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Authors: Ellery Queen
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him.”
“Curious,” muttered Ellery.
“Wasn’t it?” Joan said. “Very well, then. I was also to admit these two persons myself, and to see that the servants were out of the way. After admitting them I was to go to bed—just like that, upon my word! Naturally, when Mr. Khalkis added that the nature of his business with these two gentleman was extremely private, I asked no questions and followed orders like the perfect secretary I’ve always been. Charming bit o’ fluff, eh, Lord Higginbotham?”
The Inspector frowned, and Joan looked down demurely. “The visitors arrived at eleven,” she went on, “and one of them, I saw at once, was the man who had called by himself the previous evening—the man you say was named Grimshaw. The other, the mysterious gentleman, was bundled up to the eyes; I couldn’t see his face. I did get the impression that he was middle-aged or older, but that’s really all I can tell you about him, Inspector.”
Inspector Queen sniffed. “That mysterious gentleman, as you say, may be mighty important from our standpoint, Miss Brett. Can’t you give us a better description? How was he dressed?”
Joan swung one leg reflectively. “He was wearing an overcoat and he kept his bowler on his head all the time, but I can’t even recall the style or color of the coat. And that’s really all I can tell you about your—” she shuddered, “about your awful Mr. Grimshaw.”
The Inspector shook his head; he was distinctly not pleased. “But we’re not talking about Grimshaw now, Miss Brett! Come now. There must be something else about this second man. Didn’t anything happen that night that might be significant—anything at all that would help us to get to that fellow?”
“Oh, heavens.” She laughed and kicked out with her slim feet. “You guardians of law and order are so persistent. Very well—if you consider the incident of Mrs. Simms’ cat significant. …”
Ellery looked interested. “Mrs. Simms’ cat, Miss Brett? There’s a fascinating thought! Yes, it might very well be significant. Give us the gory details, Miss Brett.”
“Well, Mrs. Simms owns a shameless hussy of a cat. Tootsie, she’s called. Tootsie’s always poking her cold little nose into places where good little cats should not be poking their cold little noses. Er—you grasp the idea, Mr. Queen?” She saw an ominous glint in the Inspector’s eye, sighed and said penitently, “Really, Inspector, I’m—I’m not being a silly boor. I’m just—oh, everything’s so higgledy-piggledy.” She was silent then, and they saw something—fear, nervousness, a suspicion of dread—in her charming blue eyes. “It’s my nerves, I suppose,” she said wearily. “And when I’m nervous, I become perverse, and I giggle like a callow baggage. … This is exactly what happened,” she said abruptly. “The unknown man, the man bundled up to the eyes, stepped into the foyer first when I opened the door. Grimshaw was a little behind and to one side of him. Mrs. Simms’ cat, which generally remains in Mrs. Simms’ bedroom upstairs, had, unnoticed by me, promenaded downstairs into the foyer and had lain down directly in the path of the front door. As I opened the door and the mysterious man started to step in, he stopped suddenly with one foot in midair, almost falling in his effort to avoid stepping on the cat, which lay quite cunningly on the rug washing its face, and without making a sound. It wasn’t really until I saw the man’s almost acrobatic effort to avoid stepping on little Tootsie—typically Simmsian name for a cat, don’t you think?—that I noticed Tootsie at all. Then, of course, I prodded her out of the way, Grimshaw stepped in, and he said: ‘Khalkis expects us,’ and I led the way to the library. And that’s the incident of Mrs. Simms’ cat.”
“Not intensely productive,” confessed Ellery. “And this bundled man—did he say anything?”
“Do you know, he was the rudest
“Curious,” muttered Ellery.
“Wasn’t it?” Joan said. “Very well, then. I was also to admit these two persons myself, and to see that the servants were out of the way. After admitting them I was to go to bed—just like that, upon my word! Naturally, when Mr. Khalkis added that the nature of his business with these two gentleman was extremely private, I asked no questions and followed orders like the perfect secretary I’ve always been. Charming bit o’ fluff, eh, Lord Higginbotham?”
The Inspector frowned, and Joan looked down demurely. “The visitors arrived at eleven,” she went on, “and one of them, I saw at once, was the man who had called by himself the previous evening—the man you say was named Grimshaw. The other, the mysterious gentleman, was bundled up to the eyes; I couldn’t see his face. I did get the impression that he was middle-aged or older, but that’s really all I can tell you about him, Inspector.”
Inspector Queen sniffed. “That mysterious gentleman, as you say, may be mighty important from our standpoint, Miss Brett. Can’t you give us a better description? How was he dressed?”
Joan swung one leg reflectively. “He was wearing an overcoat and he kept his bowler on his head all the time, but I can’t even recall the style or color of the coat. And that’s really all I can tell you about your—” she shuddered, “about your awful Mr. Grimshaw.”
The Inspector shook his head; he was distinctly not pleased. “But we’re not talking about Grimshaw now, Miss Brett! Come now. There must be something else about this second man. Didn’t anything happen that night that might be significant—anything at all that would help us to get to that fellow?”
“Oh, heavens.” She laughed and kicked out with her slim feet. “You guardians of law and order are so persistent. Very well—if you consider the incident of Mrs. Simms’ cat significant. …”
Ellery looked interested. “Mrs. Simms’ cat, Miss Brett? There’s a fascinating thought! Yes, it might very well be significant. Give us the gory details, Miss Brett.”
“Well, Mrs. Simms owns a shameless hussy of a cat. Tootsie, she’s called. Tootsie’s always poking her cold little nose into places where good little cats should not be poking their cold little noses. Er—you grasp the idea, Mr. Queen?” She saw an ominous glint in the Inspector’s eye, sighed and said penitently, “Really, Inspector, I’m—I’m not being a silly boor. I’m just—oh, everything’s so higgledy-piggledy.” She was silent then, and they saw something—fear, nervousness, a suspicion of dread—in her charming blue eyes. “It’s my nerves, I suppose,” she said wearily. “And when I’m nervous, I become perverse, and I giggle like a callow baggage. … This is exactly what happened,” she said abruptly. “The unknown man, the man bundled up to the eyes, stepped into the foyer first when I opened the door. Grimshaw was a little behind and to one side of him. Mrs. Simms’ cat, which generally remains in Mrs. Simms’ bedroom upstairs, had, unnoticed by me, promenaded downstairs into the foyer and had lain down directly in the path of the front door. As I opened the door and the mysterious man started to step in, he stopped suddenly with one foot in midair, almost falling in his effort to avoid stepping on the cat, which lay quite cunningly on the rug washing its face, and without making a sound. It wasn’t really until I saw the man’s almost acrobatic effort to avoid stepping on little Tootsie—typically Simmsian name for a cat, don’t you think?—that I noticed Tootsie at all. Then, of course, I prodded her out of the way, Grimshaw stepped in, and he said: ‘Khalkis expects us,’ and I led the way to the library. And that’s the incident of Mrs. Simms’ cat.”
“Not intensely productive,” confessed Ellery. “And this bundled man—did he say anything?”
“Do you know, he was the rudest
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