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Deductive Moment
In True P hilo V a nee Style, William Powell Solved The Great Barthelmess Mystery
informed that Mr. Barthelmess was in the lobby and wished to speak with me. After we had been connected, he told me that he had stayed in town until too late to go home for the night and had dropped into the Lambs' for a room — the clerk had been sorry, but there were no rooms available. I sympathized with him, of course, and suggested that he come up and stay in my room — an idea which he readily accepted (and which I have always regretted).
Seventy Disappears
NO sooner had I hung up the receiver than he appeared and undressed for bed. We spoke a few words and then decided we would have to get some sleep for an early call the following morning. The fog had already begun rolling in at the open window as we bade each other "good night." Fog is a mysterious sort of vapor, isn't it.'' Especially fog on a dark night.
noth of us slept soundly, and awakened, quite refreshed, at seven in the morning. Our early-morning sallies were more or less cryptic, but aside from that, we were in the best of spirits. Dressing ourselves in bathrobes, we went to the general shower-room which was located at the other end of the hall. Returning within twenty minutes, we dressed with some degree of haste. While making ourselves ready for the day's work, Barthelmess happened to pullout his wallet and look into it. His face took on an uncanny mask as he turned to me with:
"What does this mean.' I say, can't a fellow spend the night in your quarters without having himself robbed of almost every nickel he has on him? This is a serious thing. What have you to say.'"
I informed him that I had no idea what
Richee
As in this story, William Powell' in his screen life first stands accused — then solves a mystery. But whether a gentleman of fashion (see opposite page), Philo Vance (left and below), or something else again, he is always studiously smooth (as above "I
soever what he was talking about, and begged to be enlightened.
"Don't tell me you don't know what's the matter. I've been robbfed of seventy dollars — in Cash — and I want it returned immediately. Come, this thing has gone far enough already."
A Baffling Mystery
DURING the time we were going through the rest of his pockets, searching the room, and calling the manager on the 'phone, we kept up a steady series of banterings. Of course, he didn't believe that / had stolen his money, but the whole situation looked mighty bad on the surface. The manager assembled all the bellhops and servants who had been working in our wing during the time that Dick had been in the room but, aside from some very meager clues and suspicions, I was unable to cast any light on the missing money. After an hour or so of {Continued on page 82)
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