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At these words Mannix leaned over the table, grasping the edge of it with both hands for support. His eyes were wide and his sensual lips hung open. But it was not fear that one read in his attitude; it was sheer amazement. He sat for a moment staring at Vance, stunned and incredulous.
“That’s what you think, is it? No one could’ve got in or out except by Apartment 2, because the side door was locked?” He gave a short vicious laugh. “If that side door didn’t happen to be locked Monday night, where’d I stand then—huh? Where’d I stand?”
“I rather think you’d stand with us—with the District Attorney.” Vance was watching him like a cat.
“Sure I would!” spat Mannix. “And let me tell you something, my friend: that’s just where I stand—absolutely!” He swung heavily about and faced Markham. “I’m a good fellow, y’ understand, but I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough. . . . That side door wasn’t locked Monday night. And I know who sneaked out of it at five minutes to twelve!”
“Ça marche!” murmured Vance, reseating himself and calmly lighting a cigarette.
Markham was too astonished to speak at once; and Heath sat stock-still, his cigar half-way to his mouth.
At length Markham leaned back and folded his arms.
“I think you’d better tell us the whole story, Mr. Mannix.” His voice held a quality which made the request an imperative.
Mannix, too, settled back in his chair.
“Oh, I’m going to tell it—believe me, I’m going to tell it.—You had the right idea. I spent the evening with Miss Frisbee. No harm in that, though.”
“What time did you go there?”
“After office hours—half past five, quarter to six. Came up in the subway, got off at 72d, and walked over.”
“And you entered the house through the front door?”
“No. I walked down the alleyway and went in the side door—like I generally do. It’s nobody’s business who I call on, and what the telephone operator in the front hall don’t know don’t hurt him.”
“That’s all right so far,” observed Heath. “The janitor didn’t bolt the side door until after six.”
“And did you stay the entire evening, Mr. Mannix?” asked Markham.
“Sure—till just before midnight. Miss Frisbee cooked the dinner, and I’d brought along a bottle of wine. Social little party—just the two of us. And I didn’t go outside the apartment, understand, until five minutes to twelve. You can get the lady down here and ask her. I’ll call her up now and tell her to explain the exact situation about Monday night. I’m not asking you to take my word for it—positively not.”
Markham made a gesture dismissing the suggestion.
“What took place at five minutes to twelve?”
Mannix hesitated, as if loath to come to the point.
“I’m a good fellow, y’ understand. And a friend’s a friend. But—I ask you—is that any reason why I should get in wrong for something I didn’t have absolutely nothing to do with?”
He waited for an answer, but receiving none, continued.
“Sure, I’m right.—Anyway, here’s what happened. As I said, I was calling on the lady. But I had another date for later that night; so a few minutes before midnight I said good-bye and started to go. Just as I opened the door I saw some one sneaking away from the Canary’s apartment down the little back hall to the side door. There was a light in the hall, and the door of Apartment 2 faces that side door. I saw the fellow as plain as I see you—positively as plain.”
“Who was it?”
“Well, if you got to know, it was Pop Cleaver.”
Markham’s head jerked slightly.
“What did you do then?”
“Nothing, Mr. Markham—nothing at all. I didn’t think much about it, y’ understand. I knew Pop was chasing after the Canary, and I just supposed he’d been calling on her. But I didn’t want Pop to see me—none of his business where I spend my time. So I waited quietly till he went out——”
“By the side door?”
“Sure.—Then I went out the same way. I was going to leave by the front door, because I knew the side door was always locked at night. But when I saw Pop go out that way, I said to myself I’d do the same. No sense giving your business away to a telephone operator if you haven’t got to—no sense at all. So I went out the same way I came in. Picked up a taxi on Broadway, and went——”
“That’s enough!” Again Vance’s command cut him short.
“Oh, all right—all right.” Mannix seemed content to end his statement at this point. “Only, y’ understand, I don’t want you to think——”
“We don’t.”
Markham was puzzled at these interruptions, but made no comment.
“When you read of Miss Odell’s death,” he said, “why didn’t you come to the police with this highly important information?”
“I should get mixed up in it!” exclaimed Mannix in surprise. “I got enough trouble without looking for it—plenty.”
“An exigent course,” commented Markham with open disgust. “But you nevertheless suggested to me, after you knew of the murder, that Cleaver was being blackmailed by Miss Odell.”
“Sure I did. Don’t that go to show I wanted to do the right thing by you—giving you a valuable tip?”
“Did you see any one else that night in the halls or alleyway?”
“Nobody—absolutely nobody.”
“Did you hear any one in the Odell apartment—any one speaking or moving about, perhaps?”
“Didn’t hear a thing.” Mannix shook his head emphatically.
“And you’re certain of the time you saw Cleaver go out—five minutes to twelve?”
“Positively. I looked at my watch, and I said to the lady: ‘I’m leaving the same day I came; it won’t be to-morrow for five minutes yet.’ ”
Markham went over his story point by point, attempting by various means to make him admit more than he had already told. But Mannix neither added to his statement nor modified it in any detail; and after half an hour’s cross-examination he was permitted to go.
“We’ve found one missing piece of the puzzle, at any rate,” commented Vance. “I don’t see now just how it fits into the complete pattern, but it’s helpful and suggestive. And, I say, how beautifully my intuition about Mannix was verified, don’t y’ know!”
“Yes, of course—your precious intuition.” Markham looked at him sceptically. “Why did you shut him up twice when he was trying to tell me something?”
“O, tu ne sauras jamais,” recited Vance. “I simply can’t tell you, old dear. Awfully sorry, and all that.”
His manner was whimsical, but Markham knew that at such times Vance was at heart most serious, and he did not press the question. I could not help wondering if Miss La Fosse realized just how secure she had been in putting her faith in Vance’s integrity.
Heath had been considerably shaken by Mannix’s story.
“I don’t savvy that side door being unlocked,”