Cudahy.”
“Who? What! ‘Big Mike’!” The exclamations flew about the room. Every detective there had jerked about in surprise. The Inspector’s eyes narrowed.
He turned abruptly to one of his staff. “I thought you told me Michael Cudahy went to Chicago, Ritter,” he snapped. “You certainly get the fanciest ideas!” He wheeled on Dr. Byers. “Where’s ‘Big Mike’ now?” he demanded. “What room? I want to see that guerrilla!”
“He’s in a private room—32—on the third floor, Inspector,” replied the physician. “But it won’t do you any good to see him. He’s dead to the world, sir—they’ve just carted him out of the operating-room ‘B.’ Jonas operated. Your man caught me just as Jonas finished. He’s in his room now, but he won’t be out of the ether for a good couple of hours.”
“Johnson!” said the Inspector grimly. A small drab-looking man stepped forward. “Make a note to remind me to grill ‘Big Mike.’ Under ether, hey? That’s a new one.”
“Dr. Byers.” Ellery’s voice came quietly. “While you were working in the Anæsthesia Room, it is barely possible that you overheard some conversation emanating from here. Do you recall? Or you, Miss Obermann?”
Doctor and nurse regarded each other for a long moment. Dr. Byers looked frankly at Ellery. “Now, that’s funny,” he said. “It just happens that we overheard Miss Price call out to Dr. Janney that she would be ready in a moment, or something like that; and I remember remarking to Miss Obermann that the old ma—I mean Dr. Janney must be unusually cross to-day, because he didn’t even answer.”
“Ah! Then you mean you overheard no statement or question of any kind from Dr. Janney during the entire course of his visit to this room?” asked Ellery quickly.
“Not a syllable,” said Dr. Byers. Miss Obermann nodded in agreement.
“Do you remember hearing a door open and close in here and a voice say, ‘Pardon me!’?”
“I don’t believe I do.”
“You, Miss Obermann?”
“No, sir.”
Ellery whispered into the Inspector’s ear. The Inspector sucked his lip, nodded, motioned imperiously to a Swedish-looking detective of solid build. “Hesse!” The man slouched near. “Get this straight now, won’t you? Go out into the operating-room and ask the doctors and internes if any one of them poked his head in here between 10:30 and 10:45. And bring him back.”
While Hesse departed on his errand the Inspector dismissed Dr. Byers and the nurse. Janney watched them go with gloomy eyes. Ellery conversed with his father until the door reopened to admit a young dark-haired man of Semitic cast, dressed like the others in white Hospital regalia. Hesse herded him into the room.
“Dr. Gold,” said Hesse briefly. “He was the one.”
“Yes,” said the young interne at once, addressing himself to the diminutive Inspector, “I stuck my head in through that door—” he pointed to the door leading to the West Corridor—“about 10:35, I should say, looking for Dr. Dunning to ask about a diagnosis. Of course I immediately saw it wasn’t Dr. Dunning—saw it just as I opened the door—so I excused myself without going in and went away.”
Ellery leaned forward. “Dr. Gold, how far did you open the door?”
“Oh, just about a foot or so—enough to get my head in. Why?”
“Well,” smiled Ellery, “why not? At any rate, whom did you see?”
“Some doctor—don’t know who it was.”
“How did you know it wasn’t Dunning?”
“Why, Dr. Dunning is tall and thin, and this man was rather short and stocky—cut of the shoulders was different—I don’t know—simply wasn’t Dr. Dunning.”
Ellery polished his pince-nez vigorously. “And how was this doctor standing—tell me what you saw when you opened the door.”
“His back was to me, and he was slightly bent over the wheel-table. His body concealed whatever was on the table.”
“His hands?”
“I couldn’t see
“Who? What! ‘Big Mike’!” The exclamations flew about the room. Every detective there had jerked about in surprise. The Inspector’s eyes narrowed.
He turned abruptly to one of his staff. “I thought you told me Michael Cudahy went to Chicago, Ritter,” he snapped. “You certainly get the fanciest ideas!” He wheeled on Dr. Byers. “Where’s ‘Big Mike’ now?” he demanded. “What room? I want to see that guerrilla!”
“He’s in a private room—32—on the third floor, Inspector,” replied the physician. “But it won’t do you any good to see him. He’s dead to the world, sir—they’ve just carted him out of the operating-room ‘B.’ Jonas operated. Your man caught me just as Jonas finished. He’s in his room now, but he won’t be out of the ether for a good couple of hours.”
“Johnson!” said the Inspector grimly. A small drab-looking man stepped forward. “Make a note to remind me to grill ‘Big Mike.’ Under ether, hey? That’s a new one.”
“Dr. Byers.” Ellery’s voice came quietly. “While you were working in the Anæsthesia Room, it is barely possible that you overheard some conversation emanating from here. Do you recall? Or you, Miss Obermann?”
Doctor and nurse regarded each other for a long moment. Dr. Byers looked frankly at Ellery. “Now, that’s funny,” he said. “It just happens that we overheard Miss Price call out to Dr. Janney that she would be ready in a moment, or something like that; and I remember remarking to Miss Obermann that the old ma—I mean Dr. Janney must be unusually cross to-day, because he didn’t even answer.”
“Ah! Then you mean you overheard no statement or question of any kind from Dr. Janney during the entire course of his visit to this room?” asked Ellery quickly.
“Not a syllable,” said Dr. Byers. Miss Obermann nodded in agreement.
“Do you remember hearing a door open and close in here and a voice say, ‘Pardon me!’?”
“I don’t believe I do.”
“You, Miss Obermann?”
“No, sir.”
Ellery whispered into the Inspector’s ear. The Inspector sucked his lip, nodded, motioned imperiously to a Swedish-looking detective of solid build. “Hesse!” The man slouched near. “Get this straight now, won’t you? Go out into the operating-room and ask the doctors and internes if any one of them poked his head in here between 10:30 and 10:45. And bring him back.”
While Hesse departed on his errand the Inspector dismissed Dr. Byers and the nurse. Janney watched them go with gloomy eyes. Ellery conversed with his father until the door reopened to admit a young dark-haired man of Semitic cast, dressed like the others in white Hospital regalia. Hesse herded him into the room.
“Dr. Gold,” said Hesse briefly. “He was the one.”
“Yes,” said the young interne at once, addressing himself to the diminutive Inspector, “I stuck my head in through that door—” he pointed to the door leading to the West Corridor—“about 10:35, I should say, looking for Dr. Dunning to ask about a diagnosis. Of course I immediately saw it wasn’t Dr. Dunning—saw it just as I opened the door—so I excused myself without going in and went away.”
Ellery leaned forward. “Dr. Gold, how far did you open the door?”
“Oh, just about a foot or so—enough to get my head in. Why?”
“Well,” smiled Ellery, “why not? At any rate, whom did you see?”
“Some doctor—don’t know who it was.”
“How did you know it wasn’t Dunning?”
“Why, Dr. Dunning is tall and thin, and this man was rather short and stocky—cut of the shoulders was different—I don’t know—simply wasn’t Dr. Dunning.”
Ellery polished his pince-nez vigorously. “And how was this doctor standing—tell me what you saw when you opened the door.”
“His back was to me, and he was slightly bent over the wheel-table. His body concealed whatever was on the table.”
“His hands?”
“I couldn’t see
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