Madvig, unruffled, asked: “Is that so?”
Ned Beaumont leaned forward. Muscles tightened in his lean face. The wrapper of his cigar broke between his fingers with a thin crackling sound. He asked irritably: “Did you understand what I said?”
Madvig nodded slowly.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“He was killed.”
“All right,” Madvig said. “Do you want me to get hysterical about it?”
Ned Beaumont sat up straight in his chair and asked: “Shall I call the police?”
Madvig raised his eyebrows a little. “Don’t they know it?”
Ned Beaumont was looking steadily at the blond man. He replied: “There was nobody around when I saw him. I wanted to see you before I did anything. Is it all right for me to say I found him?”
Madvig’s eyebrows came down. “Why not?” he asked blankly.
Ned Beaumont rose, took two steps towards the telephone, halted, and faced the blond man again. He spoke with slow emphasis: “His hat wasn’t there.”
“He won’t need it now.” Then Madvig scowled and said: “You’re a God-damned fool, Ned.”
Ned Beaumont said, “One of us is,” and went to the telephone.
5
TAYLOR HENRY MURDERED
BODY OF SENATOR’S SON FOUND
IN CHINA STREET
Believed to have been the victim of a hold-up, Taylor Henry, 26, son of Senator Ralph Bancroft Henry, was found dead in China Street near the corner of Pamela Avenue at a few minutes after io o’clock last night.
Coroner William J. Hoops stated that young Henry’s death was due to a fracture of the skull and concussion of the brain caused by hitting the back of his head against the edge of the curb after having been knocked down by a blow from a blackjack or other blunt instrument on his forehead.
The body is believed to have been first discovered by Ned Beaumont, 914 Randall Avenue, who went to the Log Cabin Club, two blocks away, to telephone the police; but before he had succeeded in getting Police Headquarters on the wire, the body had been found and reported by Patrolman Michael Smitt.
Chief of Police Frederick M. Rainey immediately ordered a wholesale round-up of all suspicious characters in the city and issued a statement to the effect that no stone will be left unturned in his effort to apprehend the murderer or murderers at once.
Members of Taylor Henry’s family stated that he left his home on Charles Street at about half past nine o’clock to .
Ned Beaumont put the newspaper aside, swallowed the coffee that remained in his cup, put cup and saucer on the table beside his bed, and leaned back against the pillows. His face was tired and sallow. He pulled the covers up to his neck, clasped his hands together behind his head, and stared with dissatisfied eyes at the etching that hung between his bedroom-windows.
For half an hour he lay there with only his eyelids moving. Then he picked up the newspaper and reread the story. As he read, dissatisfaction spread from his eyes to all his face. He put the paper aside again, got out of bed, slowly, wearily, wrapped his lean white-pajamaed body in a small-figured brown and black kimono, thrust his feet into brown slippers, and, coughing a little, went into his living-room.
It was a large room in the old manner, high of ceiling and wide of window, with a tremendous mirror over the fireplace and much red plush on the furnishings. He took a cigar from a box on the table and sat in a wide red chair. His feet rested in a parallelogram of late morning sun and the smoke he blew out became suddenly full-bodied as it drifted into the sunlight. He frowned now and chewed a finger-nail when the cigar was not in his mouth.
Knocking sounded on his door. He sat up straight, keen of eye and alert. “Come in.”
A white-jacketed waiter came in.
Ned Beaumont said, “Oh, all right,” in a disappointed tone and relaxed again against the red plush of his chair.
The waiter passed through to the bedroom, came out with a tray of dishes, and went away. Ned Beaumont threw what was left of his cigar into the fireplace and went into his bathroom. By the time he had shaved, bathed, and dressed, his face had lost its sallowness, his carriage most of its weariness.