The Roman hat mystery A problem in deduction
Ellery’s cool voice cut in on the old man’s thick accents.
“How long have you been a doorman?”
The old man’s bewildered eyes shifted to this new inquisitor. “Nigh
onto ten years, sir. I wasn’t always a doorman. Only when I got old and
couldn’t do nothin’ else—”
“I understand,” said Ellery kindly. He hesitated a moment, then added
inflexibly, “A man who has been a doorman for as many years as you have
might forget something about the first act. But people do not often
come into a theatre during the second act. Surely if you think hard
enough you can answer positively, one way or the other?”
The response came painfully. “I—I don’t remember, sir. I could say no
one did, but that mightn’t be the truth. I just can’t answer.”
“All right.” The Inspector put his hand on the old man’s shoulder.
“Forget it. Perhaps we’re asking too much. That’s all for the time
being.” The doorman shuffled away with the pitiful alacrity of old age.
Doyle clumped toward the group, a tall handsome man dressed in rough
tweeds in his wake, traces of stage make-up streaking his face.
“This is Mr. Peale, Inspector. He’s the leading man of the show,”
reported Doyle.
Queen smiled at the actor, offering his hand. “Pleased to make your
acquaintance, Mr. Peale. Perhaps you can help us out with a little
information.”
“Glad to be of service, Inspector,” replied Peale, in a rich baritone.
He glanced at the back of the Medical Examiner, who was busy over the
dead man; then looked away with repugnance.
“I suppose you were on the stage at the time the hue-and-cry went up in
this unfortunate affair?” pursued the Inspector.
“Oh, yes. In fact, the entire cast was. What is it you would like to
know?”
“Could you definitely place the time that you noticed something wrong
in the audience?”
“Yes, I can. We had just about ten minutes before the end of the act.
It was at the climax of the play, and my rôle demands the discharge of
a pistol. I remember we had some discussion during rehearsals of this
point in the play, and that is how I can be so sure of the time.”
The Inspector nodded. “Thank you very much, Mr. Peale. That’s exactly
what I wanted to know.... Incidentally, let me apologize for having
kept you people crowded back here in this fashion. We were quite busy
and had no time to make other arrangements. You and the rest of the
cast are at liberty to go backstage now. Of course, make no effort to
leave the theatre until you are notified.”
“I understand completely, Inspector. Happy to have been able to help.”
Peale bowed and retreated to the rear of the theatre.
The Inspector leaned against the nearest seat, absorbed in thought.
Ellery, at his side, was absently polishing the lenses of his
pince-nez. Father motioned significantly to son.
“Well, Ellery?” Queen asked in a low voice.
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” murmured Ellery. “Our respected victim
was last seen alive at 9:25, and he was found dead at approximately
9:55. Problem: What happened between times? Sounds ludicrously simple.”
“You don’t say?” muttered Queen. “Piggott!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is that the usherette? Let’s get some action.”
Piggott released the arm of the young woman standing at his side. She
was a pert and painted lady with even white teeth and a ghastly smile.
She minced forward and regarded the Inspector brazenly.
“Are you the regular usherette on this aisle, Miss—?” asked the
Inspector briskly.
“O’Connell, Madge O’Connell. Yes, I am!”
The Inspector took her arm gently. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to
be as brave as you are impertinent, my dear,” he said. “Step over here
for a moment.” The girl’s face was deathly white as they paused at the
LL row. “Pardon me a moment, Doc. Mind if we interrupt your work?”
Dr. Prouty looked up with an abstracted scowl. “No, go right ahead,
Inspector. I’m nearly through.” He stood up and moved aside, biting the
cigar between his teeth.
Queen watched the girl’s face as she stooped over the dead man’s body.
She drew her breath in sharply.
“Do you remember ushering this man to his seat to-night, Miss O’Connell?”
The girl hesitated. “Seems like I do. But I was very busy to-night,
as usual, and I must have ushered two hundred people all told. So I
couldn’t say positively.”
“Do you recall whether these seats which are empty now”—he
indicated the seven vacant chairs—“were unoccupied all during the first
and second acts?”
“Well.... I do seem to remember noticing them that way as I walked up
and down the aisle.... No, sir. I don’t think anybody sat in those
seats all night.”
“Did anyone walk up or down this aisle during the second act, Miss
O’Connell? Think hard, now; it’s important that you answer correctly.”
The girl hesitated once more, flashing bold eyes at the impassive face
of the Inspector. “No—I didn’t see anybody walk up or down the aisle.”
She quickly added, “I couldn’t tell you much. I don’t know a thing
about this business. I’m a hard-working girl, and I—”
“Yes, yes, my dear, we understand that. Now—where do you generally
stand when you’re not ushering people to their seats?”
The girl pointed to the head of the aisle.
“Were you there all during the second act, Miss O’Connell?” asked the
Inspector softly.
The girl moistened her lips before she spoke. “Well—yes, I was. But,
honest, I didn’t see anything out of the way all night.”
“Very well.” Queen’s voice was mild. “That’s all.” She turned away with
quick, light steps.
There was a stir behind the group. Queen wheeled to confront Dr.
Prouty, who had risen to his feet and was closing his bag. He was
whistling dolefully.
“Well, Doc—I see you’re through. What’s the verdict?” asked Queen.
“It’s short and snappy, Inspector. Man died about two hours ago.
Cause of death puzzled me for a while but it’s pretty well settled
in my mind as poison. The signs all point to some form of alcoholic
poisoning—you’ve probably noticed the sallow blue color of the skin.
Did you smell his breath? Sweetest odor of bum booze I ever had the
pleasure of inhaling. He must have been drunk as a lord. At the same
time, it couldn’t have been ordinary alcoholic poisoning—he wouldn’t
have dropped off so fast. That’s all I can tell you right now.” He
paused, buttoning his coat.
Queen took Field’s kerchief-wrapped flask from his pocket and handed it
to Dr. Prouty. “This is the dead man’s flask, Doc. Suppose you analyze
the contents for me. Before you handle it, though, let Jimmy down at
the laboratory look it over for fingerprints. And—but wait a minute.”
The Inspector peered about and picked up the half-empty ginger-ale
bottle where it stood in a corner on the carpet. “You can analyze this
ginger ale for me, too, Doc,” he added.
The Assistant Medical Examiner, after stowing the flask and bottle into
his bag, tenderly adjusted the hat on his head.
“Well, I’ll be going, Inspector,” he drawled. “I’ll have a fuller
report for you when I’ve performed the autopsy. Ought to give you
something to work on. Incidentally, the morgue-wagon must be outside—I
’phoned for one on my way down. So long.” He yawned and slouched away.
As Dr. Prouty disappeared, two white-garbed orderlies hurried across
the carpet, bearing a stretcher between them. At a sign from Queen they
lifted the inert body, deposited it on the stretcher, covered it with
a blanket and hustled out. The detectives and policemen around the
door watched with relief as the grisly burden was borne away—the main
work of the evening for them was almost over. The audience—rustling,
whispering, shifting, coughing, murmuring—twisted about with a renewal
of interest as the body was unceremoniously carted off.
Queen had just turned to Ellery with a weary sigh when from the extreme
right-hand side of the theatre came an ominous commotion. People
everywhere popped out of their seats, staring, while policemen
shouted for quiet. Queen spoke rapidly to a uniformed officer nearby.
Ellery slipped to one side, eyes gleaming. The disturbance came nearer
by jerky degrees. Two policemen appeared hauling a struggling figure
between them. They dragged their capture to the head of the left aisle
and hustled the man to his feet, holding him up by main force.
The man was short and ratlike. He wore cheap store-clothes of a sombre
cut. On his head was a black hat of the kind sometimes worn by country
dominies. His mouth writhed in an ugly manner; imprecations issued from
it venomously. As he caught the eye of the Inspector fixed upon him,
however, he ceased struggling and went limp at once.
“Found this man tryin’ to sneak out the alley door on the other side
of the buildin’, Inspector,” panted one of the bluecoats, shaking the
captive roughly.
The Inspector chuckled, took his brown snuff-box from his pocket,
inhaled, sneezed his habitual joyful sneeze, and beamed upon the silent
cowering man between the two officers.
“Well, well, Parson,” he said genially. “Mighty nice of you to turn up
so conveniently!”
CHAPTER IV
IN WHICH MANY ARE CALLED AND TWO ARE CHOSEN
Some natures, through peculiar weakness, cannot endure the sight of
a whining man. Of all the silent, threatening group ringed about the
abject figure called “Parson,” Ellery alone experienced a sick feeling
of disgust at the spectacle the prisoner was making of himself.
At the hidden lash in Queen’s words, the Parson drew himself up
stiffly, glared into the Inspector’s eyes for a split second, then
with a resumption of his former tactics began to fight against the
sturdy arms which encircled him. He writhed and spat and cursed,
finally becoming silent again. He was conserving his breath. The fury
of his threshing body communicated itself to his captors; another
policeman joined the _mêlée_ and helped pin the prisoner to the floor.
And suddenly he wilted and shrank like a pricked balloon. A policeman
hauled him roughly to his feet, where he stood, eyes downcast, body
still, hat clutched in his hand.
Ellery turned his head.
“Come now, Parson,” went on the Inspector, just as if the man had been
a balky child at rest after a fit of temper, “you know that sort of
business doesn’t go with me. What happened when you tried it last time
at the Old Slip on the riverfront?”
“Answer when you’re spoken to!” growled a bluecoat, prodding him in the
ribs.
“I don’t know nothin’ and besides I got nothin’ to say,” muttered the
Parson, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I’m surprised at you, Parson,” said Queen gently. “I haven’t asked
you what you know.”
“You got no right to hold an innocent man!” shouted the Parson
indignantly. “Ain’t I as good as anybody else here? I bought a
ticket and I paid for it with real dough, too! Where do you get that
stuff—tryin’ to keep me from goin’ home!”
“So you bought a ticket, did you?” asked the Inspector, rocking on his
heels. “Well, well! Suppose you snap out the old stub and let Papa
Queen look it over.”
The Parson’s hand mechanically went to his lower vest pocket, his
fingers dipping into it with a quite surprising deftness. His face
went blank as he slowly withdrew his hand, empty. He began a search of
his other pockets with an appearance of fierce annoyance that made the
Inspector smile.
“Hell!” grunted the Parson. “If that ain’t the toughest luck. I always
hangs onto my ticket-stubs, an’ just to-night I have to go and throw it
away. Sorry, Inspector!”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Queen. His face went bleak and
hard. “Quit stalling, Cazzanelli! What were you doing in this theatre
to-night? What made you decide to duck out so suddenly? Answer me!”
The Parson looked about him. His arms were held very securely by two
bluecoats. A number of hard-looking men surrounded him. The prospect