murmured the Inspector, stepping to Ellery’s side. “A hush story, hey? Somebody’s threatening, Doorn?”
Doorn’s lip trembled. “I will nodt speak in this place. This afternoon—maybe. At my house, now—no.”
Ellery and Inspector Queen exchanged glances, and Ellery retreated. The Inspector smiled agreeably at Doorn and said: “Very well. This afternoon at your house. … And you’d better be there, old boy. Thomas!” The giant grunted. “You’d do well to send some one along with Mr. Doorn, Miss Doorn and Miss Dunning—just to take care of them.”
“I’m going along,” cried Morehouse suddenly, spinning around. “And I don’t need any of your damned snooping detectives, either. … Miss Dunning, grab hold of Hulda!”
“Oh, but you’re not, Mr. Morehouse,” said the Inspector in his mildest voice. “You’re going to stay a while. We need you.” Morehouse glared; their glances clashed. Then the lawyer looked around at the ring of grim faces. He shrugged, helped the weeping girl to her feet, walked with her to the corridor door. Her hand clung to his until Hendrik Doorn and Edith Dunning, followed by a detective, reached the door. There was a furtive handclasp, the girl squared her shoulders, and Morehouse was left alone at the door to watch the little company go slowly down the hall.
There was silence as he closed the door and turned back to face them.
“Well,” he said bitterly, “here I am. Now what do you want with me? Please don’t keep me—too long.”
They took chairs as several of the remaining district and local detectives, on a sign from the Inspector, marched out of the Anteroom. Velie put his gargantuan back against the corridor door and folded his arms. …
“Mr. Morehouse.” The Inspector settled himself comfortably and clasped his tiny hands in his lap. Ellery lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He became absorbed in the glowing tip.
“Mr. Morehouse. You’ve been Mrs. Doorn’s attorney for a long time?”
“A number of years,” sighed Morehouse. “My father handled her affairs before me. Sort of family client, the old lady was.”
“You know her private as well as her legal affairs?”
“Intimately.”
“What was the relationship between Mrs. Doorn and her brother Hendrik? Did they get along? Tell me everything you know about the man.”
Morehouse made a moué of distaste. “You’d be getting an earful, Inspector. … Of course, you must realize that some of the things I’m going to say are purely opinions—as a friend of the family I’ve naturally observed and heard things. …”
“Go on.”
“Hendrik? An eighteen-carat parasite. He’s never done a lick of work in his life. Perhaps that’s why he’s so abominably fat. … He’s not only a blood-sucking leech, but an expensive one to maintain. I know, because I’ve seen some bills. And the little playmate has all sorts of pleasant vices. Gambling, women—the usual thing.”
“Women?” Ellery closed his eyes and smiled dreamily. “I can’t quite believe it.”
“You don’t know some women,” replied Morehouse grimly. “He’s been Broadway’s roly-poly sugar-daddy to so many women he probably doesn’t remember them all himself. It hasn’t reached the papers much—Abigail saw to that. … You’d think he might live fairly comfortably with the allowance of twenty-five thousand a year Abigail provided for him. But not Hendrik! He’s perpetually broke.”
“Hasn’t he any money in his own right?” asked the Inspector.
“Not a red cent. You see, Abigail has made every penny of her enormous fortune by her own wits. The family originally was poorer than the public knows. But she had a genius for finance. … Interesting woman, Abby. It’s a damned shame.”
“Legal trouble? Shady deals? Anything underhanded?” demanded the old man. “Seems likely he’d have to pay hush money to some of those Jezebels of his.”
Morehouse hesitated. “Well … I can’t say.”
The
Doorn’s lip trembled. “I will nodt speak in this place. This afternoon—maybe. At my house, now—no.”
Ellery and Inspector Queen exchanged glances, and Ellery retreated. The Inspector smiled agreeably at Doorn and said: “Very well. This afternoon at your house. … And you’d better be there, old boy. Thomas!” The giant grunted. “You’d do well to send some one along with Mr. Doorn, Miss Doorn and Miss Dunning—just to take care of them.”
“I’m going along,” cried Morehouse suddenly, spinning around. “And I don’t need any of your damned snooping detectives, either. … Miss Dunning, grab hold of Hulda!”
“Oh, but you’re not, Mr. Morehouse,” said the Inspector in his mildest voice. “You’re going to stay a while. We need you.” Morehouse glared; their glances clashed. Then the lawyer looked around at the ring of grim faces. He shrugged, helped the weeping girl to her feet, walked with her to the corridor door. Her hand clung to his until Hendrik Doorn and Edith Dunning, followed by a detective, reached the door. There was a furtive handclasp, the girl squared her shoulders, and Morehouse was left alone at the door to watch the little company go slowly down the hall.
There was silence as he closed the door and turned back to face them.
“Well,” he said bitterly, “here I am. Now what do you want with me? Please don’t keep me—too long.”
They took chairs as several of the remaining district and local detectives, on a sign from the Inspector, marched out of the Anteroom. Velie put his gargantuan back against the corridor door and folded his arms. …
“Mr. Morehouse.” The Inspector settled himself comfortably and clasped his tiny hands in his lap. Ellery lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He became absorbed in the glowing tip.
“Mr. Morehouse. You’ve been Mrs. Doorn’s attorney for a long time?”
“A number of years,” sighed Morehouse. “My father handled her affairs before me. Sort of family client, the old lady was.”
“You know her private as well as her legal affairs?”
“Intimately.”
“What was the relationship between Mrs. Doorn and her brother Hendrik? Did they get along? Tell me everything you know about the man.”
Morehouse made a moué of distaste. “You’d be getting an earful, Inspector. … Of course, you must realize that some of the things I’m going to say are purely opinions—as a friend of the family I’ve naturally observed and heard things. …”
“Go on.”
“Hendrik? An eighteen-carat parasite. He’s never done a lick of work in his life. Perhaps that’s why he’s so abominably fat. … He’s not only a blood-sucking leech, but an expensive one to maintain. I know, because I’ve seen some bills. And the little playmate has all sorts of pleasant vices. Gambling, women—the usual thing.”
“Women?” Ellery closed his eyes and smiled dreamily. “I can’t quite believe it.”
“You don’t know some women,” replied Morehouse grimly. “He’s been Broadway’s roly-poly sugar-daddy to so many women he probably doesn’t remember them all himself. It hasn’t reached the papers much—Abigail saw to that. … You’d think he might live fairly comfortably with the allowance of twenty-five thousand a year Abigail provided for him. But not Hendrik! He’s perpetually broke.”
“Hasn’t he any money in his own right?” asked the Inspector.
“Not a red cent. You see, Abigail has made every penny of her enormous fortune by her own wits. The family originally was poorer than the public knows. But she had a genius for finance. … Interesting woman, Abby. It’s a damned shame.”
“Legal trouble? Shady deals? Anything underhanded?” demanded the old man. “Seems likely he’d have to pay hush money to some of those Jezebels of his.”
Morehouse hesitated. “Well … I can’t say.”
The
Similar Books
