Arson Plus | Page 6

the Francisco Hotel. Thornburgh had been
registered there from May tenth to June thirteenth, and hadn't attracted much attention.
He had been a tall, broad-shouldered, erect man of about fifty, with rather long brown
hair brushed straight back; a short, pointed brown beard, and a healthy, ruddy complexion
-- grave, quiet, punctilious in dress and manner; his hours had been regular and he had
had no visitors that any of the hotel employees remembered.
At the Seamen's Bank -- upon which Thornburgh's check, in payment of the house, had
been drawn -- I was told that he had opened an account there on May fifteenth, having
been introduced by W. W. Jeffers & Sons, local stockbrokers. A balance of a little more
than four hundred dollars remained to his credit. The cancelled checks on hand were all
to the order of various life-insurance companies; and for amounts that, if they represented
premiums, testified to rather large policies. I jotted down the names of the life-insurance
companies, and then went to the offices of W. W. Jeffers & Sons.
Thornburgh had come in, I was told, on the tenth of May with $15,000 worth of bonds
that he had wanted sold. During one of his conversations with Jeffers he had asked the
broker to recommend a bank, and Jeffers had given him a letter of introduction to the
Seamen's Bank.
That was all Jeffers knew about him. He gave me the numbers of the bonds, but tracing
bonds isn't always the easiest thing in the world.
The reply to my Seattle telegram was waiting for me at the Continental Detective Agency
when I arrived.
MRS EDWARD COMERFORD RENTED APARTMENT AT ADDRESS YOU GAVE
ON MAY TWENTY-FIVE. GAVE IT UP JUNE 6. TRUNKS TO SAN FRANCISCO
SAME DAY CHECK NUMBERS ON FOUR FIVE TWO FIVE EIGHT SEVEN AND
EIGHT AND NINE.
Tracing baggage is no trick at all, if you have the dates and check numbers to start with --
as many a bird who is wearing somewhat similar numbers on his chest and back, because
he overlooked that detail when making his getaway, can tell you -- and twenty-five
minutes in a baggage-room at the Ferry and half an hour in the office of a transfer
company gave me my answer.
The trunks had been delivered to Mrs. Evelyn Trowbridge's apartment!
I got Jim Tarr on the phone and told him about it.

"Good shooting!" he said, forgetting for once to indulge his wit. "We'll grab the Coonses
here and Mrs. Trowbridge there, and that's the end of another mystery."
"Wait a minute!" I cautioned him. "It's not all straightened out yet -- there're still a few
kinks in the plot."
"It's straight enough for me. I'm satisfied."
"You're the boss, but I think you're being a little hasty. I'm going up and talk with the
niece again. Give me a little time before you phone the police here to make the pinch. I'll
hold her until they get there."
Evelyn Trowbridge let me in this time, instead of the maid who had opened the door for
me in the morning, and she led me to the same room in which we had had our first talk. I
let her pick out a seat, and then I selected one that was closer to either door than hers was.
On the way up I had planned a lot of innocent-sounding questions that would get her all
snarled up; but after taking a good look at this woman sitting in front of me, leaning
comfortably back in her chair, coolly waiting for me to speak my piece, I discarded the
trick stuff and came out cold-turkey.
"Ever use the name Mrs. Edward Comerford?"
"Oh, yes." As casual as a nod on the street.
"When?"
"Often. You see, I happen to have been married not so long ago to Mr. Edward
Comerford. So it's not really strange that I should have used the name."
"Use it in Seattle recently?"
"I would suggest," she said sweetly, "that if you are leading up to the references I gave
Coons and his wife, you might save time by coming right to it."
"That's fair enough," I said. "Let's do that."
There wasn't a tone or shading, in voice, manner, or expression, to indicate that she was
talking about anything half so serious or important to her as a possibility of being charged
with murder. She might have been talking about the weather.
"During the time that Mr. Comerford and I were married, we lived in Seattle, where he
still lives. After the divorce, I left Seattle and resumed my maiden name. And the
Coonses were in our employ, as you might learn if you care to look it up. You'll find my
husband -- or former husband --