The Roman hat mystery A problem in deduction
“Doyle, where are the people who were sitting in these seats?” He
pointed to three chairs adjoining the dead man’s and four directly to
the front of them in the preceding row.
The policeman appeared puzzled. “Didn’t see anybody there,
Inspector....”
Queen stood silent for a moment, then waved Doyle back with the low
remark to Velie, “In a crowded house, too.... Remember that.” Velie
raised his eyebrows gravely. “I’m cold on this whole business,”
continued the Inspector genially. “All I can see right now are a dead
man and a lot of perspiring people making noise. Have Hesse and Piggott
direct traffic for a while, eh, son?”
Velie spoke sharply to two of the plainclothes men who had entered the
theatre with the Inspector. They wriggled their way toward the rear and
the people who had been crowding around found themselves pushed aside.
Policemen joined the two detectives. The group of actors and actresses
were ordered to move back. A section was roped off behind the central
tier of seats and some fifty men and women packed into the small space.
Quiet men circulated among them, instructing them to show their tickets
and return to their seats one by one. Within five minutes not a member
of the audience was left standing. The actors were cautioned to remain
within the roped enclosure for the time being.
In the extreme left aisle Inspector Queen reached into his topcoat
pocket, carefully extracted a brown carved snuff-box and took a pinch
with every evidence of enjoyment.
“That’s more like it, Thomas,” he chuckled. “You know how fussy I
am about noises.... Who is the poor chap on the floor—do you know?”
Velie shook his head. “I haven’t even touched the body, Inspector,” he
said. “I got here just a few minutes before you did. A man on the 47th
Street beat called me up from his box and reported Doyle’s whistle.
Doyle seems to have been doing things, sir.... His lieutenant reports
favorably on his record.”
“Ah,” said the Inspector, “ah, yes. Doyle. Come here, Doyle.”
The policeman stepped forward and saluted.
“Just what,” went on the little grey man, leaning comfortably against a
seat-back, “just what happened here, Doyle?”
“All I know about it, Inspector,” began Doyle, “is that a couple of
minutes before the end of the second act this man”—he pointed to Pusak,
who stood wretchedly in a corner—“came running up to me where I was
standin’ in the back, watchin’ the show, and he says, ‘A man’s been
murdered, officer!... A man’s murdered!’ He was blubberin’ like a baby
and I thought he was pie-eyed. But I stepped mighty quick and came over
here—the place was dark and there was a lot of shootin’ and screamin’
on the stage—and I took a look at the feller on the floor. I didn’t
move him, but I felt his heart and there wasn’t anything to feel. To
make sure he was croaked I asked for a doctor and a gent by the name of
Stuttgard answered my call....”
Inspector Queen stood pertly, his head cocked on a side like a
parrot’s. “That’s excellent,” he said. “Excellent, Doyle. I’ll question
Dr. Stuttgard later. Then what happened?” he went on.
“Then,” continued the policeman, “then I got the usherette on this
aisle to beat it back to the manager’s office for Panzer. Louis
Panzer—that’s the manager right over there....”
Queen regarded Panzer, who was standing a few feet to the rear talking
to Neilson, and nodded. “That’s Panzer, you say. All right, all
right.... Ellery! You got my message?”
He darted forward, brushing aside Panzer, who fell back apologetically,
and clapped the shoulder of a tall young man who had slipped through
the main door and was slowly looking about the scene. The old man
passed his arm through the younger man’s.
“Haven’t inconvenienced you any, son? What bookstore did you haunt
to-night? Ellery, I’m mighty glad you’re here!”
He dipped into his pocket, again extracted the snuff-box, sniffed
deeply—so deeply that he sneezed—and looked up into his son’s face.
“As a matter of fact,” said Ellery Queen, his eyes restlessly roving,
“I can’t return the compliment. You just lured me away from a perfect
book-lover’s paradise. I was at the point of getting the dealer to
let me have a priceless Falconer first-edition, intending to borrow
the money from you at headquarters. I telephoned—and here I am. A
Falconer—Oh, well. To-morrow will do, I suppose.”
The Inspector chuckled. “Now if you told me you were picking up an old
snuff-box I might be interested. As it is—trot along. Looks as if we
have some work to-night.”
They walked toward the little knot of men on the left, the old man’s
hand grasping his son’s coat-sleeve. Ellery Queen towered six inches
above his father’s head. There was a square cut to his shoulders and
an agreeable swing to his body as he walked. He was dressed in oxford
grey and carried a light stick. On his nose perched what seemed an
incongruous note in so athletic a man—a rimless pince-nez. But the brow
above, the long delicate lines of the face, the bright eyes were those
of a man of thought rather than action.
They joined the group at the body. Ellery was greeted respectfully by
Velie. He bent over the seat, glanced earnestly at the dead man, and
stepped back.
“Go on, Doyle,” said the Inspector briskly. “You looked at the body,
detained the man who found it, got the manager.... Then what?”
“Panzer at my orders closed all the doors at once and saw that no one
either came in or went out,” answered Doyle. “There was a lot of fuss
here with the audience, but nothing else happened.”
“Right, right!” said the Inspector, feeling for his snuff-box. “You did
a mighty good job. Now—That gentleman there.”
He gestured in the direction of the trembling little man in the corner,
who stepped forward hesitantly, licked his lips, looked about him with
a helpless expression, and then stood silent.
“What’s your name?” asked the Inspector, in a kindly tone.
“Pusak—William Pusak,” said the man. “I’m a bookkeeper, sir. I was
just—”
“One at a time, Pusak. Where were you sitting?”
Pusak pointed eagerly to the sixth seat from the aisle, in the last
row. A frightened young girl in the fifth seat sat staring in their
direction.
“I see,” said the Inspector. “Is that young lady with you?”
“Yes, sir—yes, sir. That’s my fiancée, sir. Her name is Esther—Esther
Jablow....”
A little to the rear a detective was scribbling in a notebook. Ellery
stood behind his father, glancing from one exit to another. He
began to draw a diagram on the fly-leaf of a small book he had taken
from his topcoat pocket.
The Inspector scrutinized the girl, who immediately averted her eyes.
“Now, Pusak, I want you to tell me just what happened.”
“I—I didn’t do a thing out of the way, sir.”
Inspector Queen patted his arm. “Nobody is accusing you of anything,
Pusak. All I want is your story of what happened. Take your time—tell
it your own way....”
Pusak gave him a curious glance. Then he moistened his lips and began.
“Well, I was sitting there in that seat with my—with Miss Jablow—and
we were enjoying the show pretty much. The second act was kind of
exciting—there was a lot of shooting and yelling on the stage—and then
I got up and started to go out the row to the aisle. This aisle—here.”
He pointed nervously to the spot of carpet on which he was standing.
Queen nodded, his face benign.
“I had to push past my—Miss Jablow, and there wasn’t anybody except one
man between her and the aisle. That’s why I went that way. I didn’t
sort of like to”—he hesitated apologetically—“to bother people going
out that way in the middle of the most exciting part....”
“That was very decent of you, Pusak,” said the Inspector, smiling.
“Yes, sir. So I walked down the row, feeling my way, because it was
pretty dark in the theatre, and then I came to—to this man.” He
shuddered, and continued more rapidly. “He was sitting in a funny way,
I thought. His knees were touching the seat in front of him and I
couldn’t get past. I said, ‘I’m sorry,’ and tried again, but his knees
hadn’t moved an inch. I didn’t know what to do, sir—I’m not nervy, like
some fellows, and I was going to turn around and go back when all of
a sudden I felt the man’s body slip to the floor—I was still pressed
up close to him. Of course, I got kind of scared—it was only
natural....”
“I should say,” said the Inspector, with concern. “It must have given
you quite a turn. Then what happened?”
“Well, sir.... Then, before I realized what was happening, he fell
clean out of his seat and his head bumped against my legs. I didn’t
know what to do. I couldn’t call for help—I don’t know why, but I
couldn’t, somehow—and I just naturally bent over him, thinking he was
drunk or sick or something, and meant to lift him up. I hadn’t figured
on what I’d do after that....”
“I know just how you felt, Pusak. Go on.”
“Then it happened—the thing I told this policeman about. I’d just got
hold of his head when I felt his hand come up and grab mine, just like
he was trying awfully hard to get a grip on something, and he moaned.
It was so low I could hardly hear it, but—but sort of horrible. I can’t
quite describe it exactly....”
“Now we’re getting on,” said the Inspector. “And?”
“And then he talked. It wasn’t really talking—it was more like a
gurgle, as if he was choking. He said a few words that I didn’t
catch at all, but I realized that this was something different from
just being sick or drunk, so I bent even lower and listened hard. I
heard him gasp, ‘It’s murder.... Been murdered ...’ or something like
that....”
“So he said, ‘It’s murder,’ eh?” The Inspector regarded Pusak with
severity. “Well, now. That must have given you a shock, Pusak.” He
snapped suddenly, “Are you certain this man said ‘murder’?”
“That’s what I heard, sir. I’ve got good hearing,” said Pusak doggedly.
“Well!” Queen relaxed, smiling again. “Of course. I just wanted to make
sure. Then what did you do?”
“Then I felt him squirm a little and all of a sudden go limp in my
arms. I was afraid he’d died and I don’t know how—but next thing I knew
I was in the back telling it all to the policeman—this policeman here.”
He pointed to Doyle, who rocked on his heels impersonally.
“And that’s all?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. That’s all I know about it,” said Pusak, with a
sigh of relief.
Queen grasped him by the coat front and barked, “That isn’t all, Pusak.
You forgot to tell us why you left your seat in the first place!” He
glared into the little man’s eyes.
Pusak coughed, teetered back and forth a moment, as if uncertain of
his next words, then leaned forward and whispered into the Inspector’s
astonished ear.
“Oh!” Queen’s lips twitched in the suspicion of a smile, but he said
gravely, “I see, Pusak. Thank you very much for your help. Everything
is all right now—you may go back to your seat and leave with the others
later on.” He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. Pusak, with a
sickly glance at the dead man on the floor, crept around the rear wall
of the last row and reappeared by the girl’s side. She immediately
engaged him in a whispered but animated conversation.
As the Inspector with a little smile turned to Velie, Ellery made a
slight movement of impatience, opened his mouth to speak, appeared to
reconsider, and finally moved quietly backwards, disappearing from view.
“Well, Thomas,” sighed the Inspector, “let’s have a look at this chap.”
He bent nimbly over the dead man, on his knees in the space between the
last row and the row directly before it. Despite the brilliant sparkle
of light from the fixtures overhead, the cramped space near the floor
was dark. Velie produced a flashlight and stooped over the Inspector,
keeping its bright beam on the corpse, shifting it as the Inspector’s