“Mr. Cop, darling,” she whispered, “do you think you could use a hundred-dollar bill?”
Her hand fumbled suggestively in her purse. Hagstrom lost his temper.
“Bribery, huh?” he sneered. “We’ll have to chalk that one up for the Inspector!”
The woman’s smile faded. For the rest of the journey she sat looking fixedly at the back of the driver’s neck.
It was only when she was being marched, like a soldier on parade, down the dark corridors of the big police structure that her poise returned. And when Hagstrom held open the door of Inspector Queen’s office, she passed inside with an airy tilt to her head and a pleasant smile that would have deceived a police matron.
Inspector Queen’s office was a cheery affair of sunlight and color. At the moment it resembled a clubroom. Ellery’s long legs were stretched comfortably across the thick carpet, his eyes pleasantly absorbed in the contents of a small cheaply bound book entitled The Complete Guide to Handwriting Analysis. The smoke of a cigarette curled from his slack fingers. Sergeant Velie was sitting stolidly in a chair against the far wall, engrossed in a contemplation of Inspector Queen’s snuffbox, which was held lovingly between the thumb and forefinger of the old police official himself. Queen was seated in his comfortable armchair, smiling in hazy introspection at some secret thought.
“Ah! Mrs. Russo! Come in, come in!” exclaimed the Inspector, bouncing to his feet. “Thomas—a chair for Mrs. Russo, if you please.” The Sergeant silently placed one of the bare wooden chairs by the side of the Inspector’s desk and as silently retreated to his corner. Ellery had not even glanced in the woman’s direction. He read on, the same pleasantly abstracted smile on his lips. The old man was bowing with hospitable courtesy to Mrs. Russo.
She looked about at the peaceful scene with bewilderment. She had been prepared for severity, harshness, brutality—the domestic atmosphere of the little office took her completely by surprise. Nevertheless she seated herself and, the instant of hesitation gone, she exhibited the same agreeable smile, the same ladylike demeanor that she had practiced so successfully in the corridors.
Hagstrom was standing inside the doorway, glaring with offended dignity at the profile of the seated woman.
“She tried to slip me a century note,” he said indignantly. “Tried to bribe me, Chief!”
Queen’s eyebrows instantly rose in shocked surprise. “My dear Mrs. Russo!” he exclaimed in a sorrowful voice. “You really didn’t intend to make this excellent officer forget his duty to the City, did you? But of course not! How stupid of me! Hagstrom, certainly you must be mistaken, my dear fellow. A hundred dollars—” He shook his head dolefully, sinking back into the leather swivel-chair.
Mrs. Russo smiled. “Isn’t it queer how these cops get the wrong impression?” she asked in a lovely voice. “I assure you, Inspector—I was just having a little fun with him. …”
“Exactly,” said the Inspector, smiling again, as if this statement restored his faith in human nature. “Hagstrom, that’ll be all.”
The detective, who was staring open-mouthed from his superior to the smiling woman, recovered in time to intercept a wink which passed from Velie to Queen across the woman’s head. He went out quickly, muttering to himself.
“Now, Mrs. Russo,” began the Inspector, in a businesslike tone, “what can we do for you today?”
She stared at him. “Why—why, I thought you wanted to see me. …” Her lips tightened. “Cut the comedy, Inspector!” she said shortly. “I’m not paying any social calls on my own hook to this place and you know it. What did you pinch me for?”
The Inspector spread his sensitive fingers deprecatingly, his mouth pursed in protest. “But, my dear lady!” he said. “Certainly you have something to tell me. Because, if you are here—and we cannot evade that evident fact—you are here for a reason. Granted that you did not come exactly of your own free will—still you were brought here because you have something to say to me. Don’t you see?”
Mrs. Russo stared fixedly into his eyes. “What the—Hey, look here, Inspector Queen, what are you driving at? What do you think I’ve got to tell you? I answered everything you asked me Tuesday morning.”
“Well!” The old man frowned. “Let us say that you did not answer every question Tuesday morning with absolute veracity. For example—do you know Benjamin Morgan?”
She did not flinch. “All right. You take the cake on that one. Your bloodhound caught me coming out of Morgan’s office—what of it?” She deliberately opened her purse and began to dab powder on her nose. As she did so she glanced slyly at Ellery from the corner of her eye. He was still engrossed in his book, oblivious to her presence. She turned back to the Inspector with a toss of the head.
Queen was looking at her sadly. “My dear Mrs. Russo, you’re not being fair to a poor old man. I wanted merely to point out that you had—shall I say—lied to me the last time I spoke to you. Now that’s a very dangerous procedure with police Inspectors, my dear—very dangerous.”
“Listen here!” the woman said suddenly. “You’re not going to get anywhere with this soft soap, Inspector. I did lie to you Tuesday morning. Because, you see, I didn’t think you had anyone here who could follow me very long. Well, I took a gambler’s chance and I lost. So you found out I was lying, and you want to know what it’s all about. I’ll tell you—and then maybe again I won’t!”
“Oho!” exclaimed Queen softly. “So you feel you’re in a safe enough position to dictate terms, eh? But Mrs. Russo—believe me you’re putting your very charming neck into a noose!”
“Yeh?” The mask was fairly off now; the woman’s face was stripped to its essential character of intrigue. “You
