“Seems to me you were taking mighty few duds with you, Michaels,” remarked Queen, smiling. “It’s too bad that you’ve been done out of your vacation. Well! That’s the way life is!” Michaels murmured a low goodbye, picked up the bag and departed. A moment later Piggott strolled out of the apartment.
Ellery threw back his head and laughed delightedly. “What a mannerly beggar! Lying in his teeth, pater. … And what did he want here, do you think?”
“He came to get something, of course,” mused the Inspector. “And that means there’s something here of importance that we have apparently overlooked. …”
He grew thoughtful. The telephone bell rang.
“Inspector?” Sergeant Velie’s voice boomed over the wire. “I called headquarters but you weren’t there, so I guessed you were still at Field’s place. … I’ve some interesting news for you from Browne Bros. Do you want me to come up to Field’s?”
“No,” returned Queen. “We’re through here. I’ll be at my office just as soon as I’ve paid a visit to Field’s on Chambers Street. I’ll be there if anything important comes up in the interim. Where are you now?”
“Fifth Avenue—I’ve just come out of Browne’s.”
“Then go back to headquarters and wait for me. And, Thomas—send a uniformed man up here right away.”
Queen hung up and turned to Johnson.
“Stay here until a cop shows up—it won’t be long,” he grunted. “Have him keep a watch in the apartment and arrange for a relief. Then report back to the main office. … Come along, Ellery. This is going to be a busy day!”
Ellery’s protests were in vain. His father fussily hustled him out of the building and into the street, where the roar of a taxicab’s exhaust effectually drowned out his voice.
X
In Which Mr. Field’s Tophats Begin to Assume Proportions
It was exactly ten o’clock in the morning when Inspector Queen and his son opened the frosted glass door marked:
Monte Field
Attorney-at-Law
The large waiting-room they entered was decorated in just such a fashion as might have been expected from a man of Field’s taste in clothes. It was deserted, and with a puzzled glance Inspector Queen pushed through the door, Ellery strolling behind, and went into the General Office. This was a long room filled with desks. It resembled a newspaper “city room” except for its rows of bookcases filled with ponderous legal tomes.
The office was in a state of violent upheaval. Stenographers chattered excitedly in small groups. A number of male clerks whispered in a corner; and in the center of the room stood Detective Hesse, talking earnestly to a lean saturnine man with greyed temples. It was evident that the demise of the lawyer had created something of a stir in his place of business.
At the entrance of the Queens the employees looked at each other in a startled way and began to slip back to their desks. An embarrassed silence fell. Hesse hurried forward. His eyes were red and strained.
“Good morning, Hesse,” said the Inspector abruptly. “Where’s Field’s private office?”
The detective led them across the room to still another door, a large Private lettered on its panels. The three men went into a small office which was overwhelmingly luxurious.
“This chap went in for atmosphere, didn’t he?” Ellery chuckled, sinking into a red-leather armchair.
“Let’s have it, Hesse,” said the Inspector, following Ellery’s suit.
Hesse began to talk rapidly. “Got here last night and found the door locked. No sign of a light inside. I listened pretty closely but couldn’t hear a sound, so I took it for granted that there was no one inside and camped in the corridor all night. At about a quarter to nine this morning the office-manager breezed in and I collared him. He was that tall bird I was talking to when you came in. Name’s Lewin—Oscar Lewin.”
“Office-manager, eh?” remarked the old man, inhaling snuff.
“Yes, Chief. He’s either dumb or else he knows how to keep his mouth shut,” continued Hesse. “Of course, he’d already seen the morning papers and was upset by the news of Field’s murder. I could see he didn’t like my questions any too well, either. … I didn’t get a thing out of him. Not a thing. He said he’d gone straight home last night—it seems Field had left about four o’clock and didn’t come back—and he didn’t know anything about the murder until he read the papers. We’ve been sort of sliding along here all morning, waiting for you to come.”
“Get Lewin for me.”
Hesse returned with the lanky office-manager in his wake. Oscar Lewin was physically unprepossessing. He had shifty black eyes and was abnormally thin. There was something predatory in his beaked nose and bony figure. The Inspector looked him over coldly.
“So you’re the office-manager,” he remarked. “Well, what do you think of this affair, Lewin?”
“It’s terrible—simply terrible,” groaned Lewin. “I can’t imagine how it happened or why. Good Lord, I was talking to him only four o’clock yesterday afternoon!” He seemed genuinely distressed.
“Did Mr. Field appear strange or worried when you spoke to him?”
“Not at all, sir,” replied Lewin nervously. “In fact, he was in unusually good spirits. Cracked a joke about the Giants and said he was going to see a darned good show last night—Gunplay. And now I see by the papers that he was killed there!”
“Oh, he told you about the play, did he?” asked the Inspector. “He didn’t happen to remark by any chance that he was going with anybody?”
“No, sir.” Lewin shuffled his feet.
“I see.” Queen paused. “Lewin, as manager you must have been closer to Field than any other of his employees. Just what do you know about him personally?”
“Not a thing, sir, not a thing,” said Lewin hastily. “Mr. Field was not a man with whom an employee could become familiar. Occasionally he said something about himself, but it was always of a general nature and more jesting
