scrapbooks—”
“Hardly necessary, Mr. Lavery, and thank you for your patience. That’s all.”
“A moment, please.—May I?” Ellery had stepped forward, smiling. The Inspector glanced at him, waved his hand briefly, as if to say, “Your witness!” and retreated to the bed, where he sat down with a sigh.
Lavery had turned in his tracks and now stood stroking his beard, his eyes politely questioning.
Ellery did not speak for a moment. He twirled his pince-nez, looked up suddenly. “I am quite interested in your work, Mr. Lavery,” he said with a disarming grimace. “Although I fear my esthetic studies have not exhausted the field of modern interior decoration. As a matter of fact, was much interested the other day in your lecture on Bruno Paul. …”
“So you attended my impromptu classes upstairs, sir?” exclaimed Lavery, flushing with pleasure. “Perhaps I was a trifle enthusiastic about Paul—I know him quite well, you see. …”
“Indeed!” Ellery looked at the floor. “I take it that you have been in America before, Mr. Lavery—your English is quite untouched by Gallicism.”
“Well, I have traveled more or less extensively,” admitted Lavery. “This is my fifth visit to the States—Mr. Queen, is it?”
“I’m sorry!” said Ellery. “I’m Inspector Queen’s unruly scion. … Mr. Lavery, how many demonstrations a day are given in this window?”
“Just one.” Lavery raised his black brows.
“How long does each demonstration take?”
“Thirty-two minutes exactly.”
“Interesting,” murmured Ellery. “By the way, is this room kept open at all times?”
“Not at all. There are some very valuable pieces in this room. It is kept locked except when it is being used for demonstration purposes.”
“Of course! That was stupid of me,” smiled Ellery. “You have a key, naturally?”
“A number of keys exist, Mr. Queen,” answered Lavery. “The idea of the lock is more to prevent transient trespassing during the day than to keep out possible night-prowlers. It is presumed that after hours, in an establishment as well guarded as this—provided with modern burglar alarms, guards, and so on—the room would be safe enough against burglary.”
“If you will pardon me for interrupting,” came the mild voice of MacKenzie, the store manager, “I am in a better position to clear up the question of the keys than Mr. Lavery.”
“Delighted to have you,” said Ellery quickly, but he began once more to twirl his pince-nez. The Inspector, seated on the bed, preserved a watchful silence.
“We have a number of duplicate keys,” explained MacKenzie, “to each of the windows. In this particular instance Mr. Lavery has one, Diana Johnson the demonstrator has one (which she leaves at the Employees’ Office desk when she leaves for the day), the floorwalker on this section of the main floor and the store detectives each have one, and there is a complete set of duplicates kept in the general offices on the mezzanine floor. I am afraid very many people could have secured a key.”
Ellery did not seem perturbed. He walked suddenly to the door, opened it, peered out over the main floor for a moment, and returned.
“Mr. MacKenzie, will you please summon that clerk at the leather-goods counter opposite this window?”
MacKenzie departed, returning shortly with a short, stout, middle-aged man. He was white-faced and nervous.
“Were you on duty all this morning?” inquired Ellery kindly. The man jerked his head in the affirmative. “And yesterday afternoon?” Another jerk. “Did you leave your post at any time this morning or yesterday afternoon?”
The clerk found his voice. “Oh, no, sir!”
“Very well!” Ellery spoke softly. “Did you at any time during yesterday afternoon or this morning notice any one entering or leaving this window-room?”
“No, sir.” The man’s tone was assured. “I’ve been on duty all the time; I couldn’t help but notice if any one had
“Hardly necessary, Mr. Lavery, and thank you for your patience. That’s all.”
“A moment, please.—May I?” Ellery had stepped forward, smiling. The Inspector glanced at him, waved his hand briefly, as if to say, “Your witness!” and retreated to the bed, where he sat down with a sigh.
Lavery had turned in his tracks and now stood stroking his beard, his eyes politely questioning.
Ellery did not speak for a moment. He twirled his pince-nez, looked up suddenly. “I am quite interested in your work, Mr. Lavery,” he said with a disarming grimace. “Although I fear my esthetic studies have not exhausted the field of modern interior decoration. As a matter of fact, was much interested the other day in your lecture on Bruno Paul. …”
“So you attended my impromptu classes upstairs, sir?” exclaimed Lavery, flushing with pleasure. “Perhaps I was a trifle enthusiastic about Paul—I know him quite well, you see. …”
“Indeed!” Ellery looked at the floor. “I take it that you have been in America before, Mr. Lavery—your English is quite untouched by Gallicism.”
“Well, I have traveled more or less extensively,” admitted Lavery. “This is my fifth visit to the States—Mr. Queen, is it?”
“I’m sorry!” said Ellery. “I’m Inspector Queen’s unruly scion. … Mr. Lavery, how many demonstrations a day are given in this window?”
“Just one.” Lavery raised his black brows.
“How long does each demonstration take?”
“Thirty-two minutes exactly.”
“Interesting,” murmured Ellery. “By the way, is this room kept open at all times?”
“Not at all. There are some very valuable pieces in this room. It is kept locked except when it is being used for demonstration purposes.”
“Of course! That was stupid of me,” smiled Ellery. “You have a key, naturally?”
“A number of keys exist, Mr. Queen,” answered Lavery. “The idea of the lock is more to prevent transient trespassing during the day than to keep out possible night-prowlers. It is presumed that after hours, in an establishment as well guarded as this—provided with modern burglar alarms, guards, and so on—the room would be safe enough against burglary.”
“If you will pardon me for interrupting,” came the mild voice of MacKenzie, the store manager, “I am in a better position to clear up the question of the keys than Mr. Lavery.”
“Delighted to have you,” said Ellery quickly, but he began once more to twirl his pince-nez. The Inspector, seated on the bed, preserved a watchful silence.
“We have a number of duplicate keys,” explained MacKenzie, “to each of the windows. In this particular instance Mr. Lavery has one, Diana Johnson the demonstrator has one (which she leaves at the Employees’ Office desk when she leaves for the day), the floorwalker on this section of the main floor and the store detectives each have one, and there is a complete set of duplicates kept in the general offices on the mezzanine floor. I am afraid very many people could have secured a key.”
Ellery did not seem perturbed. He walked suddenly to the door, opened it, peered out over the main floor for a moment, and returned.
“Mr. MacKenzie, will you please summon that clerk at the leather-goods counter opposite this window?”
MacKenzie departed, returning shortly with a short, stout, middle-aged man. He was white-faced and nervous.
“Were you on duty all this morning?” inquired Ellery kindly. The man jerked his head in the affirmative. “And yesterday afternoon?” Another jerk. “Did you leave your post at any time this morning or yesterday afternoon?”
The clerk found his voice. “Oh, no, sir!”
“Very well!” Ellery spoke softly. “Did you at any time during yesterday afternoon or this morning notice any one entering or leaving this window-room?”
“No, sir.” The man’s tone was assured. “I’ve been on duty all the time; I couldn’t help but notice if any one had
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