aboveboard and regular. No bequests to long-lost relatives in Africa, or any of that brand of tripe. …
“The bulk of the estate goes to Hulda. Hendrik is provided for in a very liberal trust-fund—better than he deserves, the old belly-shaker!—which will keep him in ducats for the rest of his life provided he doesn’t try to drain the annual liquor supply of New York.
“Sarah comes in for a neat inheritance—Sarah Fuller, that is—a heavy cash bequest and an assured income for life-more than she can possibly use. The servants, of course, receive generous legacies. The Hospital is provided for by a whopping big fund which guarantees its continued existence for many years. It’s a paying proposition, anyway.”
“Seems quite in order,” muttered the Inspector.
“Well, that’s what I told you.” Morehouse fidgeted in his chair. “Let’s get this over with, gentlemen.—You might be surprised to hear that Dr. Janney comes into the picture twice.”
“Eh?” The Inspector bolted upright. “What’s that?”
“Two distinct bequests. One is personal. Janney was Abby’s protégé almost from the time he took his first shave. The other is for the maintenance of a fund which would allow Janney and Kneisel to continue some research they’re jointly working on.”
“Here, here!” demanded the Inspector, “hold on. Who’s Kneisel? First time I’ve heard his name mentioned.”
Dr. Minchen hitched his chair forward. “I can tell you about him, Inspector. Moritz Kneisel is a scientist—Austrian, I think—who is working with Dr. Janney on a revolutionary idea. Something in the line of metals. He has a laboratory on this floor specially put in for him by Janney—where he keeps busy day and night. Regular mole, that fellow.”
“What sort of research is it, precisely?” asked Ellery.
Minchen looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think any one knows exactly except Kneisel and Janney. They keep quite mum about it. The laboratory’s the joke of the Hospital. No one’s ever been inside its four walls except the two of ’em. It has a massive safe-lock door, reënforced walls, and no windows. There are only two keys in existence for the inner door, and you have to know the combination of the outer one to reach it. Kneisel and Janney possess the keys, of course. Janney has absolutely forbidden entry into the laboratory.”
“Mystery upon mystery,” murmured Ellery. “We’re becoming medieval, by gad!”
The Inspector jerked his head at Morehouse. “You know anything more about this?”
“Nothing about the work itself—but I think you’ll find a little item of mine interesting. Rather recent development, in fact. …”
“Just a moment” The Inspector beckoned to Velie. “Send somebody to get this fellow Kneisel. We’ll want to talk to him. Keep him out in the theater until I call. …” Velie spoke to some one in the corridor. “Now Mr. Morehouse, you were going to say—?”
Morehouse replied dryly, “I think you’ll find it interesting. … You see, despite Abby’s grand old heart and wise old head, she was still a woman. Mighty changeable, Inspector. … And so I wasn’t particularly surprised when, two weeks ago, she told me to draw up a new will!”
“By the Pentateuch!” moaned Ellery, “this case is simply overrun with technicalities. First it’s anatomy, then it’s metallurgy, now it’s law. …”
“Don’t get the idea there was anything wrong with the first will!” interrupted Morehouse hastily. “She’d merely had a change of mind about a certain bequest. …”
“Janney’s, I suppose?” asked Ellery.
Morehouse gave him a startled glance. “Yes, Janney’s. Oh, not Abby’s personal bequest to him, but the one providing the working fund for the Janney-Kneisel researches. She wanted that clause stricken out entirely. It wouldn’t have necessarily demanded a new will, but there were additional bequests to servants and a few charities and things, since the
“The bulk of the estate goes to Hulda. Hendrik is provided for in a very liberal trust-fund—better than he deserves, the old belly-shaker!—which will keep him in ducats for the rest of his life provided he doesn’t try to drain the annual liquor supply of New York.
“Sarah comes in for a neat inheritance—Sarah Fuller, that is—a heavy cash bequest and an assured income for life-more than she can possibly use. The servants, of course, receive generous legacies. The Hospital is provided for by a whopping big fund which guarantees its continued existence for many years. It’s a paying proposition, anyway.”
“Seems quite in order,” muttered the Inspector.
“Well, that’s what I told you.” Morehouse fidgeted in his chair. “Let’s get this over with, gentlemen.—You might be surprised to hear that Dr. Janney comes into the picture twice.”
“Eh?” The Inspector bolted upright. “What’s that?”
“Two distinct bequests. One is personal. Janney was Abby’s protégé almost from the time he took his first shave. The other is for the maintenance of a fund which would allow Janney and Kneisel to continue some research they’re jointly working on.”
“Here, here!” demanded the Inspector, “hold on. Who’s Kneisel? First time I’ve heard his name mentioned.”
Dr. Minchen hitched his chair forward. “I can tell you about him, Inspector. Moritz Kneisel is a scientist—Austrian, I think—who is working with Dr. Janney on a revolutionary idea. Something in the line of metals. He has a laboratory on this floor specially put in for him by Janney—where he keeps busy day and night. Regular mole, that fellow.”
“What sort of research is it, precisely?” asked Ellery.
Minchen looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think any one knows exactly except Kneisel and Janney. They keep quite mum about it. The laboratory’s the joke of the Hospital. No one’s ever been inside its four walls except the two of ’em. It has a massive safe-lock door, reënforced walls, and no windows. There are only two keys in existence for the inner door, and you have to know the combination of the outer one to reach it. Kneisel and Janney possess the keys, of course. Janney has absolutely forbidden entry into the laboratory.”
“Mystery upon mystery,” murmured Ellery. “We’re becoming medieval, by gad!”
The Inspector jerked his head at Morehouse. “You know anything more about this?”
“Nothing about the work itself—but I think you’ll find a little item of mine interesting. Rather recent development, in fact. …”
“Just a moment” The Inspector beckoned to Velie. “Send somebody to get this fellow Kneisel. We’ll want to talk to him. Keep him out in the theater until I call. …” Velie spoke to some one in the corridor. “Now Mr. Morehouse, you were going to say—?”
Morehouse replied dryly, “I think you’ll find it interesting. … You see, despite Abby’s grand old heart and wise old head, she was still a woman. Mighty changeable, Inspector. … And so I wasn’t particularly surprised when, two weeks ago, she told me to draw up a new will!”
“By the Pentateuch!” moaned Ellery, “this case is simply overrun with technicalities. First it’s anatomy, then it’s metallurgy, now it’s law. …”
“Don’t get the idea there was anything wrong with the first will!” interrupted Morehouse hastily. “She’d merely had a change of mind about a certain bequest. …”
“Janney’s, I suppose?” asked Ellery.
Morehouse gave him a startled glance. “Yes, Janney’s. Oh, not Abby’s personal bequest to him, but the one providing the working fund for the Janney-Kneisel researches. She wanted that clause stricken out entirely. It wouldn’t have necessarily demanded a new will, but there were additional bequests to servants and a few charities and things, since the
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