"042 (B046) - The Midas Man (1936-08) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"We are leaving no stones unturned," the other assured him. "Sylvan Niles broke your engagement herself, did she not?"
Alex Mandebran moistened his lips, then admitted, "She did."
"The engagement was broken at a London night club, was it not?" the investigator persisted. "There was something of a scene. Sylvan Niles called you some things and threw your ring at you, did she not?"
Alex Mandebran nodded uncomfortably.
"Why did Sylvan Niles break her engagement?" the government man asked.
Alex Mandebran hesitated. He not only looked uncomfortable, but indignant.
"She caught me going out with another girl," he snapped.
Some of the reporters laughed at this, and their mirth drew a scowl from Alex Mandebran.
The district attorney now took over the questioning, asking, "You are an only child, are you not?"
"Yes," admitted Alex Mandebran.
"And, as your father's only offspring, you should be his principal heir?" the prosecutor questioned.
Alex Mandebran admitted, "I suppose so."
The district attorney took a long breath. "Then tell me," he directed, "why your father's will cuts you off without a cent."
Alex Mandebran sat perfectly still for a time. He did not look particularly disappointed.
"I did not know there was a will," he said, levelly. "Am I to understand that my father is dead?"
"Not at all," he was told. "We have no idea what's become of him."
"Then why have you opened his will?" shouted the young man.
"Because we are leaving no avenue of investigation unexplored," the other replied.
Young Alex Mandebran was now asked another question.
"Do you know the present whereabouts of your former fiancйe, Sylvan Niles?" he was asked.
"I no longer have the slightest interest in Sylvan Niles," Alex Mandebran snapped.
"Did you know Sylvan Niles was here in Philadelphia?" the questioner countered.
"Good night!" exploded young Mandebran. "No!"
THE newspapermen obviously had not known Sylvan Niles was in Philadelphia either. There was a bustling among them as they demanded the young woman's address. This was given them. The young woman lived in the Salimar Apartments.
It might have been noted that Alex Mandebran listened intently to this address.
Some of the reporters now departed in a great hurry, anxious to interview Sylvan Niles.
A few more routine questions were put to Alex Mandebran. Replying to them, the young man asserted he had not the slightest idea what had happened to his father, that he considered his parent one of the most honest men living, and that he could not even hazard a guess as to what had happened to the twenty million.
"Did you know a great deal about Sylvan Niles?" he was asked.
"No, I did not," he admitted. "I realized that later. I knew practically nothing about the young lady's past."
"Did you know a man named Hando Lancaster?"
"Scarcely at all," said Alex Mandebran, quickly.
"He was Sylvan Niles employer, was he not?" prompted the interrogator.
"That was my understanding, I think,"
"Her capacity was that of laboratory assistant or secretary, was it not?" asked the other.
"Sylvan Niles told me very little about her work," replied Alex Mandebran.
"What was Hando Lancaster's business?"
"I have not the slightest idea," declared young Mandebran.
"Were you at any time jealous of Hando Lancaster?"
"Good grief, no!" gasped Alex Mandebran. "Sylvan was the one who was jealous!"
There was some further questioning, but the subjects of Hando Lancaster and Sylvan Niles were not brought up again. The questions were general ones having to do with the character of the missing Jethro Mandebran. Had he been a gambler? Had he been a chaser? Did he drink? Had he ever shown any dishonest traits? To all of these Alex Mandebran answered in the negative.
"I should like to put a question of my own," he said, suddenly.
"Of course," he was told.
"In just what form was this twenty million dollars when it disappeared?" Alex Mandebran demanded.
"In the form of unregistered bonds," the district attorney explained. "Bonds which, unfortunately, cannot be traced."
"Now, I should like to be excused," said young Mandebran.
This seemed to be agreeable, so Alex Mandebran took his departure.
PERHAPS three quarters of an hour later, a taxicab unloaded the young man two blocks from the apartment house where the police had said Sylvan Niles lived. He sauntered along the street and, under the pretense of waiting for a bus, observed Sylvan Nile's apartment house.
The apartment building was a six-story structure, neat and comparatively new-looking. Several automobiles were parked in the street in front of the structure and a number of newspaper reporters were arguing violently with the uniformed doorman. One of the scribes ducked past the doorman, and the latter pursued him. A moment later, the journalist appeared again, with the doorman maintaining a secure grasp on the seat of his pants and his coat collar.
The young man who had just arrived in the taxi glanced up and down the street and then, without undue appearance of haste, stepped among near-by bushes.
A streetsweeper was approaching, trundling his large can on wheels, and occasionally pausing to use his long-handled brush. He came opposite the bushes.