The Inspector cleared his throat once more.
“Which alley was it, Miss Frances—the one on the left or the one on the right?” he asked.
“The one on the left, Inspector,” she answered promptly. “You know I was sitting in M8 Left, and I suppose it was natural for me to go to the alley on that side.”
“Quite so,” said Queen, smiling. “Go on, please.”
“I stepped out into the alley,” she resumed, less nervously, “and, not seeing anyone I knew, stood close to the brick wall of the theatre, a little behind the open iron door. The freshness of the night-air after the rain was delightful. I hadn’t been standing there more than two minutes when I felt somebody brush up against me. I naturally moved a little to one side, thinking the person had stumbled. But when he—it was a man—when he did it again, I became a little frightened and started to walk away. He—he grasped my wrist and pulled me back. We were halfway behind the iron door, which was not pushed back completely and I doubt if anyone noticed his action.”
“I see—I see,” murmured the Inspector sympathetically. “It seems an unusual thing for a total stranger to do in a public place.”
“It seemed as if he wanted to kiss me, Inspector. He leaned over and whispered, ‘Good evening, honey!’ and—well, of course, I jumped to that conclusion. I drew back a little and said as coldly as I could, ‘Please let me go, or I will call for help.’ He just laughed at that and bent closer. The reek of whisky on his breath was overpowering. It made me ill.”
She stopped. Eve Ellis patted her hand reassuringly. Peale nudged Barry forcibly as the young man half-rose to his feet in muttered protest. “Miss Frances, I’m going to ask you a peculiar question—it’s almost ridiculous when you come to think of it,” said the Inspector, leaning back in his chair. “Did the reek on his breath suggest good liquor or bad liquor? … There! I knew you’d smile.” And the entire company tittered at the whimsical expression on Queen’s face.
“Well, Inspector—it’s hard to answer that,” returned the girl freely. “I’m afraid I’m not on intimate terms with spirits. But from what I can remember, it had the odor of rather fine liquor. Fine liquor—but plenty of it!” she concluded with a grim little toss of her head.
“I would’ve spotted the vintage in a minute if I’d been there!” muttered Stanford Ives-Pope.
His father’s lips tightened, but after a moment they relaxed into the suspicion of a grin. He shook his head warningly at his son.
“Go ahead, Miss Frances,” said the Inspector.
“I was terribly frightened,” the girl confessed, with a tremor of her red lips. “And feeling nauseated and all—I wrenched away from his outstretched hand and stumbled blindly into the theatre. The next thing I remember is sitting in my seat listening to the warning ring of the backstage bell, announcing the beginning of the second act. I really don’t remember how I got there. My heart was in my throat and now I distinctly recall thinking that I would not tell Stephen—Mr. Barry—anything about the incident for fear he would want to look up this man and punish him. Mr. Barry is terribly jealous, you know.” She smiled tenderly at her fiancé, who suddenly smiled back at her.
“And that, Inspector, is all I know about what happened Monday night,” she resumed. “I know you’re going to ask me where my purse comes into it. Well—it doesn’t at all, Inspector. Because on my word of honor I can’t remember a thing about it!”
Queen shifted in his chair. “And how is that, Miss Frances?”
“Actually, I didn’t even know I had lost it until you showed it to me in the manager’s office,” she answered bravely. “I recall taking it with me when I rose at the end of the first act to go to the restroom; and also opening it there to use my powder-puff. But whether I left it there or dropped it later, somewhere else, I don’t know to this minute.”
“Don’t you think, Miss Frances,” interposed Queen, reaching for his snuffbox and then guiltily dropping it back into his pocket as he met the icy gaze of Mrs. Ives-Pope, “that you might have dropped it in the alley after this man accosted you?”
A look of relief spread over the girl’s face, and it became almost animated. “Why, Inspector!” she cried. “That was just what I have thought about it all the time, but it seemed such a lame explanation—and I was so horribly afraid that I might be caught in a sort of—of spider’s web. … I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you that! While I don’t actually remember, it seems logical, doesn’t it?—that I dropped it when he grasped my wrist and entirely forgot about it afterward.”
The Inspector smiled. “On the contrary, my dear,” he said, “it is the only explanation which seems to cover the facts. In all probability this man found it there—picked it up—and in a moment of half-drunken amourousness put it into his pocket, probably intending to return it to you later. In this way he would have had another opportunity to meet you. He seems to have been quite smitten by your charms, my dear—and no wonder.” And the Inspector bowed a little stiffly while the girl, the color in her face now completely restored, favored him with a dazzling smile.
“Now—a few things more, Miss Frances, and this little inquisition will be over,” continued Queen. “Can you describe his physical appearance?”
“Oh, yes!” Frances returned quickly. “He made a rather forcible impression on me, as you can imagine. He was a trifle taller than I—that would make him about five feet eight—and inclined to corpulence. His face was bloated and he had deep leaden-colored pouches under his eyes. I’ve never seen a more dissipated-looking man. He was clean-shaven. There was nothing remarkable about
