"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 041 - The Black Spot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Yes, his wrist was cut by the glass," said the medical examiner. "He had been drinking. Some one was with
him."

"I’d judged that," said Captain Graves, referring to the decanter of red liquor and the two glasses on the desk.
One of the glasses was shattered. "Perhaps he brought his hand down suddenly and broke the glass. It
might have been he was struck."

"He wasn’t struck," said the medical examiner. "There is no sign of violence, except for the cut on his wrist."

Arthur Jotther spoke unexpectedly with his meek, small voice.

"I don’t think Mr. Vandersleeve was quarreling with any one. He seemed to be in an extremely jovial mood.
As a matter of fact, it was I he was drinking with. He invited me, which was most unusual. We had two
drinks. Then he said he did not want to be disturbed. I heard him lock the door."

"Well—well—well!" sputtered the medical examiner. "I was about to say perhaps the liquor—it might have
had something to do with the color of the blood—but wait!"

With expert movement, the doctor produced a small lancet. With this he made a slight, deep incision across
an area of the dead man’s arm. The blood of the corpse was thick and did not flow.

But in the opened vein it was as black as that staining the desk.

"I suffered no ill effects from the drinks," suggested Jotther. "If you’ll pardon me, I think perhaps the money
might have something to do with it."

"I’ve been thinkin’ about that money," said Captain Graves. "There’s several grand on the desk. So it wasn’t
robbery. Doc, is there evidence of poison?"

"Well, it’s my first experience with dark blood," retorted the examiner. "Offhand, I’d say it probably is poison."

"Then it could be suicide," said Captain Graves, but his eyes were boring into Arthur Jotther. "Or there might
have been poison placed in his glass. By the way, Mr. Jotther, what do you think?"

The quick, direct question indicated Captain Graves already had a suspicion of his own. Arthur Jotther’s reply
came with a slap of surprise.

"I don’t believe Mr. Vandersleeve killed himself," he said, wildly. "There is considerable money missing.
Would you object to my counting the money on the desk?"

Captain Graves whistled to himself.

"As far as Mr. Vandersleeve’s death is concerned," added Arthur Jotther, "perhaps I could be said to have
good reason for wishing it. Though I was his secretary, he was bitterly opposed to my hope of marrying
Geneva, his daughter. Despite that, I believe I have been bequeathed a small fortune in his will."

"I’ll be damned!" exploded Captain Graves. "O. K.! Count the money!"

The mild little man fingered the notes and silver quickly. "It comes to $18,450.80," he specified. "That means
the sum of $131,549.20 is missing."