Read Online The Siamese Twin Mystery by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellery Queen
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find later that the house was perched on the edge of a precipice, with a sheer drop of hundreds of feet into the next valley. His small, sharp eyes flicked sidewise. In the same instant he sprang back from the window, releasing the shade so that it flew up with a crash, and darting across the room flicked the light switch, plunging the room in darkness.
Ellery opened the door of their bedroom, stopped short in astonishment, and then slipped into the room like a wraith, shutting the door quickly and softly behind him.
“Dad!” he whispered. “Are you in bed? Why’s the light off?”
“Shut up!” he heard his father say fiercely. “Don’t make any more noise than you have to. There’s something damned fishy going on around here, and I think I know now what it is.”
Ellery was silent for a moment. As his pupils contracted under influence of the dark, he began to make out shadowy details. A faint starlight shone through the rear windows. His father, bare legged and in shorts, was crouched almost on his knees across the room. There was a third window on the right-hand wall; and it was at this window that the Inspector crouched.
Ellery ran to his father’s side and looked out. The side window overlooked a court formed by the recession of the rear wall of the house in the middle. The court was narrow. Propped against the outside of the rear wall in the court at the first-floor level there was a balcony which led, apparently, from the bedroom adjoining the Queens’. Ellery reached the window just in time to see a flowing shadowy figure slip from the balcony through a French door and vanish. A white feminine hand shone in the starlight as it reached out of the room and drew the double door shut.
The Inspector rose with a groan, pulled all the blinds, pattered back to the door, and turned on the light switch. He was perspiring profusely.
“Well?” murmured Ellery, standing still at the foot of the bed.
The Inspector dropped onto the bed, hunched over like a little half-naked kobold, and tugged fretfully at one end of his gray mustache. “I went over there to pull the blind,” he muttered, “and just then I saw a woman through the side window. She was standing on the balcony staring off into space, seemed like. I ran back and turned off the light and then watched her. She didn’t move. Just stared up at the stars. Moony, sort of. I heard her sniffle. Cried like a baby. All by herself. Then you came in and she went back to that room next door.”
“Indeed?” said Ellery. He slipped over to the wall on the right and pressed his ear against it. “Can’t hear a thing through these walls, damn the luck! Well, and what’s fishy about that? Who was it—Mrs. Xavier, or that very frightened young woman, Miss Forrest?”
“That,” said the Inspector grimly, “is what makes it so fishy.”
Ellery stared at his father. “Riddles, eh?” He began to strip off his jacket. “Come on, out with it. Somebody we haven’t seen tonight, I’ll wager. And not the crab.”
“You’ve guessed it,” said the old gentleman glumly. “It wasn’t either of ’em. It was … Marie Carreau!” He uttered the name as if it were an incantation.
Ellery stopped struggling with his shirt. “Marie Carreau? Come again. Who the devil’s she? Never heard of her.”
“Oh, my God,” moaned the Inspector. “Never heard of Marie Carreau, he says! That’s what comes of raising an ignoramus. Don’t you read the papers, you idiot? She’s society, son, society!”
“Hear, hear.”
“Bluest of the blue. Pots of money. Runs official Washington. Her father’s Ambassador to France. Of French stock, dating from the Revolution. Her great-great-what-is-it and Lafayette were just like that.” The old gentleman twined his middle finger about his forefinger. “Whole damn family—uncles and cousins and nephews—all in the diplomatic service. She married her own cousin—same name—about twenty years ago. He’s dead now. No
Ellery opened the door of their bedroom, stopped short in astonishment, and then slipped into the room like a wraith, shutting the door quickly and softly behind him.
“Dad!” he whispered. “Are you in bed? Why’s the light off?”
“Shut up!” he heard his father say fiercely. “Don’t make any more noise than you have to. There’s something damned fishy going on around here, and I think I know now what it is.”
Ellery was silent for a moment. As his pupils contracted under influence of the dark, he began to make out shadowy details. A faint starlight shone through the rear windows. His father, bare legged and in shorts, was crouched almost on his knees across the room. There was a third window on the right-hand wall; and it was at this window that the Inspector crouched.
Ellery ran to his father’s side and looked out. The side window overlooked a court formed by the recession of the rear wall of the house in the middle. The court was narrow. Propped against the outside of the rear wall in the court at the first-floor level there was a balcony which led, apparently, from the bedroom adjoining the Queens’. Ellery reached the window just in time to see a flowing shadowy figure slip from the balcony through a French door and vanish. A white feminine hand shone in the starlight as it reached out of the room and drew the double door shut.
The Inspector rose with a groan, pulled all the blinds, pattered back to the door, and turned on the light switch. He was perspiring profusely.
“Well?” murmured Ellery, standing still at the foot of the bed.
The Inspector dropped onto the bed, hunched over like a little half-naked kobold, and tugged fretfully at one end of his gray mustache. “I went over there to pull the blind,” he muttered, “and just then I saw a woman through the side window. She was standing on the balcony staring off into space, seemed like. I ran back and turned off the light and then watched her. She didn’t move. Just stared up at the stars. Moony, sort of. I heard her sniffle. Cried like a baby. All by herself. Then you came in and she went back to that room next door.”
“Indeed?” said Ellery. He slipped over to the wall on the right and pressed his ear against it. “Can’t hear a thing through these walls, damn the luck! Well, and what’s fishy about that? Who was it—Mrs. Xavier, or that very frightened young woman, Miss Forrest?”
“That,” said the Inspector grimly, “is what makes it so fishy.”
Ellery stared at his father. “Riddles, eh?” He began to strip off his jacket. “Come on, out with it. Somebody we haven’t seen tonight, I’ll wager. And not the crab.”
“You’ve guessed it,” said the old gentleman glumly. “It wasn’t either of ’em. It was … Marie Carreau!” He uttered the name as if it were an incantation.
Ellery stopped struggling with his shirt. “Marie Carreau? Come again. Who the devil’s she? Never heard of her.”
“Oh, my God,” moaned the Inspector. “Never heard of Marie Carreau, he says! That’s what comes of raising an ignoramus. Don’t you read the papers, you idiot? She’s society, son, society!”
“Hear, hear.”
“Bluest of the blue. Pots of money. Runs official Washington. Her father’s Ambassador to France. Of French stock, dating from the Revolution. Her great-great-what-is-it and Lafayette were just like that.” The old gentleman twined his middle finger about his forefinger. “Whole damn family—uncles and cousins and nephews—all in the diplomatic service. She married her own cousin—same name—about twenty years ago. He’s dead now. No
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