The Dragon Murder Case by S. S. Van Dine

Author:S. S. Van Dine [Van Dine, S. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Detective, Mystery
Publisher: Escapi Media
Published: 1933-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter XI. A Sinister Prophecy

(Sunday, August 12; 2.30 p. m.)

Despite the horror of the sight that confronted us in the pot-hole, the discovery of Montague's mangled body did not come altogether as a shock. Although Markham had shown evidences, throughout the investigation, of discounting Heath's strong contentions that there had been foul play, he was, nevertheless, prepared for the finding of the body. My impression was that he had battled against the idea as a result of his mental attitude toward the absence of any logical indications pointing to murder. Vance, I knew, had harbored grave suspicions of the situation from the very first; and I myself, in spite of my skepticism, realized, upon my first glimpse of Montague's body, that there had long been, in the back of my mind, definite doubts as to the seemingly fortuitous facts behind Montague's disappearance. The Sergeant, of course, had, from the beginning, been thoroughly convinced that there was a sinister background to the superficially commonplace disappearance of the man.

There was a grim look on Leland's face as he stared down into the pot-hole, but there was no astonishment in his expression; and he gave me the impression of having anticipated the result of our short ride. After identifying the body as that of Montague he slid down from the wall and stood looking thoughtfully at the cliffs at the left. His eyes were clouded, and his jaw was set rigidly as he reached in his pocket for his pipe.

"The dragon theory seems to be working out consistently," he commented, as if thinking aloud.

"Oh, quite," murmured Vance. "Too consistently, I should say. Fancy finding the johnny here. It's a bit rococo, don't y' know."

We had stepped away from the wall of the pothole and turned back toward the parked car.

Markham paused to relight his cigar.

"It's an astonishing situation," he muttered between puffs. "How, in the name of Heaven, could he have got into that pot-hole?"

"Anyhow," observed Heath, with a kind of vicious satisfaction, "we found what we've been looking for, and we've got something that we can work on. . . . If you don't mind, Mr. Vance, I wish you'd drive me up to the gate, so as I can get Snitkin on guard down here before we return to the house."

Vance nodded and climbed into his place behind the wheel. He was in a peculiarly abstracted frame of mind; and I knew there was something about the finding of Montague's body that bothered him. From his manner throughout the investigation I realized that he had been expecting some definite proof that a crime had been committed. But I knew now that the present state of affairs did not entirely square with his preconceived idea of the case.

We drove to the gate and brought Snitkin back to the pot-hole, where Heath gave him orders to remain on guard and to let no one approach that side of the cliff from the road. Then we drove back to the Stamm house. As we

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