasm of rage passed as quickly as it had come; and he realized, as DeWitt’s head slumped forward, that DeWitt still held the ticket-book, unpunched, in his right hand. He immediately decided that he could not take the book away, yet he did not want to leave it in DeWitt’s hand; so he searched DeWitt’s pockets, and put the new book in the breast pocket with the old. Stopes claims that he did not notice at all that DeWitt had twisted his fingers. He was very much surprised when it was discovered later, after the murder; and to this moment he is as much at a loss as we to explain it.