“If you ask me,” chuckled the Inspector, “our beauteous friend has a crush on you. Consider the opportunities, my son—!”
Ellery made a grimace of profound distaste.
“Well!” Queen reached for one of the telephones on the desk. “Do you think we ought to give Benjamin Morgan another chance, Ellery?”
“Hanged if he deserves it,” grumbled Ellery. “But I suppose it’s the routine thing to do.”
“You forget the papers, son—the papers,” retorted the Inspector, a twinkle in his eye.
He spoke to the police operator in pleasant accents and a few moments later the buzzer sounded.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Morgan!” Queen said cheerfully. “And how are you today?”
“Inspector Queen?” asked Morgan after a slight hesitation. “Good afternoon to you, sir. How is the case progressing?”
“That’s a fair question, Mr. Morgan,” laughed the Inspector. “One, however, which I daren’t answer for fear of being accused of incompetency. … Mr. Morgan, are you free this evening by any chance?”
Pause. “Why—not free exactly.” The lawyer’s voice was barely audible. “I am due at home, of course, for dinner, and I believe my wife has arranged a little bridge. Why, Inspector?”
“I was thinking of asking you to dine with my son and me this evening,” said the Inspector regretfully. “Could you possibly get away for the dinner-hour?”
A longer pause. “If it’s absolutely necessary, Inspector—?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way exactly, Mr. Morgan. … But I would appreciate your accepting the invitation.”
“Oh.” Morgan’s voice came more resolutely now. “In that case I’m at your command, Inspector. Where shall I meet you?”
“That’s fine, that’s fine!” said Queen. “How about Carlos’, at six?”
“Very well, Inspector,” returned the lawyer quietly and hung up the receiver.
“I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor chap,” murmured the old man.
Ellery grunted. He was not feeling inclined to sympathize. The taste of Mrs. Angela Russo was still strong in his mouth, and it was not a pleasant taste at all.
Promptly at six o’clock Inspector Queen and Ellery joined Benjamin Morgan in the convivial atmosphere of Carlos’ restaurant-foyer. He was sitting dejectedly in a red-leather chair, staring at the backs of his hands. His lips drooped sadly, his knees were widely separated in an instinctive attitude of depression.
He made a laudable attempt to smile as the two Queens approached. He rose with a firmness that indicated to his keen hosts a mind determined upon a fixed course of action. The Inspector was at his bubbling best, partly because he felt a genuine liking for the corpulent attorney and partly because it was his business. Ellery, as usual, was noncommittal.
The three men shook hands like old friends.
“Glad to see you’re on time, Morgan,” said the Inspector, as a stiff headwaiter conducted them to a corner-table. “I really must apologize for taking you away from your dinner at home. There was a time once—” He sighed and they sat down.
“No apology necessary,” said Morgan with a wan smile. “I suppose you know that every married man relishes a bachelor dinner at times. … Just what is it, Inspector, you wanted to talk to me about?”
The old man raised a warning finger. “No business now, Morgan,” he said. “I have an idea Louis has something up his sleeve in the way of solid refreshment—right, Louis?”
The dinner was a culinary delight. The Inspector, who was quite indifferent to the nuances of the art, had left the details of the menu to his son. Ellery was fanatically interested in the delicate subject of foods and their preparation. Consequently the three men dined well. Morgan was at first inclined to taste his food abstractedly, but he became more and more alive to the delightful concoctions placed before him, until finally he forgot his troubles altogether and chatted and laughed with his hosts.
With café au lait and excellent cigars, which Ellery smoked cautiously, the Inspector diffidently, and Morgan with enjoyment, Queen came to the point.
“Morgan, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I have an idea you know why I asked you here tonight. I’m going to be perfectly honest. I want the true explanation for your silence regarding the events of Sunday night, September the twenty-third—four nights ago.”
Morgan had become grave immediately the Inspector began to speak. He put the cigar on the ashtray and regarded the old man with an expression of ineffable weariness.
“It was bound to come,” he said. “I might have known that you would find out sooner or later. I suppose Mrs. Russo told you out of spite.”
“She did,” confessed Queen frankly. “As a gentleman I refuse to listen to tales; as a policeman it is my duty. Why have you kept this from me, Morgan?”
Morgan traced a meaningless figure on the cloth with a spoon. “Because—well, because a man is always a fool until he is made to realize the extent of his folly,” he said quietly, looking up. “I hoped and prayed—it is a human failing, I suppose—that the incident would remain a secret between a dead man and myself. And to find that that prostitute was hiding in the bedroom—listening to every word I said—it rather took the wind out of my sails.”
He gulped down a glass of water, rushing ahead. “The God’s honest truth, Inspector, is that I thought I was being drawn into a trap and I couldn’t bring myself to furnish contributory evidence. There I found myself in the theatre, not so far away from my worst enemy found murdered. I could not explain my presence except by an apparently silly and unsubstantiated story; and I remembered in a bitter flash that I had actually quarreled with the dead man the night before. It was a tight position, Inspector—take my word for it.”
Inspector Queen said nothing. Ellery was leaning far back in his chair, watching Morgan with gloomy eyes. Morgan swallowed hard and went on.
“That’s why I didn’t say anything. Can you blame a man for keeping quiet when his legal training warns him
