“No,” and said at once: “I mean?yes!” and tossed his head about like a restless horse, chafing at the rein of circumstances.
“And still I’m morally certain you were going to tell Papa Queen all about it on the night of the murder. Then we found the body and you pulled in your horns. You
“Yes, but not about?this. About this Llewes?Sewell?woman . . . “
“Ah, then the secret that concerns your sister has nothing to do with your charming Irene?” asked Ellery quickly.
“No, no, I didn’t say that. Oh, good God, Queen, don’t make it so hard for me. I just can’t say any more.”
Ellery rose and went to the open window to stare out inscrutably over the flickering dark canyon below. Then he turned and said lightly: “Since we’ve reached the climax of our little bout of dialectic, I suggest we get out of here before the mistress of this boudoir returns with excursions and alarums. Ready, Kirk?”
“I’m ready,” said Kirk in a muffled voice.
Ellery held the door open for him and then switched off the light. In the darkness they went through the apartment to the front door and passed out into the corridor. There was no one about. They stood still for a moment.
Then Donald Kirk said: “Well, good night,” in the dreariest of tones and trudged off down the corridor toward the stairs without once looking back.
* * *
Ellery watched his drooping shoulders until they vanished.
He turned in a seemingly aimless motion and peered sharply out of the corner of his eyes at the turn of the corridor behind him. There had been . . . But there was nothing to be seen.
For five long minutes Ellery waited without stirring from the spot. No one turned up, no one even looked his way from the far length of the corridor. He strained his ears and kept his eyes open . . . . But the corridor was as still as a cathedral.
And so, this time without hesitation, he inserted his skeleton key in the lock of the door and swiftly re- entered the Llewes suite.
But even in the isolation of the darkness there he was troubled. He had seen some one, he felt sure. And, from the tininess of the ankles, that some one who had watched them emerge from the apartment had been Jo Temple.
Chapter 14. THE MAN FROM PARIS
Miss Irene Sewell, alias Llewes, came swiftly into her apartment at two o’clock in the morning, humming a waltz. She did not look like a woman who has spent several hours under the searching scrutiny of the police.
Under her arm she carried a small package done up in brown paper.
“Lucy!” she called gaily. “Lucy!” Her voice echoed through the sitting-room. But there was no answer, and with a shrug she let her mink coat slip to the floor and glided into the living-room. She turned on the light, still humming, and looked about with a slow sweep of her remarkable brown eyes. The hum ceased abruptly. An expression of suspicion disturbed her large beautiful features. A sixth sense told her subtly that something was wrong. What it was she could not conceive, and yet . . . Her eyes blazed, and she strode forward and yanked open the bedroom-door and snapped on the light.
Mr. Ellery Queen sat smiling in the plush chair facing the door, his legs comfortably crossed. At his elbow lay an ashtray overflowing with butts.
“Mr. Queen! What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded in her throaty voice.
“Good entrance, Miss Llewes,” said Ellery cheerfully, getting to his feet. “I mean the business. The speech wasn’t so good. Hackneyed, don’t you think?”
“I asked you,” she said sharply, “what you’re doing in my bedroom at this hour of the morning!”
“Implying, I trust, that at an earlier hour you would have no objection whatever? Thank you . . . .” He stretched his lean arms and yawned politely. “That was a long wait, Miss Llewes. I was beginning to believe that you’d found my father a positively enchanting host.”
She clutched the back of the nearest chair, her mask stripped off. The bundle was still under her arm. “Then it was a trick,” she said slowly. “He returned Kirk’s jewels to me and kept asking me questions . . . .” Her eyes travelled over the furniture, probing for signs of disturbance. They widened a little when she saw that the lowest drawer of the vanity was open. “Then you’ve found it,” she said with bitterness.
Ellery raised his shoulders. “Very clumsy, my dear. I should think that a woman of your experience would have chosen a more subtle hiding-place. Yes, I’ve found it; and that’s why I’ve waited in this damnably sleepy chair.”
She advanced toward him with oddly uncertain steps, as if she did not quite know what to do or say. “Well?” she murmured at last. Her peculiar progress was taking her in a sidling way to the vanity.
“The .22 isn’t there any more,” said Ellery, “so you may as well sit down, Miss Llewes.”
She went a little paler, but she said nothing and obediently turned and went to the
Ellery began to pace the rug thoughtfully. “The time has come?to paraphrase the immortal Walrus?to discuss fundamentals. You’ve been playing a dangerous game, my dear. Now you’ve got to pay the price.”
“What do you want of me?” she asked huskily; there was no defiance in her voice.
Ellery cocked a shrewd eye at her. “Information. Explanation . . . . I must say I’m inexpressibly astonished, even a little disappointed in you, Irene. No resistance beyond that instinctive groping toward the little .22?
“What can I say?” She leaned back, and the folds of her evening gown draped her in long clean curves. “You’ve won. I’ve been stupid.
“Much as it goes against the gentleman in me,” murmured Ellery, “I must agree with you. You’ve not only been stupid, Irene, but criminally stupid. To keep those letters so carelessly in your bedroom I Why didn’t you put them in the wall-safe?”
“Because the wall-safe or any safe is the first place people examine,” she replied with an unnatural smile.
“The Dupin principle, eh?” Ellery shrugged. “And then, too, people like you place too great reliance upon firearms. I suppose you thought the .22 was protection enough.”
“I usually,” she murmured, “carry it in my bag.”
“But tonight, of course, you left off the lethal jewelry for purposes of your visit to Headquarters. Quite so. Perhaps I’ve been hasty in my judgment, Irene . . . . Well, my dear, it’s late; and much as I enjoy the intimate nature of this
“It seemed an interesting surname,” she said brightly.
“I suppose you realize that Llewes is Sewell spelled backwards?”
“Oh, that. Of course. That was how . . . “ She sat up in alarm. “You don’t mean?you don’t think?”
“What I mean or think, dear lady, is inconsequential. I’m just a cog in the machine.”
“But it happened so long ago?years ago,” she faltered. “I assure you there wasn’t?there couldn’t be the slightest connection between the name and the?”
“That remains to be seen. Now, Miss Llewes, to get down to business. I’ve found those letters and the copy of the certificate. It’s unnecessary for me to point out that your little game has been played, and that you’ve lost.”
“Possession of those?isn’t documents the technical word, Mr. Queen?” she murmured with a sudden sparkle in her eyes?”merely establishes the proofs, you know. But you can’t eradicate from my brain the knowledge of what happened, you see. And it’s quite evident that Mr. Donald Kirk is anxious that I keep quiet. What do you say to that?”
“Awakening resistance,” chuckled Ellery. “Wrong again, my dear. Your word?the word of a woman with a
