he had made up and imported from England. He never smoked anything else. In fact,” said Stallings in a burst of confidence, “Mr. Brad often said there wasn’t an American pipe tobacco worth its salt.”
For no reason at all an incongruous thought flashed into Ellery’s mind. Andrew Van and his caviar; Thomas Brad and his imported tobacco. … He shook his head. “There’s another thing, Stallings. Inspector, would you mind showing that Neptune’s-head pipe to Stallings?”
Vaughn produced the carved pipe again. Stallings looked at it for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, sir, I’ve seen that pipe around.”
The three men sighed in concert. Luck seemed to be working in the interests of crime rather than punishment. “Yes, that’s the way it goes. … It was Brad’s, eh?” grunted Isham.
“Oh, I’m sure of it, sir,” said the butler. “Not that he’d smoke any one pipe for very long. He always said that a pipe, like a human being, needs a vacation every once in a while. His drawer is full of very good pipes, sir. But I recognize that one, sir. I’ve seen it many times before. Although not lately, come to think of it.”
“All right, all right,” said Isham irritably. “Beat it, now,” and Stallings, with a stiff little bow, became the butler again and marched out of the study.
“That settles the checker business,” said the Inspector grimly, “and the pipe business, and the tobacco business. Just a lot of wasted time. Gives us an interesting lead on Fox, though.” He rubbed his hands. “Not so bad. And with that Oyster Island bunch to look over, we’re going to have a busy day.”
“Days, don’t you think?” smiled Ellery. “This is quite like old times!”
Someone tapped on the door, and Inspector Vaughn crossed the room to open it. A man with a saturnine face stood there. He whispered for some minutes to Vaughn, and Vaughn nodded repeatedly. Finally, the Inspector closed the door and returned.
“What’s up?” demanded Isham.
“Nothing much. A lot of blanks, I’m afraid. My men report that they haven’t found a damned thing on the grounds. Not a thing. Cripes, it’s unbelievable!”
“What were you looking for?” asked Ellery.
“The head, man, the head!”
No one said anything for a long time, and the chill wind of tragedy crept into the room. It was hard to believe, looking out into the sunny gardens, that the master of all this peace and beauty and luxury lay, a stiff headless corpse, in the County Morgue, like any nameless vagrant fished out of Long Island Sound.
“Anything else?” said Isham at last. He was growling to himself.
“The boys have had the railroad station people over the coals,” said Vaughn quietly. “And every resident within five miles. Been looking, Mr. Queen, for possible visitors last night. From Lincoln’s and Stallings’s stories it’s pretty obvious that Brad expected somebody last night. A man doesn’t ship his wife, his stepdaughter, his business associate, and his servants off unless there’s something queer in the wind and he wants privacy. Never did it before, either, see?”
“I see only too clearly,” retorted Ellery. “No, you’re perfectly justified in that assumption, Inspector. Brad expected someone last night, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Well, we didn’t strike one person who could give us a lead. Even the conductors on the trains and the station people don’t remember a stranger coming by rail around nine o’clock or so last night. Neighbors?” The Inspector shrugged. “Couldn’t expect anything there, I suppose. Anyone might have come and gone without leaving a trail.”
“As a matter of fact,” said the District Attorney, “I think you’re attempting the impossible, Vaughn. No visitor coming here last night with criminal intent would be such a damned fool as to get off at the nearest railroad station. He’d get off a station or two before or after and walk the rest of the way.”
“How about
For no reason at all an incongruous thought flashed into Ellery’s mind. Andrew Van and his caviar; Thomas Brad and his imported tobacco. … He shook his head. “There’s another thing, Stallings. Inspector, would you mind showing that Neptune’s-head pipe to Stallings?”
Vaughn produced the carved pipe again. Stallings looked at it for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, sir, I’ve seen that pipe around.”
The three men sighed in concert. Luck seemed to be working in the interests of crime rather than punishment. “Yes, that’s the way it goes. … It was Brad’s, eh?” grunted Isham.
“Oh, I’m sure of it, sir,” said the butler. “Not that he’d smoke any one pipe for very long. He always said that a pipe, like a human being, needs a vacation every once in a while. His drawer is full of very good pipes, sir. But I recognize that one, sir. I’ve seen it many times before. Although not lately, come to think of it.”
“All right, all right,” said Isham irritably. “Beat it, now,” and Stallings, with a stiff little bow, became the butler again and marched out of the study.
“That settles the checker business,” said the Inspector grimly, “and the pipe business, and the tobacco business. Just a lot of wasted time. Gives us an interesting lead on Fox, though.” He rubbed his hands. “Not so bad. And with that Oyster Island bunch to look over, we’re going to have a busy day.”
“Days, don’t you think?” smiled Ellery. “This is quite like old times!”
Someone tapped on the door, and Inspector Vaughn crossed the room to open it. A man with a saturnine face stood there. He whispered for some minutes to Vaughn, and Vaughn nodded repeatedly. Finally, the Inspector closed the door and returned.
“What’s up?” demanded Isham.
“Nothing much. A lot of blanks, I’m afraid. My men report that they haven’t found a damned thing on the grounds. Not a thing. Cripes, it’s unbelievable!”
“What were you looking for?” asked Ellery.
“The head, man, the head!”
No one said anything for a long time, and the chill wind of tragedy crept into the room. It was hard to believe, looking out into the sunny gardens, that the master of all this peace and beauty and luxury lay, a stiff headless corpse, in the County Morgue, like any nameless vagrant fished out of Long Island Sound.
“Anything else?” said Isham at last. He was growling to himself.
“The boys have had the railroad station people over the coals,” said Vaughn quietly. “And every resident within five miles. Been looking, Mr. Queen, for possible visitors last night. From Lincoln’s and Stallings’s stories it’s pretty obvious that Brad expected somebody last night. A man doesn’t ship his wife, his stepdaughter, his business associate, and his servants off unless there’s something queer in the wind and he wants privacy. Never did it before, either, see?”
“I see only too clearly,” retorted Ellery. “No, you’re perfectly justified in that assumption, Inspector. Brad expected someone last night, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Well, we didn’t strike one person who could give us a lead. Even the conductors on the trains and the station people don’t remember a stranger coming by rail around nine o’clock or so last night. Neighbors?” The Inspector shrugged. “Couldn’t expect anything there, I suppose. Anyone might have come and gone without leaving a trail.”
“As a matter of fact,” said the District Attorney, “I think you’re attempting the impossible, Vaughn. No visitor coming here last night with criminal intent would be such a damned fool as to get off at the nearest railroad station. He’d get off a station or two before or after and walk the rest of the way.”
“How about
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