The Roman hat mystery A problem in deduction
seeing any one I knew, stood close to the brick wall of the theatre,
a little behind the open iron door. The freshness of the night-air
after the rain was delightful. I hadn’t been standing there more than
two minutes when I felt somebody brush up against me. I naturally
moved a little to one side, thinking the person had stumbled. But when
he—it was a man—when he did it again, I became a little frightened
and started to walk away. He—he grasped my wrist and pulled me back.
We were half-way behind the iron door, which was not pushed back
completely and I doubt if any one noticed his action.”
“I see—I see,” murmured the Inspector sympathetically. “It seems an
unusual thing for a total stranger to do in a public place.”
“It seemed as if he wanted to kiss me, Inspector. He leaned over and
whispered, ‘Good evening, honey!’ and—well, of course, I jumped to that
conclusion. I drew back a little and said as coldly as I could, ‘Please
let me go, or I will call for help.’ He just laughed at that and bent
closer. The reek of whisky on his breath was overpowering. It made me
ill.”
She stopped. Eve Ellis patted her hand reassuringly. Peale nudged Barry
forcibly as the young man half-rose to his feet in muttered protest.
“Miss Frances, I’m going to ask you a peculiar question—it’s almost
ridiculous when you come to think of it,” said the Inspector, leaning
back in his chair. “Did the reek on his breath suggest good liquor
or bad liquor?... There! I knew you’d smile.” And the entire company
tittered at the whimsical expression on Queen’s face.
“Well, Inspector—it’s hard to answer that,” returned the girl
freely. “I’m afraid I’m not on intimate terms with spirits. But from
what I can remember, it had the odor of rather fine liquor. Fine
liquor—but plenty of it!” she concluded with a grim little toss of her
head.
“I would’ve spotted the vintage in a minute if I’d been there!”
muttered Stanford Ives-Pope.
His father’s lips tightened, but after a moment they relaxed into the
suspicion of a grin. He shook his head warningly at his son.
“Go ahead, Miss Frances,” said the Inspector.
“I was terribly frightened,” the girl confessed, with a tremor of her
red lips. “And feeling nauseated and all—I wrenched away from his
outstretched hand and stumbled blindly into the theatre. The next
thing I remember is sitting in my seat listening to the warning ring
of the backstage bell, announcing the beginning of the second act. I
really don’t remember how I got there. My heart was in my throat and
now I distinctly recall thinking that I would not tell Stephen—Mr.
Barry—anything about the incident for fear he would want to look up
this man and punish him. Mr. Barry is terribly jealous, you know.” She
smiled tenderly at her fiancé, who suddenly smiled back at her.
“And that, Inspector, is all I know about what happened Monday night,”
she resumed. “I know you’re going to ask me where my purse comes into
it. Well—it doesn’t at all, Inspector. Because on my word of honor I
can’t remember a thing about it!”
Queen shifted in his chair. “And how is that, Miss Frances?”
“Actually, I didn’t even know I had lost it until you showed it to me
in the manager’s office,” she answered bravely. “I recall taking it
with me when I rose at the end of the first act to go to the rest-room;
and also opening it there to use my powder-puff. But whether I
left it there or dropped it later, somewhere else, I don’t know to this
minute.”
“Don’t you think, Miss Frances,” interposed Queen, reaching for his
snuff-box and then guiltily dropping it back into his pocket as he met
the icy gaze of Mrs. Ives-Pope, “that you might have dropped it in the
alley after this man accosted you?”
A look of relief spread over the girl’s face, and it became
almost animated. “Why, Inspector!” she cried. “That was just what
I have thought about it all the time, but it seemed such a lame
explanation—and I was so horribly afraid that I might be caught in
a sort of—of spider’s web.... I just couldn’t bring myself to tell
you that! While I don’t actually remember, it seems logical, doesn’t
it?—that I dropped it when he grasped my wrist and entirely forgot
about it afterward.”
The Inspector smiled. “On the contrary, my dear,” he said, “it is the
only explanation which seems to cover the facts. In all probability
this man found it there—picked it up—and in a moment of half-drunken
amourousness put it into his pocket, probably intending to return it to
you later. In this way he would have had another opportunity to meet
you. He seems to have been quite smitten by your charms, my dear—and no
wonder.” And the Inspector bowed a little stiffly while the girl, the
color in her face now completely restored, favored him with a dazzling
smile.
“Now—a few things more, Miss Frances, and this little inquisition will
be over,” continued Queen. “Can you describe his physical appearance?”
“Oh, yes!” Frances returned quickly. “He made a rather forcible
impression on me, as you can imagine. He was a trifle taller than
I—that would make him about five feet eight—and inclined to corpulence.
His face was bloated and he had deep leaden-colored pouches
under his eyes. I’ve never seen a more dissipated-looking man. He was
clean-shaven. There was nothing remarkable about his features except
perhaps a prominent nose.”
“That would be our friend Mr. Field, all right,” remarked the Inspector
grimly. “Now—think carefully, Miss Frances. Did you ever meet this man
anywhere before—did you recognize him at all?”
The girl responded instantly. “I don’t have to think much about that,
Inspector. I can answer positively that I never saw the man before in
my life!”
The pause which ensued was broken by the cool, even tones of Ellery.
All heads turned toward him in a startled manner as he spoke.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Ives-Pope, for interrupting,” he said affably.
“But I am curious to know whether you noticed how the man who accosted
you was dressed.”
Frances turned her smile upon Ellery, who blinked quite humanly. “I
didn’t take particular notice of his clothes, Mr. Queen,” she said,
displaying white, brilliant teeth. “But I seem to remember his wearing
a full-dress suit—his shirt-bosom was a little stained—they were like
liquor-stains—and a tophat. From what I recall of his attire, it was
rather fastidious and in good taste, except, of course, for the stains
on his shirt.”
Ellery murmured a fascinated thanks and subsided against the bookcase.
With a sharp look at his son, Queen rose to his feet.
“Then that will be all, ladies and gentlemen. I think we may safely
consider the incident closed.”
There was an instantaneous little burst of approval and everybody rose
to press in on Frances, who was radiant with happiness. Barry, Peale
and Eve Ellis bore Frances off in triumphal march, while Stanford, with
a lugubrious smile, offered his mother a carefully elbowed arm.
“Thus endeth the first lesson,” he announced gravely. “Mater, my
arm before you faint!” A protesting Mrs. Ives-Pope departed, leaning
ponderously on her son.
Ives-Pope shook Queen’s hand vigorously. “Then you think it’s all over
as far as my girl is concerned?” he asked.
“I think so, Mr. Ives-Pope,” answered the Inspector. “Well, sir, thank
you for your courtesy. And now we must be going—lots of work to do.
Coming, Henry?”
Five minutes later Queen, Ellery and District Attorney Sampson were
striding side by side down Riverside Drive toward 72nd Street,
earnestly discussing the events of the morning.
“I’m glad that line of investigation is cleared up with no result,”
said Sampson dreamily. “By the Lord Harry, I admire that girl’s pluck,
Q!”
“Good child,” said the Inspector. “What do you think, Ellery?” he asked
suddenly, turning on his son, who was walking along staring at the
River.
“Oh, she’s charming,” Ellery said at once, his abstracted eyes
brightening.
“I didn’t mean the girl, my son,” said his father irritably. “I meant
the general aspect of the morning’s work.”
“Oh, that!” Ellery smiled a little. “Do you mind if I become Æsopian?”
“Yes,” groaned his father.
“A lion,” said Ellery, “may be beholden to a mouse.”
CHAPTER XIII
QUEEN TO QUEEN
Djuna had just cleared the table of the dinner-dishes and was serving
coffee to the two Queens at six-thirty that evening when the outer
doorbell rang. The little man-of-all-work straightened his tie, pulled
down his jacket (while the Inspector and Ellery eyed him in twinkling
amusement), and marched gravely into the foyer. He was back in a moment
bearing a silver tray upon which lay two calling-cards. The Inspector
picked them up with beetling brows.
“Such ceremony, Djuna!” he murmured. “Well, well! So ‘Doc’ Prouty’s
bringing a visitor. Show ’em in, you imp!”
Djuna marched back and returned with the Chief Assistant Medical
Examiner and a tall, thin, emaciated man, entirely bald and wearing a
closely clipped beard. Queen and Ellery rose.
“I’ve been expecting to hear from you, Doc!” Queen grinned, shaking
hands with Prouty. “And if I’m not mistaken, here’s ♦Professor Jones
himself! Welcome to our castle, Doctor.” The thin man bowed.
♦ “Professsor” replaced with “Professor”
“This is my son and keeper of my conscience, Doctor,” Queen added,
presenting Ellery. “Ellery—Dr. Thaddeus Jones.”
Dr. Jones offered a large limp hand. “So you’re the chap Queen and
Sampson keep prattling about!” he boomed. “Certainly happy to meet you,
sir.”
“I’ve been fairly itching to be introduced to New York City’s
Paracelsus and eminent Toxicologist,” smiled Ellery. “The honor of
rattling the City’s skeletons is all yours.” He shuddered elaborately
and indicated some chairs. The four men sat down.
“Join us in some coffee, gentlemen,” urged Queen, and shouted to Djuna,
whose bright eyes were visible from behind the kitchenette door.
“Djuna! You rascal! Coffee for four!” Djuna grinned and disappeared,
to pop out a moment later like a jack-in-the-box, bearing four cups of
steaming coffee.
Prouty, who resembled the popular conception of Mephistopheles, whipped
from his pocket one of his black, dangerous-looking cigars and began to
puff away furiously.
“This chitter-chatter may be all right for you men of leisure,” he said
briskly, between puffs, “but I’ve been working like a beaver all day
analyzing the contents of a lady’s stomach, and I want to get home for
some sleep.”
“Hear, hear!” murmured Ellery, “I gather from your soliciting the aid
of Professor Jones that you met with some obstruction in your analysis
of Mr. Field’s corporeal remains. Lay on, Æsculapius!”
“I’ll lay on,” returned Prouty grimly. “You’re right—I met with a
violent obstruction. I’ve had some little experience, if you’ll pardon
the professional modesty, in examining the innards of deceased ladies
and gentlemen, but I’ll confess I never saw ’em in such a mess as this
chap Field’s. Seriously, Jones will attest to the truth of _that_. His
œsophagus, for example, and the entire tracheal tract looked as if some
one had taken a blow-torch and played it gently over his insides.”
♦ “æsophagus” replaced with “œsophagus”
“What was it—couldn’t have been bichloride of mercury, could it, Doc?”
asked Ellery, who prided himself on a complete ignorance of the exact
sciences.
“Hardly,” growled Prouty. “But let me tell you what happened. I
analyzed for every poison on the calendar, and although this one had
familiar petroleum components I couldn’t place it exactly. Yes,
sir—I was stumped good and proper. And to let you in on a secret—the
Medical Examiner himself, who thought I was pie-eyed from overwork,
made a stab at it with his own fine Italian hand. The net result in his