The Roman hat mystery A problem in deduction
at Ellery, who was gesturing frantically. Ellery formed his lips around
the syllables of a name and the old man nodded approvingly. He spoke
into the telephone again.
“There’s one other thing you can do for me at present, Panzer,” he
continued. “Can you get hold of that nice old lady, Mrs. Phillips? I’d
like to have her meet us at the theatre as soon as she can.”
“Certainly, Inspector. If it’s at all possible,” said Panzer. Queen
replaced the receiver on its hook.
“Well, that’s that,” he remarked, rubbing his hands together and
delving into his pocket for the snuff-box. “Ah-h-h! Bless Sir Walter
and all those hardy pioneers who championed the cause of the filthy
weed!” He sneezed joyously. “One minute, Ellery, then we’ll go.”
He picked up the telephone once more and called detective headquarters.
He gave a few cheery orders, banged the instrument back on the table
and hustled Ellery into his coat. Djuna watched them leave with a
mournful expression: he had often pleaded with the Inspector to be
allowed to accompany the Queens on their sporadic excursions into the
byways of New York. The Inspector, who had his own ideas on the subject
of rearing adolescents, invariably refused. And Djuna, who regarded his
patron much as the Stone-Age man regarded his amulets, accepted the
inevitable and hoped for a more auspicious future.
It was a raw, wet day. Ellery and his father turned up their
coat-collars as they walked towards Broadway and the subway. Both
were extraordinarily taciturn, but the keen anticipatory looks on
their faces—so curiously alike and yet so different—portended an
exciting and revealing day.
* * * * *
Broadway and its threaded canyons were deserted in the chill wind of
the morning as the two men walked briskly down 47th Street towards the
Roman Theatre. A drab-coated man lounged on the sidewalk before the
closed glass doors of the lobby; another leaned comfortably against the
high iron fence which cut off the left alley from the street. The dumpy
form of Louis Panzer was visible standing before the central door of
the theatre, in conversation with Flint.
Panzer shook hands excitedly. “Well, well!” he cried. “So the ban is to
be lifted at last!... Exceedingly happy to hear that, Inspector.”
“Oh, it isn’t exactly lifted, Panzer,” smiled the old man. “Have you
the keys? Morning, Flint. Rest up any since Monday night?”
Panzer produced a heavy bunch of keys and unlocked the central door of
the lobby. The four men filed in. The swarthy manager fumbled with the
lock of the inside door and finally managed to swing it open. The dark
interior of the orchestra yawned in their faces.
Ellery shivered. “With the possible exceptions of the Metropolitan
Opera House and Titus’ Tomb, this is the most dismal theatorium I’ve
ever entered. It’s a fitting mausoleum for the dear departed....”
The more prosaic Inspector grunted as he pushed his son into the maw of
the dark orchestra. “Get along with you! You’ll be giving us all the
‘willies.’”
Panzer, who had hurried ahead, turned on the main electric switch. The
auditorium leaped into more familiar outlines by the light of the big
arcs and chandeliers. Ellery’s fanciful comparison was not so fantastic
as his father had made it appear. The long rows of seats were
draped with dirty tarpaulin; murky shadows streaked across the carpets,
already dusty; the bare whitewashed wall at the rear of the empty stage
made an ugly splotch in the sea of red plush.
“Sorry to see that tarpaulin there,” grumbled the Inspector to Panzer.
“Because it will have to be rolled up. We’re going to conduct a little
personal search of the orchestra. Flint, get those two men outside,
please. They may as well do something to earn the City’s money.”
Flint sped away and returned shortly with the two detectives who had
been on guard outside the theatre. Under the Inspector’s direction
they began to haul the huge sheets of rubberized seat-covers to the
sides, disclosing rows of cushioned chairs. Ellery, standing to one
side near the extreme left aisle, withdrew from his pocket the little
book in which he had scribbled notes and drawn a rough map of the
theatre on Monday night. He was studying this and biting his underlip.
Occasionally he looked up as if to verify the lay-out of the theatre.
Queen bustled back to where Panzer was nervously pacing the rear.
“Panzer, we’re going to be mighty busy here for a couple of hours and
I was too short-sighted to bring extra men with me. I wonder if I may
impose upon you.... I have something in mind that requires immediate
attention—it would take only a small part of your time and it would
help me considerably.”
“Of course, Inspector!” returned the little manager. “I’m only too glad
to be of assistance.”
The Inspector coughed. “Please don’t feel that I’m using you
as an errand-boy or anything like that, old man,” he explained
apologetically. “But I need these fellows, who are trained in searches
of this kind—and at the same time I must have some vital data from a
couple of the District Attorney’s men who are working downtown on
another aspect of the case. Would you mind taking a note for me to one
of them—name of Cronin—and bring back the parcel he gives you? I hate
to ask you to do this, Panzer,” he muttered. “But it’s too important to
trust to an ordinary messenger, and—ding it all! I’m in a hole.”
Panzer smiled in his quick birdlike fashion. “Not another word,
Inspector. I’m entirely at your service. I’ve the materials in my
office if you care to write the note now.”
The two men retired to Panzer’s office. Five minutes later they
reëntered the auditorium. Panzer held a sealed envelope in his hand and
hurried out into the street. Queen watched him go, then turned with a
sigh to Ellery, who had perched himself on the arm of the seat in which
Field had been murdered and was still consulting the penciled map.
The Inspector whispered a few words to his son. Ellery smiled and
clapped the old man vigorously on the back.
“What do you say we get a move on, son?” said Queen. “I forgot to ask
Panzer if he had succeeded in reaching this Mrs. Phillips. I guess he
did, though, or he would have said something about it. Where in thunder
is she?”
He beckoned to Flint, who was helping the other two detectives in the
back-breaking task of removing the tarpaulin.
“I’ve one of those popular bending-exercises for you this morning,
Flint. Go up to the balcony and get busy.”
“What am I supposed to be looking for to-day, Inspector?” grinned the
broad-shouldered detective. “Because I hope I have better luck than I
did Monday night.”
“You’re looking for a hat—a nice, shiny top-piece such as the swells
wear, my boy,” announced the Inspector. “But if you should come across
anything else, use your lungs!” Flint trotted up the wide marble
staircase towards the balcony. Queen looked after him, shaking his
head. “I’m afraid the poor lad is doomed to another disappointment,” he
remarked to Ellery. “But I must make absolutely certain that there’s
nothing up there—and that the usher Miller who was guarding the balcony
staircase Monday night was telling the truth. Come along, lazybones.”
Ellery shed his topcoat reluctantly and tucked the little book away
in his pocket. The Inspector wriggled out of his ulster and preceded
his son down the aisle. Working side by side they began to search the
orchestra-pit at the extreme end of the auditorium. Finding nothing
there, they clambered out into the orchestra again and, Ellery taking
the right side and his father the left, began a slow, methodical
combing of the theatre-premises. They lifted the seats; probed
experimentally into the plush cushions with long needles which the
Inspector had produced mysteriously from his breast-pocket; and kneeled
to examine every inch of the carpet by the light of electric torches.
The two detectives who had by now completed the task of rolling up the
tarpaulin began, on the Inspector’s brief command, to work through the
boxes, a man to each side of the theatre.
For a long time the four men proceeded in silence, unbroken except for
the somewhat labored breathing of Inspector Queen. Ellery was working
swiftly and efficiently, the old man more slowly. As they met near the
center after completing the search of a row, they would regard each
other significantly, shake their heads and continue afresh.
About twenty minutes after Panzer’s departure the Inspector and Ellery,
absorbed in their examination, were startled by the ringing of a
telephone bell. In the silence of the theatre the clear trill of the
bell rang out with astonishing sharpness. Father and son looked at each
other blankly for an instant, then the old man laughed and plodded
up the aisle in the direction of Panzer’s office.
He returned shortly, smiling. “It was Panzer,” he announced. “Got down
to Field’s office and found the place closed. No wonder—it’s only a
quarter of nine. But I told him to wait there until Cronin comes. It
can’t be long now.”
Ellery laughed and they set to work again.
Fifteen minutes later, when the two men were almost finished, the front
door opened and a small elderly woman dressed in black stood blinking
in the brilliant arc-lights. The Inspector sprang forward to meet her.
“You’re Mrs. Phillips, aren’t you?” he cried warmly. “It’s mighty nice
of you to come so soon, madam. I think you know Mr. Queen here?”
Ellery came forward, smiling one of his rare smiles and bowing with
genuine gallantry. Mrs. Phillips was representative of a lovable old
womanhood. She was short and of motherly proportions. Her gleaming
white hair and air of kindliness endeared her immediately to Inspector
Queen, who had a sentimental weakness for middle-aged ladies of
presence.
“I certainly do know Mr. Queen,” she said, extending her hand. “He was
very nice to an old woman Monday night.... And I was so afraid you’d
have to wait for me, sir!” she said softly, turning to the Inspector.
“Mr. Panzer sent a messenger for me this morning—I haven’t a telephone,
you see. There was a time, when I was on the stage.... I came just as
soon as I could.”
The Inspector beamed. “For a lady it was remarkably prompt,
_remark_ably prompt, Mrs. Phillips!”
“My father kissed the Blarney Stone several centuries ago, Mrs.
Phillips,” said Ellery gravely. “Don’t believe a word av ’im.... I
suppose it will be _au fait_ if I leave you to tackle the rest of the
orchestra, dad? I’d like to have a little chat with Mrs. Phillips.
Do you think you’re physically able to complete the job alone?”
“Physically able—!” snorted the Inspector. “You plump right down that
aisle and go about your business, son.... I should appreciate your
giving Mr. Queen all the help you can, Mrs. Phillips.”
The white-haired lady smiled and Ellery, taking her arm, led her off
in the direction of the stage. Inspector Queen, looking after them
wistfully, shrugged his shoulders after a moment and turned back to
resume the search. A short time later, when he chanced to straighten
up, he espied Ellery and Mrs. Phillips seated on the stage conversing
earnestly, like two players rehearsing their rôles. Queen proceeded
slowly up and down the rows, weaving in and out among the empty seats,
shaking his head dolefully as he approached the last few rows still
empty-handed. When he looked up again the two chairs on the stage held
no occupants. Ellery and the old lady had disappeared.
Queen came at last to LL32 Left—the seat in which Monte Field had
died. He made a painstaking examination of the cushions, a light of
resignation in his eyes. Muttering to himself he walked slowly across
the carpet at the rear of the theatre and entered Panzer’s office. A