IN WHICH MANY ARE CALLED AND TWO ARE CHOSEN
Some natures, through peculiar weakness, cannot endure the sight of
a whining man. Of all the silent, threatening group ringed about the
abject figure called “Parson,” Ellery alone experienced a sick feeling
of disgust at the spectacle the prisoner was making of himself.
At the hidden lash in Queen’s words, the Parson drew himself up
stiffly, glared into the Inspector’s eyes for a split second, then
with a resumption of his former tactics began to fight against the
sturdy arms which encircled him. He writhed and spat and cursed,
finally becoming silent again. He was conserving his breath. The fury
of his threshing body communicated itself to his captors; another
policeman joined the _mêlée_ and helped pin the prisoner to the floor.
And suddenly he wilted and shrank like a pricked balloon. A policeman
hauled him roughly to his feet, where he stood, eyes downcast, body
still, hat clutched in his hand.
Ellery turned his head.
“Come now, Parson,” went on the Inspector, just as if the man had been
a balky child at rest after a fit of temper, “you know that sort of
business doesn’t go with me. What happened when you tried it last time
at the Old Slip on the riverfront?”
“Answer when you’re spoken to!” growled a bluecoat, prodding him in the
ribs.
“I don’t know nothin’ and besides I got nothin’ to say,” muttered the
Parson, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I’m surprised at you, Parson,” said Queen gently. “I haven’t asked
you what you know.”
“You got no right to hold an innocent man!” shouted the Parson
indignantly. “Ain’t I as good as anybody else here? I bought a
ticket and I paid for it with real dough, too! Where do you get that
stuff—tryin’ to keep me from goin’ home!”
“So you bought a ticket, did you?” asked the Inspector, rocking on his
heels. “Well, well! Suppose you snap out the old stub and let Papa
Queen look it over.”
The Parson’s hand mechanically went to his lower vest pocket, his
fingers dipping into it with a quite surprising deftness. His face
went blank as he slowly withdrew his hand, empty. He began a search of
his other pockets with an appearance of fierce annoyance that made the
Inspector smile.
“Hell!” grunted the Parson. “If that ain’t the toughest luck. I always
hangs onto my ticket-stubs, an’ just to-night I have to go and throw it
away. Sorry, Inspector!”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Queen. His face went bleak and
hard. “Quit stalling, Cazzanelli! What were you doing in this theatre
to-night? What made you decide to duck out so suddenly? Answer me!”
The Parson looked about him. His arms were held very securely by two
bluecoats. A number of hard-looking men surrounded him. The prospect
of escape did not seem particularly bright. His face underwent another
change. It assumed a priestly, outraged innocence. A mist filmed his
little eyes, as if he were truly the Christian martyr and these tyrants
his pagan inquisitors. The Parson had often employed this trick of
personality to good purpose.
“Inspector,” he said, “you know you ain’t got no right to grill me this
way, don’t you, Inspector? A man’s got a right to his lawyer, ain’t he?
Sure he’s got a right!” And he stopped as if there were nothing
more to be said.
The Inspector eyed him curiously. “When did you see Field last?” he
asked.
“Field? You don’t mean to say—Monte Field? Never heard of him,
Inspector,” muttered the Parson, rather shakily. “What are you tryin’
to put over on me?”
“Not a thing, Parson, not a thing. But as long as you don’t care to
answer now, suppose we let you cool your heels for a while. Perhaps
you’ll have something to say later.... Don’t forget, Parson, there’s
still that little matter of the Bonomo Silk robbery to go into.” He
turned to one of the policemen. “Escort our friend to that anteroom off
the manager’s office, and keep him company for a while, officer.”
Ellery, reflectively watching the Parson being dragged toward the rear
of the theatre, was startled to hear his father say, “The Parson isn’t
too bright, is he? To make a slip like that—!”
“Be thankful for small favors,” smiled Ellery. “One error breeds twenty
more.”
The Inspector turned with a grin to confront Velie, who had just
arrived with a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“Ah, Thomas is back,” chuckled the Inspector, who seemed in good
spirits. “And what have you found, Thomas?”
“Well, Inspector,” replied the detective, ruffling the edges of his
papers, “it’s hard to say. This is half of the list—the other half
isn’t ready yet. But I think you’ll find something interesting here.”
He handed Queen a batch of hastily written names and addresses. They
were the names which the Inspector had ordered Velie to secure by
interrogation of the audience.
Queen, with Ellery at his shoulder, examined the list, studying each
name carefully. He was half-way through the sheaf when he stiffened. He
squinted at the name which had halted him and looked up at Velie
with a puzzled air.
“Morgan,” he said thoughtfully. “Benjamin Morgan. Sounds mighty
familiar, Thomas. What does it suggest to you?”
Velie smiled frostily. “I thought you’d ask me that, Inspector.
Benjamin Morgan was Monte Field’s law-partner until two years ago!”
Queen nodded. The three men stared into each other’s eyes. Then the old
man shrugged his shoulders and said briefly, “Have to see some more of
Mr. Morgan, I’m afraid.”
He turned back to the list with a sigh. Again he studied each name,
looking up at intervals reflectively, shaking his head, and going on.
Velie, who knew Queen’s reputation for memory even more thoroughly than
Ellery, watched his superior with respectful eyes.
Finally the Inspector handed the papers back to the detective. “Nothing
else there, Thomas,” he said. “Unless you caught something that escaped
me. Did you?” His tone was grave.
Velie stared at the old man wordlessly, shook his head and started to
walk away.
“Just a minute, Thomas,” called Queen. “Before you get that second list
completed, ask Morgan to step into Panzer’s office, will you? Don’t
scare him. And by the way, see that he has his ticket-stub before he
goes to the office.” Velie departed.
The Inspector motioned to Panzer, who was watching a group of policemen
being marshaled by detectives for Queen’s work. The stout little
manager hurried up.
“Mr. Panzer,” inquired the Inspector, “at what time do your scrub-women
generally start cleaning up?”
“Why, they’ve been here for quite a while now, Inspector, waiting
to get to work. Most theatres are tidied early in the morning,
but I’ve always had my employees come immediately after the evening
performance. Just what is on your mind?”
Ellery, who had frowned slightly when the Inspector spoke, brightened
at the manager’s reply. He began to polish his pince-nez with
satisfaction.
“Here’s what I want you to do, Mr. Panzer,” continued Queen evenly.
“Arrange to have your cleaning-women make a particularly thorough
search to-night, after everybody is gone. They must pick up and save
everything—everything, no matter how seemingly trivial—and they’re to
watch especially for ticket-stubs. Can you trust these people?”
“Oh, absolutely, Inspector. They’ve been with the theatre ever since it
was built. You may be sure that nothing will be overlooked. What shall
I do with the sweepings?”
“Wrap them carefully, address them to me and send them by a trustworthy
messenger to headquarters to-morrow morning.” The Inspector paused. “I
want to impress upon you, Mr. Panzer, the importance of this task. It’s
much more important than it seems. Do you understand?”
“Certainly, certainly!” Panzer hastened away.
A detective with grizzled hair walked briskly across the carpet, turned
down the left aisle and touched his hat to Queen. In his hand was a
sheaf of papers resembling the one which Velie had presented.
“Sergeant Velie has asked me to give you this list of names. He says
that it’s the rest of the names and addresses of the people in the
audience, Inspector.”
Queen took the papers from the detective’s hand with a sudden show of
eagerness. Ellery leaned forward. The old man’s eyes traveled slowly
from name to name as his thin finger moved down each sheet. Near the
bottom of the last one he smiled, looked at Ellery triumphantly,
and finished the page. He turned and whispered into his son’s ear. A
light came over Ellery’s face as he nodded.
The Inspector turned back to the waiting detective. “Come here,
Johnson,” he said. Queen spread out the page he had been studying for
the man’s scrutiny. “I want you to find Velie and have him report to
me at once. After you’ve done that, get hold of this woman”—his finger
pointed to a name and a row-and-seat number next to it—“and ask her
to step into the manager’s office with you. You’ll find a man by the
name of Morgan there. Stay with both of them until you hear from me.
Incidentally, if there’s any conversation between them keep your ears
open—I want to know what is said. Treat the woman courteously.”
“Yes, sir. Velie also asked me to tell you,” continued Johnson,
“that he has a group of people separated from the rest of the
audience—they’re the ones who have no ticket-stubs. He’d like to know
what you want done with them.”
“Do their names appear on both lists, Johnson?” asked Queen, handing
him the second sheaf for return to Velie.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then tell Velie to let them leave with the others, but not before he
makes a special list of their names. It won’t be necessary for me to
see or speak to them.”
Johnson saluted and disappeared.
Queen turned to converse in low tones with Ellery, who seemed to have
something on his mind. They were interrupted by the reappearance of
Panzer.
“Inspector?” The manager coughed politely.
“Oh, yes, Panzer!” said the Inspector, whirling about. “Everything
straight with regard to the cleaning-women?”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else you would like me to do...? And,
Inspector, I hope you will pardon me for asking, but how much longer
will the audience have to wait? I have been receiving most disturbing
inquiries from many people. I am hoping no trouble comes of this
affair.” His dark face was glistening with perspiration.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Panzer,” said the Inspector casually.
“Their wait is almost over. In fact, I am ordering my men to get them
out of here in a few minutes. Before they leave, however, they’ll have
one thing more to complain about,” he added with a grim smile.
“Yes, Inspector?”
“Oh, yes,” said Queen. “They’re going to submit to a search. No doubt
they’ll protest, and you’ll hear threats of lawsuits and personal
violence, but don’t worry about it. I’m responsible for everything done
here to-night, and I’ll see that you’re kept out of trouble.... Now,
we’ll need a woman-searcher to help our men. We have a police-matron
here, but she’s busy downstairs. Do you think you could get me a
dependable woman—middle-aged preferably—who won’t object to a thankless
job and will know how to keep her mouth shut?”
The manager pondered for a moment. “I think I can get you the woman you
want. She’s a Mrs. Phillips, our wardrobe-mistress. She’s well on in
years and as pleasant as any one you could get for such a task.”
“Just the person,” said Queen briskly. “Get her at once and station her
at the main exit. Detective-Sergeant Velie will give her the necessary
instructions.”
Velie had come up in time to hear the last remark. Panzer bustled down
the aisle toward the boxes.
“Morgan set?” asked Queen.
“Yes, Inspector.”
“Well, then, you have one more job and you’ll be through for the night,
Thomas. I want you to superintend the departure of the people
seated in the orchestra and boxes. Have them leave one by one, and
overhaul them as they go out. No one is to leave by any exit except
the main door, and just to make sure tell the men at the side exits to
keep ’em moving toward the rear.” Velie nodded. “Now, about the search.
Piggott!” The detective came on the run. “Piggott, you accompany Mr.
Queen and Sergeant Velie and help search every man who goes out the
main door. There’ll be a matron there to search the women. Examine
every parcel. Go over their pockets for anything suspicious; collect
all the ticket-stubs; and watch especially for _an extra hat_. The hat
I want is a silk topper. But if you find any other kind of extra hat,
nab the owner and be sure he’s nabbed properly. Now, boys, get to work!”
Ellery, who had been lounging against a pillar, straightened up and
followed Piggott. As Velie stalked behind Queen called, “Don’t release
the people in the balcony until the orchestra is empty. Send somebody
up there to keep them quiet.”
With his last important instruction given the Inspector turned to
Doyle, who was standing guard nearby, and said quietly, “Shoot
downstairs to the cloak-room, Doyle, my lad, and keep your eyes open
while the people are getting their wraps. When they’re all gone, search
the place with a fine-comb. If there is anything left in the racks,
bring it to me.”
Queen leaned back against the pillar which loomed, a marble sentinel,
over the seat in which murder had been done. As he stood there, eyes
blank, hands clutching his lapels, the broad-shouldered Flint hurried
up with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. Inspector Queen regarded him
critically.
“Found something, Flint?” he asked, fumbling for his snuff-box.
The detective silently offered him a half-ticket, colored blue, and
marked “LL30 Left.”
“Well, well!” exclaimed Queen. “Wherever did you find that?”
“Right inside the main door,” said Flint. “Looked as if it was dropped
just as the owner came into the theatre.”
Queen did not answer. With a swooping dip of his fingers he extracted
from his vest pocket the blue-colored stub he had found on the dead
man’s person. He regarded them in silence—two identically colored and
marked stubs, one with the inscription LL32 Left, the other LL30 Left.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the innocent-appearing pasteboards.
He bent closer, slowly turning the stubs back to back. Then, with a
puzzled light in his grey eyes, he turned them front to front. Still
unsatisfied, he turned them back to front.
In none of the three positions did the torn edges of the tickets
coincide!