The Pale Blue Eye

Morning, gentlemen.

- You Augustus Landor? - I am.

And you?

Captain Hitchcock at your service. Second-in-command at the Academy.

I'm here to inform you.

Superintendent Thayer requests an immediate audience.

- And the nature of this audience? - I'll leave that to the colonel.

- When might this take place? - At your earliest convenience.

And if I should decide not to come?

That would be your own concern. You're a private citizen.

Well, it's a fine day for a ride.

The governor suggests that you were a legend

among New York City constables.

And when he recommended your services, he noted your impressive accomplishments,

including apprehending the leaders of the Daybreak Boys,

breaking up the dreaded Shirt Tails gang,

and solving a particularly grisly murder of a young prostitute in Elysian Fields.

Your talents include code breaking, riot control,

and glove less interrogation.

You're a minister's son from Gloucester

who came to New York while still in your teens.

And you are a widower, Mr. Landor.

Three years now.

- Shall I send for coffee? - Beer will do nicely.

You, uh…

You keep these notes in a pigeonhole back there somewhere, do you?

What else do they say?

Do they say that I haven't darkened the door of a church

in a long time?

Does it mention that my daughter ran off a while back?

We are aware of your daughter's disappearance.

And we offer our sympathy.

With all due respect, I hope I have not offended.

No. No, no, no.

No, sorry. I ought to apologize.

And I do. Please carry on.

Mr. Landor, we are obliged to proceed with extreme discretion.

We're looking for someone.

A private citizen of well-documented industry and tact

who might carry out inquiries on the Academy's behalf.

Huh.

They're of a highly complex and delicate nature

and concern one of our cadets.

Second-year man from Kentucky by the name of Fry.

- Leroy Fry. - There's no point in dancing around it.

Fry hanged himself… last night.

Oh.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

A dreadful business, this. But you must understand our position.

We have been specifically charged with the care of these young men,

to make them gentlemen and soldiers, and to that end, we drive them.

But we'd like to think we know when to… stop driving them.

A boy hangs himself…

Uh, that's a matter for the coroner.

I'm afraid that's not the end of it.

Cadet Fry's body was violated last night in the hospital ward.

Violated? By whom?

Well, if we knew that, we would have had no need to summon you.

I'm sure the Academy has its share of pranksters.

This was no prank, Mr. Landor.

Leroy Fry's heart was carved from his chest.

Dr. Marquis, how does a person go about doing this?

Scalpel. Or any good, sharp knife would do.

But getting to the heart, that's the tricky part.

Those gashes on the lungs and liver

came from angling the blade to save the heart.

And how would one preserve the heart?

A container of some sort.

Wrapped in muslin, maybe, or newspaper.

Very likely surrounded by ice.

What type of fella could do this?

A strong one.

Not a woman, then?

No woman as I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, no.

What about his medical pedigree?

Would he need to be as well-educated and well-trained as yourself?

Not necessarily.

He'd need a lot of light, and know where to cut,

but it wouldn't have to be a doctor or a surgeon.

- It'd have to be... - A madman!

And still out there.

Port arms!

You'll have to forgive me, Mr. Landor.

You've found us in a very delicate position.

Left, face!

There are certain powerful senators in Washington

who would like nothing more than to see us fail utterly, to shut us down.

I'm asking you to help save the honor of the United States Military Academy.

And save it, I'll try.

You were, uh, on guard duty last night, Mr. Huntoon.

Yes, sir.

Post at 9:30. Relieved at midnight and made my way back to the guardroom.

Where is that?

Number four, sir. By Fort Clinton.

I… I admit, I'm not very familiar with the grounds,

but it seems that the part we're standing on right now

is not on the way from Fort Clinton to North Barracks.

- No, sir. - Oh. What took you off course?

Well, sir, on my way, I heard something.

I reckoned it was an animal.

It sounded like it was dying or caught in a trap, so I came to help.

I'm terribly partial to animals.

Uh… I was running this way until I brushed Cadet Fry, sir.

- How'd he look? - Not well, sir.

He wasn't hanging straight.

It was almost as if he was seated in a chair.

I'm not following you.

Well, his feet were touching the ground, sir.

- His feet were touching the ground? - Yes, sir.

All right. What did you do next?

I ran. Ran straight back to North Barracks.

Hmm.

Uh, one last question and I'll trouble you no more.

Did you see anyone else about?

No, sir.

Mr. Huntoon.

The neck…

That's what first struck me.

See?

Not a clean cinch at all. The rope grabbed at him

and ran up and down the neck looking for purchase.

As though…

As though he was… fighting.

Hmm?

Look, if you would, at his fingers.

Blistered fresh from clutching at the rope…

- …trying to peel the thing off him. -

May I ask what's going on here?

This is, uh, quite irregular.

I was wondering if you wouldn't mind feeling around the back of Mr. Fry's head.

You did examine Mr. Fry?

Of course I examined him, as is my job.

Hmm.

Haven't we already been through this?

- Uh… - Hmm.

There is a contusion of sort.

Parietal region.

Approximately three inches.

- I must have missed that. - Mmm.

Someone murdered Mr. Fry.

Is this what you're telling us, Mr. Landor?

You might be onto something there, Captain Hitchcock.

Well, anyone could have missed that, doctor.

Mr. Landor.

So now you're on board,

I think it's important we set some ground rules.

You will report to me on a daily basis and I to the colonel.

And you mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone, inside or outside the Academy.

- Is that all? - One final condition.

There will be no drinking throughout the course of this investigation.

Your reputation precedes you.

- -

Oh.

Pardon.

- Are you Augustus Landor? - I am.

Unless I mistake, you've been tasked with solving the mystery

surrounding Leroy Fry.

That's so. What might I do for you?

It is incumbent upon me and the honor of this institution

to divulge some of the conclusions which I have reached.

Conclusions?

Regarding the late Mr. Fry.

I'd be most interested.

The man you're looking for

is a poet.

Private Cochrane.

When Leroy Fry's body was brought back to the hospital,

you were detailed to guard it?

I was, sir.

- Did anything happen while on watch? - Not till around 2:30.

- That's when I was relieved of my duty. - Who relieved you?

- Private, who relieved you? - I can't tell you, sir.

Only that it was an officer.

- He never identified himself? - No, sir.

But I wouldn't expect it of an officer.

Hmm.

What did this officer say to you?

He said, "Thank you, private. That will be all. I'm relieving you."

- An odd request, no? - Yes, sir. Very.

- Did you see this officer's face? - No, sir.

I had only a candle. It was terribly dark.

Right, tell me then, how did you know it was an officer?

The bar on his shoulder, sir. But I must admit, it was so very strange.

- How so? - The bars.

The bars on his left shoulder were missing.

Ah, there's the man himself.

Benny knows a man who's in need of a drink when he sees one.

The very sight of it warms my blood.

- Benny! - Sir.