The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers
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"Ah, yes," said the Colonel evenly. "I did not leave the room, Miss Morrow."
Eileen Enderby rose. "Mr. Kirk—we really must be going. Your dinner was charming—how terrible to have it end in such a tragic way. I—"
"Just a moment," said June Morrow. "I can not let you go until the captain of police releases you."
"What's that?" the woman cried. "Outrageous. You mean we are prisoners here—"
"Oh—but, Eileen—" protested her husband.
"I'm very sorry," said the girl. "I shall protect you as much as possible from the annoyance of further questioning. But you really must wait."
Mrs. Enderby flung angrily away, and a filmy scarf she was wearing dropped from one shoulder and trailed after her. Chan reached out to rescue it. The woman took another step, and he stood with the scarf in his hand. She swung about. The detective's little eyes, she noticed, were fixed with keen interest on the front of her pale blue gown, and following his gaze, she looked down.
"So sorry," said Chan. "So very sorry. I trust your beautiful garment is not a complete ruin."
"Give me that scarf," she cried, and snatched it rudely from him.
Paradise appeared in the doorway. "Miss Morrow, please," he said. "Captain Flannery is below."
"You will kindly wait here," said the girl. "All of you. I shall arrange for your release at the earliest possible moment."
With Kirk and Charlie Chan, she returned to the twentieth floor. In the central room they found Captain Flannery, a gray-haired, energetic policeman of about fifty. With him were two patrolmen and a police doctor.
"Hello, Miss Morrow," said the Captain. "This is a he—I mean, a terrible thing. Sir Frederic Bruce of Scotland Yard—we're up against it now. If we don't make good quick we'll have the whole Yard on our necks."
"I'm afraid we shall," admitted Miss Morrow. "Captain Flannery—this is Mr. Kirk. And this—Detective-Sergeant Charlie Chan, of Honolulu."
The Captain looked his fellow detective over slowly. "How are you, Sergeant? I've been reading about you in the paper. You got on this job mighty quick."
Chan shrugged. "Not my job, thank you," he replied. "All yours, and very welcome. I am here in society role, as guest of kind Mr. Kirk."
"Is that so?" The Captain appeared relieved. "Now, Miss Morrow, what have you found out?"
"Very little. Mr. Kirk was giving a dinner up-stairs." She ran over the list of the guests, the showing of the pictures in the dark, and the butler's story of Sir Frederic's descent to the floor below, wearing the velvet slippers. "There are other aspects of the affair that I will take up with you later," she added.
"All right. I guess the D.A. will want to get busy on this himself."
The girl flushed. "Perhaps. He is out of town tonight. I hope he will leave the matter in my hands—"
"Great Scott, Miss Morrow—this is important," said the Captain, oblivious of his rudeness. "You're holding those people up-stairs?"
"Naturally."
"Good. I'll look 'em over later. I ordered the night-watchman to lock the front door and bring everybody in the building here. Now, we better fix the time of this. How long's he been dead, Doctor?"
"Not more than half an hour," replied the doctor.
"Humbly begging pardon to intrude," said Chan. "The homicide occurred presumably at ten twenty."
"Sure of that?"
"I have not the habit of light speaking. At ten twenty-five we find body, just five minutes after lady on floor above rush in with news of man escaping from this room by fire-escape."
"Huh. The room seems to have been searched." Flannery turned to Barry Kirk. "Anything missing?"
"I haven't had time to investigate," said Kirk. "If anything has been taken, I fancy it was Sir Frederic's property."
"This is your office, isn't it?"
"Yes. But I had made room here for Sir Frederic. He had various papers and that sort of thing."
"Papers? What was he doing? I thought he'd retired."
"It seems he was still interested in certain cases, Captain," Miss Morrow said. "That is one of the points I shall take up with you later."
"Again interfering with regret," remarked Chan, "if we do not know what was taken, all same we know what was hunted."
"You don't say." Flannery looked at Chan coldly. "What was that?"
"Sir Frederic English detective, and great one. All English detectives make exhausting records of every case. No question that records of certain case, in which murderer was hotly interested, were sought here."
"Maybe," admitted the Captain. "We'll go over the room later." He turned to the patrolmen. "You boys take a look at the fire-escape." They climbed out into the fog. At that moment the door leading from the reception-room into the hallway opened, and an odd little group came in. A stout, middle-aged man led the procession; he was Mr. Cuttle, the night-watchman.
"Here they are, Captain," he said. "I've rounded up everybody in the building, except a few cleaning women who have nothing to do with this floor. You can see 'em later, if you like. This is Mrs. Dyke, who takes care of the two top floors."
Mrs. Dyke, very frightened, said that she had finished with Kirk's office at seven and gone out, leaving the burglar alarm in working order, as was her custom. She had not been back since. She had seen no one about the building whom she did not recognize.
"And who is this?" inquired the Captain, turning to a pale, sandy-haired young man who appeared extremely nervous.
"I am employed by Brace and Davis, Certified Public Accountants, on the second floor," said the young man. "My name is Samuel Smith. I was working to-night to catch up—I have been ill—when Mr. Cuttle informed me I was wanted up here. I know nothing of this horrible affair."
Flannery turned to the fourth and last member of the party, a young woman whose uniform marked her as an operator of one of the elevators. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Grace Lane, sir," she told him.
"Run the elevator, eh?"
"Yes, sir. Mr. Kirk had sent word that one of us must work overtime to-night. On account of the party."
"How many people have you brought up since the close of business?"
"I didn't keep count. Quite a few—ladies and gentlemen—Mr. Kirk's guests, of course."
"Don't remember anybody who looked like an outsider?"
"No, sir."
"This is a big building," said Flannery. "There must have been others working here to-night besides this fellow Smith. Remember anybody?"
The girl hesitated. "There—there was one other, sir."
"Yes? Who was that?"
"A girl who is employed in the office of the Calcutta Importers, on this floor. Her name is Miss Lila Barr."
"Working here to-night, eh? On this floor. She's not here now?"
"No, sir. She left some time ago."
"How long ago?"
"I can't say exactly, sir. Half an hour—perhaps a little more than that."
"Humph." The Captain took down their names and addresses, and dismissed them. As they went out, the two patrolmen entered from the fire-escape, and, leaving them in charge, Flannery asked to be directed up-stairs.
The dinner guests were sitting with rather weary patience in a semicircle in the living-room. Into their midst strode the Captain, with an air of confidence he was far from feeling. He stood looking them over.
"I